#over half a month in 🥴 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aviawrites · 5 months

Text

when we were teenagers (challengers)

pairings/relationships: tashi duncan x sister!reader, patrick zweig x fem!reader, art donaldson x fem!reader

summary: Tashi Duncan’s younger sister, Ava Duncan, never gets a chance to be seen past her sister’s shadow. When Ava gets injured and Tashi starts gaining fame, the two become more and more at odds with each other. Tashi juggles Art and Patrick while Ava struggles to keep up. When over a decade passes and a peace isn’t reached, either the Donaldsons or Zweigs, either Tashi or Ava, has to come out on top. (7.2k)

a/n: you know the movie was good when you have to rewatch so you have all the info for the fic🥴 with that being said, the dates and stuff may be a little off but i did my best with what wikipedia had to offer. regardless, im a patrick zweig stan 4L. anyway, as always, ur interaction is greatly appreciated, ily<3

warnings: description of injury, allusions to sex/almost a smut scene, swearing

in this story, yn is: Ava Duncan

March 16, 2006 //📍home, 9:35pm

The goofy grin on the brunette’s face and the blond’s childish giggle replays over and over in your head. Your mother’s muffled snores mix with Art’s laughs as a smile grows on your face, your eyes closed.

You’ve found yourself in this position too many times, imagining what could’ve been if the cute guys were eyeing you rather than your sister. But you’ve experienced it enough times to not even be hurt by it anymore. No guys approach you at volleyball events, especially not hot ones. So if anything, you find some comfort in lying upside down on the corduroy couch making up scenarios in your head.

The click of the front door forces your eyes open, sitting upright and perking up like a dog as your sister tip toes through the door.

“So…” You rest your chin on your fist, “Which one was it?”

“Shh,” Tashi smiles, pointing to your mom’s closed door. “Which one was what?”

“Come on,” You continue as she stands in front of you, “Which one did you…Y’know.”

“Oh my- Neither of them, Ava.”

“What!?”

“Shh!”

You lower your tone, “Seriously? You were alone with them both and didn’t make a move?”

“It wasn’t like that.” She laughs, “They’re like…I dunno, they’re weird.”

You scrunch your face up, “What, are they gay?”

She pauses, cocking her head.

“They’re actually gay?”

“No, no they’re not.” She giggles, “I just didn’t do anything with them. I mean we kissed but that’s it.”

“Did you kiss the blond?” You interrogate, “I really like the blond…”

“His name is Art and I kissed them both.” She smirks.

You roll your eyes, “Whatever.”

Tashi laughs at you, plopping next to you on the couch and resting her legs across yours.

“They did ask for my number again.”

“What’d you tell them?” You stroke her leg.

“I said whoever wins the match tomorrow gets it.”

“God, I wish.” You sigh, throwing your head back. “I’d kill to see Art just one more time…”

———

May 15th, 2006 //📍home, 6:00pm

You wince as your mom tightens the brace, covering your face in frustration.

“It’s okay, baby.” She kisses your head, “You tell me if you need anything, okay?”

You nod as she presses one more kiss onto your hair before walking out, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Almost every athlete you know has been injured before, half of the girls on your team are covered in braces and tape all season. A torn ACL seems more like a right of passage than a serious and life changing injury. But when you heard the pop and felt the ligament rip, it was almost immediate; The realization that you very well may never play again. You’re not sure if yours was worse than others or if you’re just weaker, but the trauma of the blistering pain has turned you away from getting back on the court for the last month.

You already can tell who’s on the other side of the door from the lack of a knock. You internally sigh, wanting to be left alone, as Tashi sits at the foot of your bed.

“Hey, I was thinking we could go to the courts today. I could practice with you.”

“Tashi…”

“I know you haven’t been wanting to go but since you just hit a month I was thinking, you know, maybe you’d want to start working again.”

You shake your head, “Tashi, I don’t think I’m ready.”

“When will you be?” She asks, her voice stern.

You stare at her, “I don’t know, Tashi. Why?”

“I’m just saying Ava, it’s not good to stop for this long. Some people never get back out there and you have to at least try.”

“I am trying.” You raise your voice, “My insides tore apart. Sorry if I’m not eager to put pressure on myself again.”

“There’s no pressure I’m just asking you to get up and at least walk on a court again.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“Why the fuck not?”

“Because I’m fucking scared, Tashi!” You shout, tears falling from your eyes. “I’m fucking scared of it happening again! I am not ready!”

She stares at you, a look that you can only describe as disgust on her face.

“…You don’t even want to drive out there just to see-“

“Get out.” You cover your eyes, a headache creeping up on you.

“Ava, I’m not going to let you waste away in here-“

“Get out of my room or I’m calling mom.” You stare back at her, “Go.”

She stands, giving you one last look of disapproval before leaving, slighting slamming your door behind her.

———

September 18th, 2006 //📍Stanford Tennis Courts, 5:00pm

“Passing…Down the line…Cross…”

Tashi’s grunts echo throughout the court as you throw shots at her, a pile of green tennis balls forming behind you. It took a few weeks but she got you back on the court, just not the volleyball courts. You’ve watched Tashi’s practices long enough to know the game, so when you reluctantly offered to help her train, she jumped at the opportunity.

You zone out, robotically tossing the balls as Tashi dashes across the court. You silently hope for a specific someone show up. Patrick Zweig had your sister in his phone and occasionally in his bed, but Art Donaldson was a free man. The only Duncan in his phone was Ava, an achievement that you pride yourself on even weeks later.

Sure, the two of you aren’t a thing, not the way Tashi and Patrick are. But you’re happy to be anything with Art, so the talking stage that you seem to be stuck in doesn’t bother you at all. You can only pray that it’ll blossom into something. Something meaning you being Ava Donaldson in the near future.

As if you summoned him, a very familiar blond boy opens the wire door, locking eyes with you. Your heart skips a beat when he waves at you, your hand immediately dropping the ball and waving back.

Your sister turns around to see Art, a smile growing on her face as she walks over to him. She wraps her arms around him, pulling him in for a hug as you watch. They barely pull away before Tashi begins chatting, her face too close to his for your liking.

Across the court, they’re too far for you to hear their conversation. But judging from Art’s hand draped over her waist and her arm resting on his shoulder, you see enough to be angry. You can only look down, waiting for the conversation, along with your humiliation, to end.

After an abundance of giggles, Art turns and walks away, giving you another wave.

“I’ll see you.” He smiles.

You purse your lips, terribly embarrassed as you nod, “Yeah. Good seeing you, Art.”

The door shuts and with it, your smile drops. Tashi gets back into position like nothing happened, waiting with her racquet. Playing along, you throw her the ball. Only, you don’t call the drill. You throw with a little more force and much more unpredictability as the anger in you rises.

“Ava…” Tashi calls, frantically chasing the ball.

It’s only when the ball flies past her head, barely missing her, that she stops.

“Ava, what the fuck!?”

She walks toward you, meeting you at the net.

She shrugs, “What’s up, what’s going on?”

“Are you serious?”

She only looks at you, confused.

“Tashi, come on. You were literally all over him.”

“Wh- Art?” She deciphers, “Oh, Ava my bad I didn’t mean- I really didn’t mean to.”

“Yeah, sure you didn’t.”

“Seriously, I didn’t. He’s my friend I was just saying hey.”

“Saying hey with your arms around each other? That’s bullshit, just say you still like him.” You look down, mumbling. “It’s fine, it’s just annoying that you go after every guy I like knowing they’ll choose you.”

“Hey…” Tashi softens her tone, stepping over the net and nearing you. “Ava.”

“What?” You look at the ground.

“I didn’t mean it like that…” She insists, “I’m just stressed with school and stuff, he’s the only one who gets it.”

“Right.” You roll your eyes, not in the mood for ‘I’m stressed,’ to be the excuse for going after your guy. “It’s not like I go to school too or anything.”

“No, I know you do. It’s just…Stanford’s different, you know?”

“Whatever.”

“Ava,” She lifts your chin to look at her, “I’m sorry, okay?”

The two of you ogle at each other as she waits for an answer. She always does this, almost forces you into accepting her apology which you do not.

“We good?” She asks.

“…Yeah, sure.” You shrug, pulling away from her, “It’s whatever.”

Tashi just looks at you once more, seemingly satisfied as she steps back over the net. She gets back into position as you pick up another ball, a look still on your face.

“Down the line.”

———

December 21st, 2006 //📍Stanford Dining Hall, 12:00pm

“How many?” The employee asks.

“Umm, can I have three?” You lean on the counter, “Or four, actually.”

She reaches under the counter before handing you four mayo packets.

“Thanks.”

You start the walk back toward the table, Patrick having picked the one in the far back. He clearly hasn’t returned from the bathroom as you see Art and Tashi still sitting alone. As you near them, you catch a glimpse of their conversation.

“Don’t you think you deserve it?” Art asks, his eyes so focused on your sister that he doesn’t see you walking up. “I mean, who wouldn’t be in love with you?”

Tashi doesn’t respond, only angrily stands and walks away, nearly knocking you over. She passes you, smoke practically coming out of her ears. You watch her go before sitting where she was, handing Art the packets.

“Thanks.” He smiles, “Patrick still in there?”

“I guess so.” You laugh, insecurity lacing your voice as you simultaneously try to decode the conversation they were having.

“I’m so not surprised.” He takes the bun off of his burger and tears open the white packet with his teeth.

You watch him, hesitant to speak. Though, your words spill out before you can stop them.

“Do you ever wish Patrick let you win the match?” You ask.

Art looks up at you, mid squeeze. He cracks an unsure smile.

“What kind of question is that?” He laughs.

“I don’t know,” You do the same, tragically self conscious. “Maybe you wonder what it’d be like to date my sister or something. I don’t know, it’s stupid.” You look down, fiddling with your fingers.

Art pauses, putting his burger down and placing his hands on yours.

“Hey,” He grabs your attention, “I’m here with you today.

You smile, “No, I know. It’s just…She’s like better than me in every way so I wouldn’t blame you.” You chuckle.

“What? I don’t think so, I think you’re great.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t get in to Stanford. Nor do I win all of the tennis tournament or-“

“Ava,” Art stops you, shaking your head. “You’re just as good as Tashi.”

Your eyes tread on each other as you try your hardest to believe him. But you do realize that this is the exact same way he looked at Tashi on the courts.

The two of you are snapped out of it as Patrick returns, taking his seat next to Art.

“Sorry, they had like no toilet paper.”

“Oh good, thanks for letting us all know you took a shit, bud.”

“Whatever. Ava doesn’t give a shit, right?”

“No,” You laugh, “You’re all good, Pat.”

———

📍Tashi’s dorm, 2:00pm

“So if he’s seeing other girls I won’t even fucking know now.” Tashi vents, stretching for her match.

You scroll on your phone, sitting at her desk. “It sounds like he was just trying to be nice, Tash. He was trying to help you out-“

“No, he’s not nice. Nothing about them is nice, Ava. They’re fucking weirdos, both of them. Art just hides behind this persona that he’s so caring and team Duncan when really he wants the same thing from me as Patrick.”

‘He wants the same thing from me.’

You sigh, tired of hearing the same things and watching her run back to them minutes later.

“Then stop complaining and fucking leave him already.”

Tashi stops in her lunge, “What?”

“You keep complaining about them.” You grunt, “If you really didn’t want the attention you’d just drop them both.”

“If I didn’t want the attention?”

“Yes.”

“The fuck does that mean?”

“Exactly what I said.” You say, irritated.

“Ava…” She stands up, looking down at you. You continue scrolling until your phone is snatched from you. “Hey.”

“What the-“

“Do you have something to say to me?”

“Give me my phone back.” You stand up, reaching for it.

“No, say what you mean.”

“Really?” You grab for your phone once more but she pulls it away from you like a child, “Fuck - Okay, Tashi, all you talk about is how hard your life is. How hard training is for a tournament that you know you're going to win. How hard it is dating a famous and touring athlete. How hard it is being friends with the nicest guy who only wants to help you. How fucking hard it is to have two guys fighting over you. How hard it is to go to an ivy league. How hard it is to live the fucking dream. How about you actually do something about it instead of rubbing it in our faces that you're above us and can play with two guys at once because you're so fucking amazing?"

The two of you stand nose to nose, a stance Tashi used to always initiate in order to intimidate you.

“How long have you felt this way?” She asks, her breath shaking.

“Ever since you became the Tashi Duncan and I was left in the dust. Now give me my phone.”

“Are you fucking serious, Ava? You think I asked for this?”

“Asked for what? A great life where you succeed in fucking everything? No, Tashi, you didn't have to ask for it. We worked so fucking hard and only you survived it. I succumbed to my fate, I quit my dream, I went to a shitty college, had shitty friends, watched shitty games, and watched the boys I liked fight for my sister. But no; Please, continue bitching about your hard situation."

You snatch your phone from her hands, walking toward the door. "Good luck at your fucking match."

———

2:45pm

You barely look up as you exit the library, occupied with connecting your earbuds to your phone. It’s only when you see a familiar black head of hair sitting in the common area that you stop.

“Patrick?”

He looks back, taking his feet off of the Stanford branded coffee table.

“Oh, hey Ava.” He makes space for you to sit beside him on the small loveseat. “How’s it goin’?”

“Good, um…” You put your stuff on the floor and sit next to him, “Why aren’t you at the tournament?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” He smiles that same crooked smile from the night you met him.

You curl your legs up, leaving your arm on the back of the seat. “Did y’all fight too?”

Patrick leans back, looking over at you. “Yeah. Yeah, we did.” He laughs.

“What was yours about?” You pry, smiling.

“Uh,” He rubs his eye, “Just…not letting her control me. I’m my own boss kind of shit.”

“Seriously?”

“…Yeah, why?”

“That’s what our fight was about too!” You burst into giggles, “Well, not her controlling me but her controlling you. And Art, him too.”

“Shit, Art too?”

“Yeah, I mean, especially Art. You’re the only one who stands up to her bullshit.”

“Oh yeah?” He asks, “I don’t know, you seem to put up a good fight.”

“Yeah, but I’m her sister. It’s takes a brave man to break free of Tashi Duncan.”

“Oh god, did I break free?”

“You definitely broke free.” The two of you laugh.

“No but I see what you’re saying, she definitely had me whipped.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Like I remember one time,” He turns toward you, getting comfy, “The first time her and I, um…”

“Oh, Jesus.” You cover your face.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He laughs, “But the first time we did, I remember she said she’d leave me if I told anyone. And I was head over heels, so of course I didn’t want to tell, right?”

“Right.”

“But Art’s my guy, y’know? So instead of being straight up and jeopardizing Tashi’s love, we made this stupid ass signal.” He tells in between laughs, “The way that Art serves - Like, you know how he puts the ball at the neck of his racquet?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You listen intently.

“Well, if I served that way, that meant yes, we did sleep together, And if I served my way, it meant we didn’t.”

“…And?”

“Well, I put that motherfucker right in the middle.”

“Oh my-“

You and Patrick erupt into laughs, covering your mouths as the librarian eyes the two of you. Your stomach starts to ache, not being able to remember the last time you had this kind of belly laugh.

“Well, cheers to breaking free of her.” You put your fist up.

“Oh hell yeah, cheers to that.” He bumps it.

———

3:05pm

The crowd outside thins out as you and Patrick head down the back halls and toward the parking lot. In true honor of breaking free, the two of you decided to not say goodbye. Instead, you’d go home without saying a word to your sister.

You’re a few doors down from the exit when Patrick stops in his tracks, looking into the nurses office.

“Tashi…” He walks in.

You enter the doorway, peeking in behind him. Inside, you see Tashi sitting on the table, Art by her side.

“No, out.” Your sister points.

“I’m sorry-“

“Get out!”

“Tashi, listen to me-“

“No, get out!”

“Please-“

“Patrick, get the fuck out!” Art shouts, standing.

Patrick stays for a moment, taken aback as he looks from Tashi to Art. If he has the same vision as you, it’s clear that it’s them against him. It’s no longer Patrick and Tashi, but Art and Tashi.

He looks back at you before obeying, walking down the hallway.

Now alone, you come into full view, nearing your sister.

“Tash, what happened-“

“You too.”

You stop, tilting your head. “What?”

“I don’t want you here, leave.”

“Wh- Are you serious?”

“Ava, I think you should just go.” Art says lowly, wary to step in between you too.

You ignore him, “Tashi, I’m your sister.”

You get no answer, she only looks forward. You look at Art as he stands over her like some bodyguard.

Just as Patrick did, you back away, realizing what this is. You frantically look between the two as you wait for Tashi to change her mind, to see that regardless of what fight you had you’re still sisters. Though, it’s clear that doesn’t mean anything to her, it’s been clear for a while now.

Now, it’s only Art and Tashi.

———

10:03pm

“Coming in from Stanford; Student and highly lauded tennis player, Tashi Duncan, took a hard hit at her match against Pepperdine this afternoon. Sources say a hard fracture to the knee has Tashi in the care of medical professionals. It is unknown if she’ll ever be able to play again.”

The blinding fluorescent lights of the cheap fast food place burn your eyes as you and Patrick look up at the TV.

You bury your head in your hands, groaning.

“Fuck.”

“She probably thinks she’ll never be able to play again.”

“Please, please don’t say that, Patrick. I’ll feel so guilty.”

“Ava, there’s nothing we could’ve done.”

“We could’ve at least showed up.” You rub a hand over your head.

“Hey,” He forces you to look at him, “None of this is our fault, okay? Injured or not, she still treated us like shit. Art only gets to stay by her side because he’s whipped.”

“I just…” You sigh, “I just wish I had been there.”

The two of you stand up, leaving the restaurant. Outside, a huge Adidas billboard with your sister’s face on it dominates the sky.

The two of you get into Patrick’s car, him cranking it up and turning down the radio.

“Let’s talk about something else.”

“Okay.” He nods, looking at you.

“Like…” You think, “Your tour.”

“Oh, God.”

You laugh, “When are you set to go back?”

“Uh, next week I’m pretty sure. But if I’m being honest, I don’t even want to go. I’ve been getting my ass kicked out there.”

“Patrick, Tashi would lose it if she heard you say that.”

He leans in, resting his arms on the center console as he examines your face. “Let’s not talk about Tashi…”

“Okay,” You hold the intense eye contact that he began, “What do you want to talk about?”

His nose is almost touching yours as you unconsciously near him, eyes flickering from his eyes to his lips.

“Let’s talk about you.” He grins, rubbing your waist.

“What do you want to know?”

“Tell me what you like.” He says, lowering his lips to your neck and softly pressing.

“I, um,” You tilt, holding the back of his head as he gets sloppier, “I loved volleyball. My team was out of California but we travelled for tournaments. We ranked…fuck…we ranked second in the country-“

Patrick cuts you off, his lips ravaging yours as he runs his hands over you. You can’t stop yourself from leaning into him, crawling over to sit on his lap. Both of your hands get more and more heavy as he pulls your shirt over your head, tossing it in the backseat.

“Fuck,” You say in between kisses, “Fuck, wait.”

“What?” He looks up at you, “What, is something wrong?”

“Is this wrong to do?” You ask, out of breath. “Should we stop? What about Tashi and Art?”

“They yelled at us to leave when we tried to help.” He reminds you, “Why should we stop when they treated us like that?”

You look at him, convincing yourself that you’re considering it when all you want to feel is your mouth on his.

And you do, pushing the thoughts of Tashi and Art far from your mind.

———

February 15th, 2011 // 📍Zweig condo, 9:30am

5 years later

At one point in your life, it would take you multiple seconds to figure out how to say the dollar amount that you and your husband had in your bank account. Now, as the number almost falls short of five figures, you feel ashamed just looking at it.

You switch tabs on the laptop, the light from the ceiling to floor window behind it hurting your eyes. Scrolling through tournament options, the distances only get further and the prize money higher. Years ago, you and Patrick wouldn’t even consider the amount, as Patrick just wanted to play tennis; And that still holds true, only you’ve been stuck in your ways for so long that he’s forgotten how to play to win.

Nails scratch the hardwood behind you as your golden doodle, Bear, comes barreling down the hall. Right behind him is your husband, chasing the dog around the living room.

“I’m gonna getcha, I’m gonna getcha!” He says, the dog running desperately from him.

You chuckle, “Good morning.”

You hear Patrick give Bear a smooch before walking over to you, wrapping his arms around your neck.

“Good morning, baby.” He kisses your neck, looking at the screen. “Found anything good?”

“Not really,” You groan, frustrated. “I don’t know when these matches got so fucking far.”

“It’s okay,” He strokes your head, “I’m sure there’s one we can make it to.”

You continue scrolling, the qualifier maximum getting smaller and smaller.

“What about this one?” He points.

“Atlanta? Patrick, that’s on the other side of the country.”

“I know, I know. But we can make the trip, no? I hear some of our friends may be there.”

You turn your head, furrowing your brows at him. A sly smile plasters over his face, one that makes you realize all too quickly.

“They’re going to be there?”

He nods.

“God, why would you want to be anywhere near them?”

“We probably won’t even see them, baby. But if they’re there we’ll have a big crowd.”

You think on it, the thought of seeing Tashi making your stomach turn in knots.

“…And look at that winner’s reward money.” He says convincingly.

A sigh escapes you before clicking submit, Patrick’s entry automatically being sent.

“Mm,” He kisses your wedding ring finger, “Thank you, baby.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You jokingly roll your eyes, pecking him on the cheek.

——

February 24th, 2011 //📍Atlanta, 7:40pm

Nausea consumes you as Patrick’s smell fills your senses. The aroma of the city is one thing, the aroma of your husband another, but the scent of your sister’s old perfume radiates off of him like a cancer.

You watch as he sets his coat down, coming behind the couch to kiss you.

“Did you-“ You pull your face away, not able to let him touch you, “Did you see anyone we know?”

Patrick is taken aback, looking at you with a confused smile.

“No…Why?”

His eyes bore into yours as you search for any answer than the one you’re imagining. Though, as he hands you the chinese takeout bag and takes a seat next to you, you find yourself voiding the conclusion entirely; Your mind not willing to believe the man you love would be meeting her.

He wraps his arms around you, watching the TV. As the smell seems to corrupt every sense you have, a tear sneaks into your cheek, the possibility still piercing your gut. Even so, you wrap your arms back around him.

As of this moment, the comfort of hiding in his arms trumps the possibilities of the truth.

——

June 3rd, 2013 // 📍Zweig Condo, 3:00pm

2 Years Later

‘Hey, I know it’s been a while. But if you’re willing, I’d love to come out and see you and the baby. - A ♡’

The ‘Read’ under your message seems to taunt you the longer you stare. Your phone screen is interrupted by a call, ‘Mom,’ at the top of the screen. You answer.

A small gasp escapes you as you’re immediately met with the smallest human you’ve ever seen. You’d know she was Tashi’s in a sea of babies. You wave your husband over, eyes staying on the baby.

“Oh my goodness.” You whisper, “Hi, baby.”

Her eyes stay closed, her hands in small fists.

“Oh, Ava, she’s so beautiful.” Your mom lowly says down the phone.

“Is…” You wipe away a stray tear, “Is Tashi okay?”

The camera flips from the baby to your mother.

“You know you could always ask her yourself, honey.”

“No, I know. But- Just tell them we said congratulations. She’s precious.”

Your mom lets out a sigh as she looks from you to behind the camera.

“Mom, who is that?” You hear your sister’s voice in the background.

Your hands turn clammy, your heart beating faster and faster as she begins to turn the phone to Tashi.

“Um, Mom we gotta go, we’re breaking up. I love you-“

“Wait, Ava-“

“Love you, mom.” You spit out, hanging up and turning your phone face down.

You stare out for a minute, shocked at your body’s response to your sister’s voice. Sobs escape your mouth before you can stop them. You shove your face in your hands.

“Oh, baby.” Patrick holds you, rubbing your back.

“It’s been too long.” You cry, “She fucking hates me.”

“You don’t know that.” He reassures you, “She may come around. You did good.”

———

May 1st, 2019 // 📍New Rochelle, 10:00am

6 Years later

Making it to New York from home took up the rest of Patrick’s savings. The house that you downsized to is completely funded by you and your remote sales salary. Patrick continues to fight a losing battle with tennis, barely able to pay for food for himself every week. Straining your marriage was the last consequence of his money struggles. Though, it has the biggest impact on your day to day. Nonetheless, you remain by his side. In all honesty, you’re not completely sure how to continue anywhere else.

“I’m going to see Art today.” Patrick tells you, downing a handful of trail mix.

“Art?” You ask, holding Bear’s paws on your

thighs, “Why would you do that? It’s been years.”

“I think it’s been long enough, we’re already here.” He shrugs, “I think it might be good for me.”

You focus on Bear, still not seeing a clear reason as to why he’d want to speak to Art after a decade.

“Maybe you should go see Tashi.”

Your eyes snap to him, her name barely being spoken in your house for the last six years.

“…And do what?”

He shrugs, “Might be good for you…”

…

1:00pm

Your stomach seems to twist in a thousand ways as you continuously fix your hair and outfit on the way into the far too fancy hotel. As you pass the lobby, you almost turn around and throw up. But as your sister heads for the elevator, you know this is your one chance to speak to her.

Your shoes thump against the marble floor as you jog after her.

“T- Tashi!” You whisper shout, reaching her just in time.

She turns around. Taking one look at you, she looks to your left and right, utterly confused.

“What are you doing here?” She asks, tone laced with disgust.

It’s been so long. She looks so different, her voice has such a maturity to it. But that dominating energy that she brings everywhere hasn’t changed a bit.

“Well I…” You fumble, all of your practice going out the window. “ I heard you were here, I wanted to say hello.”

“Say hello?” She looks you up and down, turning her full attention to you as she steps forward. “Honestly, I don’t want your fucking hello, Ava. Really, I don’t.”

You shake your head, “Tashi-“

"I can't believe you have the balls to be here. After what you fucking did to me."

"What I-“ You compose yourself, remembering exactly how arguments with your sister always go. “Tashi, what the fuck did I do to you?"

"Are you serious?" She asks, "You're joking, yes?"

"No, I'm really not."

"You left me for 13 years by my fucking self." She raises her voice, "I had a wedding, I had a baby, and where were you? My sister was too stuck on a grudge to ever come back into my life, you're a waste of my fucking time." She begins to walk away.

“Hey.” You follow her, grabbing her arm and spinning her back around.

“Get off.”

"Not one of those events was I invited to, Tash. Not one. If you wanted me back, if you gave a shit, you would've acted like it. But you're not going to sit here and act like I was in the wrong and I should've reached out to you. Hell, I did fucking reach out to you.”

“In the wrong?” She snatches her arm from you. “Ava, are you clinically fucking stupid? You're hung up on a situation from 13 years ago-"

"No, but it's not from 13 years ago, Tashi.” You cut her off, getting in her face. “Because you're doing the same thing right now that you did when you were 18. You're sitting here blaming the world for your life decisions. You're blaming me for being angry that you were and are a narcissist who wants someone else to be the athlete that you never were. Every time I thought of coming back l'd imagine what my sister would say and I couldn't do it. But guess what Tashi, now I see through you. I fucking see it, Patrick sees it, and when Art finally opens his eyes you'll finally see yourself for what you are."

She stares at you, a chuckle escaping her. "Ava, this is pathetic. Genuinely. Because at the end of the day, it's not my fucking fault that you gave up. Now l'm in a position where I don't have to be here. I have a life, a pretty fucking good one, outside of this. Outside of you. This Final, it's practice. It's fucking child's play for us, whereas for the Zweigs...This is it for you. Your last fucking loss.”

“Yeah. Okay Tash.” You roll your eyes, "Keep throwing insults at me to distract from the fact that you're a shitty person."

"I'm a shitty pers- You fucking abandoned your family for 13 fucking years!"

"Because my sister is an insufferable egomaniac who can't accept the fact that her husband doesn't want to do this shit anymore and her tennis life is over!” You shout back, your voices echoing throughout the hotel. “It's fucking over Tashi, give it up. That's why I left you, because you're fucking dreadful! You're dreadful and everyone knows it."

Tashi slowly nods, the hotel staff looking at the two of you.

"...Ava, do you know what your husband does late at night?"

Your eyes widen, your heart skipping a beat as she addresses the unspoken.

"Fuck you." You spit.

"I'm really asking, because from what I experienced...You're a lucky woman."

Now you’re the one with disgust in your eyes, the urge to spit in her face stronger than ever before.

“…Say hi to mom for me, Tashi." You say, your hands balling into fists.

“Happy to.” She utters, walking toward the elevator. “Tell Patrick I’m wishing him good luck.”

…

3:00pm

You only tell your husband bits a pieces of your encounter, not daring to remind him of the man he was in Atlanta.

“I don’t even know why I tried.”

“Both of them are assholes.” He agrees, “At least now we’re sure of it.”

“I guess.” You bite your nails, stroking Bear’s ears. “Patrick you have to beat him in the Final. We can’t let them win.”

“I know, baby.” He nods, on your wavelength. “I know.”

——

May 4th, 2019 // Night Before the Final, 11:25pm

“Pat, it’s really coming down out there.” You look out of the hotel window, tarps flying into the street. “What if they cancel the match?”

“They’d never do that.” He watches the TV, “It should lighten up by morning.”

You hum, snuggling next to him as the bright screen flashes through an action sequence. Patrick’s phone vibrates, his phone brightness lighting the rest of the room.

“Oh, baby.” He shifts his body, making you sit up. “I gotta go.”

“Now? Why?” You try to look on his phone but he pulls it away, scrolling.

“I have to, um,” He rubs his head, looking stressed. “My racquet, I have to pick it up.”

“The fuck does that mean?”

“They just messaged reminding me that we have to have this certain racquet to compete tomorrow.” He stands up, rushing toward the door.

“What- Patrick,” You follow him, “It’s like a fucking flash flood out there, can you not do this tomorrow?”

“Baby, they close at midnight, I gotta go,” He kisses you, “I love you.”

“Patrick, wait-“

“I love you, I have to go!” He shuts the door behind him.

…

12:30am

You have a strange urge to cry as you scroll through Art Donaldson’s instagram. Photos of him and his seemingly perfect family are plastered all over, an ‘@Tashidonaldson ♡’ at the top of his bio.

Patrick never wanted kids, said they’d cost too much and you couldn’t care for them. He was correct about the former, but care for children, you are willing and able to do. But when you married him, he did a lot of the decision making for you.

Now, as he’s blown all of your savings, lost his tennis touch, and been out of the damn hotel room for an hour doing god knows what , you wish you could shout at past you to get a grip.

Though, looking at these picture now, you wish you could do the same to past Art Donaldson too.

———

May 5th, 2019 // 📍New Rochelle Courts, 1:00pm

Final Day

The crowd’s heads robotically turned side to side as Art and Patrick dog it out in a vicious match. You sit in your assigned seat next to your sister, the endless stream of slander not ceasing, not even today.

“Is he retiring after this?” You ask, your head still going between the men.

Tashi shrugs, her expression hidden behind her sunglasses. “Maybe.”

"...I don't think Patrick will ever retire. I think tennis is all he has."

She hums, "If only he'd start winning his matches."

"He doesn't always play for the wins, Tashi."

"Yeah, he plays for the participation money."

"Maybe he does." You say, "At least he does it by choice."

She looks to you, her attention no longer on her husband’s tie breaker. "Art does it by choice."

“Like hell he does.” You scoff, “He wouldn't be retiring after becoming a Career Grand Slam if he wanted to be doing this.”

“Art is an adult, he does what he wants.” She looks back to the court.

“Art is your slave, he does what you want.”

Tashi continues trying to get to you. As Patrick sets for his next serve, he looks in your direction. Only, he isn’t looking at you, he’s looking at your sister. He returns his gaze to Art, placing his ball in the neck of his racquet.

Both you and Art freeze, staring at your husband. The men seem to be in their own world, but Patrick must’ve forgotten that you know too. The word seems to muffle around you as you stare at your husband’s evil grin at Art.

You stand on shaky legs, grasping your stomach as bile threatens to come up.

“Hey…” Tashi calls after you, “Ava, what the fuck are you doing?”

You run to the nearest exit, Patrick’s blatant disrespect and repulsiveness making you want to genuinely die where you stand.

It’s only as you stumble to your car that it truly hits you who the man you married really is, and how he really sees you.

Like everyone else, he thinks you’re a pawn in Tashi’s game. A piece that can be battered and bruised but will never go away, as it’s crucial to the game of Tashi. You want to vomit as you sit in your car, Patrick’s scent sending you into a violent sick.

———

May 14th, 2019 // 📍Zweig home, 12:00pm

9 Days Later

Three knocks at the door echo through your almost empty house. You pause your show, unlatching the chain and opening it.

Patrick stands in front of you, a hysterical attempt of a sad expression on his face.

“Everything’s here.” You walk him in, pointing to the boxes full of his stuff in the kitchen. “The only things that aren’t are your racquets, trophies, cups, stuff like that. Those are in the closet so they wouldn’t get mixed up.”

“Thanks.” He says, feeling like an alien in this house.

“Yeah.” You give him a thumbs up, returning to the couch next to Bear.

He spends an hour loudly moving his things from the kitchen to his car, the sound almost drowning out your show. Regardless, you stay put, wanting him to be done as fast as he can.

“Ava…” He calls over the reality TV. You ignore him, popping another veggie straw into your mouth.

Suddenly, his arm comes from behind you, grabbing the remote and muting it.

“Hey.” You turn around.

“I’m talking to you.”

“Okay, well I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Ava, I’m sorry-“

“Pat,” You chuckle, not being able to keep it in. “Don’t even.”

“Baby, listen to me, okay? I fucked up-“

“Patrick, Patrick!” You stand up, “Just stop, okay? Leave me be, finish getting your shit, and I’ll have the papers served to you by the end of the week.”

“Baby, no. Please.”

“Honey, there’s nothing you can say.” You shake your head, having prepared for his begging days ago. “Go beg to your mistress, yeah?”

He continues rambling, stumbling over his words. “Ava, it was such a bad mistake. I told myself it was strategy and- And because me and her have a complicated past I couldn’t see straight-“

“But nothing about us is complicated, right? We are married, we’re supposed to be a team. But you betrayed me, plain and simple.” You lay it out for him, “You’re a cheater and we’re done, now go.”

“It was a mistake-“

“Patrick…” You inhale, “I’m trying not to lose it, you need to get the fuck out.”

“Just hear me out-“

“Get out of the house, Patrick.”

“We can come back from this, Ava. We can.”

Your jaw hangs agape in genuine disbelief. He seems to notice he fucked up again as he stops speaking. You walk around the couch, getting in his face the same way Tashi used to get in yours.

“Patrick,” You begin, “I gave everything for you. I gave up my life, I gave up my family, I gave up Art, I left it all for you. I abandoned so much to be in your corner because I was in love with you, I really was. Whether you felt the same about me, I’ll never actually know-“

“I loved you, baby. I still love you-“

“But I thought you were the one who understood me, Patrick. But somehow every time I gave you a chance to correct yourself you threw it away to be with Tashi. Over and over. She’s constantly being picked over me, her feelings over mine, her body over mine, her opinion over mine…You’re just another one of her fans. You’re just like Art- Honestly, you’re fucking worse. At least he pretended to like me all those years ago. Now, as my husband, you just don’t give a shit. Just publicly showing that you slept with my sister.”

“…Why do you keep bringing up Art?” He looks down at you, “Do you- Do you feel something for him still?”

“Oh my fucking-“ You cover your face, composing yourself once again before continuing. “Pat, it’s been a long, long time since this all started. And if I could go back I’d change many things. But at the end of it all, I’m here because I worked for it and I endured it. You and Art can stay stuck under Tashi’s finger, that’s fine. But I know that life is bigger than that. Bigger than this weird threesome love triangle shit that you circle back to every few years. I am a grown woman who is in control of her own life so if you don’t have anymore comments, you need to get out and sign the papers when they’re served to you, Patrick.”

“…Baby, please,” He cries, his lip quivering. “You love me, we love each other. Please just think about it.”

You tilt your head, “Do you want me to be honest?”

Patrick nods, hiccuping on his tears.

“…All of this is really really beneath me.” You quietly tell him.

He lowers his head, his hands covering his eyes.

“When I was 18 I might have been broken over stuff like this but…” You shrug, “Things are very very different from when we were teenagers.”

#challengers #challengers fic #challengers imagine #challengers fanfic #art donaldson #patrick zweig #tashi duncan #art donaldson fic #patrick zweig fic #art donaldson challengers #patrick zweig challengers #challengers film #tashi duncan fic

551 notes · View notes

tarjapearce · 1 year

Note

Okay but…

Miguel’s on a mission, Gabi and Benji are out of the house, leaving mommy alone for some me time, that she spends with her hand down inside her panties.

She gets so into it, moaning and bucking (it’s been a bit since the two of them had done anything) that she doesn’t notice Miguel had entered the house….

Do with this information what you will

Well, yeah. Mama deserves a me time too 🥴🥴 Smut undercut. Lil bit of Dom! Miguel.

Times like these would suppose a relaxation period for you. You could go shopping, treat yourself with something, you deserved it. Being a mother wasn't exactly easy, and it was kinda rare when you had time for yourself cause one way or another, you'd be worrying over your role.

Miguel was at work, the kids were out. Gabi in her soccer practice, and Benjamin at Peter's playing with Mayday some board games. And you... You just sighed.

Boredom often lived in your head whenever you had nothing to do. You always needed to have your hands busy, house was already clean. An idea popped in your mind. Your feet took you to the bedroom, and you scourged through that special little drawer that hadn't seen the light in months.

Pulling out a key, you unlocked it, revealing neatly folded lingerie, along some little toys. A bullet like discreet vibrator, a couple of lubes, a small bdsm kit you still hadn't opened yet, since you wanted to use it with Miguel. And of course lingerie you still hadn't the confidence to wear.

But it was your chance. Since none was home, your clothes were discarded, and you tried the first one. Red Baby doll with an electric blue g string. It barely covered anything, and you could see your nipples through the red mesh fabric. Miguel said it was one of his favorites because of how bouncy your ass looked back in the dressing room.

Ah, your husband. You still wondered how such a fine and grumpy man had snatched you away for himself. He was hot, undoubtedly, but his way of carry on things were the actual spark that made you want him. The way cursing words flew out of his mouth in that rich spanish, made you swoon.

Thighs rubbed together upon you remembering how possessive and angry he was. How delicious his anger felt between your legs, how big he was to the point of you feeling he was swallowing your body like a black hole.

Your mouth sighed.

The next set was just a little butterfly thong with the crotch open, perfect for a good rile up. The butterfly design in the back cupped your ass gently. It was kind of curious and funny, how well he knew your body. Cause every set you tried just enhanced your body shape. Your nipples went hard at the sudden though of him, touching you, exploring your body, your hands trailing over where he would.

Light pieces of clothing rolling off thighs and torso. You laid on the middle of the bed, legs spreading, heat pooling at the soft caresses your hands delivered. God, you wished he'd be here. You'd certainly give him a show, but the only thing you could do was to wait for him to arrive home. Hands rubbed your inner thighs.

It was unavoidable to not think in that night, you liked when he was angry, cause his cock reached places you didn't know you could feel and get pleasure from. His hands had folded you in half, and you rubbed softly at your clit. Dragging slow lazy circles on it.

You loved every time he knocked the air out of your lungs, sheathing inside you, and stretching your insides, that as he said; were made specially for him.

Your legs trembled as your slit squished, slick in your need. One of your hands toyed with your breast, twirling your nipple between your fingers, as the other kept stimulating around your clit, teasing yourself. Just like Miguel would.

Whining, you smothered your legs together, edging yourself, trying to make it last. You breathed as heat spreaded through your body. If he was here, he'd be eating you out like a starved man.

But he wasn't.

Another needy whine. If he was here he'd surely be massaging your insides with his fingers, luring a wet orgasm from within. But again, He wasn't.

Your rubbings were desperate, your other hand squeezed your breast. But there was nothing that actually matched him. Not even the toys you had. Sure they were fun, but feeling him, going deep inside, his back flexing at the exertion, you scratching him, felt too real, too good and definitely you were needing it.

"Having fun?" The reason of your current desperate state leaned against the doorframe, watching with hazy eyes the scene unfolding before him.

"M-Miguel-"

"Shh. No te dengas." (Keep going)

He laid down, next to you, a look you knew all too well. He cupped your cheek softly and kissed your forehead.

"Hands off"

"But I'm-"

"Sin. Manos." (Hands off)

His tone firm, as he sat before you to take a better look of what he just provoked. Hands rested on your side, breathings erratic and needy. Legs weak

"That bad huh?" He shook his head with a smirk

"I need to..." You swallowed and tried to pull him to you, but he shook his head.

"No, no." You whined and plopped on your elbows, supporting your torso on them.

"Open up." He commanded and your hand went immediately on the outer folds, a little squish as you parted them with your fingers.

He hummed in approval. His thumb ghosting over your tiny bundle of nerves, but removed it before you could lift your hips and make any sort of contact, a smug smile in his lips

"Tócate" (Touch yourself)

Your nimble fingers stroked your own flesh, fast and a little too rough, trying to seek that heat you were melting into before he arrived.

"Hands off" You whined in frustration, but obeyed.

"Stop teasing!" Your voice at the verge of tears

A light slap on your soaked pussy shut you up, your hips bucked and you whimpered.

"Again. Touch yourself. Pero hazlo lento." ( Do it slowly)

The soft friction in your folds curled up your toes, fingertips dragged slow circles, his hands spreaded you a bit further, giving him a full view of you.

"Así, muy bien, preciosa." (Like that, very good)

You groaned, the pooling warmth spreaded through your body. Your free hand covered your mouth but he tapped it away.

"¿Quieres parar?" (You wanna stop?) You shook your head, fingers still caressing your clit. You had recognized the little threat in his tone.

"Then fucking do as you're told, open up. Need to hear you."

Your fingers left the caress away and once more you spreaded your flesh for him. He licked his lips at the sight. Your body trembled, the edging chipping your patience away. Two of his fingers dipped in, earning a shaky moan.

"M-Miguel!"

You croaked as he moved them ever slowly inside you. your hips bucking on his hand but he stopped.

"No." He warned and you stilled.

"Goddammit Miguel, please!"

Another light slap on your pussy, this one sent electric jolts through your legs as you sobbed.

"¿Qué te dije?" (What did I say?)

"No" You whispered, holding the sheets tightly, he was torturing.

"Again."

You shook your head and he frowned

"Uno" (One)

Still no hands on yourself.

"Dos" (Two)

Your hands went to your cunt again, he smirked

He guided your two fingers inside your pussy. The intrusion sending a little chill down your spine.

"Despacio" (Slow)

He warned as he pushed your fingers in and out, you followed, matching his speed. You cooed as he kissed your temple

"Un poco más rápido, preciosa" (A little faster)

His hot breath fanning over your ear and neck, your hand obeyed. The heat was on again, a knot forming in your lower belly. Moanings turned into breathless 'Oohs' and 'aahs' that escaped your lips at every chance they could

"Más adentro, mi amor." (Deeper, baby)

Your fingers were as deep as they could, reaching that sweet spot he loved bullying his cock into.

"No pares, preciosa" (Don't stop)

His voice didn't help. His lips nipping your earlobe, didn't help.

"Miguel" You voice an octave pitch higher. You were close. Breath caught on your throat as the imminent bliss loomed over you, stalking it's way to the brink.

"¿P-Puedo? ¿Por favor? " (Can I? Please?)

"Claro que sí, mi vida. Vente para mi." (Of course darling. Cum for me.)

Your spine finally arched as fire licked you raw. Your toes curled up, insides spasmed, you almost forgot how to breath for a moment. Fingers trapped in the contractions of your inner muscles, slowly releasing them. He licked them clean and then kissed you, a loving smile plastered in his face.

"Good girl."

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #soccer family ⚽🕷️#miguel o'hara smut #t writes✨#atsv smut #spiderman 2099 smut

1K notes · View notes

theidiotwhowritesthings · 1 year

Text

Take Care of You [9]

Sugar Daddy!Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Overall Warnings: slow burn, angst/comfort, power imbalance, age gap, possessive tendencies, eventual smut, #daddyissues, independent reader learns to let go and relax, emotionally constipated Joel Miller learns to be vulnerable; (more specific warnings to be added to individual chapters if necessary)

Chapter Word Count: 9,950

Mood board and borders by @saradika

Summary: You spent your entire adult life supporting yourself and barely getting by. It’s why a life of ease offered to you by a mysterious stranger sounded so foreign and unbelievable. Joel Miller, dressed in flannels that had seen better days, didn’t look like the kind who could promise you the world on a plate, but he seemed desperate to help out. All he asks is that you let him take care of you. That wouldn’t be so hard. Would it?

[a/n: we back, baby. and we also barely edited so if you catch a typo don't hate me. also this was supposed to end in a different spot but then i got carried away in the middle so i had to split it 🥴]

Chapter Specific Warnings: angst, heartbreak, binge drinking to ease emotional turmoil, mild violence, mentions of blood and injury

09: LET ME TAKE CARE OF YOU

"i still haven't figured out how to sit across from you, and not be madly in love with everything you do." ⏤ william c. hannon

Three years ago, Nima tried to convince you to go skydiving with her. She begged and she pleaded, but you told her ‘no’ on account of thinking she was a crazy person for wanting to jump out of a perfectly good plane. Which was hilarious now considering you were sitting beside Joel wanting to pull open the door and dive out. The irony was not lost on you.

The only reason you hadn’t gone scrambling for the door was because Joel was forced to take a work call a few minutes into the flight. He hadn’t moved away. Joel stayed right next to you with his arm behind you as he spoke, and every few moments he’d glance at you with a silent apology and shake his head. You’d reply with a tight lipped smile and go back to mindlessly scrolling through instagram.

Unfortunately the mindlessly scrolling was not so mindless. Since leaving Vegas, you had a high pitch ringing in the back of your mind like an endless, echoing siren. Married. A married man. Joel was⏤ Your teeth were clenched together so hard you wondered if Joel could hear them grinding against one another. Yesterday had been filled with so much anxiety, and you had managed to work through it by the end of the night. Mostly. But this was worse. This was so much worse.

Married?

Your throat suddenly felt tight, eyes stinging with unshed tears, and you hastily undid your seatbelt and stood. Joel glanced your way and you pointed to the back of the plane and mouthed the word ‘bathroom’ to him. He nodded with a soft smile, and you spun on your heel and practically sprinted to the tiny plane bathroom. You struggled to get the folding door shut and the stewardess who sat not far away stared at you in confusion. You gave her an awkward wave and finally got it latched.

“Fuck.” You shoved your face in your hands, leaning against the wall, and held back your tears. You were confused and frustrated, and you couldn’t even find relief in a good cry because Joel would spot it in a heartbeat no matter how much you tried to put yourself back together. The thought of confronting him about this right now was your worst nightmare. You hadn’t had the time to process any of the wild thoughts pinging around your head yet.

Your mind was at war with itself. On one hand, maybe you were being stupid and naive. For the last month and a half you’ve spent nearly every day with Joel and on the days you weren’t actively seeing him the two of you would talk either over a call or through text. You knew Yo-yo for 24 hours. Sure, she seemed nice and sincere, but what if Rosalind sent her to screw with you? For all you knew, Yo-yo had cruel intentions and was trying to drive a wedge between you and Joel. By taking her word you’d be playing right into that trap. What she said about the other sugar baby and about Joel being married? Maybe it was all fake and you’ve been stressing for no reason.

On the other hand, Joel didn’t kiss you. He didn’t kiss you because he wanted to ‘do right by you’. Joel asked for time. Was it because he needed to get a divorce? Worse. Was he married with absolutely no plans to get divorced and just buying time for something else?

God, if you kept up this line of thought you were gonna vomit. Quickly, you turned to the sink to splash a little cold water on your face in hopes it would help you get your shit together for the next thirty minutes. Half an hour and you’d be on the ground. But then what? It would be a miracle if you kept it together for thirty minutes let alone any longer.

You took in a long, slow breath and tried to clear your mind. When you felt steady enough, you stepped out of the bathroom. As tempting as it was to hide in there for the rest of the flight, it would probably be a red flag for Joel that something was wrong. You wandered back over to Joel and at your approach, and at the sight of you, he covered the bottom of his phone and whispered, “You alright?”

“Mhmm.” You nodded quickly and sat back down.

“I’m sorry. Jus’ another minute.”

You waved your hands at him as nonchalantly as you could and he went back to his call. You leaned back in the seat, phone in hand, and Joel readjusted his arm on the back of the seat so he could settle his hand on your shoulder. As he always did, his thumb was tracing circles on your shoulder. An action you always loved, but now an intrusive thought slammed into you⏤ does he do this with his wife? The question was so startling, so sickening, that you couldn’t bite back the nausea that rolled through your body. You jumped up so fast you nearly stumbled over your feet, and you scrambled for the bathroom.

Vaguely, you heard your name behind you, but you didn’t stop until you reached the toilet. You fell to your knees and threw up. The taste of acid in your mouth made you wince, but getting it all up did bring some relief. That relief was short lived though as you felt a large, warm hand settle on your back.

“Jesus, sugar.” He said in a soothing voice as he rubbed your back. “What’s goin’ on? Have you felt sick all mornin’?”

You spat into the toilet bowl, trying to get the taste of bile out of your mouth, before reaching out and flushing the toilet. You tried to stand, and Joel hooked his arm around you to help you up. He called out of the bathroom and a second later the stewardess brought in a cup of water and a ginger ale. Joel handed you the water and kept his hand rubbing up and down on your back.

“I’m⏤ I’m fine.” You shook your head and took a sip of water to swish and spit into the sink. “Really.”

“Obviously not.” Joel replied. “C’mon, let’s sit you down.”

“Joel…” You tried to argue, but he wasn’t hearing it. He kept an arm around you as he carefully led you back to the seat. He brought the bottle of ginger ale with you and the moment you finished the water he took the cup out of your hand to replace it with the soda. “I feel better now. It’s fine.”

“You’ve been off this mornin'. I was worried.” Joel lifted a hand to feel your forehead. It made sense that Joel picked up on your distress. He had always been so good at reading you. “You seemed fine when we first woke up. When exactly did you start feelin' sick?”

You took a sip of the ginger ale, “I…I don’t know. After breakfast maybe.” You lied. The sincerity in his eyes, the concern in his voice, it was both bringing you comfort and making you sick again all at once. You felt so stupid. Either you were freaking out over a lie a woman you barely knew told you or you were being tricked into feelings by a married man. Either way, you felt pathetic. “Your, um, your work call, Joel.”

Joel shook his head in response and didn’t even bother addressing the work call he stopped. He set a hand on the back of your neck and his thumb was lightly ghosting over your skin. You closed your eyes and took a slow breath in and out through your nose. “Tell me what I can do, sugar.”

“I⏤” You swallowed the lump in your throat. You forced your eyes open, finding Joel’s furrowed brow and worried gaze already on you, and it made you want to cry. You shook your head, “I, um, I think I just wanna lay down for a while. If that’s okay.”

“Course it’s okay.” He replied.

The seat the two of you were sharing wasn’t long enough for you to lay down without laying your head on Joel’s lap. You planned on moving to the other couch seats to lay down, but Joel’s hand was still on the back of your neck and he lightly began to guide you down. Too tired to even try and move, you settled your head on his thigh and curled your body up onto the rest of the seat.

In any other situation, this would be one of the most comfortable spots on Earth. Your head rested on his thick, firm thigh, and Joel’s hand traced where he could reach. Up and down your jawline and neck⏤ his thumb and forefinger would occasionally massage your earlobe. You tried to calm your racing thoughts. The truth was, you didn’t know the truth yet. It was a fact you kept repeating in your head in hopes it would numb the sharp pain of your worst fears, but those intrusive thoughts continued to pummel you.

“I’m so sorry, baby girl.” Joel murmured while his fingers dragged across your skin. “What a shitty way to end this weekend.” You hummed in agreement. This really was a shitty way to close out what started as one of the best weekends of your life.

Avoiding Joel made you realize how involved in your life he was. After landing in LA, Joel tried to drag you to a doctor and only conceded when you told him it was probably a 24 hour bug and you just wanted to sleep. He called you later that night to check in on you, and you managed to talk to him for a few minutes before lying about wanting to go to bed early. Come Monday morning, you went to work despite Joel texting you that you should stay home. Trying to focus at work was physically painful. Enough so that after the nightmare Monday had been, you left midway through the day today claiming to Henry that you didn’t feel well. It wasn’t even a full blown lie. You felt like shit.

Nima threw the folder of papers onto her desk and set her hands on her hips, “I’m gonna hit him with my car.”

“Please don’t.” You mumbled with your chin resting in your palm as you leaned on the other side of her desk. After leaving work, you came directly to Nima’s office. Going home and sitting on your couch, alone with your thoughts, would only make you ten times more miserable.

“No, actually, my car isn’t big enough. I’m gonna commandeer a bus and hit him with that.”

“I haven’t confirmed anything yet. For all I know, I’m being this pathetic over nothing.”

Nima snapped her hand up and pointed at you with a glare, “No. I will not have you shit talking yourself when the only person we should be shit talking is Joel Miller and his wife.”

You groaned and let your head fall to the desk. The words ‘Joel Miller and his wife’ made you viscerally ill. The time you spent not talking to Joel Monday night you spent stalking people on social media. You reached dead ends very quickly though since Joel didn’t have any social media whatsoever. The easiest solution was to just look Joel in the eyes and ask him for the truth, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You wanted to know the truth, but you were scared to actually seek it out.

If you asked Joel for the truth, if you confronted him, then he’d give it to you.

What if the truth was something you didn’t want to hear?

“Alrighty, babe, real talk.” Nima said and you lifted your head, keeping your chin resting on the wood, and saw she had dropped down into her office chair. To meet your eye line, she held her chin on the desk across from you to mirror your position. “I can threaten and plot his demise all I want, but I know I’m not allowed to kill him until this is confirmed or denied.” She twisted her lips. “You deserve the truth.”

You pouted, “How am I supposed to ask him about this, Nima??”

Her eyebrows furrowed in concern, “If you did ask… How sure are you that he’d answer truthfully?”

You pushed up and leaned back in the chair. That was a good question, and with anyone else it would probably be a real concern. However, you weren’t worried about that. You truly, deep down, believed that if you confronted Joel about this he would give you the truth.

“I really think he would.” You answered. “Is that naive of me?”

“You know him better than I do.”

This entire situation made you question that. Did you know him? You knew he grew up in Austin. He had a younger brother, Tommy, and it was just them and his mom for most of his childhood. You knew he attended one year in college when his mom passed away⏤ cancer. Joel dropped out of college to take care of his brother and picked up a job in construction. That’s where he got his start. His first boss saw he had a knack for more than just the manual labor and trusted him with more and more until Joel was running sites for the man. At 27, Joel’s girlfriend of three months got pregnant. They planned to make it work, but she left when Sarah was two weeks old. You knew he adopted Ellie three years later. That he earned his bachelor’s degree in business at home through online classes while raising two young girls and working a full time job. That he started Miller Construction shortly after earning that degree, and it blew up from there.

You knew despite being a tough guy, he didn’t like horror movies.

You knew his favorite whiskey was Lagavulin⏤ neat.

The one thing you didn’t know was if he was married or not.

“I am going to suggest something,” Nima began, “And I want you to listen before you call me crazy.” You shot her confused look and she continued on. “I have this cousin.” You groaned and Nima chastised you to listen. It seemed like she had a cousin available for every situation that arose, and half the people she called cousin weren’t even technically related to her by blood. Anytime you asked her about it all she’d say was ‘Korean moms’ love to talk’, as if that clarified anything for you. “Seriously. He’s dating a private eye. With one text, we can get some answers.”

You shook your head, “Nima, that’s insane.”

“Is it?”

“Yes, hiring a private investigator is insane.”

“Look, it’ll get us reliable answers.” Nima argued. “The truth.”

You rolled the idea around in your head. It was literally the epitome of paranoid absurdity, but you were wondering if that’s the point you were at. Would it be better to find out this way? That way when you finally did confront Joel you wouldn’t be blind sided by the answer. Hell, if the answer turned out to be ‘no, he isn’t married’ then you can chalk up the last few days as time wasted and move on with your life. That being said, it did seem like an invasion of Joel’s privacy.

“That feels…” You paused, “Illegal?”

“It’s not illegal to hire a PI.” Nima countered then tilted her head. “I think. I’m not a lawyer, but people do it on TV all the time, right?”

“Well, that logic is foolproof.”

“I’m not gonna do it if you tell me you don’t want to do it.” Nima said firmly. She crossed her arms and gave a small little shrug. “But you have to do something. Either this or just call him right now and tell him the two of you need to talk.” There was a protective sincerity in her eyes that felt like a security blanket being settled on your shoulders. “I don’t want to see you get more attached to this guy just to be hurt. I don’t want him to lie to you.”

You knew Nima only had your best interests in mind. Technically, Joel had given you no reason not to trust him. Half the time you thought on this topic you convinced yourself you were overreacting and being a pathetic, paranoid mess. Yo-yo, as nice and fun as she had been, was a virtual stranger to you. Her word shouldn’t trump Joel’s. You knew all of that, and you wanted to trust him. However, it felt like some broken part of you was looking for something to be wrong. Joel Miller was too good to be true. Why would someone like him be interested in someone like you? There had to be something else going on. According to your ex, you hadn’t even been worthy of him and Joel Miller was ten times the man he was.

“Okay, do it.” You blurted and hated yourself for doing so.

Nima held your gaze for a second, but you pushed to stand and crossed her office to her private bathroom. You took one of the paper towels, dampening it, and set it on the back of your neck in a poor attempt to ground yourself. For a while longer, you just stood there in front of the sink. Not staring at yourself, but staring forward at a singular spot as your thoughts raced. You needed a positive thought. Just one would do, and you were prepared to drag it out of your thick skull kicking and screaming if necessary.

“Everything is going to be okay.” You mumbled to yourself softly.

The whispered words did nothing for your anxiety. However, the memory of him did. You found comfort looking back at the soft moments spent with Joel and let yourself fall down that rabbit hole. The temporary peace was nice, but it didn't last. Finding strength you didn’t know you had today, you splashed your face one more time and then left the bathroom.

Your eyes immediately landed on Nima who stared back with wide eyes. Nima spoke first, “What?”

“What?” You repeated. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Oh, I thought you said something.” Nima flipped her phone over and settled her hand on top of it. You glanced from her face to her phone and back again. A look of misery flickered across her features. You tilted your head in question. “Are you hungry? I’m hungry.”

“Nima.” You crossed the room quickly. “Did they already text back??”

“No. Yes. Maybe?” Nima shook her head. “Not exactly.”

“Nima.”

She twisted her lips and drummed her nails against the plastic case of her phone. You shot her another look and she blew out a sigh. “He sent me a response, but it’s like half an answer. Half a report. We should wait until he can⏤”

“What did he say?”

“Apparently, he’s working on a case for someone else right now and had a database right in front of him so all he had to do was type in⏤”

“Nima, please.” You blurted. It felt like your heart was caught in your throat. You couldn’t breathe and you didn't feel coherent enough to string together a thought. Her hesitance was an answer in and of itself. You rubbed your throat, your other arm wrapping around your torso in a poor attempt to hold yourself together, and gasped. “Just say it.”

“He’s married, babe.” Nima mumbled. You knew the words had been coming, but they still overwhelmed you. The air left your lungs as if someone had gut punched you and you fell back into the seat in front of her desk. “He said he’d send me the certificate when he could, but he has to finish this job first. I’m so sorry. I am so, so sorry. I⏤”

Nima stopped herself from speaking as she came around her desk and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. You sat in her embrace for as long as your shattering mind could endure and then shook your head, “I need a drink. Drinks. Plural.”

“It’s three in the afternoon, babe.” Nima mumbled in concern. You shot her a dry look and she offered you a tight lipped smile. “Drinks it is! Let’s go. We can go back to my place and⏤”

“No.” You pushed to stand. “I wanna go out.”

“Oh… kay. Where?”

“Anywhere.” You turned and began to leave.

Nima was scrambling to gather her belongings into her strawberry shaped purse before rushing out after you. “Just one drink though. I hate being the voice of reason, but we should limit ourselves to one drink.”

One drink turned into two which turned into three which turned into twelve.

By 6 PM, you were borderline wasted. It was by no means the best decision you’ve ever made, but you couldn’t classify it as your worst considering that, for the first time since leaving Vegas, you didn’t feel sad or defeated. No, those blue emotions had turned into a burning shade of red. You had finally found your anger and all it took was copious amounts of alcohol.

“I mean, married?” You scoffed as you stood at the bar with Nima at your side. “That’s⏤ That’s illegal.” Nima nodded in agreement as she blindly tried to find the straw in her drink with her tongue. You reached out and pushed it toward her lips. “And worse than illegal! It’s fucking rude.”

“So rude.” Nima slurped at the last of her drink and all you could hear was the rattling of ice in her glass. She pulled away to slam the cup down and pointed at you⏤ her pink hair had been let down from the braid to messily rest around her shoulders. “You should get a new sugar daddy!” You stuck your tongue out in disgust and shook your head. “No! This is such a good idea.” Nima began to look around the bar. “Let’s find you a super hot, super not married sugar daddy.”

“I don’t want a new sugar daddy. I want another drink.” You leaned on the bar and waited for the bartender to look your way. Nima and you had bounced to a few bars. The two of you, back when you were sober, decided to start drinking in an area that had multiple bars all within walking distance. The one you were in now wasn’t familiar to you⏤ it wasn’t a place you and Nima had been to before. It was a bit too upscale for your liking. Sober you would not have been a fan. Drunk you? Loving it.

Nima was tapping on your shoulder rapidly and when you looked her way she was pointing across the bar to God knows who. “He looks like he wouldn’t marry someone without your permission.”

“That’s,” You shook your head, “not my situation.”

“Isn’t it?”

“I don’t know.” You shook your head and looked back toward the bartender who was busy with a group of women further down the bar. The sound of vibrating vaguely filled the air and you leaned closer to Nima who immediately wrapped her arms around you in a hug. “You’re vibrating.”

“You’re vibrating.”

You found her purse and opened it so you could rifle through it. It dawned on you then that somewhere around bar two and drink five you had shoved your phone in her purse for safe keeping. When you finally managed to pull it out, Joel’s face was flashing on the screen and you yelped in surprise. You tossed the phone onto the bar and held your face between your hands.

“Oh, no. Oh, no, no.” You shook your head and the vibration stopped. Joel’s picture disappeared and was replaced with a notification of a missed call that joined the notification telling you that you had unread messages. Your eyes snapped to Nima who was trying to drink out of her empty cup again. “Joel.”

“Bastard man.” Nima edited.

“Dinner.” You grimaced. “At 7. I’m supposed to get dinner with Joel at 7. It’s 6:35.”

Nima shook her head and crunched the ice she had shoveled into her mouth, “Bastard man can go to dinner with his wife tonight.”

You grimaced, “I hate all the words you just used.”

The bartender began to wander over and Nima turned to order more drinks. You picked up your phone and leaned against the bartop with your elbow. With a frown and furrowed brow, you opened your text messages. Every unread text was from Joel unsurprisingly. The first came in at 4:29 and it was a simple, ‘Hey sugar, I’m excited to see you tonight’. The next was almost exactly an hour later and it said, ‘Hope your day’s been alright. We still on for tonight?’. Finally, the most recent at 6:15, was just your name with a question mark.

You set the phone back down before the temptation to reply could overcome you. It only sat on the bartop for a second before it began to vibrate violently as another call came in. Joel’s face filled the screen and you felt a wave of sadness drag you under. The fact that you were mourning the lack of his presence to this degree was probably a sign you were doing this ‘sugar baby’ thing very wrong.

“Maybe I should answer it.” You voiced the thought aloud.

Nima caught it and gasped before slapping her hand on top of the still buzzing phone, “No, ma’am! You will not be doing that.” The bartender set two new drinks between the two of you. Nima pushed one in front of you and moved the straw to point directly at you. “Drink.”

You took a sip then spoke, “I don’t even know the whole story⏤” Nima pushed your face back to the straw so you took another long sip. “Maybe it’s a misunderstanding…” This time your lips found their way to the straw on their own accord and you took a sip that could be argued as dangerously long. “I need to talk to him. Confront him. Demand answers.”

“Yes. To all of that. Eventually.” Nima replied with a nod. She reached forward and bopped you on the nose with her finger. “But not tonight.”

“Why not?”

“Because I know one thing in life,” Nima held up the one finger she used to bop your nose, “You do not have serious conversations while drunk.”

You shook your head with a pout, “I thought you said you don’t like being the voice of reason.”

“If it means helping you, I’ll always lean toward reason, babe.”

The two of you went back to drinking. Your vibrating phone stopped and a few seconds passed before a notification for a voicemail popped up. You turned to Nima, “Can I listen to it? That’s not talking. That’s listening.”

Nima chewed on her straw slowly before bobbing her head in an affirmative nod, “I shall allow it.”

You picked up the phone to listen to the message he left you.

‘Hey, sugar.’ Joel’s voice rumbled over the line and you felt your chest physically ache at the sound. You closed your eyes in annoyance with yourself. If you hadn’t fallen so hard, so fast for this man you wouldn’t be in this scenario to begin with. ‘Gotta say I’m a little worried. Haven’t heard from ya all day. Gimme a call when ya get this.’

You groaned and set your head down on the bar. Guilt gnawed at you. It felt childish of you to be ghosting him like this, and that wasn’t your typical go to move. You had enough respect for the people in your life to address them when needed rather than hide behind voicemail. With the guilt was a swirling vortex of anger. You were angry at Joel for not being up front with you. You were angry at Yo-Yo for being the one to plant the initial doubt that started all this. You were angry at yourself most of all. Angry that you felt guilt at all, angry that you had foolishly placed so much trust in a man you barely knew, angry that despite everything there was still a part of you that craved his presence. You missed his touch and his voice. You missed those burning brown eyes and the way his very glance could melt you into a puddle.

“You okay, babe?” Nima’s voice asked softly. You shook your head without lifting it. “I’m sorry. I can break his knee caps if you want?”

“What?” You lifted your gaze.

“What?” She replied innocently.

The phone began to vibrate again startling you. He had just called so you didn’t expect him to call again, but then again you were supposed to be in your apartment waiting for him to pick you up for dinner. You pictured him standing at your door dressed up and holding a bouquet of flowers. Nausea rolled over you in waves, and you grabbed your mixed drink thinking it could cure your troubles.

A few minutes passed before another voicemail was left. You snatched your phone up and shoved it back into Nima’s purse so it would be out of your line of sight⏤ not even bothering to listen to the second voicemail. Tomorrow, you decided. Tomorrow you would confront Joel and have this difficult conversation. You both finished the drinks in front of you as the lively bar continued to thrive around you.

“Why is he married?” You asked suddenly. Nima must have known it wasn’t a question you expected an actual answer to as she stayed silent. You rested your face in your hands and sighed. With your eyes closed against your hands like this you began to feel dizzy. A sure sign that you should stop drinking. Nima rubbed your back soothingly and you dropped your hands to shoot her an appreciative glance. “You’re the best best friend a girl could ask for.”

“I know, babe. And you know what else I know?” Nima squished your cheeks together with a wide grin, “You deserve the universe in a gold hand basket, and any man who can’t see that or who would play games with your big, loving heart doesn’t deserve you.”

You laughed and Nima chuckled herself before letting go of your face to pick up her empty glass. Her tongue struggled to find the straw but once it did she tried to take a big gulp only to get drops and air. Nima pulled away from her straw and furrowed her brow, “Who finished my drink?”

With another laugh, you raised your hand to order two more drinks. At this point you’ve already had so much to drink, what would one more hurt? You knew the hangover tomorrow was going to be a bad one, but a part of you was looking forward to it. There would be no mourning Joel tomorrow if your head hurt too much to even think his name.

Nima successfully managed to distract you again as she drunkenly delved into a story you weren’t quite following, but you enjoyed the way she told it. A low whistle interrupted the moment of peace the two of you had found. You glanced past Nima to see two men in business suits wandering over. Nothing about them stood out to you. One was brunet and the other blond, but they both looked like they never grew out of the frat lifestyle on a college campus.

“We saw you two pretty ladies from over there and wanted to come and offer you our company.” The blond greeted smugly.

Nima turned in her seat to face him and waved her hand at him while taking a long sip of her drink until the ice rattled in the glass. Then she pulled the straw out of her mouth to finally speak with a shake of her head, “Sorry, we don’t speak english.”

“You just said that in English.” The blond chuckled.

“Sorry, sorry.” Nima waved her hand once more. “I don’t understand your accent.”

You snickered under your breath while chewing on your straw. The brunet stepped forward to stand side by side with the other and shook his head, “No need to be a bitch. We just wanted to talk.”

“Oh, you haven’t even begun to see bitchy yet.” Nima pointed her glass in their direction⏤ a bit of ice sloshing out with the exaggerated movement. “I can show you bitchy.” She reached back to swat at your arm. “Tell them, babe.”

“She can.” You nodded in agreement.

The blond set a hand on his friend’s shoulder and tugged him back, “Let’s just go, man.”

The brunet reluctantly let himself get dragged away, but he continued to stare at you and Nima the entire time. Nima spun in her seat and scoffed, “Where was I before I was interrupted by douchebag one and douchebag two?”

“I’m not gonna lie,” You shrugged, “I have no idea.”

“I’ll pick a place then.” Nima said and jumped into the middle of her story. “So, there I was covered head to toe in honey.”

Same as before, you really couldn’t keep track of her tale but it amused you all the same. The two of you chatted for another minute or two before a new face came across the two of you again. Nima had bounced in her seat, excited, and it knocked her strawberry shaped purse to the floor. Your phone clattered out. Before you could climb off the bar stool to grab it, a man passing knelt down and scooped it up. In one tanned hand he grabbed the purse and in the other your phone. The phone’s screen lit up and you swallowed at the sight of the multiple missed messages all from the same person.

“Oh.” The man cleared his throat and straightened his stance. He was handsome with a kind face. Dark hair, a bit on the longer side, was messily pushed back and it matched the scruff on his upper lip and chin. The man wore a pink button up shirt, all the buttons undone, over a white t-shirt. “I suppose this is yours, miss?”

You begun to reach out, “Thanks⏤”

“Hold it!” Nima pointed at the man making his dark, brown eyes widen. “State your intentions, sir!”

“To…return your purse?” He lifted up the strawberry bag.

Nima narrowed her eyes at him and snatched it away, “Likely story.”

“Thank you.” You reached out and he handed the phone over to you. A glance down revealed four missed calls, two unheard voicemails, and five texts. You winced at the sight and set your phone face down on the bar. You were surprised to see the man still standing by your stools. “You…” You narrowed your eyes at him. “You look familiar. Have we met before?”

He chuckled and shook his head, “Afraid not, ma’am.”

It was sitting on the tip of your tongue, but your foggy brain just couldn’t quite grasp it. Nima snapped her fingers and pointed at him. “I got it. He’s that guy.” You lifted an eyebrow at her words and she nodded frantically. “Yeah, he’s that actor! You play in that one show with, like, the zombies or whatever, right?”

“Not at all.” He laughed with a shake of his head. “I ain’t no actor.”

“Well then, I’m out of guesses.” Nima grumbled. She tilted her head, looking him up and down once more, “You seem nice enough. Got a pretty face. You rich? You wanna be a sugar daddy? She’s in the market.”

You rolled your eyes, “Nima.”

“You’re in the market for a sugar daddy?” The man asked in shock. You could hardly blame the man for his confusion and disbelief. This was hardly a normal bar conversation. “Really?”

“No. She’s just drunk.”

“Irrelevant.” Nima argued.

You chuckled then introduced yourself and Nima. The man paused for a beat before nodding and offering you his hand. “Nice to meet you both. My name is Tommy.” It took a second to click, but once the name finally wormed its way through your mind your eyes widened. Tommy chuckled and answered your unspoken question, “Yeah. I am.”

Nima glanced between you two with a frown, “Hold on, I’m not following. You are what? You’ll be her new sugar daddy?”

“No way in hell.” Tommy grinned. “If I even thought 'bout it, my brother’d skin me alive.”

The look on Nima’s face stayed confused until you swallowed the lump in your throat and finally spoke, “It’s… Nima, this is Joel’s brother.”

Her face remained frozen before morphing into one of shock. She gasped, almost comically, and pointed at him. “Oh, fuck.” Her eyebrows furrowed into a glare. “You son of a bitch, your brother is a son of a bitch!”

Tommy didn’t pay her outburst any mind, but his eyes darted back to you. “I asked my brother to come out drinkin' with me tonight, but he said ‘no’ cause he had a date with you.” Tommy stuck his hands into his pockets. “Funny I’m findin' you here without him.”

“That’s because your brother is too busy with his wife to be with my girl!”

Tommy’s eyebrows furrowed in surprise and he glanced back to you, “He already told you about her?”

It was quite possibly the worst string of words you could have heard all day. Only in competition with Nima’s ‘He’s married, babe’. You felt nauseous and dizzy⏤ the breath stolen from you again. Nima was arguing with Tommy, you could hear her voice, but you couldn’t concretely understand a single word that was said. When you finally managed to get a handle on reality, you looked back to see things had fallen apart and more time than you realized had passed in your mental breakdown.

The blond and brunet from earlier, in the suits, had come back and were somehow arguing with Tommy and Nima now. You suddenly began to regret the last two drinks you had. Maybe if you had gone with a couple glasses of water instead you’d be able to puzzle out exactly what was going on right now.

“Get the hell outta here. They ain’t interested.” Tommy snapped.

“Just curious as to why we weren’t good enough for these bitches and you were.” The brunet slurred his words. Tommy stood a step in front of Nima who had slid off her bar stool to stand in front of you with her hands on her hips. “What’s so special about you, bub?”

“Ugh. How about the two of you run off to the bathroom and jack each other off, huh? Then leave us the fuck alone.” Nima sneered.

“Shut your damn mouth!”

The blond tried to push past Tommy toward Nima, but Tommy shoved him back immediately. He grabbed the guy by the collar. “You gonna charge at a woman like that? Fuckin' coward.” Tommy’s voice came out in a gravelly growl that reminded you so much of Joel that it was staggering. “You got a problem, you take it up with me.”

The next moment happened fast. The blond tried to swing out at Tommy so Tommy blocked it with his elbow before tackling the man to the ground. The brunet grabbed Nima and wrapped his arms around her. She howled in anger and squirmed in his arms trying to find purchase to hit him. The brunet spun so his back was to you and you slid off the stool. Without pause, without thought, you picked up your empty glass and smashed it to the back of the man’s head. He released Nima, crumpling to the ground with a groan, and any shred of a fight stopped⏤as did the entire bar.

Tommy was kneeling on the ground pinning the blond while Nima stood off to the side.

“Oh my God.” Nima squealed, amused.

“Oh my God.” Tommy blurted, impressed.

“Oh my God.” You gasped, shocked at your own action.

You were panting, damn near hyperventilating, as the brunet began to rise on shaky limbs. Other patrons nearby converged on the scene to help out and before you knew it you were being ushered off to the side where a few couches and seats sat in a lounge area.

“You’re such a badass.” Nima gushed from beside you. "How’s your hand??”

“Hurts.” You mumbled and stared down at the white cloth wrapped around your hand. Bright red was beginning to seep through. The consequences of smashing glass against the back of someone’s skull. Police had shown up and you knew Tommy was across the room talking to them. But still, your eyes stayed glued on your hand. The cuts weren’t terrible but they stung something awful.

“Babe?” You finally looked up and met Nima’s concerned eyes. She nodded, “You alright?”

You shot her a small smile, “Yeah. Are you okay? I can’t believe he grabbed you.”

“I’m fine.” Nima peeked at your hand then stood. “I’m gonna see if this bar has a real first aid kit we can use. Be right back.”

She jumped up and jogged over to the bar. You sunk in your seat with a sigh and leaned your head against the back of the couch. There had been something very sobering about smashing the glass against that guy’s head. The adrenaline and pain cleared any lingering fog from your previous drinks right out of your head. It left room for you to think about Joel. Meeting his brother certainly didn’t help. Tommy clapped one of the officer’s on the shoulder with a smile and they went separate ways. You lifted your head when you heard his footsteps draw near.

“Well, I spoke to the police.” Tommy stuck his hands into his pockets. “You’re not gonna get in trouble for the, you know, the glass. Won’t have to go downtown with ‘em.” You breathed a sigh of relief. Tommy held your gaze for a few more seconds before scrunching his nose and bobbing his head toward you. “And Joel is, uh, on his way.”

You covered your face with your good hand and groaned, “Can I please just be arrested instead?”

“Sorry, no can do.” Tommy sat down beside you. “You know, I didn’t say it earlier, but it’s nice to finally meet you. Joel never shuts up about you.”

“Please. Don’t.” You blurted. “I can’t… I can’t talk about him right now.”

Tommy nodded, “Right. I, uh, when I called him we didn’t talk much.” He laced his fingers together and rested his arms on his knees. “I mentioned you were hurt and things kind of spiraled from there. That’s probably for the best though. I don’t wanna get in between a lover’s quarrel⏤”

“I’m not his lover.” You snapped, and you hated the way your voice cracked. You shook your head, “Not if he’s married. Not…” The adrenaline was beginning to wear off and you were exhausted to your very bones. “This is so fucked up. I never should've agreed to…

Tommy didn’t immediately reply. He sighed, “I don’t know you, and I don’t got the exact details of what’s going on right now, but… I’m glad you agreed.” He turned and met your gaze with a tight smile. “Joel’s been… He’s been better. Joel was in a rut for a long time. So long that I kind of forgot he was in one. For a while, that was just Joel.” Tommy’s smile grew as he chuckled. “But ever since the two of you met, it’s like this weight has been lifted from his shoulders. We’ve all noticed it, and we’re all thankful.”

“He’s married.” You whispered. “And he didn’t tell me.”

Tommy rubbed the back of his neck, “I know, but it’s⏤ it’s not that simple.” He nervously chewed on his lower lip. “Can you just give him a chance to explain?” You flexed your hand and sucked in a sharp breath as pain lanced up your arm. “Consider it a favor for me.”

“A favor for you?” You snorted.

“Yeah. I kept you out of prison, remember?” Tommy joked.

You cracked a smile and Tommy’s smile widened in victory. Nima skipped back over and dropped into the seat on your other side. She pulled your hand into her lap and carefully unpeeled the cloth away. As Nima rewrapped your hand while Tommy criticized her technique and the two bickered over you. You couldn’t help but flex your hand when she finished.

“Come on, pinkie.” Tommy stood. “I’ll take you home.”

“Uh, I am not leaving my girl here alone.”

“Joel will be here soon.”

“Then I’m definitely not leaving her alone!”

You reached out to squeeze her wrist and gave her a reassuring nod, “I’ll be okay. Gotta talk to him eventually, right?”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t have to be right now.” Nima argued. You pulled her into a hug to reassure her once again. Maybe this was a bad idea, but you had just smashed a glass against a guy’s head so the degree of your bad ideas couldn't possibly get worse. Nima sighed and stood up too. “Okay. You’re sure you’re fine?”

Tommy clapped his hands. “Joel’s a few minutes away. But we can stay until he gets here if you want.”

“No.” You shook your head. The thought of being alone for a minute was kind of nice. “You guys go.” Your eyes locked onto Nima. “If you’re okay with him driving you.” You glanced at Tommy. “No offense.”

He held his hands up in surrender and shrugged nonchalantly. Nima nodded, “We survived a bar brawl together. We’re bonded.” She grinned and pulled her strawberry purse around her shoulders. “Plus, worse comes to worse, I can stab him.”

“You can what now?” Tommy questioned.

“You’ve already offered me a ride. It’s too late to back out now.”

“Fine, pinkie.” Tommy waved her to follow.

You watched them go and sunk in your seat. The sounds of the bar was decent background noise, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the noise in your head. You picked at the edges of the gauze wrapped around your hand. Your eyes felt heavy and if you weren’t careful you were going to pass out on this bar couch surrounded by strangers. It was the sound of a crash that startled you back into the moment, and when you looked up from your hand you realized the door had been thrown open hard enough to hit the wall. Joel stood in the doorway panicked and wild eyed. He wore a suit without the tie and his shirt was unbuttoned at the top.

You stayed silent, sinking further into your seat, and watched as Joel’s wide eyes scanned the room. His gaze finally landed on you, doing a double take, and when he realized where you were you saw his shoulders slump in relief. Joel jogged across the room until he was able to kneel down in front of you. Joel’s warm hands found your face, cupping it softly, as he sighed, “Sugar, what the hell is goin' on? Are you okay?” Joel’s eyes studied your face then glanced down at your hand. “Jesus, your hand. Tommy called me. Sugar, I⏤”

“I’m okay.” You whispered, throat growing tight, “I just wanna go home, Joel.”

Joel tensed and he nodded, “Yeah. Alright. Let’s get you home.”

The ride in the truck beside Joel may have been the most awkward and tense ride of your entire life. It was silent. The only sound coming from the road outside. Joel’s hands were white knuckled around the steering wheel. You assumed his tension had something to do with you ghosting him this evening. His truck pulled up outside your apartment complex and your alcohol soaked brain realized not only did you not have your keys but you also no longer had your phone. Both were sitting in Nima’s purse right now.

You opened the door fully prepared to sleep outside your apartment on the welcome mat like a lost dog, but Joel grasped you by the arm cautiously to hold you in place. “You got your key?” You twisted your lips knowing he wasn’t going to fall for a lie. “Where is your key?”

“With Nima.” You mumbled. “She has my phone too.”

Joel sighed and let go of you to instead grab the truck door and shut it. He buckled you back into the seat and began to drive once more. You wanted to ask where he was taking you, but none of the words would come out. You drowned in your indecision while picking at the bandage on your hand. Joel suddenly reached over and lightly pushed your hand away from the injury.

“Stop pickin' at it, sugar.”

“Where are we going?” You blurted.

Joel shifted in his seat, “My place.”

“I don’t wanna go to your place.” You mumbled.

“Don’t care.” Joel replied gruffly and you lifted your head to glare at his side profile.

The tone of his voice stirred something inside you, and you felt the dormant anger start to reawaken. It had gotten buried under everything that happened, but now it was back full fledged. You sat up, “Take me back. I want to go home.”

“You don’t have your key.”

“I don’t care.” You snapped. “Take me home, Joel!”

“You’re comin' to my place where I know you can safely sleep it off, 'nd then tomorrow we’ll figure out how to get ya back into your apartment. Understood?”

You scoffed, “Don’t talk down to me. I’m not a child, Joel.”

“Oh, you’re not?” Joel scoffed. His tone was angry and frustrated. “Cause you’re sure as hell actin' like one.” He shot a glare in your direction before focusing back on the road. “Are you outta your goddamn mind?! Do you know how worried I was?” You crossed your arms and stared out the passenger window. “I don’ hear from you all day long. You disappear on me with no explanation 'nd then I get a call from my baby brother that you’ve been in a bar fight? And that you’re hurt?!” You stayed silent and Joel scoffed. “And now I get the silent treatment? Very mature.”

“You don’t want to argue with me on what’s mature, Joel.” You said, head whipping back to glare at him.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean??”

“You’re a hypocrite!”

“Excuse me?”

You scoffed, “It’s not very mature for a married man to pay a sugar baby for attention.” Joel hit the brakes and the seat belt caught you as the truck screeched to a stop. You glanced out the window to see his truck had reached a neighborhood and the streets were mostly void of other vehicles. When you turned back to Joel, you found him staring at you in a mix of shock and horror. You shook your head, “What was I, Joel? Some kind of midlife crisis?”

Pain could be seen through the horror, and he reached out to grab your wrist again. “No. No, that’s not…” Joel’s voice was hoarse and broken. He whispered your name. “Please. That’s not what this is.”

You tugged your arm away from his grip. “I don’t wanna talk about this right now, Joel. Either start driving again or I’m gonna get out.”

Joel kept his hands to himself as he slowly went back to driving. As if the awkward silence hadn’t been painful before it was downright agonizing now. You were pressing your thumb into the wounds of your palm just to try and keep from crying. Joel pulled into the driveway a few minutes later, and you couldn’t even get your brain to collect a single feature of the house in front of you. Joel jumped out of the truck and you stayed frozen. The passenger door opened but Joel didn’t move to pull you out. He held the top of the door frame and a foot rested on the running board so he could lean in just marginally.

“Sugar…”

“Don’t, Joel.” You said firmly. “Don’t.”

“Please just let me⏤”

“Are you married?”

Joel’s face crumpled in agony and he hung his head, “It’s… It’s not that simple. Just let me⏤”

“It’s a yes or no question.” You shrugged and tried to ignore the tears welling up in your eyes.

Joel looked like he was on the verge of a panic attack. His eyes were squeezed shut, but he still refused to answer. You whispered his name. Finally, he lifted his gaze back to you and opened his mouth. His jaw hung open silently for a second before he could speak. “...Yes.”

You felt the tears lingering at the waterline drip down your cheeks and hastily began to wipe them away with your hands. Joel gasped and began to reach out but when you flinched he held back. He shook his head, “You’re bleedin'.”

The bandage around your hand was soaked with blood, probably from digging your thumb into the wounds, and when you felt your cheek with your fingertips they came back tinted red. You must have smeared it across your face.

“Sugar, let me… let me take you inside.” Joel murmured. “Please. I know you’re… upset, 'nd you have every reason to hate me right now, but… just let me get you inside.” His hand reached out for you once more, but he stopped himself. “You can leave in the mornin', but for tonight just⏤ just let me take care of you. Please.”

You gave a small nod. It felt weak of you, but you reassured yourself that you had little to no other option. Your hand hurt, your head ached, you were exhausted to your very being, and deep down you were torn between wanting to yell and scream or curl into a ball and cry. Joel took a few steps back to allow you to climb down yourself, but when you wavered his arms shot out to try and steady you. Joel herded you toward the front door without actually touching you.

Your eyebrows furrowed when you studied his front porch. The entire front of his house didn’t look like the typical rich LA style you were accustomed to seeing. In fact, his porch and front door reminded you of a quaint farmhouse. Joel unlocked his front door and held it open for you to walk in. Right inside the house, the foyer had an open style with a set of stairs pressed against the wall just up ahead. It opened straight into a large living room that evolved into a dining room with a matching open kitchen to the side. The entire back wall by the kitchen and dining area was made of glass but the back porch lights were off so you couldn’t see the view.

Joel tossed his keys into a bowl sitting on an accent table against the wall right by the door. You glanced over to a little bench built into the wall on the other side beneath a set of bay windows. The rest of his furniture from what you could see was modern and plain. You were drunk off alcohol and misery, but your brain was still able to take the time to note that Joel’s furniture didn’t match what you imagined him to have.

“C’mon.” Joel motioned you up the stairs. He followed after you and when you reached the top of the stairs he pointed to the left. You stepped into the master bedroom and Joel slid in past you moving straight toward the master bath. While he rooted around for something, you glanced around his room. There was a king sized bed sitting in the middle of the room covered in dark green sheets. A window sat on either side of the bed. The wall to the right was where the bathroom door and the closet door sat, but on the left was a single loveseat pushed against the wall. All the furniture was dark brown including the large dresser against the wall by the door and the smaller bedside drawers on either side of the bed under the windows. You drifted toward one of the bedside drawers where a photo was propped up. It was of Joel and two young girls. Joel had shown you enough pictures of Sarah and Ellie for you to recognize them, but in this photo all three of them were significantly younger.

The sound of a throat clearing made you look up to see Joel standing there with a first aid kit in hand. “Sit down for me?” You sat on the side of the bed and Joel sat beside you. He opened the kit then carefully unwrapped your hand. When he saw the three lines haphazardly cut into your palm he let out a soft hiss. “You hurtin' much?”

“It stings some.” You mumbled. He hummed in response and used an alcohol swab to clean up the cuts. Joel did so with soft touches and his eyes flickered to your features every second or so to check in on your status. You locked your jaw to bite back any sounds of pain that tried to slip out.

“They look bad, but I don’ think they’ll need stitches.” Joel thought out loud.

“Good.” You said. Joel grabbed some fresh gauze and began to wrap it around your hand. You studied his features as he focused so intently on the task at hand. His warm gaze was burned into your skin as his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. You had the urge to trace your fingers through the scruff along his jawline. When he finished, he lifted his gaze and his eyes locked with yours. The two of you stared at one another in tense silence. Pain and longing filled his brown eyes, and you wondered if it could somehow just be a reflection of your own. It made no sense for you to both be so miserable right now. “Where is she?”

Joel tensed, “What?”

“Where is your wife?” You asked more firmly.

“Are you sure you wanna get into this tonight?”

“I just want answers, Joel.” You sighed. “I need something. My mind has been a mess since we left Vegas.” Joel’s face crumpled as he closed his eyes with a sigh. “Yo-yo told me I wasn’t your first sugar baby and then she said you were married to your first sugar baby.” The words were falling out like pouring water now. “And then Nima has a cousin who has a cousin who has a friend or something that was able to find your marriage certificate⏤”

Joel murmured your name in reverence and opened his eyes. He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you from the start. That way there’d be no miscommunication or confusion. I meant to. But… I kept puttin' it off 'nd it got to the point where too much time had passed…” Joel hesitantly reached out for you and when you didn’t shy away he settled his hand on your arm. “I did have a sugar baby before you. It’s a… long story, but I am not married to her.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, “You didn’t marry her?”

“No. Absolutely not. She was… Like I said, it’s a long story.” Joel squeezed your arm. “One that I promise to tell you. In the mornin', when you’re not half drunk 'nd half hungover all at once.”

“Then who the hell are you married to, Joel?”

“I… I am technically still married to Celina.” Joel finally spat the words out. You shook your head in confusion. The name was foreign to you, but Joel heaved another sigh and added, “Sarah’s mom.”

taglist (closed):

@weddingfairy @bfences @jasminedragon @biwitchy @huffle-punk @shelbyteller @anoverwhelmingdin @aheadfullofsteverogers @stagerightlauren @basicoccult @boofy1998 @farintonorth @thepascalofus @amatis-gray @casa-boiardi @northernbluess @jettia @sapphicsoie @spidey-3 @hrtsforpascal @gingersince97 @sentients17 @bigboiseason123 @lunxramour @ktheunready @heyheyheygaypay @keepingupwiththeskywalkers @adoringanakin @come-hell-or-eldren-fire @cherriebat @whitewolfstar01 @alyssa121611 @asreadbyaj @painfullyandprettypoetic @cantobightcafe @str84pedro

[previous][next]

✨J.M. Masterlist✨

#joel miller #sugar daddy!joel miller x reader #sugar daddy!joel miller #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #female reader #reader insert #take care of you

761 notes · View notes

gadriezmannsgirl · 1 year

Text

Dad's Babygirl -Pedri González

Inspired by the video of Pedri being incredibly sweet to that babygirl at the LaLiga ceremony!

Note: Apparently Pedri doesn't have a solo picture with the throphy☠️🥴*Sighs in defeat*, but here's one with my in-laws🤭😌

Summary: You and your babygirl are supporting your favorite '8' at his first LaLiga ceremony.

You met Pedri when you both were sixteen, at seventeen you entered in a romantic relationship, have been together for three years and eleven months ago had a little blessing, a little unexpected blessing but a very welcomed one. Your little babygirl, Mía. Mía González.

She was the eyes of everyone in the family, yours and Pedri's. Both of you managed to make it work, at the beggining it was hard but you as a strong couple and as a good team with the help of your parents, eventually got the rhythm of the things and adapted to your new lifestyle.

You never thought about having a baby at a young age but now you can't imagine your live without your little princess.

"Gonna be good?" Pedri asked you once more, his hand on your thigh carressing it softly with his thumb as he drived towards Camp Nou, he wasn't playing because of a discomfort in his right thigh but he was going to be in the LaLiga winning celebration.

"Yes, mi amor. Don't worry, we'll be also with Fer and your parents" You put your hand on top of his smiling. Your promise ring noticeable as Pedri couldn't help but smile.

"Cualquier cosa me dices, ¿Sí? No quiero que estés incómoda o estresada y mucho menos con la señorita que ha estado muy revoltosa el dia de hoy" (You tell me if anything happens, yeah? I don't want you to be uncomfortable or stressed and mostly with the señorita that has been very moody today) He looked quickly behind where your baby was sleeping in her baby seat.

"She's sleeping, hopefully that little nap extends the whole match" Pedri laughs knowing she had already half an hour asleep and her naps usually last for about a whole hour. You laughed "Only one can hope" You say to him and he laughed a little more

Indeed, Mía had been moody today from screaming around the house, not wanting to eat her lunch, resulting in you forcing a bit of her meal into her mouth, kicking and throwing her toys at the wall. You were delighted when she pulled her arms up to you and fell asleep in your chest.

"However, it's not the first time we have been to a game, Pepi"

"Hostias, eso lo sé" (Yeah, well I know that) He smiled "But I always worry for my girls. I just don't want anything bad to happen. Not to her and definitely not to you." You smile leaning over to kiss his cheek

"Mi campeón" You whispered as he grabbed your hand and pulled it up to his lips "We'll be fine, don't worry, this is your night" You smiled pulling his hand to your lips as well. When he was done parking, he got out as you grabbed yours and Mía things, you felt both of yours and Mía's doors open and smiled at your man and babydad.

"Look who's awake" Pedri said grabbing from you the ear plugs to put them to Mía softly.

She was softly babbling, still sleepy

"Hi bonita" Pedri said getting her softly out of her seat and grabbing her into his arms, Mía let herself fall into his shoulder wrapping her little arms around him. He grabbed your hand as you started walking inside the stadium "Sure you don't wanna sit with me?"

"We'll be fine" You smile watching Rosy come down to you, she wrapped you in a big and warm hug softly swinging you both side to side

"Oye mamá, te ves muy guapa" You blush giggling

"Thank you, Rosy. You are looking really good too" She smiled before moving towards her son and her granddaughter while Fernando, Pedri's dad came over to hug you.

When you turned around Rosy was with the babygirl as Pedri came up to you to greet his dad and turn his attention to you

"Sure-?" You laugh nodding

"We'll be fine, amor. Don't worry" He nodded smiling lightly, he wrapped you in his arms quickly giving you a few seconds long kiss

"Te quiero"

"Y yo a ti, lindo" He pecked your lips once more before returning his attention to the baby giving her a few cheek kisses as well and one to her mom's cheek

"Me tengo que ir pero si algo pasa-" (I've gotta go but if something happens-)

"Que no pasará" (It won't) Fernando said making Pedri sigh a little blushing, he just wanted to protect you all.

"You know where I am" He finished, you nodded and watched him walk towards his place as you went to yours. Getting into your seats you greeted Fer, who had came from the bathroom and even greeted, Pedri's cousin.

Rosy passed you back Mía who was slightly fuming throwing her hands at you, she stayed calm the rest of the night. You watched the game quietly and even though Barcelona lost, you screamed and yelled when Robert did that goal in the last minute.

Pedri had gone inside the tunnel to change into his kit so he could be present of the ceremony, you were pointing to Mía where her dad was, as she excited wriggled her legs. She was soon to be one year but you hadn't make it possible to make her say dad or mom.

Even though you wanted her to say mom so badly first, that night you wanted her to say dad and put the cherry on top for Pedri's cake. You took of one of her ear plugs and talked in her ear

"Papá, Mía, over there, that's papá" You said smiling widely as she started babbling. You looked at her, she was a copy of both of you, the perfect combination.

Pedri held her and she looked like him but you held her and she also looked like you.

The things that she did got from her dad were her love for bananas and those big brown eyes, meanwhile she had your smile and hair.

"Venga, vamos abajo" Fer said, grabbing Mía's bag as Rosy lend you a hand whilst walking down the stairs. Once you were inside the pitch your eyes scanned the crowd to see your dark haired boy, when you suddenly feel hands on your waist, that made you turn around.

You saw the pretty eyes and beautiful you were so in love with, leaning into him

"Congratulations, pepi. You deserve this so much" You said looking up at him

"Gracias mi vida" He smiled kissing you softly before he returned his attention to the baby who was asking for him with her chubby hands "Wanna come with papá?" You moved her side to side, doing as if you were gonna give her to Pedri but backed away and he followed your game making Mía laugh

"Pa...pa!" Pedri and you stopped everything you were doing

"Did she...?"

"¡Papá!" She repeated herself over and over again as you and Pedri shared amazed looks, eventually people around you three heard Mía's yells and the ones who knew she hadn't said her firsts words yet, smiled excited

"Sí, bonita. Yo soy papá" Pedri said as you gave her to him, his eyes were glassy and his smile was bigger than before.

"¡Papá!" She was yelling over and over again, liking the reaction she got from us, eventually Fer, Rosy and Fernando were hugging us and hyping her up to say it once more.

And from that moment forward, she didn't left Pedri's arms, and it's not like Pedri wanted to let her go, Mía did not even let herself grab from you, there was this part where Pedri had to go and do an interview, but when Mía saw your hands extended to grab her and Pedri's arms undoing his strong hold to pass her she started fussing and grabbing herself from her dad's jersey, which she had one exactly like his but with the words "Papá" written

"C'mon, Mía. Papá needs to go"

"Don't worry, I'll handle it" Pedri winked at you, kissing your lips and turning around to make that interview

Later you were talking with Rosy when you saw Pedro and Mía still sat on the grass with the two flags of Pedri's town and birthplace on the floor, when Mía stood up and hugged her dad once more before placing a kiss on his cheek as Pedro laughed and tickled her. You zoned out from what Rosy had said and looked at the two loves of your life playing around as if nothing, as if they were at home.

"The three of you are so whipped for each other" You turned to Rosy with a smile "Mía dies for you and for Pedro, whenever she doesn't see you two around she goes crazy. Mi hijo y tú are the same with her. And with each other. I'm so glad you're part of our familia now, Y/N" She hugged you tightly

"Thank you for letting me be part of it" Both of you looked once more at Pedro and Mía "Mía loves me" You said after a few seconds of silence ", but she's definitely a daddy's girl"

"And Pedro's crazy for his babygirl" Rosy completed "Like father, like daughter" You laughed "Go with them" She pushed you lightly as you walked towards them

"Look, ahí viene mamá" You heard Pedro say as Mía looked at you surprised but then smiled, you sat in front of Pedro and Mía "Too far away, señorita" He said wanting you closer to him, you smiled and did what he asked "This is one of the best weeks and days of my life"

"You deserve each and every single one of them, Pepi. You've worked hard for what you wanted and you got it" You smiled at him pushing a bit of his hair out of his face "There are no words for me to describe how proud of you I am. You're simply amazing"

He smiled kissing your lips "And you two are what makes me wanna get better everytime" You couldn't resist and kissed him once more before leaning over and kissing your Mía, who shyly got her face inti her dad's neck, you two laughing "My best supporters, my girls" He hugged you both tightly

Until you felt how Pedri let himself fall onto the grass, taking the two of you down laughing with him watching the starry Catalan night with a smile.

"I've got everything I wanted, I'm really happy with it but I don't think I need anything else besides you two"

°°° °°° °°° °°°

Taglist: @gaviypedrisbride @stuckinaf4nfiction @elijahslover @azzpenswrld

924 notes · View notes

daimyosprincess · 4 months

Text

WORTH THE RISK

—PAIRING: Dad's Friend!Boba Fett x F!Reader

—SUMMARY: Pushing your luck has its rewards.

—WORD COUNT: 10.8k

—RATING: Explicit, 18+ only — MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

—TAGS & WARNINGS: second person narration, no use of y/n, explicit sexual content, alternate universe, dad’s friend!Boba, reader has parents mentioned in the story, age gap relationship between an older man and younger woman (reader is an adult), secret relationship, dom/sub dynamics, daddy kink, oral sex (m receiving), throat fucking, unprotected p in v sex (wrap it up irl), light choking, this is straight up filth y’all I’m not even joking, if the previous things are not your cup of tea this will not be the fic for you 🥴

Please let me know if I missed anything!

—AUTHOR'S NOTES: I'll post this fic in a couple weeks! literally a month later here we are besties, the dad's friend Boba fic inspired by @maybege's post!! this fic ended up taking waaaay longer than I expected since the story took a turn I didn't plan for, but I'm really happy with how it turned out in the end! big shout out to Moss for betaing and all the besties who sent me incoherent emoji scrambles for my snippets along the way 💖 enjoy y'all!

Read on AO3 — Masterlist — Taglist

Setting out the last of the dessert trays on your parents’ patio table, you swipe a hand over your forehead. A delightfully cool breeze ruffles the hem of your dress, signaling the coming summer evening and carrying the pleasant mixture of laughter and music from the backyard. Satisfied with the arrangement of treats, you look out over the party of family and friends gathered on the lawn: neighbors, coworkers, and family of all sorts gathered together for your parents’ annual cookout, which your father fondly calls the “Bar-bo-polooza” (and which your mother decidedly does not).

Scanning the crowd, you spot her bouncing their neighbor’s baby girl on her hip while your father diligently lectures her partner on proper grilling techniques over his beer. A swarm of kids darts around the party in what appears to be a high stakes game of tag, while a gaggle of your aunties and Uncle Steven are clumped together in tight conversation over the latest gossip. A smile curls up your lips—nothing bridges the generational or cultural divide quite like a juicy piece of insider knowledge.

Giving the yard a final skim, you give up on locating your boyfriend and head for your chair by the fire pit. You’re no sooner settled when you feel your phone buzz.

Your cheeks heat immediately reading Boba’s message. You still can’t see him from your seat, but you know wherever he is, he can certainly see you. Crossing your knees, you make sure your hem rides just high enough to still be considered appropriate for a family setting. Your phone vibrates again and your eyes dart to the new message on your screen.

A heated shiver snakes down your spine, pooling in the dampness already nestled between your thighs. Your plan to tease Boba to the edge of insanity is already taking its toll.

Logically, you know you shouldn’t be riling him up like this at a family function, but you can’t seem to stop yourself after he’s been out of town. You’ve missed his bone deep comfort, his small touches, and the safety of his arms. Hell, you’ve even missed the smell of him, breathing in that balmy spiciness that’s all his own.

Of course, you’ve also missed his keen knack for making you black out with pleasure. But who could possibly blame you for that? The man is nothing short of a god when it comes to making you feel good, so it’s not your fault you rubbed him half hard in the driveway or brushed up against him in your flirty new sundress during the party set up. Besides, you’d been an absolute angel in his absence: texting him that you remembered to take your meds, drank enough water every day, and not touched where you wanted him most just like he asked.

Really, you’d been a complete saint. You only texted him those two dirty pictures because he asked for them. If anything, Boba should be rewarding you for your restraint instead of making you survive this cookout aching and desperate before he took you home and made good on all his filthy promises. Just the thought of what he said he’d do has your thighs pressing together. So, with a sly grin sneaking over your lips, you tap out a response.

Adrenaline pumping hot in veins, you hit send and click of your screen. You make a show of stretching so your tits press together, sure Boba’s got a laser focus on you after that message.

Feeling supremely pleased with yourself, you chuck your phone into the seat you’re saving for your cousin, Ari. You search for their telltale blue hair and catch it over by the drinks table. No surprise there, of course.

“My, my, my, such a dirty little mouth on such a pretty little girl.”

A hot shock of electricity shoots down your spine. Boba’s sinful voice races across your skin deceptively gentle, like a blade wrapped in dark velvet: sheathed, but no less dangerous.

Your pulse jumps under the thin skin of your throat. You don’t need to look up to know you’re in treacherous waters. His tone alone tells you everything you need to know—your “good” deeds never went unpunished with him, especially when you acted like you could get away with them. Putting your most dazzlingly innocent smile, you turn your face up to him, acting like you’re making pleasant conversation. “Wanna find out how dirty it can get?”

The corner of his lips twitch up. “Careful, princess.” His umber eyes burn with the unspoken magnitude of his threat. “You already owe me those pink panties of yours… don’t make me add to that list.”

Something hot and dangerous spikes in your core. You can practically feel his lips on your overheated skin, the scrape of his teeth down your neck. Luckily for your rapidly evaporating self-control, however, you catch Ari waving at you and you signal at their saved seat. The reprieve gives you a moment to swallow back the well of desire pressing against your throat. You’re already playing a dangerous game with your relationship—you really shouldn’t be adding to it by tempting fate, or Boba, in your parents’ backyard.

After moving to town two years ago, Boba and your dad had become fast friends, bonding over their love of classic cars and good whiskey. Freshly cut in your former employer’s downsizing, you had come home just after they had started spending weekends drinking and working on the old Chevy in your dad’s garage. It was over for you the second you saw him: broad shoulders, tanned, and impossibly gorgeous, Boba Fett was everything you ever wanted, wrapped up in a tight black t-shirt and well-fitted jeans. You never stood a chance.

For a torturous year you danced around your simmering mutual attraction, months filled with “accidental” touches and excuses to see each other more than strictly necessary for a daughter and her father’s friend. He gave you rides when your poor 2003 Toyota finally met its end, helped you move in with Ari, and even let you drunkenly cry on his shoulder at last summer’s cookout when you were sure your life was a failure. You really fell for him then. Hard.

Always teasing you with winks and flirty smiles, things finally came to a head at your parents’ New Year's Eve party. Scrabbling down the stairs for the countdown, you’d crashed right into him, his arms wrapping around your waist to halt your fall. By the time the voices outside yelled “Happy New Year,” you already had your hands (and mouths) all over each other.

The instant chemistry between you has only become more explosive since. In the almost six months of your relationship, you’ve orgasmed harder, louder, and more often than you thought was possible for a human being. But more importantly, you’ve also grown and learned a lot about yourself, with Boba coaxing you to embrace your needs without shame, both sexual and not. Mentally, you’re in a much better place than you were after you were let go from your dream job; and physically, well… you’ve never been more satisfied.

Of course, you’re not nearly ready to reveal all this to your parents.

Boba has respected your choice to keep your relationship a secret, despite his desire to claim you as his own every time your mother introduced you to some nice boy from her temp agency. Her mentioning that she invited “Kevin from Jimenez Landscaping” today is partially what made you decide on wearing the particular little sundress you had on. Not for him of course, but to drive Boba wild while you humored your mom and talked to the guy. The rest of your scheme—putting your hand down Boba’s pants behind his truck and digging yourself into a very deep hole over text—had been more or less spur of the moment.

Staring up at him now, dead serious with little patience left for mercy, has your insides twisting in tight, needy knots. Boba is a man of his word and not above leaving you unfulfilled when he thought you deserved it. Maker did he know how to make you squirm.

“Okay, okay,” you relent, doing your best to tamp down the need leaking into your voice. “I swear I’ll take them off when Ari gets back.”

You might be a brat but you’re not stupid: you know when you’ve flown too close to the sun.

He smiles then, smug and shining, leaning down to plant what appeared to be an unoffending, fatherly kiss on the crown of your head. “That’s more like it. Not so hard to be a good girl, now is it, darling?”

The sensual rasp of his whisper calls forth memories of love made sweet and long, making your stomach flip and tighten. Praying for the heat to leave your face, you clench your thighs together to ward them off.

“Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

Your head snaps up to see Ari’s freckled face plastered with a sardonic expression. Your confidant since childhood, your cousin is the only person who knows about your relationship—and isn’t afraid to give you shit about it.

“Of course not,” Boba answers breezily, patting your shoulder, “we were just commenting on how perfect the weather turned out.”

Ari scoffs, dropping down next to you. “Yeah, sure. If anyone else here actually had eyes, they would see right through the two of you.”

You grin and accept the offered lemonade. “What? Can a young lady and a handsome older gentleman not talk at a party?”

Boba’s hand squeezes your shoulder in a silent warning to behave. Still glowing with his praise of “good girl” echoing in your ears, you opt to stay so.

“Last I checked, they can,” Ari gestures back and forth between you. “It’s just the ‘fuck me’ eyes that make it totally obvious you’re screwing.”

“I myself prefer the term ‘making love’ over ‘screwing,’” Boba chuckles.

Ari immediately makes retching noises, their face screwing up in disgust. “Making love?! What are you, like a thousand years old?” They hold up a hand. “You know what, never mind, I don’t even want to think about that more than I already have to.”

Despite your cousin’s reaction, his words bloom heat in your stomach. As good as Boba is at straight up fucking, he also loves you so tenderly and slowly some nights it nearly brings you to tears. With sweet kisses wrapped in praise and gentle touches laced with assurances that you were his and he was yours, he crafted a devotion more sincere and pure than you thought your heart could hold.

Ari elbows you, pulling you back to reality. “Now unless you got tea to add to this conversation, sir, I’m gonna need you to beat it. Me and your girlfriend have some important information to discuss. Auntie is three margaritas deep and just told me some very interesting things about her divorce.”

Boba’s fingers drift across the nape of your neck in a subtle reminder of delicious possession. He makes a show of sighing in exaggerated defeat and comes around your chair. Sticking out his hand, he nods. “Ari.”

“Fett.” They shake and Boba heads over to where your dad is flipping burgers on the grill. Somehow even his walk made you thrum with electricity.

When he’s out of earshot, Ari whispers behind their drink. “Finally. Now, she said that she was the one who instigated the divorce…”

It’s not until you head inside to pee that you remember your promise to Boba.

<boba 🖤🧸🧋: Clock’s ticking, princess. Panties. Now.> Received 6 minutes ago

Shit. You groan and throw your head back on your shoulders. Why is there always a line when you want to use the bathroom? Especially when you need to get your panties off before your boyfriend reaches up your dress and rips them off for you?

When the door finally opens, you rush in. Clicking the lock, you immediately yank off your underwear, taking the briefest moment to admire them. Pink, cute, and soaked in the middle, you feel deliciously dirty holding up the scrap of fabric in the mirror to snap a pic.

<All yours 😘> 1 image attached

The urge to run and take another picture in his truck is extremely tempting, but a knock on the door has you rushing to finish up.

Boba’s waiting for you when you step outside, looking handsome as sin as he leans against the deck railing. As casually as you can with a naked cunt and a pair of panties balled in your fist, you slip next to him and press them into his large hand. Maker, the sight of him stuffing the illicit garment into his pocket should absolutely not be as fucking hot as it is.

Seeing the scrunched look on your face, he chuffs a quiet laugh. “I can smell how wet you are, babygirl. Something’s got you all worked up, huh?” His tone is molasses, thick with self-satisfaction. “Brats do always love it when the consequences of their actions catch up to them.”

In an attempt to diffuse his pride, you pout and cross your arms over your chest. “I thought you said I was your good girl.”

He flashes you that jaw-dropping smile of his. “The two aren’t mutually exclusive.”

Before you can get any more hot and bothered, you see your mother approaching with a gangly young man in tow. You curse under your breath; you’d forgotten about Kevin-from-Jimenez-Lanscaping.

Boba snorts. “Speaking of consequences…”

Suddenly you’re very aware that you’re going to have to make polite small talk with your mother and a stranger with your panties stuffed in your secret-boyfriend-who-makes-you-scream-with-pleasure’s pocket.

You’re also aware that it turns you on an embarrassing amount. Fortunately (or not), you don’t have much time to contemplate the extent of that particular depravity before Kevin and your mom stop in front of you.

“There you are!” she exclaims happily. “Kevin, this is my daughter I’ve been telling you all about.” The young man smiles and shakes your hand politely and your mom turns to the older man. “And this is Boba Fett, our neighbor and family friend.” She drops her voice conspiratorially. “Now he’s very protective of her, so be careful. Even worse than her father.”

Boba bares his teeth in a sharp-toothed smile, gripping the younger man’s offered hand harder than necessary for the brief shake. The act of possessiveness has your blood boiling even hotter as the poor boy’s eyes widen in surprise. After a couple minutes of tedious conversation that’s mainly Boba glaring over your shoulder, Kevin excuses himself, thanking your mother for inviting him and apologizing for having to leave so soon.

Watching him dart for his car, she levels a scolding tone at your boyfriend. “How is my daughter supposed to find someone when you stare murder at every single person I bring over?”

Unrepentant, he shrugs and smiles. Your shared secret dances on his lips. “I just want what’s best for her. Surely you can’t blame me for that.” Seeing your mother still unconvinced, he throws an arm around her shoulders and plants a kiss on her cheek.

He sneaks a wink at you and you make a show of rolling your eyes even as your insides warm at his attention. Morally, you’re sure it’s wrong to enjoy this deception so thoroughly, but in this moment you don’t care; it lights some infernal fire inside you that burns hotter than any desire you’ve ever had.

“I hate to say it, but Boba’s right,” you play along. She still looks skeptical and he looks entirely too smug, so you elaborate. “I mean, what good is a guy that’s too chicken to even have a conversation with this grandpa?”

She bursts into a round of laughter that wipes away the previous exasperation from her face. “Oh, be nice to Boba,” she admonishes, lightly smacking your shoulder. “He’s no older than your father.”

A grin splits your face. “Gosh, you’re right, Mom! Boba’s only what, twice my age? I should really have more respect for my elders.” The words barely leave your mouth before Boba turns out his solo cup of ice water out over your head. Shocked with the sudden cold pouring down your face and neck, you instantly resort to tattling and finger pointing.

“No, ma’am, don’t come crying to me!” she manages through a peal of laughter. “You earned that one fair and square!”

Boba is positively dripping with his own self-satisfaction. “Sure did,” he brandishes a double-edged smile, paternally crossing his arms over his chest, “And I hope you learned your lesson, young lady.”

Your skin burns so hot you can feel the rivulets of water trickling down your neck heat up. Memories of your tits pushed up against the chilled hood of Boba’s truck flash across the backs of your eyes—you had complained you were cold after a skinny-dip in the lake and he wasted no time in warming you back up.

“Careful, princess,” he panted damply against your neck. “You scream any louder and you’ll have people come running. What would they think of a pretty young lady like you soaking an old man’s cock?”

It’s a miracle that you don’t immediately buckle when you catch his hand digging into his pocket to fist your panties. Keeping your eyes decidedly off him, you rush through an excuse to go up to your room to change. Before you can scurry off, however, he catches your elbow.

“Here, take this.” Boba pulls off his overshirt and wraps it around your shoulders. “Can’t have you catching a cold, now can we?” Your mom nods approvingly before she’s pulled away by another guest. Once she’s out of earshot, he drops his voice low. “Go inside and meet me in the garage. I’m going around front.”

Even as you repress an excited shiver, your heart warms in your chest at Boba’s caution. He never made you feel bad for wanting to keep things private and always structured your affairs so you were never seen going or leaving together. And although you look forward to the day you’ll be ready to hold his hand and steal kisses in front of the world, sneaking around in the meantime did add an extra layer of excitement to your sex.

Sandals slapping wet against the tiled floor, you race across the kitchen to yank open the door to the garage. Thick, sun-warmed air hits your face with a pleasant staleness, smelling of cardboard and motor oil. The quietness of the space clashes with the clamor of excitement pumping through your veins. Sweeping your eyes from one side to the other, a frown weighs on your lips when Boba is nowhere to be seen.

No sooner does the displeasure darken your expression than you’re scooped up into a pair of strong arms and whirled around.

Familiar lips and a suede voice swiftly gentle your startled yelp. “Quiet now, darling,” Boba purrs, practically preening with the pleasure of your surprise, “you don’t want to get us caught now do you?”

Your gleeful giggles of realization are smothered by his barrage of kisses, each one an intoxicating mix of passion and urgency. Boba hooks your legs around his waist, not caring about the water soaking into him as he walks you deeper into the garage.

The intense press of need pushing against your chest melts under his touch, releasing your lungs and draining to pool in your thrumming core. It’s been so long, too long, without him, your body surviving on the mere scraps memory could provide you—nothing in comparison to the sustenance of the man himself. Having him back in your arms, his marred skin beneath your fingertips, his thick torso filling the empty space between your legs… it unhooks the final thorns of discontent left from his absence.

A wave of relief washes away the tenseness of separation, leaving you pliable and radiant once more; the release has Boba’s lips parting in a gratified groan at the satisfaction of being your sanctuary. You take the greedy opportunity to lick your way into his mouth to savor the way his taste fills yours. Lost to the sensation of your tongue sliding along his, a hiss escapes your lips when the back of your thighs hit the freezer’s lid.

The chill dissipates quickly in the glow of Boba’s urgent heat. “Fuck I missed you, babygirl,” he pants against your pulse, “Even if you’ve been a karking terror all afternoon.”

“S’not my fault,” you slur, dragging your teeth across the tan skin of his throat, “missed you too much.” His salt seeps into the warmth of your mouth, spurring memories of late nights pressed together under a quivering lake water moon. Seeking that passionate warmth, your heels dig into Boba’s thighs to press him deeper into your eager desire.

Unyielding and unrushed as ever, he pulls back, refusing to let you usurp his control. Bereft, a whine flies from your throat and you keel towards him in a desperate arch.

Boba catches your cheek in his palm and sharply angles your face to his. Pure dominance radiates off him in the unwavering set of his shoulders and the gleam in his eye, their darkness glinting like two sable jewels in the dim light. His raw power, sanctified by his restraint and your willing submission, shimmers in the air between your bodies—the ephemeral calm before his storm’s consequences.

He knows that disquieting stillness of his never failed to draw your desire. Without a word, his free hand disappears into his pocket to free your panties.

“Mmm, is that the problem?” His strong fingers dig into your cheeks and he turns your head towards the dangling bit of bows and lace. You can feel how the visual evidence of your arousal affects him. He presses the damp fabric against his nose, sucking in a ragged breath. “Your needy little cunt making you act out?”

Your answer comes out more as a whoosh of air than a word, your insides twisting with the searing heat in his tone. “Noooo…”

“So you’re just a naughty brat then?”

You want to protest that you’re nothing but innocent but your throat is too tight with the thrill of his wrath. He balls the frilly underwear into his fist. “Shame. I was thinking about taking mercy on you for your good behavior while I was gone.” He cuts his eyes back to you, smirking. “Too bad brats don’t get that privilege.”

You jolt, panic locking your ankles at the small of his back in an attempt to keep him close. “No! No! That’s not what I meant!” you cry, your voice taunt with distress.

A dangerous chuckle sounds in his throat. You’d shown your desperation, giving him the easy advantage. “Better start explaining then, princess. Or else I’m just gonna come all over these pink panties and you’ll get nothing.”

You blink up at him with pitiful eyes and a swollen-lipped pout. “It’s because I missed you,” you simper, tracing a finger down his chest. “Seven days is a long time. Too long.”

Even through the haze of your shared arousal, Boba resists temptation. “Too long? Babygirl, we talked on the phone every night.”

He lets you press your face into the crook of his shoulder and your fingers begin to loop into the soft cotton of his shirt. “It’s not the same and you know it! There was no falling asleep with you, no lap to curl up in…”

“No thigh to get off on?”

You squeak when he pinches your ass, the subconscious roll of your hips halting.

“As cute and sincere as you may be, my darling girl, you still have a debt to settle for your behavior today.”

That’s fair, reasonable even. You had pushed him further than you yourself would have been able to stand. You slip your fingers under his shirt hem to graze your nails over the dark hair trailing into his jeans. “What if I gave you a little apology?” you offer with a fluttering of lashes. “Show you how sorry I am?”

Boba’s breath hitches but he turns up his chin like he’s uninclined to accept your offer. “You really think a handy is gonna cut it after everything this afternoon?”

The fevered dream from his absence flares white-hot in your mind. Grabbing his belt buckle, you haul your hips forward to press your slick folds against his bulge. “Not even if that apology is you fucking me into the mattress in my childhood bedroom?”

Boba curses, his hips bucking into yours.

“Not even if it’s you ruining me in the room where I learned to touch myself? Where I’d cry out into the pillow thinking about what it would feel like to have a real man fuck me instead of stupid, silly boys? Not even then?”

“Princess-”

“I’ve been fantasizing about it for a while, you know… what it would be like to bury my face in those cute flower sheets while you fuck my tight little cunt till I’m sore. Had to take a cold shower while you were gone just to keep my hands off myself.”

In a burst of strength, he forces you flat back against the freezer. “Enough,” he hisses through locked teeth. “For Maker’s sake, enough.”

Despite his protests, he’s rutting his twitching cock into the slick mess at your apex. You grin into his kiss—you’ve got him right where you want him.

“Awww, pleeeease?” you whine, sticking your bottom lip out. “Pretty please… Daddy?”

The sound that scrapes up from him is so utterly depraved that for a second, you think he might’ve come in his pants.

“Fuck, you’re… you’re…”

“A filthy little princess for a dirty old man?”

Boba pushes his hand over your mouth. “You… you have ten seconds to get in your room before I’m fucking you where you stand. And I don’t give a karking shit who sees. Do you understand me?”

“So, apology accepted?”

“One.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Two.”

“Okay, okay! I’m going!”

“Three.”

You’re flat out running for the kitchen door, wrenching it open without checking if someone is behind it. Luckily, your path is clear as you fly up the stairs up to your room. The lavender paint and neat rows of school awards are nothing but a pastel blur when you fling yourself onto the twin bed. Quickly positioning yourself, you hike your dress up around your hips so you’re completely on display.

At this point, you don’t even care about the danger; you drop your hand between your legs and delve two fingers between your wet folds. The friction burns delightfully after days without so much as a finger to your clit. The relief is so sweet you have to bite down on your neckline to halt the sounds of delight from spilling out. Imagining just how much better it’ll be when Boba gets his hands on you has you bucking under your fingers.

“Just can’t help yourself, can you, little brat?”

It’s no use snatching back your hand—he’s seen your transgression and is all too ready to add it to your growing list. Grabbing your wrist, he wrenches you up off the bed and whirls you around so your back digs into the door.

“Oh, babygirl,” he husks in a low, cruel voice. “You’re so fucked.”

He’s pressed so far into you the damp fabric of your dress burns, absorbing his overwhelming heat. Pure, wanton desire floods your brain, drowning any hope of sanity until all that remains is him.

Boba yanks down the ruffled sleeve covering your shoulder and sinks in his teeth, groaning when you buck against him. “But that’s what you like isn’t it? You like it when I put you in your place, when I treat you rough.” His large hand snakes up your chest to grab your throat.

“Yes-yes, Daddy!” you gasp, writhing with prickling pleasure when he greedily palms your breast.

He grunts, his hips thrusting into you. “You think calling me that will get you out of trouble?”

“I mean being in my old room… seems kinda fitting, doesn’t it-oh!”

Boba shoves his hand over your mouth. “Now don’t look at me like that, princess. I’m just helping you make better choices,” he grins, his smile sharp with intent. “That’s what daddies do, right?”

Fuck that should not make your clit throb like it does. Just when your knees start to tremble from the sweet friction he’s smoothing over your nipples, he tears himself away. Your cry of displeasure is choked off by a squeeze of his hand. With big, shining eyes, you blink pitifully up at him in a bid for more.

“Don’t bother with the kitten eyes, darling. It won’t save you… and neither will anything else you say.” He rubs his thumb gently over your pulse point, a jarring contrast to the pressure on your throat. “After your little attitude this afternoon, you’re going to have to earn the right to speak.”

Boba just tuts when you pout, a wicked flush of darkness shadowing his expression. “Brats don’t get what they want, especially not such disrespectful ones.” Licking his lips, his voice sinks even deeper. “Still think I can’t do shit with all these people around?”

When you don’t answer, he releases his grip on your neck to run his fingers up your skull and jerk your head back. Taking his time, he kisses you, devouring you until you’re fighting for air. “Little princess, I can do whatever I want to you no matter who’s around, do you understand that? Do you?”

Your answer is nothing more than a pitiful waver but he takes it all the same. “Good. Now take the dress off before I tear it off. I’m gonna fuck that pretty throat until I’m satisfied you’ve learned some respect.”

You’re out of the offending garment before he even has time to unfasten his belt. Despite the heat in your veins, goosebumps blossom across your skin, heightened by the moisture from your dress. When Boba sees you rubbing away the chill, he smirks and snaps you to his chest. “Looks like you need some warming up…”

Sliding his hands over your ass, he hikes you up into his arms with a puff, chuckling at your small sound of surprise. When he lowers you gently onto your bed, you wriggle into the position you know he wants: laid out on your back with your head hanging off the edge, ready for atonement.

It feels almost like relief. This was the reason you tested Boba’s patience with your antics and attitude; you crave the way he gives you no choice but to comply, the thrill of a fantastical danger shaping you into something vulnerable and eager to please.

The fire in his eyes dampens some as he caresses a hand over your cheek. You lean into his palm, nuzzling into the soft gesture. “Look at me, babygirl,” he prompts gently. When your eyes drift up to his, a smile warms his face. “I know you like it rough and I’m going to give it to you, but I need you to promise to mind your body, okay? Let me feel your three taps to stop.”

As you’d practiced many times, you reach up and slap your palm against his thick thigh. His white smile gets even bigger and he bends to plant a quick kiss on your forehead. You glow with his affection. “Boba?”

“Yes, baby?”

“Can you grab a towel for me to lay on? I’m going to soak a spot on the sheets if you keep talking like that.”

A devil’s grin stretches across his bronze features. “Stay right there and don’t move,” he instructs, his voice already husked smoke, “or I will make you only watch while I jack off with those panties.”

If he’d waited a second before darting to the adjoining bathroom, he would’ve seen the way your slicked entrance clenched at his threat.

For a fleeting moment you consider sneaking a hand to your peaked nipples, but the threat of him making you watch and not touch is far too distressing to test. Before you can get too tempted otherwise, Boba strides back into the bedroom with a towel in hand. Without a word spoken between you, he bends and you hook your arms around his neck so he can lift you and lay the towel down.

Boba hums in appreciation when you stretch back out before him, biting back your longing under his gaze. He lets his belt loose and his pants slide down his thighs, finally revealing the gorgeous image of his thick cock. Flushed rosy with want and beautifully slicked with desire, it bobs against his belly full and ready for your touch.

He steps back so you’re forced to crane your neck to see him. The baneful fire has returned to his dark eyes. He pumps his length once and your mouth waters in anticipation. “Hope you don’t think I’m going easy on you just because you finally decided to behave.”

You shake your head.

“No talking and no hands, understood?”

Now you shake your up and down. You know far better of him than to disobey.

“Good. Now we don’t have much time before someone comes looking for you, little princess, so open up that mouth and make Daddy proud.”

Thank the Maker for that towel.

Tilting your head back to make your throat one smooth channel, you stick out your tongue wide and ready. Just seeing the way his expression darkens with desire at your obedience has fresh slick wetting your thighs. Hell, your obedience turns you on. Not just any man could make you want to give yourself over to him and you’re sure there are next to none who could possibly deserve it.

Boba steps forward, cupping your cheek in his rough palm and dragging the slippery head of his length over your lips, coating them in his arousal. You stay still, enjoying his taste and gentle attention; he would tell you when he wanted more.

When he rocks forward to let your tongue slide down the vein that runs the underside of his cock, you claw your fingers into the floral sheets beneath you. Your heart pounds against your ribs and your lungs bellow more air into your chest. He’s so close yet so far from where you want him. Spit begins to dribble from the corners of your mouth and your jaw twinges from its wide angle, heightening your need for him even more.

Boba continues his leisurely pace across your tongue, rumbling a few low, pleasured sounds. He notices your frustration—he always notices everything—and chooses to ignore it. It’s a lenient punishment in light of your behavior but it doesn’t make the waiting any easier or your cunt any less desperate.

The whine that escapes from you when he lets his head graze your front teeth is so small it’s almost silent, but he hears it all the same. “Mmm, is there a problem, darling? Something the matter?” The slow drag of him doesn’t stop.

You flick your tongue over his frenulum in a wordless response. Although you can’t see him, you know his pretty brown eyes flutter shut at the sensation.

“Aaah hah hah,” he chuckles through a groan, “is this not enough for my princess? Is getting her tongue used while she’s naked on her pretty pink bed not enough for her?”

Again, since he hasn’t given you permission to speak yet, you stretch your head up to capture the head of his cock between your coated lips, lightly suckling his sensitive tip. When he doesn’t stop you, you let your tongue snake up to lick the pearled drop from his slit.

A faint tremor runs through him, making his length thrum in your mouth. Boba curses and stoops to lay a hand on your throat. No pressure or grip to it, just his hand resting over the exposed column of your neck.

“Swallow.”

His simple command races through you like a spark up a gunpowder trail, igniting the tinder of aching pleasure between your thighs. Reflexively your body snaps to follow his order, your jaw closing and your muscles pushing him deeper into the wet heat of your mouth.

“Fffff- that’s it, babygirl. Juuuust like that… let me feel how good you take me.”

The jagged sound of his enjoyment shoots bright seams of glittering ecstasy into your veins. Conscious of the lack of permission to touch him, you dig your heels into the mattress to push further up his shaft, sucking in a final deep breath before letting his girth slide down your waiting throat.

The next seconds dissolve into a filmy timelessness where every single one of your senses are his—your every sensation and fiber belonging to Boba. Your breath, your sense of smell and taste, sense of direction, everything is all in his control, all his to direct and decide. Even as the need for air burns through your ribs, you feel impossibly free, weightless and perfect within his care.

Retreating into that protected soft space of submission, your mind goes blissfully blank, your sole happiness being Boba’s grunts of pleasure as he pumps his cock down your throat. Sweat slicks your skin and hungry breath claws at your lungs but they’re none of your concern, all you have to worry about is keeping your jaw open. Though it had taken some time to learn to get there, now you rejoice in finding this quiet place within his storm, relishing the way you fall out of time and into his world. Even with the strain and weight of him pressing down onto you, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

After some wonderful, unknown period of time, air hisses through Boba’s teeth as he retracts from your warmth. Still blinded by submission, you gasp in big bubbles of air, blinking against the tears of exertion pricking your eyes.

You feel the muted thump of him dropping to his knees near your head. His thumbs are brushing away the salty trails as he cradles your head like a fragile flower against the wind, a smile blooming radiant on your damp face. “Baby… my darling girl,” he pants through seeded kisses, “you did so good for me, took it all… can you believe it? Almost couldn’t stop myself from coming down that perfect throat.”

You’re still hazy, drifting through the fog of your accomplishment, but you manage to pull apart your wet lashes to see his beaming smile. Its luminance turns up your own lips. “I… I did?”

Before now, you’d never managed to get the last thick inch of his cock down your throat—though not for the lack of trying. As oxygen flushes through your system, your head clears. “See,” you croak, buoyed by your success, “doing it in my old bedroom was a good idea.”

Genuine mirth crinkle up his eyes. “You haven’t seen anything yet, princess.” Boba turns and scoops you into arms, pressing you close to take in your scent. “I still gotta make you scream into the sheets, remember?” he murmurs against your temple.

You happily slide against him, relishing the way he fits perfectly against you. “Pretty sure I said ‘screamed into my pillow.’”

He snorts, caressing his hand along your jaw. “How about I make you do both?”

Taking your wild giggle as confirmation, he flips you onto your back to hover over you. You bite your bottom lip against your laughter as he trails tickling kisses down your neck and over your sternum, your breath hitching when he latches onto a pert nipple.

“Tell me…” he rasps through his mouth’s divine suction, “tell me how you would touch yourself.”

The great, crested wave of fire that crashes through ignites your limbs, making you jerk like a puppet on tangled strings. You never felt ashamed with Boba, he has always been your safety, your refuge; he’d wiped more tears than you’d let anyone else ever see and you’d twisted fantasies into his ear that would make the devil blush. But telling him how you rutted into your hand, sweating and barely keeping in your breathy sounds as you tried desperately to understand why boys your age never turned you on suddenly felt absurdly embarrassing.

He must have felt you stiffen under him because he prompts you again.

“I, um… I mean…” Why was this so embarrassing? It’s not like he didn’t know you were into the more seasoned male age range. Sucking in a steadying breath, you realize he’s stopped his ministrations to observe you with a keen eye.

It only makes your unforeseen shame bruise darker. You force a chuckle from your gut. “Sheesh, you know how to get a girl to blush, don’t you?” Your words are too high and paper thin—your façade not remotely convincing, not even to yourself.

Boba’s eyes flick over your strained expression, his lips pressing into a thin line before he bows his head to place a small kiss on your stomach. “We can talk about this now, or we can talk about it later,” is all he says. It’s all he has to.

You blow out a weighted breath. His way of making you confront life while still giving you a degree of choice could be as infuriating as it was liberating. If you talk about it now you likely won’t have time for the down and dirty you’ve been craving all week (and, at this point, might shrivel up and die without), but the thought of soldiering on in this cold shadow of shame is utterly unappealing.

Maker, you’re a buzzkill.

Boba slaps a smack against your hip and you yip at the sharp sensation. “No apologizing,” he warns. “Just answer the question, princess. Don’t worry about anything else.” His palm opens to rub away the lingering sting.

Feeling your anxiety swarm like wasps, you try to sink back into your warm mental refuge where things were easier. Try as you might, however, your brain refuses to release itself from its nervous confines to slip into that softer shape.

It had been so terribly confusing back then. Watching your friends swoon over boys in your grade or just above, you tried to see what they saw in them: the supposedly hot guys on the basketball team with their burgeoning height or the apparently dreamy, mysterious poet laureate of your high school. You never understood what they saw in these lanky, acne covered boys or why they would cry so profusely over them. A real partner wouldn’t make you cry, you’d thought, he would take care of you, show you the love you were told you deserve.

But oh how you had wanted to understand, to have a believable answer when the subject of crushes came up at the lunch table or someone’s sleepover. Everyone else did.

You only made the mistake of saying the school’s head coach was hot once—the grossed out looks and “old enough to be our dad” comments made sure of that. Eventually you settled on the safe choice of the football team captain for your obligatory answer whenever the subject came up. Even though it wasn’t true, the pressure was off then.

When you went to college, things didn’t change, no matter how much you hoped they would. You thought maybe it was just the boys at your school you weren’t attracted to, that maybe you were normal after all.

Tears lodge in your throat at the memory of the guys you’d fucked trying to fix what was surely broken inside you, the nights you spent wishing it wasn’t the kind eyes and visible signs of life experience that drew you to the men you desired. Trying to pursue the older guys at bars and social events never ended well for you either; their kindness always dried up when you didn’t want to go back to their place immediately, followed by cutting comments about “daddy issues” and all the mean things that came with them.

Finding Boba, finding acceptance had been a taste of heaven. A golden slice of peace, the vindication that you weren’t some freak or wrong to want a partner who cherished and cared for you. Your stomach drops at the thought of that pure, devoted love. He gave you all of that, asking for nothing in return but your happiness, and you can’t even bring yourself to claim your relationship in public.

Shame curls in on you like leaden weights. He deserves so much better than you. Someone who isn’t afraid to tell the world they love him and proudly walks at his side—not some scared girl who can’t even bring herself to face her own parents. The wound you thought had long healed rips open inside you, spilling its tainted blood into your heart and a scalding brine down your cheeks.

Before the first sob can sound from your chest, you’re pressed tightly into Boba’s front, held fast by thick, warm arms that stall your rising grief. A watery stream of words tumble out of you all at once. “Back then, it was-I thought-and I couldn’t, I mean I tried-”

“Shhh, baby, just breathe. It’s okay, everything’s alright… yeah, just like that, princess, that’s my good girl.”

His gentle touch and storm soothed voice has your sobs ebbing under his care. “I-is there something wrong with me?” you whisper in a fragile voice.

Boba presses his mouth to your temple, pulling you somehow even tighter into his warmth. “Babygirl, why on earth would you think there’s something wrong with you?”

Because I’ve only ever wanted an older man who babies me even though I’m a grownass woman.

Because I think you fucking me in my childhood bedroom while I call you Daddy is the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me.

Because I’ll never love anyone else the way I love you but I’m still too scared to tell people about us.

You’re vaguely aware of being pulled under covers and tucked in tight to his side. Despite the furnace warmth of him and the blanket, you can’t seem to stop shivering against some inner cold. Piece by patient piece, Boba pulls out your discontent, wiping away new tears and kissing the old ones from your lashes. Somewhere in the back of your mind you register the darkening sky outside your window but he assures you Ari’s got your absence covered.

Tracing his roughened fingertips up and down your spine, he tilts up your chin to kiss your forehead. “Darling girl, why did you never say anything? That’s all too heavy to have to deal with by yourself. Especially when I’m here to help.”

Why did you? You’d shared so much of your other burdens—your disillusion after losing your dream job, your struggle coping with your life not following your set mental timeline—why had you kept all this to yourself?

“I don’t know…” you whisper, letting your pointer finger trace along the collarbone of his newly revealed chest. “I guess I felt like… like even though what I like isn’t normal, that being with you would make those bad feelings go away… and you make me so happy I thought maybe they would disappear if I never looked for them.” Hearing these half-baked assumptions out loud makes you hide your face in his shoulder. You feel like an idiot. No, worse. An idiot who’s wasted all her sneak-away time crying instead of getting railed by her boyfriend.

Boba makes a sympathetic sound, squeezing you closer to him. “I want you to listen to me, princess. Really listen. Number one, no keeping things from me that hurt you or make you upset. If you need to cry the whole thing out or scream about it until you’re hoarse, that’s fine as long as you tell me. Understood?”

You make a noise of agreement and borrow deeper into his hold. He allows you his comfort for a few more moments before gently unfurling you to run his thumb across your cheek.

“Number two. There’s no such thing as normal. Not a fucking thing. You like what you like just like everyone else likes what they like. Being attracted to handsome men like myself is not anything different than having a preference for blondes or brunettes, yeah?” He kisses you on the tip of your nose and you can’t help but smile up at him. “Besides, you wouldn’t find anything wrong with me being attracted to special princesses who have dirty little mouths and dirtier minds, would you?”

Heat rises to your cheeks. “As long as I’m the special princess,” you mumble into his palm, suddenly self-conscious under his attention even as you revel in it. Maker, how do you still want him to pound you into the mattress after an emotional breakdown? All his patient love seems to only make you hornier now that your tears have been shed and your fears have been voiced.

“Always.” Boba chuckles and chucks up your chin for a kiss. When you slip your tongue into his mouth and wrap your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss, he pulls back just far enough to murmur, “Still needy, darling?”

How could you not be? Your need for him feels different now, though. Not so much more or less intense but an entirely different kind altogether, like a fire that burns just as hot but with a different fuel than its predecessor. Treading carefully around this new flame, you hold a tentative hand out to test its heat. “We don’t… if the mood isn’t right, we don’t have to… and we’ve been gone for too long already-”

Boba drags his hot mouth over your jaw, positioning you beneath him. “Then a couple more minutes isn’t going to change that, now is it, babygirl?”

You frown even as your hips seek his. “But the whole ‘sexy fantasy’ thing is kinda ruined.”

Taking your hand in his large one, he draws it down his chest and over his stomach until you feel the hardness of his arousal filling your palm. “Does it feel ruined to you?”

Rock hard and fire hot, he leaks into your fingers. Your stomach clenches. Not too distant memories burn bright and vivid behind your eyes: recollections of impossible fullness, banished thoughts, and the generous stretch to accommodate him.

“Tell me,” he commands, knowing his firm tone always had you melting like silvery mercury in his palm. “Does it feel like I don’t want to be buried in your sweet cunt? Ruining your ‘innocence’ all over again like you want me to so badly?”

His roughness, the obvious tint of desire in licking up his neck and cheeks all have their intended effect: you succumbing to your desires within the paradise of his control. “N-no, it feels like-fuck-it feels like I want you inside me,” you pant, desperate and breathy. You arch up in offering and he bows his head to enjoy the fruits of your desire.

Sliding a hand down your waist, his fingers trail torturously close to your wet heat only to skim over it with the barest of touch. “How did you imagine it back then?” The crackling weight in his voice sinks through your skin to light in your core. “Soft and sweet? Gentle nothings whispered in your ear as you came apart?”

Without warning, he slaps at the wet flesh between your thighs and covers it with his broad hand, claiming it for himself. Perfect nettles of pain flash across your mind and you jerk against his hold. “Or did you want something a little rougher? Want a man who knew how to treat this pussy like it was all his?”

You can’t help it now. The fire he coached is burning you from the inside out, blossoming from you with slips of petaled flame. “A-all yours,” you manage thickly, twisting against him for more. “Wanted to be taken care of, wanted to be fucked without having to think…”

“Yeah, I know, baby, they didn’t know how to touch you, did they?” Two of his thick fingers push past your lower lips to slide through the slick seam there. Trailing over your slit for a languorous second, the pad of his middle finger circles your swollen hood. “They didn’t know how to rub that cute little clit so you screamed, huh?”

“Not at all,” you sob, your voice quivering as you shake from the electric sensation of his fingers. “Never knew, never knew-”

Boba smothers the rest of your pathetic sounds in a kiss that pushes deep into your pillows. “Awww, my poor princess,” he croons. “So achy and needy with no one to help. No wonder you were all over me that first time, whining and riding my dick like you would die without it.”

Never mind that he had been equally out of his mind, pounding into you that night like a man possessed with adoration.

He notches a finger at your fluttering opening, ringing it around your flushed entrance just to see you squirm to get him deeper. “Remember how you begged me to fuck you, princess? How you didn’t even want to wait for me to stretch out your tight cunt?” Sinking in an effortless finger, he dips to lap up the beads of sweat from the hollow of your throat.

By the time he’s pressing in the blunt head of his cock, you’re face down and ass up, shimmying your hips back onto his length through a babble of pleas. “Please, Boba, please I want it deep, so fuckin’ deep I cry.”

Huffing out a breath that curls over the dampness of your spine, Boba grips the back of your neck to snap that first delicious thrust into you. Your broken sob is muffled by the rucked bedding, matching the slap of skin in a salacious accompaniment. Never one to do things in half measures, he digs a hand into your hip, anchoring your body to drive into you harder. He hits that divine spot that you didn’t even know existed before him.

The air whooshes from both your lungs in a blurred haze of ecstasy. “Shit, baby,” Boba squeezes your nape, “I’ll always give it to you… always, darling girl. Anything you want, I’m always yours, forever.”

You know it with every breath in your body and hair on your head—Boba loves you with every fiber of his being and he never hid that fact from you. From the way he looks after your safety to the care he takes just to see you flash a simple smile, you never had to wonder if he loved you the way you love him, not even for a second.

The realization happens suddenly then, tipping your axes so you could center on the one truth that had orbited just out of your consciousness: Boba is worth the risk. He always has been. No matter what you might lose or gain by sharing your relationship, he would always be worth the risk.

You swirl with dazzling vibrancy, this epiphany developing in full splendor within you. “Yes-yes-yes!” you repeat mindlessly, flinging an arm back to search for his tethering touch. His hand disappears from your hip to intertwine with yours. Face crushed into the rose covered sheets of your old bed, breath tearing into your lungs as soon as it’s knocked out again, you smile. It had all led to this: all those years wondering if you were somehow broken, all those loves lost trying to fix what didn’t need repair, that one New Year’s night when you stopped denying what you truly wanted—all of it, everything, had been worth the risk.

Boba pulls on your hand, forcing you to arc farther back so that last sweet, solid inch of him is finally able to press into you. “Ffffffff-that’s it, that’s fuckin’ it,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “You’re better than heaven, babygirl, you know that? Sweeter than anything I’ve ever had.”

You want to tell him the same but your head is filled with hot, sparkling clouds of stardust and your throat is tight with cresting pleasure. “Yes, Daddy, yes!”

“Shit, you calling me… say it again. Say it again and don’t fucking stop.”

You’re chanting now, watching how the room around you shrinks to a pinpoint as you draw higher and higher with him. The prick of light and the chorus of your glass-thin cries shake with impending explosion when he drags his blunt nails down your back, swelling over your hip to find your throbbing center. “Is it as good as you imagined?” he husks, his own voice leaden with delicious strain. “Getting fucked into the mattress you dreamed on?”

Each snap of his hips sends your clit skating over his calloused fingertips. “Better, so much better!” Crushing your eyes closed, you surrender to the scorching wave waiting to take you. “Please, Daddy! Please fill me up so everyone knows I’m yours!”

Boba jerks forward, breaking the pattern of his thrusts to fold over your back. His sweat dampened skin melds to yours and fuses you into one splendid being. His hand travels from your shoulder to clasp around your throat. “You really want that, darling girl? You really want everyone to know you belong to me?”

Your answer doesn’t waver, solidified by your new-found conviction. “As long as they know you’re mine, too.”

Muscles rippling to lock at your affirmation, Boba’s head drops to your shoulder. The groan that heaves from his chest rattles through your bones like a welcome spirit charged with animating the last gasps of your union. “C-come for me then,” he chuffs in your ear with his last dregs of restraint. “Come for me so they know what you fucking do to me.”

Would he ever truly know how easy, how intrinsic to your being coming apart for him is? How your world had only ever been ordered by his particular equation, even before your eyes first met? Unraveling to be respun with his thread is your very nature, and you would always yearn to be in his weave, stitched and re-stitched by his expert hand. His fingers press tight against the glowing center of pleasure at your core and you burst into a glorious, unbound tapestry of light. Undulant patterns of pleasure flow through your every inch, anointing your entire body in golden thread from the crown of your head down to each individual toe.

Feeling the hot claim he spills inside you is the final beautiful detail in your joint creation. These final fleeting moments where it feels like your very souls mesh together are always your favorite; Boba’s guard comes down and you rise to catch him, your usual roles reversing as he burrows into your warmth. “Always, baby. Always yours,” he promises, his voice thick and sweet as honey.

Echoing his sentiment in utter bliss, you tighten your grip on his hand, joy taking flight when he does the same. Content and at peace, the pair of you roll so you’re pressed flush together, still joined in the middle when your limbs re-tangle. Boba pushes your hair back from where it had stuck your forehead and plants a kiss in your hair.

You’re happy to smooth your palms over the scarred bronze of his chest to rest them lazily around his neck, his heartbeat jumping under your touch. How could you not realize this, that he, is worth more to you than any fallout from revealing your relationship? Was this not what you shed all those tears for, what you wished for every single time you tried to fit into another man’s mold?

A resplendent joy feathers out in your chest, floating down your arms, then your legs with soft announcement. “Boba?”

His finger traces up your spine. “Yes, my princess?” His voice is dense as goose down and packed with comfort.

You swirl your own shape into his skin. “I meant it, you know. I want… I want everyone to know we’re together. I don’t want it to be a secret anymore.”

He goes silent, his only sound the movement of air in and out of his lungs. Even as you know he always takes time to consider his next move, your pulse still ticks up with a spate of nerves. The lines on your spine continue and you do your best to temper your unease as the long moments inch by.

Eventually, a rumble reverberates in his chest. Your ears prick up.

“You don’t have to do that, babygirl, not before you’re ready. Just because it slipped out in the heat of the moment doesn’t mean it has to be set in stone.” Boba shifts to wrap his arms around your waist, holding you impossibly closer. “I know there are more risks for you than me in our relationship.”

You hate the far off note of despair in his voice. You hate the way he sounds like he’s resigned himself to a truth that isn’t at all what it has to be. “No,” you sit up on your elbow to cup his cheek, “there’s not. Not in any way that matters to me. You’re-”

“Princess, it’s okay, I-”

You silence him with a kiss, suddenly feeling like you have to get the next words out of your body before they explode. “You’re worth the risk, Boba. You always will be. Every single day since I met you, you have done nothing but prove that to me.” Your pace picks up as your truth spreads its wings. “I was afraid before, not of being with you but of what others would think about my preferences. I didn’t want them to judge me and think I was only with you because I have “daddy issues” or whatever, not because I love you more than I thought people could. And I know my parents will be shocked but all they want is what’s best for me, and you’re what’s best for me. I know this now—and I’m not ashamed of it.”

As quickly as you started, you run out of steam. No longer inflated with the sense of frantic urgency you had before, you sag back down onto his chest. A quiet second flicks by, then Boba’s grabbing you, hauling you up into his arms to kiss you like a man desperate to live. He says nothing, his lips working against yours in fervent passion but you can feel the sentiment he doesn’t speak. Each pass of his tongue and nip of his teeth communicate more than any words could: his joy in your self-realization, the excitement of proclaiming your love to the world at long last. Your only wish is that you could have given him this sooner.

When he finally lets you break for air, his handsome face is lit up with a smile more radiant than any sun. Whispering your name with a reverence of only the truly devoted, he brushes his nose over yours. “Babygirl, I… I’m so proud of you. You never cease to amaze me.” He sweeps his lips over yours again. “I love you. Always have, always will.”

Besides his love, Boba’s greatest gift is his forthrightness. You never have to guess with him and now, no one else will have to either. They’ll know where his loyalties lay.

“That’s a good thing,” you tease into a quick kiss. “Because all my aunties, and uncle Stephen, are going to be very jealous that you’re off the market.”

Boba chuckles in that bone-deep way that always makes you warm all over. “I didn’t realize I was in such high demand.”

You push yourself up on his chest. “Oh, don’t lie to me, Boba Fett. I’ve seen the way you flirt and wink at them. They eat it up and you know it!”

Sitting up with you, he grins. “Just being polite, princess. You’re not jealous, are you?”

Maker, how could you ever be jealous of anyone after the sex you’d just had?

“Oh, not at all. Because at the end of the night, you’re coming home with me.” You smirk up at him. “Speaking of which, we better get back out there before those same aunties start tearing the house up looking for you.”

“Only if you promise not to clean up and put these panties back on for me, darling girl,” he counters with a devilish smirk of his own.

Giggling, you bite your lip. “Anything for you, Daddy.”

He’s worth the risk.

#i made my own slutty self blush with this one 🙈#zwei writes #boba fett #boba fett x reader #boba fett x f!reader #boba fett x fem!reader #boba fett x you #boba fett fanfic #boba fett smut #boba fett fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #dad's friend!boba #fanfic #worth the risk fic

103 notes · View notes

justmeinadaze · 1 year

Note

Smutty request here....massage therapist(s) Eddie and/or Steve 🥴

Got me feeling all the things

Happy Ending (Steddie X You)

A/N: So this intimidated me a bit because I don't a whole lot about massages and that field. But I ran with what I know and put a spin on it. I hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: Masseuses Steddie and you and all that implies (I regret nothing), mentions of stress from the read and a broken heart, she is aware that they provide more than just massages, DP (I said what I said), they are gentle with her for the most part but their is slight allusions to Dom/Sub dynamics (spanking, some bratty behavior, and stern tones), I think that's it.

Word Count: 6244

“Trust me, Y/N, these two will change your life.”

“They’re masseuses. It’s a massage, Deb.”

“Yes and no.” You stare at your friend as you sarcastically blink in her direction making her laugh so hard she almost spits out her drink. “Yes, they massage your body but they also do…other things…to help you relax.”

“Nope. No thank you. I’m good.”

“Y/N! Wait, come on.” She reaches for you hand as you start to get up from the lunch table you two were eating at. “Listen… you remember how hard things were for me a few months ago? I was working 80-hour weeks trying to get that promotion, my mom was scolding me because I’m still not married, and then add in being broke as hell.” Your friend sighed as you placed your palm over her hand.

“Someone suggested them and I thought ‘Hey, what do I have to lose?’ When I met them, they were so kind and gentle. I swear for a second, I forgot I was even worried about anything. And that was before the…ahem…happy ending.” You blush as you both giggle. Debbie suddenly leans in closer to you, lowering her voice.

“They both do the massaging part but you can decide who makes your ending a happy one. Personally, I chose the tall, pretty one. Not that the other one wasn’t cute…he’s just not my type, you know?”

“You can only have one?”

Your friend gasps as she playfully hits your arm. “You whore!”

“What?! I’m just asking! More so out of curiosity.”, you shrug. “I guess not everyone is into that kind of…kink but…I mean if you’re hiring them knowing what they do…wouldn’t you want to take the opportunity?”

“Goddamn, I will never understand why Tony cheated on you.” Your eyes meet hers as she softly smiles. “You’re sweet, funny, fucking gorgeous, and apparently really open minded when it comes to ménage à trois.”

You return her smile with one of your own as you lean back in your chair. “Yeah, well, if you ever find that out will you let me know?”

****

You sigh as you enter your big, empty apartment. Tony, your ex-fiancé, was supposed to come by while you were out today with your friend to get the last of his things. Now half of your home was quite literally gone.

As you hugged your arms around yourself you noticed a note on the kitchen counter.

“Y/N,

I think I got everything but if I forgot something can you save it and let me know?

This was incredibly hard for me. I love you so much, baby. Can’t we just—”

You crumple the letter without bothering to read the rest. Honestly, it doesn’t matter. You heard it all before you caught him with her that night and after you threw him out.

After grabbing a beer from the fridge, you held the card Debbie gave you for the masseuses, tracing your fingers over the number.

“Ugh! Fuck it.”, you exhale as you reach for the phone.

It rings a few times but right as you begin to rethink what you’re doing; music suddenly blares through the line.

“Yeah! Hello?”

“Um, hi. I’m looking for the Munson-Harrington massage people…thing.”

The man on the other end chuckles as he lowers the heavy metal in the background.

“I don’t think I’ve heard us called that before. Massage people thing… Yeah, you got one of them here. How can I help you, sweetheart?”

“I, um, my friend recommended I utilize your services.”

“Do you always talk this dirty or are we special?”

“I don’t know. Are you always this much of asshole or am I just that special.”, you growl.

The music on the other end abruptly stops and you hear movement on the other end.

“You sound like your absolutely special. Are you a little nervous?”

You sigh as you lean against the kitchen the wall. “Yeah. I’ve never done anything like this before. Not even regular…massages. Deb, my friend, said you guys changed her life. My life kind of sucks right now.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to and you definitely don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. My friend and I just want to help you relax. Pretty sounding girl like you deserves a clear head.”

“Hm. I bet you say that to everyone who calls.”

“You’re right. I did tell the telemarketer before you that he sounded gorgeous.”

That made you genuinely laugh. “What’s your name?”

“Eddie. I’m the Munson in the name. What’s yours?”

“Y/N.” You slide down to the floor as you take another swig of the drink in your hand. “Is the Harrington part of your company there?”

“Yes ma’am, he is. Would you like to say hello?”

“If that’s ok. I don’t want to impose or anything.”

“HARRINGTON! There’s a pretty girl on the phone who would like to speak with you.”

You listen to Eddie pass the phone as he tells the other boy your name.

“Y/N? Hey, I’m Steve. I heard you wanted to talk to me.”

“Are you an asshole like your friend?”

“I can be when I need to. Eddie! What did you do to this girl?”

“Nothing! She started it by calling and being adorable.”

“Oh my god.”, you giggle. “You guys are good.”

“And we haven’t even touched you yet.” Your breathing stuttered at his comment. He said it with so much confidence as if he already knew his hands (and services) would blow you away. “Are you still with me, honey?”

“Yeah, um, Eddie said that…we could go slow and if I didn’t want…the…”

“He’s right. We want you to be comfortable. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, Y/N. If you just want a massage that’s fine. If you just want to talk that’s fine to.”

You exhale heavily into the phone before finally making up your mind.

“Okay. I’m free on Friday.”

############

“Shit, shit, shit!” You continue to curse as you run down your apartment building hallway. “I am so sorry I’m late! Work kept me late and—”

You froze you saw them sitting outside your door, quickly rising when your eyes meet theirs.

“Hey, no problem.” One of the boy’s grins as he extends his hand for you to shake. “I’m Steve. This is Eddie.”

“The asshole.”, he teases as his gigantic palm encapsulates your own.

You couldn’t take your eyes off them; they weren’t what you were expecting at all. You assumed Steve was the “tall, pretty one” your friend had mentioned but to you they were both handsome. Eddie had that kind of metalhead look you’d seen walking the streets of your town with his leather jacket and long hair. His Metallica shirt rested perfectly above his belt that was holding up his blue jeans.

Steve looked like the everyday 80’s guy you saw in most romance movies at the theater but his smile radiated a confidence that made you feel safe. His muscle-bound arms in his polo caused a little sigh to escape your lips as your eyes traced the rest of his figure.

“Do we…have to do a chant or something?”

You glanced at Eddie completely confused until he gestured towards the front door.

“Oh, fuck, right. I’m sorry. My head is just…” You clumsily turn your key in the lock and allow them entry into your home.

“Wow. This place is really nice.”

“Uh, thank you. My fiancé, well ex-fiancé, and I wanted a bigger place closer to the city since we both worked over here. Do you…would you guys like something to drink?”

“No, thank you. We appreciate the offer.” Steve smiles in your direction making your knees a bit weak. “You can have something though if you want.”

“Thanks? I mean with it being my apartment and all.”

“Ah, there’s that sass I was waiting for.” Eddie flashes you a tooth filled grin.

After pouring yourself the strongest drink you could find, you watched them set up near your living room. Your eyes continued to rake over them as they exchanged small talk with each other, allowing you some space to get more comfortable with their presence.

The phone ringing startled you as you turned to give it your attention. Before you could pick it up it routed to the voicemail and Tony’s voice flowed through.

“Y/N? Babe, are you there? Please, I just want to talk.” Your eyes fluttered shut as you listened to his excuses. You hated being alone and this gigantic apartment was just another reminder that he wasn’t by your side anymore. You missed Tony terribly but no one in the world had ever hurt you as badly as he had. “…I swear to God, she meant nothing to me. I’m just a fucking idiot.”

Feeling a sudden warmth, you opened your eyes to meet Eddie’s as he towered over you. You glanced at Steve whose own face reflected the same sympathy as his friend.

“…I felt so fucking lonely, Y/N. You were always at work and I felt like you never had time for me. Baby, I know what it’s like to sit in that apartment all by yourself, hurting. Please just talk to me—”

“Hey. Just so you’re aware you are a fucking idiot. She’s not sitting here alone crying her eyes out over some asshole who broke her heart. Y/N has moved on and you should to. Stop calling.”

After hanging up the phone, the metalhead turned to face you again. “I hope that was ok.”

Before you could stop yourself, you wrapped your arms around his waist, clinging to him as you sighed into his chest. His arms gradually came down to hold you to him as his cheek rested on your head.

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure. I’m not going to lie, Stevie, we may want to reconsider taking a payment in a hug because this is quite comfortable.”

They both laugh as you pull away and smile at them.

“We’re ready whenever you are, honey.”, Steve grins as he points towards their makeshift table.

#########

Your eyes remain glued in front of you as you listen to Eddie move about the apartment.

“Y/N.”, Steve whispers from behind you as his breath warms your ear. “Remember, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. We can just talk if you want or we can even leave. No hard feelings. We understand how uncomfortable this situation can be especially since you don’t know us but that makes it a little bit freeing to.”

“Can, um, can I ask you for a favor?” You softly smile when you turn to look at him and he nods. “Can you…take off my clothes? I-I-I don’t think I…”, you ask, stuttering through your nerves.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course I can. Did you want to keep anything on?”

“Is that an option?”, you giggle.

“Sweetheart, you hold all the power here.” Eddie slides up beside his friend, now jacketless with no shoes.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been with anyone let alone naked in front of someone. Tony wasn’t lying about that. I’ve always been busy with work and—”

Steve gently places his index finger over your lips. “Nothing that asshole says matters. I don’t care if you were on the moon, he had no right to cheat on you.” His finger glides down from your mouth to your blouse as he begins undoing the buttons while the other man shifts behind you and unclips your skirt.

Both garments fall effortlessly to the floor as Steve continues watching your face for any signs of hesitation or discomfort.

“We’re going to do this one at a time, ok? I’m going to take off your bra and then Eddie’s going to remove your panties.”

Once he gets your approval, he leans over your shoulder and begins unhooking your bra from your body. You don’t know if it’s because he’s being so sweet or if it’s because his strong cologne wafts into your nostrils but something inside of you causes you to turn and softly kiss his cheek.

Steve pulls back slightly, looking through your eyes till a small smile flickers across his lips. He and his friend had been doing this for a while but not one of them had been as tender at you had just been. He knew there was something different about you when he spoke to you on the phone and he knew Eddie felt it to when the metalhead completely turned off his music to talk to you.

He hoped he wasn’t misreading things and took a leap of faith as he leaned forward to kiss your forehead before tossing your bra near the rest of your clothes.

Strong hands on your waist turned you so you were now facing Eddie as he sunk down on his heels, dipping his fingers under the waistband of your underwear, and delicately tugged them down your legs. The pads of his digits traced along your skin causing a little shiver to run up your spine.

“You’re so gorgeous, Y/N.”

“I’m sure you say that to everyone.”

His grin grows as he stands up and looks down at you. “I did have a date with that telemarketer I told you about. Turns out he WAS really good looking.”

Steve smiled behind you when you laughed, gently guiding you towards their table, and helping you up as you lay on your stomach. Folding your arms above you, you rest your head on them like a pillow. The metalhead digs in a bag before kneeling in front of you again till his face was level with your own.

“Which do you like better?” He holds up bottles to your nose and you point to one that smells like vanilla.

“What are those?”

“Oil. Steve’s the smell guy and knows how to utilize them better than I do.” He stands up and passes the bottle you chose to his friend.

“Honey, we’re going to touch you now, alright? It might feel a little weird at first because of the oil but if at any point you get uncomfortable and want to stop or take a break just let us know.”

“Okay.” You close your eyes, unsure of what to prepare for but when a set of hands begins rubbing into you back, you can’t help but let out a soft, low moan. “Shit. I’m—”

“Princess, this is your house. Make all the noise you want to and please don’t be embarrassed.”

“You can also talk to us if you want to. Maybe about things you’re stressed about.”

A second set of hands find your calves and a strong exhale leave your lips. “Honestly, you heard my main bit of stress.”

“Fucker Magee?”, Eddie asks.

“Yeah.”, you giggle. “Everyone in my life thinks I’m overreacting and I should forgive him.”

“Um, we may not know the whole story but the man you were going to marry cheated on you. I think you’re reacting properly.” Steve’s hands trailed along your spine and back down to your hips.

“I went to visit him at work and they were fucking in his office. Some pretty, young, big breasted coworker.”

“What a bitch.” You smiled as Eddie laughed at his own comment, his palms massaging along your thighs and back down to your feet. “For how long?”

“A few months. We…we were supposed to get married next month.”

Fingers came up to firmly knead into your shoulders. “I’m sorry, Y/N.” Steve watched your lips form into a thin line before you pressed your face into your arms. As soon as you felt your emotions were in check, you turned your head back to the side.

“That feels good actually.”

“Did you think the massage business part was just for show?”, Steve laughed.

“I mean… I don’t know. I don’t want to be rude.”

“Said the girl who called me an asshole.”

“To be fair, you were being one.” It feels almost on purpose when Eddie’s fingers slide up between your thighs just barely near your core before sliding back down your legs.

“You’re not wrong, sweetheart.”

Steve’s own hands glide up your sides, grazing the sides of your breasts before looping back around to your shoulder blades.

“I hope I’m not being too forward but you have a beautiful body.”

“No, you’re not being too…thank you. Um, you-you can go a little higher if you want.”

“Who are you talking to, honey? Me or Ed?”

“Eddie… You can go higher to. If you want to…”

The hands on your back lifted off you as Steve came around to kneel in front of you on his heels. “How about we take it slow, huh? One thing at a time.” His palm petted your head as he moved the hair back from your face. You let out a little gasp when you felt the metalhead’s fingers slide between your folds. “Are you okay?”

You nodded as you bit your bottom lip, lifting one of your legs up the table to allow him more accesses. This man felt like a master with his fingers as he rubbed circles slowly into your clit.

“Pl-please.”, you whine.

“Please what, Y/N? What do you need?

“Can…can I turn around? On my back.”

“Of course, pretty girl. Whatever you want.”

They patient waited for you to roll over before Eddie placed his thumb back on your nub. You watched with heavy, lust driven eyes as he stuck two of his fingers into his mouth, coating them with his saliva, and sliding them into your sex.

“Oh wow, princess. You’re tight.” He exhaled, trying to hide the little moan that wanted to be heard.

Steve stood back up to his full height, coming around to stand behind your head as he reached down and ran his hands over your tits, massaging them gently but firmly.

“F-fuck.”, you whimpered. As your back arched, you could help but notice the bulge in his pants. When you tried to touch it with your palm, he jumped back like you startled him.

“Hey. Um, you…you don’t have to do that, honey. We’re here for you.”

“You don’t want me to feel you?”

Your voice sounded so small; Steve felt his cock twitch. “I…I do…I just…you don’t have to.”

Grabbing his shirt, you yanked his lips to yours. The combination of man and mint on his tongue had you clenching tighter around the other boy’s fingers making him groan, this time much louder than before.

“I want to.” You slid further up the table, allowing your head to hang a bit over the edge, licking your lips as the man pulls down his shorts just enough for his dick to spring free. “Jesus. I’ve never had anyone as big as you are before.”

He smirks as he subtly chuckles. “You can’t say things like that or else I’m going to cum before you even touch me.”

Your tiny hand reaches for him as he steps closer, mewling when your tongue runs along his tip. You don’t see it but the men give each other a cursory glance. This is a little out of bounds for them in the sense of they rarely ever have the women they massage service them in this way and on the off chance a client does it’s usually during the second part when they are alone with one of them in the bedroom.

Steve continues to be gentle with you as he runs his fingers through your hair when you wrap your lips around his hard, now throbbing length. Eddie thrusts his fingers into you at a faster pace and your moans vibrate through to the boy in your mouth.

“Goddamn, Y/N. Your mouth feels so good. Your ex is a fucking idiot.”

They both take note of your reaction, your head bobbing faster as your pussy clenches again.

“He really is, sweetheart. Makes me want to call him back and curse that fucker out.”

Tugging your head back, you continue to pump him with your fist as your hips began to grind up into the metalhead’s hand.

“Fuck, I’m…”

“That’s it, beautiful girl. Just let go. It’s okay.” Eddie pressed the heel of his palm against your clit as he moves his fingers move at a quicker pace. The sound of your slick fills the room and after a few moments your body trembles as you cum. “Good girl. Coming like that. Geez, I’m so fucking hard right now.”

Abruptly, you sit up and grab the back of the man’s neck as you bring his lips to yours. After your release, your kisses were much hungrier and you reveled in the taste him as your hands shot down to fumble with his jeans.

“Wait…are you sure…you don’t want Steve.”, he asks between kisses. “You’ve kinda…got him…all riled up.”

“Want both.”

Eddie froze as he pulled his head back. When you tried to chase his lips, his palms gripped either side of your face forcing you to focus.

“Hey, you don’t have to do that.”

“Want to.” You tried to lurch forward again but he was much stronger than you, holding you in place.

“Y/N, princess, come down from cloud 9 and really think about what you’re asking for.”

You couldn’t control the annoyed exhale or tone as your eyes met his. “Am I not allowed? I can pay you more.”

“It’s not about the money. We—”, Steve began before you cut him off.

“Want me to be comfortable. I know! I know what I’m asking for. Now, do you want to fuck me or not!?”

Ringed fingers snaked into your hair and firmly pulled it back. Something changed in Eddie’s eyes; a look he saved for partners he had in his own bedroom.

“Control the attitude, Y/N.”, he growled. “Listen to what he’s saying. It’s not about the money and it’s not about getting off. It’s not fun for anyone here if you wake up in the morning with regret. And while this little session here IS all about you, don’t forget we’re people to. We’ve been doing this for years and no one has ever asked to take us both one right after the other.”

“I’m not asking for that either. I want you both…at the same time.” They look at each other again, unsure of what to do or say. Your hand reaches out to turn his attention back to you as you lean your forehead on his. “Please, Eddie. I know what I’m asking for. I need it. I need you both. Please, please, please.” As you keep repeating your last word, you manage to fully unbutton his jeans, glide your hand through the waistband of his boxers, and rub your palm against his cock.

His jaw falls open as your lips trail down his neck.

“I mean…if she thinks she can handle it.”

Eddie growled again with more vigor as he lifted you into his arms and carried you to your bedroom with Steve in tow. After tossing you onto the bed, he tore off his shirt, and you marveled at his tattoos, crawling on your knees till you were in front of him again. His hands laced in your hair as your tongue descended down his chest, stopping just above his waistline to allow him to shuffle out of his pants.

The bed dipped behind you, suddenly feeling strong palms grip your hips and lift them a bit higher into the air. Steve’s own tongue licked a long stripe through your folds causing your body to shudder pleasantly at the feeling. Eddie held the base of his cock, allowing the tip to brush against your lips.

You opened your mouth for him and he wasted no time pushing through, groaning when your warm saliva began coating him. The metalhead was much thicker than his friend and at times you struggled to take him, gagging around his dick as he occasionally hit the back of your throat.

The strong vibrations of your moans as Steve latched his mouth to your clit had Eddie’s own eyes rolling back as he held on to your hair tighter trying to control himself from just face fucking you till he came.

You weren’t sure if it was on purpose or not but both men were still massaging you with their palms, Steve especially. His hands rubbed and caressed firmly up your lower back, around to your stomach, and down to your thighs as his tongue flicked against your bundle of nerves. While one of Eddie’s hands remained in your hair, the other ran between your shoulder blades and around to your front to knead your breasts adding to your high.

Your mouth came off the boy in front of you with a pop as drool dangled from your lips.

“Yes, Steve. Please, you’re going to make me cum.”

You practically screamed as he pressed his mouth further into your core, sucking and licking until you felt the coil snap as you came. Your upper half fell flat against the mattress as you panted, smiling softly as your body continued to twitch.

Eddie’s fingers left your hair and moved to your shoulders as he lifted you back up to your knees so he could see your face.

“This is the last time I’m going to ask, sweetheart. Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes, Eddie, I’m sure I want you both inside of me.”

His head tilts to the side at your answer, mostly because it was said correctly, or at least how he liked his questions answered. He wondered if there was a submissive side of you that enjoyed it a bit rougher like they did. Both men NEVER brought that into the bedroom with a client and most of the time none of the women they were with never asked.

You weren’t asking either but he imagined, like they did, that was something personal for you so you saved it for the man you were dating or intimate with.

Eddie shook the thoughts from his head as his hand laced around your neck and brought your lips to his again.

“Seriously, your fiancé is so fucking stupid to let you go.”

You smiled up at him and wrapped your arms around his waist as you yanked him closer to you for a hug. He could get used to this.

“Have you ever done this before?”, Steve asked.

“This exactly, no. Have I ever done anal before? A couple of times. You may need to go a bit slow at first especially since…um…I’ve never had a man, men, as big or thick like you guys.”

You giggle when the boy exhaled again, grabbing your waist, and falling on to the bed with you on top of him. “You have to stop saying things like that. You’re going to kill me!”

“What, do you want me to lie? ‘Oh Daddy. Your cock is average size and will definitely not split me in half.’” Your giggle turned into a full-blown laugh until you notice he had a funny little look on his face. “I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong? I was just—”

Steve leans up, cutting you off with a passionate kiss. “You’re an interesting woman. Eddie’s right. I seriously don’t understand why anyone would cheat on you. If you were mine, I don’t think I’d ever leave your side.”

“Aw…that’s creepy.”, you playfully smiled.

On impulse, he smacked your ass. They never did that first. Sometime a client would ask for a light spank but he just delivered you one he’s only given to bratty girls in his bedroom. He didn’t mean to but something about you made him comfortable.

“Shit. I…I’m sorry.”

You shook your head, dismissing his apology as you kissed him again. Eddie reached over your shoulder to hand his friend a condom and they both hastily tore into the wrapper before sliding it on. His eyes met yours as he leaned back against your mattress and his hands gripped your waist.

“Whenever you’re ready, honey.”

Nodding, you exhaled the nerves as you tipped forward, and slowly lowered your body to his. You both moaned when his tip breached your entrance and Steve craned his neck to watch himself disappear inside of you inch by inch.

“Fuck, baby. That’s it. Take your time.”

You heard the metalhead’s heavy breathing behind you as he stroked his cock at the site before him. The sound caused you to clench and a broken mewl left you as you pushed yourself further onto him.

“Oh my god. You’re so…I can’t…”

His palm glided up your sides to caress your cheek. “Yes, you can, Y/N. You’re doing so good taking me already. Do you want some help?”

When you nodded, he firmly took hold of the back your neck and lowered you till your face was hovering over his. His hips thrust up to meet yours and your mouth fell open.

“That’s it, baby. Good girl. I’m going to do it again, ok?” When you nod again, he pumped into you a couple more times till you felt him bottom out. “Good girl. Such a good girl. Jesus, so fucking tight. You feel so good, pretty girl. It’s Eddie’s turn. Let him know when you’re ready.”

After a few moments and subtly thrusts from Steve, you turned towards his friend and gave him the okay.

Hands spread open your ass and you tightened around the other man again when you felt spit hit your asshole and Eddie’s fingers massaging it in. Your body tensed slightly when the tip of his cock rubbed between your cheeks.

“Sweetheart, if at any point you want to stop, I want you to say ‘Red’ for me, alright? Can you tell me what I just said?”

“If…if—fuck—if I want to stop…say ‘red’.”

“Atta girl.”, he praised as he quickly leaned forward to kiss your temple.

Prepared, Steve’s palms held on to your face as Eddie began to push into your body. Your head started to droop but his grip was stronger than yours. “Y/N, look at me, honey.” When you did what he asked, his thumb extended out to run along your bottom lip. “You’re doing amazing. How do you feel?”

“F-full.” The metalhead licked the pads of his fingers, looping his arm under your body to slowly and softly massage circles into your clit. “Oh my god!”

You tried to collapse against Steve’s chest but he still wouldn’t allow it.

“Holy shit. Y/N, stop moving.”, he scolded in a firm tone before he realized what headspace he was slipping into and reeling himself back into the present. “Baby, not yet. You…you say you’ve never had anyone as big as us. I-I don’t know about, Ed but I’VE never…had a woman as tight as you.” He flashed you a small smile. “I’m trying so fucking hard not to cum right now.”

Eddie’s hair bobbed behind you and the man knew he was nodding in agreement.

“You can—mmm—you can talk to me…like you did. I-I-I don’t mind.”

His eyes scanned over your face as your eyes closed. “Hey, I said keep your eyes open, sweet girl.” You purposely ignored him, grinding your hips forward slightly for good defiant measure. Both men grunted at the action but it was Steve who held your face tighter.

“Look at me, now.” This time you listened. “What did I say, Y/N? Don’t fucking move. You need to be patient, little girl. Do you understand me?”

“Y-yes, I understand.” At that moment, the metalhead’s hips finally connected against yours. “You…you both can…move. Please, I need you to move.”

The man underneath you released your face and circled his arms around you as he pressed you to his chest. When they both thrusted into you at the same time, the euphoria you felt was indescribable. It was like they knew exactly what you needed and where they needed to be. Each stroke was strong and precise, hitting every nerve inside of you, and setting your body ablaze.

“Go-go ahead, princess. You wanted—goddamn—you wanted to move so bad. Take over.” Eddie’s hand came down hard on your behind and you hurriedly (and willingly) did as he commanded. Their grunts and groans drove you crazy, egging you on as you bounced and rolled your hips as fast as you could. The obscene sound of skin hitting skin echoed in your room mixed with your whimpers of pleasure.

It was almost too overwhelming as the ball in your belly began to wind faster and faster. Steve’s grip moved to your hips as Eddie held on to your shoulders.

“Cum, baby. Let go and cum as hard as you fucking can.”, the man under you whispered into your ear. Your forehead fell into the mattress beside his head as they both pounded into you. Their rhythm changed as they slowed, punching the air from your lungs as white blurs your vision. You scream into the bed below you as they fuck you through it, Steve lifting his hand to run his fingers through your hair.

“That’s it. Good-good fucking girl. Taking us both so well.” Eddie tilted forward, placing sloppy, wet kisses against your back as he rolled his hips. He soon followed after you, grunting loudly as he spilled into the condom. Steve, unable to hold back any longer, came as well, smacking his hips against yours and using you to milk himself dry.

#########

Eddie’s eyes blink open as his watch beeps signaling midnight. His eyes take a quick scan of the area, realizing they were still in your apartment. He and Steve were tucked under your sheets but you weren’t between them.

“Steven.” The metalhead reached over to shake his friend’s shoulder. “Steve, wake up.”

“Huh? Wha?”

“Oh my god, you idiot. Steve. WAKE. UP.” Between each word, he firmly punched his arm causing the other man to grumble in anger.

“What?! Why are you in my room?”

“Oh, you know. I thought I could just use a nice Harrington cuddle. WE AREN’T AT HOME!”, he hisses.

Steve rubs his eyes before Eddie’s words sink in and he bolts up right. “Shit. We fell asleep.”

“You don’t say.”

“Shut the fuck up, Munson. Where is she?”

As he shrugs, they both jump out of bed. Steve finds his clothes on the floor but the other boy struggles to find his.

“I know I took them off here.”

“You did.” They both jump at the sound of your voice. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I woke up before you and noticed your clothes had oil on them from when you picked me up so I washed them for you.”, you softly smiled as you handed Eddie his jeans and shirt.

“Um, thank you. You…you didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s no problem. I was hungry to I heated up some left-over pizza if you want some.”

Their eyes scanned over you as you leaned in the doorframe with a mug in your hand. You had changed into an oversized shirt with a metal band that Eddie definitely knew and some sleep shorts. Your hair was a little frayed but to both of them you looked like an angel.

“I mean, you don’t have to. I don’t really know what the protocol is or how this works.”

“Well, to be fair, I’m not sure if you noticed but this whole thing was a bit off script for what we normally do.”, Steve grins as he nervously chuckles. He has no idea what they are supposed to do either.

You silently nodded before turning and heading back out to the kitchen as they follow behind.

“How, uh, how are you feeling?”, Eddie asks.

“Calm. Oddly relaxed. Honestly, I don’t think I’ve felt like this since before I got in engaged.” You hop up onto the counter before meeting their gaze. “Thank you.”

They smile as Steve heads for where their things were as Eddie grabs a slice of pizza. “I made some coffee to if you want some.”

“Did you put our table and all that way?”

“Oh, yeah. I cleaned it to. I’m not sure if you’re supposed to use a certain type of cleaner but I just used my 409. I folded it and placed it by the door with your bags. I, um, I wasn’t sure if when you woke up you’d…want to make a quick getaway.”

They exchanged a look as your head hung.

“Why do you think we would want to do that?” When you shrug at Eddie’s question, he saunters casually over to you and lifts your chin with his fingers. “Let me rephrase. Is that what you want us to do?”

“Do you want us to leave?”, Steve reiterated.

“Like I said, I don’t know…how this works…”

“That’s not what I asked, Y/N.”

“No…I don’t want you to leave.”

They both grin at your answer. “We don’t want to leave either.”

Eddie starts to giggle through his teeth as he jumps on the counter beside you.

“What’s so funny, Munson?”, Steve asks as he comes to lean on the counter across from you both.

The metalhead intertwines his fingers with yours and you lean your head on his shoulder.

“Nothing. Just…this gives a whole new meaning to the term ‘happy ending’.”

547 notes · View notes

abiomens · 3 months

Note

So...this ain't fluff but hear me out:

Massage Therapist!Noah who gives you a full body massage and ends up finger fucking you and railing you into oblivion afterwards until both your brain and body melted 🥴🥴🥴🥴

JESUS CHRIST GET BACK HERE ANON

(i got rly carried away with this. nsfw bellow the cut 😭)

cuz yeah !! okay i cant do this

nvm jm back.

cuz he has really nice hands, right? you can’t help but stare at them for a little too long when he’s running his hands up your thighs or massaging the muscles in your shoulders. and he take notice to this.

he noticed looonnggg ago, a few months actually- he’s a TEAAAAASSEEEEEEE. like like like purposely lingering on your waist a little too long, or squeezing your thighs a little when you’re in a session. he knows it makes you squirm and he loves seeing you squirm. so one day when he’s wearing a specific turtleneck sweater and has the sleeves rolled up on his forearms, you suddenly feel very hot under your clothes.

half way during him massaging your legs and you talking about your day, you notice his hands reaching a little higher up your thighs, and then they’re at your inner thighs, squeezing and kneading at the plush flesh there. it’s distracting, you keep trailing off or completely forgetting what you were saying cuz you were too busy looking at his hands and how his cheek is pressed against your knee.

then his fingers run underneath your jean shorts and he keeps squeezing so softly, and when you just. stop talking. he looks up at you like he doesn’t know what he’s doing (he knows.) and is giving you the most innocent eyes ever. “you okay sweetheart?” as his fingers are literally tugging on your shorts and fishnets.

he’s suddenly rising up and hovering over you, dipping his fingers under the fabric and rubbing at your clit. you’re already crumbling under him, gripping his shoulders and whimpering into his neck. and before you know it he has 3 fingers buried in your cunt. you’re whimpering and moaning and grinding down onto his hand, his other holding your face and kissing you so deeply.

he made you cum twice on his fingers cuz he’s evil and wants you pliant and dumb and docile and mindless. then he’s so so gently tugging down your shorts and tossing then next to your bag, then your fishnets and pretty lace panties come next. he’s rubbing at your thighs again and leaving love bites all over them, you barely realize he’s buried his face in your cunt cuz you’re already so dazed. he’s moaning into you and gripping your hips, groaning when you tug at his hair and grind on his face. the glasses he wore were somehow still sitting on his face perfectly fine-

and when you cum again? he happily scoops it all up and sucks it off his fingers, literally moaning at your taste and praising you for doing so well for him, he’s so sweet :(((

he’s kissing you so softly now, cradling the back of your head and unbuckling his belt, then tugging on the waistband of his pants. you were already sat on the couch in his office, so he laid you back and you nearly drooled at his size. he let out a little laugh and suddenly his hands were at your waist and he was pushing himself inside so slowly. you were already in another plane of existence, and being so full of him added to that? darling you’re gone.

he’s leaning over you and cradling your face in his hands, checking in and making sure you’re okay. sweet boy :((((((

“yeah? feels good sweetheart?”

“shh, i know baby, i know. its so much, isnt it?”

“hng- ‘s big-“ “you can take it pup.”

“doing so good for me, sucha good girl.”

and before you know it, he’s got you folded in half and fucking you like he’ll never be able to again. (this happens at least one a week afterwards.) you’re too fucked out and dazed to realize you’re drooling and being so loud until his hand is clamping down on your mouth and he’s murmuring against your ear.

“gotta be quiet baby, can’t let everyone hear how good you take my dick, hm?”

“cock feels that good baby? yeah?”

okay ill shut yhe fuck up now-

#someone take away my phone #nowah #noah sebastian smut

87 notes · View notes

tuberchelsea · 1 year

Text

Come Out to LA

Pairing: Yoongi x f!reader

Summary: What was supposed to be a simple trip to LA to visit your childhood friend turns into a weekend of a life time

Genre: idol au, smut, fluff, strangers to lovers

CW: sexual content (grinding (we in da club), oral, fingering, exhibitionism (if you squint), dom!Yoongi, sub!reader, p in v), unwarranted Kiss Cam, Yoongi is just too fuckin cute. Also, we may have some sad girl times.

A/N: I have not been in the basketball circle for a while, so my knowledge is meh (also am not a Lakers fan). Also, for somebody (me) having a JK bias, Yoongi’s been on the (my) mind lately 🥴

Title inspiration: Come Out to LA - Don Broco

“Question - how would you feel about seeing a Lakers game while you’re here?” Your friend, Becca asks over the phone.

“I mean I’m not the biggest lakers fan, but it’s been a while since I’ve watched a game - I’m down!” Why not? You’d never been to Los Angeles, so it’d be a good idea to do as much as you can in the 4 days you’re there.

“Awesome! The game is tomorrow evening! Did you want to borrow a jersey? I have plenty hanging around!” Becca asked, knowing full well what your response was going to be.

“…I’ll just wear something nice.” There’s no was you’d be caught dead wearing a Lakers jersey.

“Okay! I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon then!! Love you!!” As Becca hangs up the phone, you glance over at your half packed suitcase and the pile of rejected outfits sighing - packing shouldn’t be this hard. Looking over at your closet, you eye the new lavender pantsuit you’d bought months ago - might be time to put it to good use.

🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱

“Why do I keep punishing myself with bum-fuck early flights?” You curse to yourself as you off board your last connecting flight to LAX. You needed to find Becca - thankfully she was waiting by baggage claim.

“Girl, you look like you need caffeine.” Becca stated as she gave you a giant hug. You nodded in agreement - 4 am flights aren’t exactly your jam. Grabbing your bag off the carousel, you follow her out to the car. Not even buckled in, Becca started rambling off the schedule for the day - something that didn’t surprise you.

“So, I’m thinking we drop stuff off at the house, you can change, then we do brunch? Get coffee and eat - kill two birds with one stone.” You nodded, sending the necessary texts to your family.

“What else do we have today? Better question, when is the basketball game?” You inquired - she hadn’t really disclosed that to you.

“Oh! That’s tonight! We need to be there at least an hour before tip off, it’ll be a bit easier to get to the seats courtside, plus I-“

“Did you say courtside?” You interrupted her, looking up from your phone. She nodded, smiling mischievously. “How did you land courtside? HOW MUCH DO I OWE YOU??” You KNOW you couldn’t afford the ticket at this point, even if you didn’t go shopping.

She shakes her head and laughs, “you don’t owe me anything, hun! Besides, I got them for free bec-“

“Did you win a contest??” You interrupted again.

“No, I got them fr-“

“Oh! Gifted from work?” You interrupted once more. Becca then glared at you, reaching for her flip flop.

“Well! I! Could! Tell! You! If! You’d! Stop! Interrupting! Me!” She yelled, striking you on the thigh with each word. “Now hush!” She tossed her flip flop at you. Your eyes the size of dinner plates, you nodded obediently, rubbing your thigh to help with the sting. “Oh I didn’t hit you that hard. AS I WAS SAYING, I got the tickets because I’m dating one of the guards on the Lakers. We haven’t gone public with our relationship, so I can still enjoy sitting courtside without media in my face. I was able to get him to get another ticket tonight so I could take you to see a game - they’re actually pretty fun!” You nodded, processing the new information.

“Wow - you moving out here last year really changed you for the better.” You sigh, looking down at your hands.

She reaches over and places a hand on yours, sensing your change in mood, “how are you handling all of that, by the way?” You go silent for a moment, thinking over the events from the past year.

“I was able to have closure - his family is still on my side with everything. Nobody’s really heard from him since his family and I found out why he left me for her.” You let out a frustrated sigh. “But I’m hoping it’ll be easier for them and myself once I move away.” You look back down, fidgeting with your phone again.

“Where are you planning on moving to?”

“I’m hoping here - I’m gonna check out UCLA’s Marine Bio Grad program tomorrow. It was one highly recommended by my professors.”

“Well if everything works out, I could talk to the landlord of my apartment complex. He’s actually a pretty decent guy. Plus you’d be in a pretty decent location.” Becca shrugs, turning into the complex.

“And I’d be close to you?” giving her the side eye and a smirk.

“I mean I think that’s the best perk if anything! Now come on, grab your stuff and let’s get you changed so we can start the day! Race you to my place!” She says, already running for the door.

“Becca hold on, I need my ba - I DONT EVEN KNOW WHERE TO GO!” Groaning, you grab your bags, trying not to trip over yourself as you follow suit.

🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱

“I still can’t believe you wore a pantsuit, hun. I still think you should’ve worn a jersey.” Becca shakes her head as you both enter the Staples Center.

“Well, I think it’s appropriate - it’s a tint of purple AND I wanted to look nice since we’re gonna be court side. Plus lots of people will see us, even if we’re not sitting with the celebs.” You shrug, placing the blazer to drape off your shoulders.

“Hun, you do understand that court side isn’t like the VIP lounges, right?” Becca quirks an eyebrow at you.

“Meaning?” You send her a confused look.

“Meaning we will be sitting with famous people. Like there’s only one ‘court side’, hun.”

“Well now I just hope there’s not any cute celebs.” You scoff, following Becca to the seats. She grabs her seat, pointing to her left to direct you to yours. As you take your seat, you hear a conversation to your left - one that’s not in English. Your curiosity wins and you (assumingely) nonchalantly turn to see where it was coming from. Almost immediately, you make direct eye contact with the person that’ll be sitting next to you for the night -

Suga.

He gives you a small wave and smile before sitting down, you do the same to him. Once sat, you turn to Becca with a bemused look on your face, earning a small shrug from her.

“Becca, I feel I don’t deserve to sit here!!” You whisper yell through a toothy grin, earning a laugh from her.

“You’re fiiiiiiine, hun. Just enjoy the moment! Now, do you want anything to drink?”

“…Red Bull please. Flavored is preferred, but no coconut.”

“Got it!” Becca saunters off to the drink stand, leaving you alone. Already feeling warm from the arena (the anxiety wasn’t helping), you decide to slip off your blazer. You stand to drape it over the back of your seat, leaving you in a sleeveless mock turtle neck.

Suddenly, you hear a small voice from your right - one you wouldn’t have heard if they weren’t right next to you. “I’m assuming you’re a fan of The Ocean?” You look up to see Suga pointing to your right arm, sporting a sea-themed sleeve.

“Well I hope I do, seeing as I’m a Marine Biologist.” Sitting down, you instantly regret what came out of your mouth - hoping the sarcasm wouldn’t be too lost in translation.

He laughed, surprising you that he didn’t think the line was cringy. “Marine Biologist? Do you study ocean animals then?”

“Not right now - kinda hard when you live in the mid western part of the United States. Currently I’m working with more lake, river and pond life. I’m hoping to switch to more oceanic when I finish my Master’s though.”

“So you’re not from LA?” Apparently he’d caught something in your ramblings.

Shaking your head, you answer “nope, I’m visiting my friend, Becca” you pointed to her still empty seat. “I currently live in Montana.”

“Ahh okay!” He nods, “I’ve never been there, but I want to someday. I hear it’s really pretty. Also! I didn’t catch your name!” Suga gives an apologetic look as you mentally slap yourself for not introducing yourself.

“I’m y/n! I didn’t mean to come across as rude, Sug-“

“Yoongi” he interrupts. You look at him with a confused look, your brain short circuiting. “You can call me Yoongi. Also, you weren’t being rude, I was the one that caught you off guard.” He gives you a soft smile, holding out his hand to shake yours. He then introduces his manager that’s sitting off to his left. As you two finish introductions, you feel something cool press against your cheek. Grabbing the can from Becca, you thank her before you take a drink.

“Oooh! They had my favorite flavor.” Tonight may just be okay.

🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱

“How did the refs miss an obvious travel?? Like he went almost half way across the court.” It’s coming close to the end of the 2nd quarter (not period, as you were immediately corrected by both Yoongi and Becca. “Don’t mind her, she’s more of a hockey fan.” Becca leans across you to apologize, getting a smile out of him), and while you are enjoying the game, you’re also enjoying the company around you. When the three of you aren’t yelling at the refs for missing blatant calls, you would carry conversations amongst the three of you (as well as you could in a loud arena); small talk quickly turning into more personal topics. Soon, the buzzer went off; indicating the end of the quarter.

“I’m going to head to the locker room to go see my man, then grab drinks on the way back - you want another Red Bull?” Becca asks you as she’s standing up. You nod, then she heads off. At the same time, you see Yoongi’s manager leave, leaving Yoongi and yourself alone. You feel the anxiety come back to you - while you were comfortable being around Yoongi, not having Becca there to back you up was slightly intimidating. As soon as you zone out though, you’re quickly brought back by a small touch on your forearm. You look to your left to see the hand belonging to Yoongi, who was wearing a slightly concerned look. “Are you okay, y/n?”

You blink a couple times before you nod, “yes! Sorry, I tend to zone out when my anxiety gets to be a bit much.” You then let out a breath you didn’t even think you were holding.

“Is the crowd becoming a bit much for you?” He asks, hand still on your arm. You nod. He sighs, “I’m glad I’m not the only one overwhelmed.”

It’s your turn to wear the concerned look, “I’m guessing this isn’t the same as performing, is it?”

He shakes his head, “there’s a reason I’m more of a background person” he laughs nervously.

“We suffer together then?” You suggest, hating yourself again for the cringy comment. He smiles, making you feel a bit better. The announcer then comes over the arena speakers, announcing the arrival of the Laker Dancers. You both shift your attention to the dancers on the court as Mic Drop begins to play over the speakers. You see a shift in Yoongi’s demeanor, becoming more stoic, bobbing his head to the beat. When the camera spans over to him, he gives a tight smile and a wave. Once the dancers left the court, Yoongi turns back to you, going back to being relaxed. The two of you trade more conversation while waiting for the second half to start, not even noticing when Becca and his manager return to their seats.

🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱

The game is closing in on the end of the 3rd quarter. At this point, you and Yoongi aren’t paying a lot of attention to what’s going on on the court - too engrossed in your conversation. You two were so engrossed in conversation that you didn’t even notice the play stop, what was said over the speakers or Becca calling for you.

“Y/N LOOK UP!! AT THE JUMBOTRON!!” You direct your attention to the screen above you - to see yourself.

And Yoongi.

Featured on the Kiss Cam.

He must have caught it too; because if looks could kill, most of Staples Center would be gone. Instead of getting the hint that you two weren’t happy about this, the Cam stayed focused on you two for a lot longer than necessary. Becca then reached over and grabbed your face, just to plant a big kiss on your cheek. The Cam moves on, giving some much needed relief to both you and Yoongi. Once the awkwardness of the moment had passed over, both of you turned to face each other.

“I’m so sorry!!” You both blurted out at the same time.

Yoongi throws you a confused look, “why are you sorry?”

“I feel me sitting here conversing with you in The Public Eye may look questionable to those around us - I don’t want to ruin anything for you.” You quietly confessed, looking down at your hands.

Yoongi smirks, shaking his head, “if I was so worried about that, I wouldn’t have said a word to you in the first place! Besides, I was the one that started our conversation. If anything, I’m sorry you had to be put on the spot like that. I wasn’t even aware they were gonna feature me on that - not that they had a reason to anyways.”

“Well I have a small feeling somebody is gonna lose their job today.” You looked over Yoongi’s shoulder to see his Manager in a heated conversation with Lakers Staff. He looked over to his manager, then turned back to you wearing a grimace. You both began laughing, covering your mouths with your hands as an attempt to hide it.

Sometime later, the buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the game. “Do you mind waiting a bit, hun? I wanna see my man before we head out. Should only be about 15 minutes.” Becca asked, gathering her stuff. You shrug, nodding - there was no other way you would get back to her house anyways.

As she walked off, you began gathering your stuff, then turned to Yoongi. Taking a deep breath, you blurted out without thinking, “thank you for making the game a bit more enjoyable! It was really nice meeting you!” You immediately cringed at yourself, apologizing. I really need to think before I speak my dear god, you thought.

“You’re okay, y/n! I enjoyed your company too.” Yoongi gave you a small smile, causing you to smile back. There was a moment of comfortable silence between the two of you - even though the arena was still loud. “Oh! You said you were here for the weekend, are you busy tomorrow night?” Yoongi asked, breaking the silence.

“Other than I’m visiting UCLA before noon and probably going to go shopping once Becca is off work, I have nothing else planned!” Your heart began to race, you cannot believe this is happening.

“Awesome! Well we’re thinking of hitting a club downtown tomorrow evening, around 9? Would you guys want to join us? If that’s your thing, haha” Yoongi asked, looking nervous while looking for his phone.

“I would be down! Though you’d have to tell me where to go cause I no idea where that place is at.” You smile. Yoongi smiles back, looking like he let out a sigh of relief. He then hands over his phone, asking for your number.

“I’ll text you when I get back to my hotel?” He asks.

“Okay! Can you send those photos over that you took then?” You respond, Yoongi nodded in response. His manager then came back to his side, noting his departure. You two waved, sharing huge smiles. Becca soon returns to your side. “Why the big grin, hun?”

“I’ll tell you in the car!” You say, wearing a huge smile on your face, silently praying to your higher powers to not mess up this weekend.

🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱

Unknown number: Hey! It’s Yoongi! ☺️

Y/N🐙: Hey! I’m assuming you made it back to your hotel okay?

Yoongi🐈‍⬛: Yes! Only had to deal with Army’s; no paps thank goodness.

Yoongi🐈‍⬛: Did you make it home yet?

Y/N🐙: Yes - like we just pulled up to her apartment.

Y/N🐙: Also didn’t have to deal with paps 💁🏼

Yoongi🐈‍⬛: Oh thank goodness 😮‍💨

Yoongi🐈‍⬛: Attachment - 2 photos

Y/N🐙: Ooh! I like those!

Y/N🐙: Attachment - 3 photos

Yoongi🐈‍⬛: Ooh these ones are cute

Y/N🐙: Cute?? 👀

Yoongi🐈‍⬛: Like I said, wouldn’t have talked to you if I didn’t want to - wanted to cause I think you’re cute 🤷🏼‍♀️

Y/N🐙: …🤭

Y/N🐙: That’s as good of a flirty comeback as I can conjure at the moment cause it’s past my bedtime 🥲

Yoongi🐈‍⬛: I understand - it’s past mine too. I have a mid morning photo shoot tomorrow; I’ll text you in the morning?

Y/N🐙: Works for me! 😌

🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱

“What time are you going to the college?” Becca asked the next morning while she was feeding her dog, Vanya.

“I meet with the Head of the Post Grad Biology department at 11, so probs head out at 10. Will that be enough time for me to get there?” You asked, pulling up the subway schedules.

“It should be. But I’ve gotta go - I’ll be home around 4 and we can go shopping for outfits for tonight?” You nodded in response as your phone pinged, showing a new message. Becca leaned over to peek at your phone to see a message from Yoongi. “My dear Gods this man must like you enough to text you at 8 am on a Saturday!” She smirks as you try to hide the blush on your face.

“Get to work, loser. I’ll see you later!” You laugh as her and Vanya run out the door.

Yoongi🐈‍⬛: Morning! ☺️ What time are you headed to the college this morning?

Y/N🐙: Morning!! I meet with the Department Head at 11, so I’m headed out a bit before 10!

Y/N🐙: What time is your shoot?

Yoongi🐈‍⬛: It starts at 9 - thankfully I’m not having to go far cause I’m not even awake enough to order the right coffee this morning

Y/N🐙: Speaking of, I should probs make sure my route to the college includes a coffee stop. I’m still dealing with jet lag.

Yoongi🐈‍⬛: You’re preaching to the choir, Y/N.

Yoongi🐈‍⬛: Aish, my manager is calling for me, I’ll give you a call after I’m done with the shoot!

Y/N🐙: Okay! Have fun! ☺️

After finishing breakfast, you changed into a simple pair of Khakis, a hunter green blouse and white vans. Donning a simple make up look, you completed the look with a simple ballet bun. Throwing on your AirPods, you headed out the door, making your trek towards the Subway station and hopefully some coffee.

🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱

“MIss L/N, I feel you would be an excellent addition to the Master’s Marine Bio Program! We could use a new Reseaarch Lab manager as well - plus you’d get credit for working.” You’d spent the last hour with the Department Head, him chatting your ear off. You’d grown more excited about attending; the lab job making the deal more enticing. Off hand, you’d mentioned your earlier lab work with your professor; the name immediately catching the Dept Head’s ear. “I thought I’d seen you were coming from MSUB! I had the honor of working with your Animal Bio professor years ago! Still love his research on scorpions - fascinating work.” You nod, having worked on it as your first lab project. Walking back to his office, he’d asked if there were any questions you’d had.

“Yes! I’d heard that Research Diving would be added to the curriculum - when is that happening?” You’d just finished your SCUBA certification for the subject - might as well use it.

“This next school year - right when you’d be starting if you enrolled by the end of next month!” You nodded, seriously contemplating applying. He handed you a business card, mention to email him once you had enrolled - if you choose to. You place the card in your wallet, standing to shake hands. Once you were out of his office, almost out of the building, you’d decided to check your phone. You look to see 3 messages from Yoongi, 2 from Becca and the Family Group Chat flooded with messages. Ignoring the group chat, you see that Becca is stuck working a double and won’t be able to join tonight. Internally cursing, you reply that it’s okay and you’d probably see her later tonight or in the morning. You then check the messages from Yoongi; 2 of them complaining about the shoot, and one asking if you were still at the college. You decide to call him instead.

“Hey, Y/N!” Yoongi picks up after 2 rings.

“Hey, Yoongi! I just saw your text messages; I just finished the college tour! Also, sorry about the shoot being so boring.”

“It’s no problem, but I was wondering if you’d have time to do lunch right now? I’m near the college and there’s a small restaurant nearby that I frequent anytime I’m in town.”

“Sure! I’m free for the afternoon. Can you send me the address?”

“Of course! Do you need a ride there?” You hear the text notification and check the address on Maps.

“Nah, it’s a block outside the campus - I can be there in 20 max!” Thank goodness you didn’t wear heels.

“Okay! I’ll meet you there then!” Hanging up the phone and putting your AirPods in, you began the trek to the restaurant. I’m really getting my steps in today I guess, you thought.

As you approach your destination, you pull out your phone to see if Yoongi is here yet (you’d made it in 10 minutes instead of 20), when you suddenly get a text notification from him.

Yoongi🐈‍⬛: You know, that was one of my favorite songs to perform live - wish we could’ve performed it more than once.

Y/N🐙: …wut

Yoongi🐈‍⬛: UGH! It’s one of my favorites.

Yoongi🐈‍⬛: Also, it’s not good to listen to your music that loud.

Y/N🐙: …you’re scaring me

You feel a tap on your shoulder, so you quickly spin around and nearly give the perp, Yoongi, The Elbow. Pulling out one of your headphones, you shout “DONT DO THAAAAAT YOU SCARED ME!” wearing a frightened look. Yoongi was wearing a mischievous smile in return, which then made you glare at him.

He laughs, “I am so sorry - I just saw an open opportunity and took it!”

“I could’ve hurt you though!!”

“I don’t think you would’ve cause that much damage - now follow me!” He quickly changes the subject and you follow him into the restaurant, which happened to be Tradtional Korean. The older lady at the host stand looked up and her face lit up as soon as she saw Yoongi.

“Yoongi!! It’s been a while! How are you doing??” Yoongi bows to her, you follow in respect.

“Hae Won-nim, hello! It has been a while! Everything is going well! You have room for two more in here?” Yoongi jokes, looking around the crowded restaurant. Hae Won chuckles, giving the two of you a huge smile.

“Of course I do! I’ll have you and your friend follow me this way.” She then glanced over at you, putting emphasis on the word ‘friend’. Following the two, you decided not to put too much thought into it. Once sitting and handed menus, Yoongi helped you order (you asked him if there was something not too spicy; or at least milk to help with the spiciness), then filed you in on how the shoot went. You updated him on your decision for college; having chosen to apply to UCLA. When the meals came out, a comfortable silence enveloped the two of you; even with a busy restaurant.

“Ooooh Becca is gonna LOVE this for her after work meal! Thank you again, Yoongi.” You beam, happily full from lunch. Yoongi and you are wandering around the neighborhood, still in-depth with the conversation you were having at lunch. As you were meandering, you’d passed by a Record Shop - Yoongi insisted you both stop in. Which it’s a good thing you did - you were able to finally get your hands on some B-Side 7-inches from Slipknot and Foo Fighters.

“I’m taking it you’re a vinyl collector?” Yoongi inquires, chuckling as you dove head first into the vinyl section.

“…yes. It’s a soft spot of mine. My ex used to complain about how many I had, so I stopped buying any for a while. Now that I don’t have to worry about his opinion, I’m going a bit crazy with it. Besides, I have a lot of catching up to do.” Fishing out your vinyl list on your phone, you show it to him.

“You were not joking. But no BTS?” Yoongi looks in surprise.

“I already have what’s available on vinyl. But it’d be cool if you’d release Map of the Soul 7. And maybe Young Forever?” Tilting your head to the side, you smile and wiggle your eyebrows.

“…I’ll see what I can do.” Yoongi repsonds, smirking as he shakes his head.

After letting time slip from the both of you, Yoongi walks you back to the subway station. “Are you still on for tonight?” He asks as you reach the station.

“Yes! Though Becca won’t be joining - apparently she’s stuck working.” You sigh.

“That’s too bad - but I’m happy you can still join. I’ll have a driver come pick you up from her place at 9 - I’ll need you to send me the address.” You nod, sending it over to him.

“Well, I had fun, Yoongi. Thank you again for lunch - and the vinyls! I’ll see you tonight!” You open your arms to hug him, and thankfully he did the same. After holding each other for what feels like forever, you both let go. You look down at his lips,he does the same. Just as the both of you were moving in closer, the subway is pulling up, screeching to a halt. The announcer calls for your destination over the intercom, signaling its your time to leave. Sighing, you gather your stuff and head for the open doors. Before you board on, you turn to Yoongi, waving and yelling “I’ll see you tonight!!”, almost tripping as you enter the car. Yoongi giggles, shaking his head with a smile.

🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱

“I need to see your ID, please”, the bouncer outside the door asks. You hand him your ID, noting to him that you’re supposed to meet somebody in the VIP area. Checking his list and your name, he confirms you, letting you in. “He’s in the third booth on the left, just so you know.” You thank him as you head up the stairs. You immediately notice Yoongi within the crowd; he must have been watching the door. You immediately rush over to him, being enveloped in a bear hug before you can say anything.

“Hey, Y/N! I was just about to grab drinks - come with me!” Yoongi weaves his arm through yours, pulling you towards the bar. Once up to the bar, he ordered a neat whiskey for himself and a blueberry Red Bull for you. “This outfit is a 180 from this afternoon!” He points out, giving your outfit a once over. You’d ditched the khaki outfit for a pleather mini skirt, black bralette, mesh top, fishnets and Dr. Martens.

“Well I wanted to go with something more…comfortable.” You smirk, moving closer to Yoongi.

“Well, I think this outfit looks amazing on you.” He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. You blush, biting your lower lip and look away. It’s Yoongi’s turn to smirk, passing you your drink. He offers his hand, which you take, and leads you over to the booth; where you’re introduced to some of his friends.

“So, did you want to go dance?” Yoongi asked, tilting his head towards the dance floor. You nod, following him out. Once you two are towards the center of the floor, Yoongi grabs your waist from behind, pulling you into his chest. As you two start dancing, all you can hear is the music and Yoongi’s soft, deep voice. One song turns into a few; simple dancing turns into sensual grinding. Yoongi is leaving small kisses and nips on the back of your neck; each one shooting sensations down to your core. You reach back, looping your arms around his neck as he pulls you flush with his front. You can feel his hard on, so you begin to tease him more, eliciting a low growl from him.

As another song ends, he pulls you back to the booth and before you can even try to sit next to him, he pulls you into his lap; your back to his chest and legs hooked around his. The implied dominance turns you on even more. As he is talking to his buddies, his gorgeous hands sit on your thighs, playing with the strings of the fish nets. While you nonchalantly carry on conversation with those around you, you shifted in his lap, eliciting another low growl. His hands begin to go higher up your legs, almost under the mini skirt. You look over your shoulder to try and catch his eye - he’s enveloped in a conversation next to you. You ‘readjust’ in his lap again, trying to catch his attention - he moves one hand dangerously close to your core. You sharply inhale, trying to pull your skirt hem down a bit. You feel Yoongi’s lips on the tip of your ear, “you best behave, baby.” Your face and ears feel like they’re on fire - his fingers brushing over your bare folds, making you inhale sharply again. He stops his movement, pulling his hand from you skirt. “Let’s go dance again.” He pulls you from his lap, then grabs your hand, dragging you across the dance floor before you can even register what’s going on.

On the other side of the dance floor, in a dark corner, sat a couple private rooms. Yoongi opened a door, made sure nobody was in there, then pulled you in. He slammed the door shut, then pinned you against the door with your hands over your head. With the hand on your thigh, he pushes your skirt up, resting his hand on your hip. He leans close to your ear again, speaking in a deep voice that made you even more wet. “First, you come here looking irresistible” his hand moves to your core. “Secondly, you feel the need to tease me” he finger slides along your slit, eliciting a small moan from you. “And the final strike, you’re not wearing panties?” He beings to play with your clit before inserting a finger into your pussy. “Y/N, I thought you were a good girl?” A second finger joins, causing you to moan even louder.

Gathering yourself for a moment, you look up at Yoongi. “I AM a good girl! Most of the time.” You smirked. Yoongi stopped his ministrations, pulling his fingers from you. The two of you lock eyes and Yoongi grabs your face, hungrily kissing you while pinning your body with his to the door. Letting out a moan, he takes the chance to explore your mouth with his tongue. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you grab his hair at the nape and slightly pull, causing him to growl and bite your bottom lip. He begins to kiss your jaw line, making his way down your neck and finally making purchase at the junction of your neck and collar bone. He sucks a mark there, drawing another moan from you. “I honestly don’t think I could ever get tired of that sound” Yoongi begins to kneel, propping a leg on his shoulder. “Now, let’s hear how you sound when I do this-“ licking a strip from the bottom of your slit to your clit, causing you to moan out his name. “Fuck, baby; you sound AND taste AMAZING.” Yoongi moans against your clit, causing you to moan as well. He dove in, lapping at your hole like a starved man. He soon moved his tongue up to your clit, inserting two fingers into your hole. You started feeling your core tightening when he found your sensitive spot, your hand immediately grabbing onto his hair.

“F-f-fuuuck, Yoongi. I’m close!” Your thighs begin to tremble, causing him to hook your other leg over his shoulder. He inserted a third finger into you, eliciting his name from your lips again.

“Baby, cum for me; let me have a taste.” As if you were a puppet under his control, your orgasm washed over you while Yoongi lapped up your cum from your pussy, not letting a drop go to waste. He kept lapping at you after you came down, causing you to pull him away due to overstimulation. Yoongi then adjusts your mini skirt, standing to meet your slightly fucked out gaze with his own. He then gently cradled your chin, kissing you softly. Breaking the kiss, he leaned his forehead against yours, releasing a deep, but content, sigh. “Would you like to continue this at my hotel room?” His eyes felt like they were looking into your soul at this point; but you couldn’t look away either. With a big smile and a glint in your eye, you say in a small voice:

“Yes. Please.”

🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱

The hotel room door isn’t even fully shut before you two were all over one another, a trail of clothing following the two of you while making your way to the bedroom. Once fully stripped, Yoongi lifted you under your thighs and placed you on the bed. As he hovered over you, he gazed down at your figure - your hair fanned over the pillow, eyes dilated and bottom lip bitten. To him, you were the most beautiful thing on earth. He leaned down, placing a chaste kiss on your lips, “baby, I don’t think I have condoms with me, I cou-“

You quickly interrupted him, “as long as you’re clean, I’m good. Had my check up a couple weeks ago and I’m in the clear, plus haven’t hooked up with anybody since my ex. Also, am on the pill religiously, so if you’re good to go, so am I.”

Yoongi looks at you with his signature gummy smile, “fuck, baby.” His lips find your sensitive spot on your neck immediately, sucking another mark there. His hands glide south gently along your curves, then onto your inner thighs, touching just enough to send sparks up your spine and to your pussy. As his fingers lightly touch your folds, his mouth begins to move to your chest, capturing a nipple with it. He then plunges two fingers into you, “still so wet for me, baby.”

“Yoongi, fuuuuck”, still slightly sensitive from the orgasm before, you feel yourself coming to the edge a bit quicker than usual. He moves from one nipple to the other, using his fingers to scissor you pussy wider. “I’m gonna cu-“ Yoongi then pulled his fingers out, leaving you on edge. Your eyes grew big and you let out a strained whine, completely astonished at what he just pulled.

“I want you to cum on my cock, can you be a good girl and do that for me?” He asks as he sticks his fingers into your mouth, having you taste yourself. You nod, then he pulls his fingers from your mouth, pumping his thick cock before he slid the tip along your pussy lips a couple times to collect some of your arousal. He wraps your legs around his waist, then began to slowly enter you. He leaned over to trap your lips and the loud moan that they would inevitably release as he filled you to the hilt.

“Fuuuuck, I already feel so full”, you moan out. Yoongi’s cock was probably the biggest you’d taken, the stretch causing a little pain, but it was immediately blocked by the immense pleasure. Just from him entering you, you already felt you were gonna cum.

“Ahhh, Y/N baby, I can already feel you clenching around me. You gonna cum already?” Thrust. “My cock feel that good, baby?” Thrust. “You even look fucked out already, can’t even answer me!” Thrust. “Cum for me, baby - now.” You then let go on command, feeling your core unravel as Yoongi continued to thrust through your comedown. He then took your legs up, pushing the back of your thighs to bring your legs down to your chest - putting you in a mating press.

As he began to pump into you again, you looked down at where you two connected. “Oh my god, right there, Yoongi. FUCK.” He was hitting that spot again, better than last time. Your brain was starting to turn cock-drunk; all you could think of was the pure pleasure Yoongi was giving you as you looked down again.

“Ohhh, you like seeing my cock split this pretty pussy, don’t you? This. Pretty. Pussy. Feels. Amazing. Like. It’s. MADE. For. Me.” He punctuated each word with a thrust, his hands pushing your legs wider so he could see more of you. “Fuck, Y/N, I’m getting close. Gonna fill this pretty pussy full of me - gonna make it mine.” He brought a thumb to you clit, drawing figure eights to bring you to his level again. You were a bumbling mess; not even able to form words or thoughts as you were getting close. Just as your orgasm hit for the third time tonight, your clenching triggered his release, painting your walls white. After a couple thrusts to get out all the semen, Yoongi then collapsed on top of you, still inside. Both of you took a moment to catch your breath, staring deep into each other. Yoongi smiled, kissing your nose, then bringing his forehead to yours. “You okay, babe?” You smile and nodded, still feeling slightly fuzzy. As he softened, he pulled out, watching some of your mixed cum leak out. Letting out a content sigh, he stood up, picking you up bridal style. “Come on - let’s get cleaned up.”

Once out of the shower; which included you being fucked on the wall from behind (his excuse: Not my fault all of you is irresistible). You got dressed in one of his shirts and a pair of his boxers, then went to grab water as he got dressed as well. As you hand him his water, Yoongi notices a glint of a worried look on your face. Putting a finger under your chin to have you make eye contact, he asks, “penny for your thoughts?” You sigh, contemplating just saying no. But you couldn’t, as it immediately bugged you.

“Do I need to have Becca pick me up? And if so, do you want her to do it soon or earlier in the morning? I mean I don’t want to cause any dra-“ Yoongi pulls you into an intense kiss, shutting you up immediately.

“Y/N, baby, you worry too much. I want you to stay the night and I’ll take you back tomorrow when we both feel like it. Maybe we’ll get brunch first or something like that. I would like to get as much time with you as I can before I leave.” You left as though a weight was off your shoulders as you smile at him. After finishing your waters, you both head to bed, lying on Yoongi’s chest. His steady heartbeat, breathing and his fingers combing your hair helped you fall asleep. Yoongi then softly cradled your cheek, placing a kiss on your head. I hope to be able to see you again, baby, he thought as he drifted off to sleep.

🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱

Waking up the next morning, you and Yoongi decide to go to a small cafe a couple blocks from his hotel. After orders are placed and juices are brought to the table, he grabs your hands with his. You look up at him and he asks, “So since you’re going to UCLA, when are you moving here?”

“I will probably move here next month, depending on when the apartment next to Becca’s is ready to go. Why?”

“Well, somebody has to help you move - that somebody being me.” he kissed your knuckles.

——————————

A/N pt 2: This legit was sitting in my drafts for almost a month because writing the not smut part was harder than it needed to be 🥴

#yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts suga #suga x y/n #min yoongi #yoongi fanfic

396 notes · View notes

cyberdragoninfinity · 3 months

Text

wild dana spotted howling and barking about yugioh arc-v out in the parking lot

oh BOY oh boy it's bout that time again. i can't believe it's been OVER A YEAR (?!?!?) since i last did one of these 'i just finished a yugioh here's my little rambly retrospective about it' posts but we are BACK!!! Finished my first ever watch-through of Arc-V last Tuesday after some 8 months of it putting me through the spin cycle and now as it's wedging itself permanently into my psyche i need to talk about its Everything or i will explode. so LET'S SWING INTO ACTION!!! I'M TAKING CONTROL OF THIS DUEL STARTING NOW!!!

[SPOILERS ahead for this decade old anime, of course]

WOW. YUGIOH ARC-V, HUH. before i started it watching it, I knew two things: A.) every single bit of knowledge I'd learned about it from Duel Links events or otherwise had me so, so, unbeliebable fucking hyped. I was absolutely certain this Yugioh was going to be so full of Danabait and completely fry my brain like an egg on the griddle. I had to physically restrain myself for TWO YEARS to keep from jumping the gun and watching Arc-V before I'd finished all the series before it (a decision I'm ultimately thankful for--Arc-V hits kind of fuckign crazy as a chaser to four other yugiohs.). And also, B.) when people Talk About Arc-V they always talk about it in a Very Particular Way. like. it's hard to describe. I feel like you know it when you see it. There is the full range of human emotion in the way people talk about Arc-V. People talk about Arc-V like its a confusing, malicious specter haunting their living room. And this admittedly got me even more hyped to watch it.

And then I watched it and here I am and I KNOW NOW. I KNOW NOW WHY PEOPLE. TALK ABOUT IT LIKE THAT. FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY HEART: WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT. SLASH POS. SLASH NEG. SLASH SECRET THIRD THING.

Arc-V is a fucking MESS. It starts out SO strong and then it starts setting plot threads on fire and writing conceptual checks it absolutely cannot cash. It falls down the narrative stairs like it has a goddamn death wish. It introduces 342052805 characters and then forgets to do anything with 99% of them. It does things to its girl characters that makes the back half of 5Ds's girl writing failure look like the height of feminist theory. If the stories I've heard about its deeply troubled production are any indication it is some kind of MIRACLE this show got made and aired at ALL. IT'S LIKE WATCHING A CAR WEAVING THROUGH TRAFFIC AT 90 MPH ONLY TO PLOW DIRECTLY INTO THE SIDE OF A PARTY CITY.

and goddamn if I didn't have a FUCKING BLAST watching it. GODDAMN IF I DIDNT HAVE SO, SO MUCH FUN. goddamn if Arc-V might very well end up being my FAVORITE yugioh out of ALL of them when all is said and done. WHOOOOOPSSS!!! 🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴

like. imo Zexal is absolutely from a quality/art direction/narrative/everything standpoint leaps and bounds better than Arc-V. Definitely one of my favorite cartoons I've ever seen period, and most people should give it a shot. Such a beautiful work of art. But Arc-V....... girl they put something In this one. My pre-show hype was absolutely warranted. This show is just one blast of Shit That Makes Dana Crazy after another. Every character absolutely delights me and is my best friend. I'm going to be losing my mind over Yugioh Arc-V for the rest of the year and maybe forever.

As usual I primarily watched the dub, with some sub episodes sprinkled in if I got tipped off about a big change, or just if I wanted to see what was going on back there. (glad I did, of course, for a number of reason--least of all that Arc-V's OPs and EDs are SO fun and so charming!!) (THOUGH SIDE NOTE: THE DUB OPENING SHREDS SO HARD IM SORRY. IT'S UP THERE WITH THE GX DUB OPENING FOR ME. CAN YOU FEEL THE FUCKING POWER!!!!!) Anyway, gotta say, really was blown away by this dub!! It's tied with Zexal for what's imo the 'best' yugioh dub--the majority of the voice performances were just fantastic (truly all the love in my heart for Michael Liscio Jr.'s performances as the yuboys, they all have such unique and charming voices and im OBSESSED WITH THEM.) and having watched some sub eps side by side with the dub it's really cool seeing a dub that genuinely tried to faithfully translate Most of the Original. idk it's just a really solid localization to me!! I loved it a lot!! ALSO IT'S EXTREMELY FUNNY. I SAY THIS ABOUT EVERY DUB BUT IT'S TRUE. there are line reads in the arc-v dub that have me SOBLAUGHING.

anyway. I like to do these little subsection breakdowns in these little retrospective roundups, so let's get into the weeds with it:

Stuff I Didn't Like: loooooooooong inhale through my nose. looks at you with mildly pained eyes. alright. let's get this one over with.

though I did really try to go in as blind as I could/avoid most spoilers with this one, I did inevitably get spoiled by some things from Duel Links, but in the case of. uh. Riley Getting Turned Back Into a Baby At the End. 👶🏼 I AM glad I had that spoiled for me, so I knew it was coming. Because if I didn't know that was going to happen and that clocked me over the head I would have been on the NEWS. I WOULD HAVE BEEN, SO MAD. HEY, YUGIOH: WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 👶🏼👶🏼👶🏼👶🏼👶🏼 WHY DID YOU DO THAT TO RILEY!!!!

"character gets permanently turned back into a baby for Critical Plot Reasons" has gotta be one of my LEAST favorite tropes in anything, it's NEVER GOOD. AND IT'S ESPECIALLY BAD HERE!!! Riley is such a good character, he's got such an interesting arc going on, and THEY JUST RIP THAT TO PIECES. SO RILEY'S JUST FUCKING GONE NOW I GUESS. COOL. ALRIGHT. SURELY THERE COULD HAVE BEEN BETTER WAYS TO DEFEAT ZARC. SURELY. just. good GOD. it was a small miracle to me when this happened like 8 episodes before the end, it was like ripping the bandaid off early, it was like "oh thank christ i got past that. ok well whatever happens it cannot possibly be as bad as the shit they did to riley"

^ (and imo it wasnt. thank GOD. actually let's talk about that)

LIKE. MAKE NO MISTAKE ARC-V'S ENDING IS CONFUSING AND CLUMSY AND SO STUPID AND NOT GOOD. WHY ON GOD'S GREEN EARTH DOES THIS SERIES NEED EIGHT EPISODES AFTER ITS BIG BAD DUEL.WE COULD HAVE WRAPPED THIS UP IN 2-3!!!! it feels like watching Chopped and the contestant has 20 seconds on the clock left and theyre like "i gotta make my whipped cream" like WEEEE DONT NOT HAVE TIMEEE FOR THAT!!!!! WHAT ARE WE DOINGGGG. why are we dueling jack AGAIN. FOR TWO EPISODES. EVERYONE IS YELLING AT YUYA LIKE ALL OF THIS IS HIS RESPONSIBILITY AND FUCKING IS IT??!?!??! HE'S 14. AND THEN THOSE EPISODES HAVE THE GALL TO THROW SO MANY COOL IDEAS ON THE TABLE (Gong fully exploring dueltaining, the Dimensional Highway, etc) AND IT'S LIKE. COOL!! WISH WE COULDVE HAD THIS ANY OTHER TIME THAN THE LAST POSSIBLE SECOND!!! WHAT ARE WE DOINGGGG

BUT all that being said, the way people talk about that fucking last episode I was expecting some genuinely godawful 'zuzu is yuyas mom again like in the manga' tier absolute nightmare scenario. i literally made a secret prediction chart of what insane plot twist i assumed the last episode was going to drop on me.

AND THEN THE LAST EPISODE WAS JUST. FUNNYBAD. just a run of the mill whimper at the end of eight episodes we KIND OF REALLY DID NOT NEED. THE SHEER AMOUNT OF RELIEF I FELT. like absolutely i think going into it completely blind/encountering that ending watching live I would have been pissed, folks are rightfully frustrated with it, but I WAS TRULY. EXPECTING MUCH WORSE. IT ENDS LIKE A FAKE TUMBLR POST. "AND THEN EVERYONE CLAPPED" ASS ENDING. I DO HAVE TO LAUGH

^ YIPPEEEE SIX CHARACTERS HAVE EFFECTIVELY STOPPED EXISTING YAAAAAYY (😬😬😬😬)

ALSO, IN GENERAL. SPEAKING OF. GOD. THE BRACELET GIRLS. YALL ARE SO COOL AND THEN POOR LULU AND RIN DIDNT GET TO DO A GODDAMN THING EXCEPT HAVE WORMS IN THEIR BRAINS!!!! HELL ON EARTH!!!!!! WHY DID THEY DO THATTTT GAHHHHH again!! show that introduces SO many characters, so many FUCKING COOL CHARACTERS, and then does NOTHING with them. Or hits them with PARALYZING NERVE GAS FOR 20 EPISODES. CHRIST!!! WHY DO ARC-V GIRLS SUFFER MORE THAN JESUS. LEAVE MY GIRL ZUZU ALONEEEEE

TO THAT END, ARC-V JUST MAKES; SO MANY CONFUSING CHARACTER DECISIONS. AND CHOICES. why is Yuto just out of the picture for like 60 episodes!!! Let him be Yuya's brain buddy!!! WHY WASNT HE. DID YOU NOT WANNA ANIMATE HIM FLOATING NEXT TO THE DUEL RUNNER??! BE REAL. It's like. GRAHHH In general Arc-V has a pacing problem that is like. Atrocious even for yugioh's bad pacing problems. This series needed to be 400 episodes long. I like the IDEA of a yugioh with a big cast, spending episodes cutting between different groups of characters like some kind of bulky YA fantasy novel, but in practice it got. Real Muddy. RIP Xyz dimension arc you shoulda had so much more to you. And then there's that combined with this way it's trying Really Really hard to ape the themes of the past yugiohs ('dont forget to have fun,' grief/moving on after loss, classism) but it's hitting every damn branch on the way down and just completely fumbling ALL of them, it's not actually doing much to Earn being able to have those kind of themes resonate properly. IT'S SUCH A BAFFLING SHOW. IN THE THEMES DEPARTMENT. AMONG OTHER THINGS. "DONT EVER BE VISIBLY PUBLICLY SAD" IS A FUCKING INSANE MORAL. AND IT TAKES THAT SHIT WITH IT TO THE BITTER END. WHY IS THE FATE OF THE WORLD HINGED ON YUYA MAKING A BABY LAUGH. WHERE AM I!!!!

god. god. ok. ok im calm now. im sure in the coming weeks i'll have more barking about arc-v's various fumbles. but i'll leave it at that for now, i wanna talk about stuff i DID like now lol

Favorite Season/Arc: ok well. this actually is a hard question. um. hrm. LIKE. I'LL GET SHOT BY SNIPERS IF I SAY IT WAS SYNCHRO ARC BUT ALSO

IM SORRYYYYYYYYYYYYY I GOT THAT DOG IN ME (A BACK HALF OF 5D'S LIKER'S SOUL.) and unfortunately I WILL go in there and think about it that hard (the absolutely fucked to hell sociopolitical situation happening in Arc-V New Domino City and how it contrasts with the NDC in 5D's) (one thing about me I love weird fucked up yugioh old people I love those bitchass old centrists apparently governing the entire dimension and doing a piss poor job of it it's just like contemporary American politics!!!!!!) ROGET WAS JUST REANIMATING DEAD PEOPLE AND PUTTING MIND CONTROL CYBERNETICS IN THEM AND WELL YEAH SURE I'LL BE NORMAL GRIP ABOUT THAT. NORMAL. i need to make an arc-v AU Aporia so fucking bad THEN YOULL ALL SEE *talking to empty room*

YES synchro was way too fucking long. but regretfully i love turbo duels and will never not be charmed when yugioh puts guys on motorcycles that have no business being on motorcycles. DAMN I JUST FUCKING WISH YUYA AND YUGO GOT TO ACTUALLY TALK AND MEET IN THE SAME ROOM THOUGH!!!! BUT ANYWAY!!!!

im. kidding at least a little, I actually thoroughly enjoyed like...all of Arc-V's seasons/arcs at least a little (barring a lot of the Weird Post Zarc Duel 8 Episode Dead Zone.) The first 50 episodes really are just peak banger Yugioh, I do love action duels to absolute bits (though Action Spells. Uh. Need Some Workshopping 8| If I See Evasion One More Time Im Gonna Lose It) and the shit especially that first season does with the crazy Action Fields is AWESOME. GENUINELY. GO DUEL IN THE VOLCANO. DO A FLIP. RIDE YOUR MONSTER. it's practically running on Pokemon universe logic i cant NOT love it. And well Fusion Dimension arc does just have a whole lot of episodes that make me go cuckoo bananas crazy. Truly something for Dana in every crevice of Yugioh Arc-V.

Favorite Characters: god I do think like a solid half of why I think Arc-V may be becoming my top fav Yugioh is that the cast is just, really Really fucking good. Like yes so many of them are underutilized but the time we Do get with them really just shows off what delightful characters they all are. Half the reason it took me so damn long to finish was I was having so much fun and was going to miss seeing them!! IT'S GENUINELY HARD TO PICK A TOP LINEUP OF FAVS. THERE'S SO MANY DANABAIT GUYS IN YUGIOH ARC-V. YES EVEN THE SYNCHRO ARC GUYS. LUCAS SWANK I MISS YOU SO FUCKING MUCH.

The Lancers alone are SO good, theyre up there with Team 5D's in terms of Favorite "Main Yugioh 'Friend Group'/Organization". Group of guys who kind of have horrible synergy and only like 3 of them are actually competent. Declan came up with it when he was 13. Funniest group of teenagers imaginable, I love them all. LIKE .YUYA MAY BE MY FAVORITE YUTAGONIST??? IM NOT SURE YET BUT. I DO LOVE HIM A LOT. HE'S A PATHETIC WET PAPER TOWEL AND I WANT TO GIVE HIM A NOOGIE. SLASH POS.

And I mean I'm always gonna be Z-one biased but I do like Zarc as a Big Bad a lot too... damn if I don't love Just Some Guy Has Become God and Is a Huge Tool About It <3 WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM WHY ARE YOU ACTING LIKE THIS!!!!

ah. but. of course. i'd be remiss if i didn't bring up. Rainbow Carrot Rock Your World.

hey guys. why'd it happen again. why'd the Yugioh Carrot and Company get in my head and completely fry my brain AGAIN!!!!!!!! ORANGE CARROT. PURPLE CARROT. YELLOW CARROT!!!!🥕🥕🥕🥕🥕🥕🥕🥕🥕🥕🥕🥕🥕 YUGO ISNT EVEN MY TOP FAV BUT HE'S IN MY HEART AND IN OUR HOUSE FOREVER NOW. meanwhile i dont want. to talk about what yuri is doing to me. if i think too hard about this little purple freak i'll start going bonkers ballistic chewing my leg off. I like all the yuboys but he is especially. Gripping Me. La Cucaracha Loca. My shithead gay son.

dennis needs his own post he's just. a Lot. may very well be one of the funniest yugioh characters ever. Among Other Things. his dub VA's performance needs to be marked as culturally significant. AND THEY JUST KEPT BRINGING HIM BACK.

IN GENERAL, AS I WAS COMPLETELY EXPECTING, FUCKED UP AND EVIL DUEL ACADEMY REALLY DID ME IN I love you Fusion Dimension kids I love getting sick in the head thinking about card game child soldiers.My Actual favorite Arc-V character may just straight up be Sora..... I just like him a lot. He's got a really solid character arc, his deck rules, he's a little fucker AND an absolute real one. Just 10/10 little guy.

GOD WHAT EVEN IS MY TOP FIVE FAVORITES. UHHHH Okay Sora and Yuri for sure, and Declan, I love Declan. Yugo..... god. GOD IS THE FIFTH ONE DENNIS FOR REAL. I FEEL HIM IN MY BRAIN SO BAD. AAAAUUGHHHH (Runners Up: Yuya, Yuto, GONG MOTHERFUCKING STRONG!!!!!!, Rin my girl my badass mechanic girl IM ON MY WAY. I'LL THINK ABOUT YOU THAT HARD., Riley, Arc-V Aster unfortunately a Dana Guy ever. Why Is He Here. He Didnt Even Go to DA in GX. But all of this is subject to change in coming months as the entire cast continues to hit me with weapons. An honor and a privilege to induct these characters into my Blorbo Hall of Fame)

Favorite Duel: HEY QUICK QUESTION: WHY ARE ARC-V'S DUELS SO FUCKING WEIRD. LIKE. NARRATIVELY. There's like 4352984589 ties and duels that get cut short and DUELS WE JUST NEVER GET TO SEE THE FULL OUTCOME OF ON SCREEN?!?!? WHAT WAS GOING ON THERE. It feels like another symptom of arc-v just desperately trying to bite off more than it can chew 😭 Frustrating!! And god I LOVE the zaniness of Action Duels, but we neeeeeed to do something about Action Spells... GRABBING AN ACTION SPELL SHOULD NOT BE THE CRUTCH OF YOUR WHOLE DECK.........

coughs. anyway. My actual honest to god favorite Arc-V duel is Yugo vs. Celina in the Friendship Cup <3 IVE ALREADY TALKED ABOUT IT BEFORE BUT IT'S JUST SUCH A FUN ONE. It's got some great character moments on both sides, a yugioh girl Getting to Be Cool, the colors are gorgeous, it's SO funny, I just get such a kick out of it....I think part of what I Do like about the Friendship Cup is it really shows this sense of kinetic energy that the WRGP in 5D's really needed. I also really like the Shay vs. Dennis Friendship Cup duel for just going completely off the rails. Blow Up This War Criminal and The Whole Stadium With the Giant Bird Satellite Cannon. DOES NOT GET MORE YUGIOH THAN THAT!!

for all its weirdness Arc-V has a LOT of really fun duels that i enjoy--Shay vs. Sora is beloved for a reason, it also goes hard as hell. So many Season 1 duels are just a goofy blast, I really need to rewatch the quiz show one. For as much of an unnecessary mess as those last 8 episodes are, I DO really like Yuya and Dennis's duel too (THAT GETS REALLY REALLY GAY AT THE END???!?!? ARE WE ALL SEEING THIS.)

Hell even the Zarc duel started making me kind of sick in the head--watching Yuya's friends passing around his pendulum necklace while trying to save him makes me turbo emo WHAT CAN I SAY!!!

Arc-V also has the thing I had with Zexal where there's just some individual episodes that are absolute bangers for me. i love the Prison Break episode, it's fucking INSANE. HIP HIPPO SAID FUCK COPS FUCK THE PRISON SYSTEM!!! I love the episode where Gong and Dennis duel. FOR HOW LONG IT DID DRAG SYNCHRO HAS SOME REALLY FUN ONE-OFF EPISODES which I just really enjoy. Also love when Zuzu and Sora beat the shit out of a pack of cops. Based for that for real.

i do also love Yuri and Yuya's duel. Of course.

Other Miscellaneous Gushing/Shrieking/Losing My Mind About Yugioh Arc-V For Good and Bad and Everything in Between: arc-v arc-veeeeee yugioh arc-fiveeee theres just so MUCH. TO TALK ABOUT. THIS ONE'S GONNA BE IN MY HEAD FOR EONS I FEAR. THINKING ABOUT THE EVERYTHING. The sheer amount of narrative traits that make me specifically lose my mind (in a good way. as opposed to. the babyfication making me lose my mind. in a Real Bad Way :////) that they crammed into this. It's like digging in the treasure chest of elaborate fanfics I was writing in my brain in freshman year of high school. The Sick and Twisted Evil AU Version of Duel Academy. The Trained to Be Weapons Child Soldiers. Mind Control Reanimated Corpse Brain Chip. Alternate Dimension Selves. All of the Split Different Dimension Bullshit. Soul Splitting and Soul Fusion Framed as Fucking Terrifying. It's good I didn't have Arc-V growing up it would have been doing IRREVERSIBLE THINGS TO MY DEVELOPING CREATIVE BRAIN. INSTEAD IT'S DOING THEM TO ME NOW.

(side note, re: terrifying soul fusion: Arc-V is SO FUCKING SCARY SOMETIMES?!?? Like "ohh i wish yugioh was still a horror story" DAWG ARC-V ROUTINELY HAS SOME OF THE MOST DREAD-INDUCING CONCEPTS GETTING FLUNG AT YOU AT 90 MPH. SKIP BOYLE FORGETS HIS DAUGHTER EXISTED AND IT'S ONE OF THE MOST HEARTBREAKINGLY HORRIFYING THINGS IVE EVER SEEEEENNNNN )

The shit Arc-V does with Yugioh's themes of identity, these "when does a piece of yourself stop being you and start being their own person?" "what happens when multiple free standing people are one person" type ideas, you KNOW that makes my Aporia Turbofan ass go CRAAAZYYYY. AND THEN IT HAD RELIGIOUS MOTIFS TOO <3333 YOU'RE ME AND IM YOU AND IT DOESNT MATTER WHO DOES WHAT THE DEVIL WILL COME BACK REGARDLESS 😊💞💞💞

Arc-V takes such bold swings at things and 95% of the time it misses the ball entirely and spins up and out and directly into the fireplace but that 5% of sheer genius and thematic weight hits like a truck. Is Arc-V good? FUCK IF I KNOW. PROBABLY NOT. BUT ALSO YES IT IS. BUT ALSO IT'S NOT. BUT ALSO IT'S SOMETHING SO SPECIAL, AND I LOVE IT. That first like 50 episodes makes for such a good yugioh starter course tbh, the way it goes over different summoning methods and is very engaging and energetic, and then the rest of the show is an 18 car pileup of Card Game War that makes me automatically like DONT. START WITH THIS ONE. WATCH ANOTHER YUGIOH OR TWO FIRST AND THEN COME MELT YOUR BRAIN IN HERE. AND THATS SUCH A WEIRD DICHOTOMY TO HAVE WITH ONE YUGIOH. weird like everything else with arc-v i suppose. :,)

For all the mess and all the madness there truly is so much I love, though. I love the character dynamics, even when the show isnt doing much more with its cast--Yuya and Gong's friendship may be one of my favorite 'yutag and best friend' bonds, it's SO sweet and I'm going to be mad forever that Gong isn't more popular in western ygo fandom. I love the DUEL MONSTERS!! Performapals are SOOOO sillygoofy I have to adore them, the dimensional dragons all kick so much ass I love you Clear Wing my big legless weirdo. I love Shay's increasingly bigger Bird Guns. I LOVE FRIGHTFURS!!!! I LOVE D/D/DS!!!!! SO HAPPY TO SEE THEM ON ESPECIALLY SCREEN AFTER PLAYING THEM FOR MONTHS IN DUEL LINKS. MY FREAKY DECLAN DEMONS. I love the miscellaneous callbacks to past iconic monsters and funky weird AU retrains of the Legacu character's decks. Scarlight Red Dragon Archfiend my friend Scarlight Red Dragon Archfiend

I also do love that Arc-V in theory is trying very hard to be a celebration of past Yugiohs, but it's also instead being completely fucking insane with its 'tributes.' Oh you like Heartland City from Zexal? It's a carpetbombed warzone now! LIKE... HUH!!! When Lazar showed up at the end of season 2 i SCREAMED. I WANT TO KNOW THE LOGIC OF THESE CHOICES. THEY DONT MAKE ME MAD OR ANYTHING REALLY IM JUST FASCINATED BY THEM. i cant really be too angry at arc-v I'm just. transfixed. at every baffling choice it's ever made. I've really truly never seen a show that's so thoroughly felt like some kids doing a roleplay on a forum somewhere, players dropping in and out and mods not really knowing what to do with the lore anymore as things become more and more convoluted. I watch arc-v scenes and i can picture the text RP in my head, the players' forum signatures and all. It's truly some kind of feat to achieve that inherent vibe, that's for sure.

ok im running out of steam i think... what else. god. Yugioh Arc-V is just.... such a teetering Jenga tower of a show, a complete nuclear meltdown of clumsy writing and fantastic vocal performances (dub and sub) and confused handling of its own lore and occasionally some of the fucking coolest most intense expressions and gorgeous shots of any yugioh

I held out on watching it for so long cuz i just fuckin KNEW it was going to grab me by the brain and swing me into the wall and WELL!!! I WAS RIGHT!!!! SHES A MESS BUT SHES MY MESS BABEYYY!!! IS ARC-V GOOD? MAYBE NOT BUT, BROTHER, I FUCKIN LOVE WHEN YUGIOH IS BAD ❤ ive been a disciple of Bad Yugioh for 20 goddamn years and im not stopping now!!!!! I love you Pendulum summoning you insane busted ass mechanic. I love you all four completely fucked up dimensions. I love that they localized Maiami to Paradise City. I love the little nods to past yugioh things (like fusing with a motorcycle <3 Primo Moment...2!) I hate you Leo Akaba explode and die forever (though 'parent going mad trying to bring their child back' do also go me a little bananas.) I love the kickass shots of Yuya's monsters being set in the pendulum scale.I love Sora's relationship with Yuya and Zuzu. I love every fucked up crazyass expression Yuri makes. I love the sense of character design in this show. I love the Action Duel start chants. I love seeing the Synchro Math again and the Overlay Units and the deeply unsettling fusion hand gesture kids use with Polymerization. I love that third ED thats just the Lancers dicking around in different locations and having fun. I love Declan and Riley's complicated but deeply loving bond. I love when characters RIDE THEIR DUEL MONSTERS!!! AND I LOVE THAT DESPITE EVERYTHING I ALREADY WANNA SEE THESE CHARACTERS AGAIN. THEYRE MY FRIENDS!!!!! THEYRE IN MY BRAIN!!!!! MY KIDSSSSS

I KNOW NOW. WHY PEOPLE TALK ABOUT ARC-V LIKE THAT. AND IM ABOUT TO START TALKIN LIKE THAT TOO. YUGIOHHHHHH!!!!!

#ygo posting #As Is Tradition..... the big lond stupid post i make talking about a yugioh i watched #sorry this one is 4000 WORDS OF RAMBLE ABOUT ARC V??!??! IDK WHAT HAPPENED #HAD A LOT TO SAY I GUESS #im queuing this to post sometime tomorrow morning. godspeed to you all and goodnight. i love yugioh #dana's ygo spinoff roundup retrospective

38 notes · View notes

minisugakoobies · 2 years

Text

Day 5 ❄️ JHS

Kinks: praise kink, Christmas cookies

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Genre: holiday, smut, Brother's Best Friend!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: swearing, kissing, just some good ol' fashioned fingerbanging in the kitchen, a bit of exhibitionism, praise kink, maybe a touch of sub/dom between reader and Hoseok, once again I am writing Stoner!Hobi with the addition of stoner himbos Joon Tae and JK, egregious use of the word 'cookies' as metaphor for reader's 🐱

Word Count: 3K

Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own BTS - they just inspire me

Summary: Your brother’s best friend Hoseok really likes your cookies

A/N: I wrote this one in one shot, in a fugue state after watching Hobi's 2022 MAMA performance. Please picture that Hobi here. 🥴

Please don't be a silent reader 🥺 I'd love to know what you think! 💕

Day 4 ❄️ Kinkmas Masterlist ❄️ Day 6

Grey snow slushes under your boots as you slowly make your way home from the bus stop. Another double shift down. Working as a server around the holidays is miserable. Between the irate shoppers making non-stop demands and the incessant Christmas music blasting through the overhead speakers, it’s enough to turn anyone into a Scrooge.

But it’s fine. You’ll live. Just a few more days and the holidays will be behind you. And so will all these double shifts, hopefully. You’ve been saving up so you can have enough for the first and last month’s rent on a tiny little studio apartment a few blocks from here. A fresh start to the new year, in a place of your own. Where you can enjoy some peace and quiet for once.

A place free from the chaos that greets you as you slip your key into the lock of your current home and swing the door open. Smoke floats past you into the hallway. Scrunching up your face, you peer past the clouds to find, as always, your twin brother and his friends crowded around the living room tv, absorbed in a mission in some stupidly loud, obnoxiously violent video game, laughing and shouting and throwing elbows (and occasionally, a fist or two).

“About time you got home,” your brother calls out as you peel off your boots and puffer coat, hanging the latter on the broken rack by the door. Namjoon said he’d replace that four months ago when he and his friends broke it during a particularly raucous game of flip cup. You know he’s waiting for you to do it. You’re always the responsible one around here.

“I told you I was working a double,” you remind him, rolling your eyes. He never listens.

The others gradually realize you’re standing there. It’s like watching the world’s slowest wave undulate around the room. First Jungkook spots you from beneath his bucket hat and lifts a hand. A few seconds later, a very sleepy-eyed Taehyung notices Jungkook’s hand in the air and raises his own. Then Hoseok, the only member of the crew sitting quietly, splayed across half the couch in his oversized tee and dark joggers, rakes his eyes over your tired frame and gives you the chillest of nods, head barely tipping as his lips quirk in a silent smile.

Ignoring the fluttering in your stomach, you nod back. “Hey guys.” You’re too exhausted to even bother to ask them to keep it down. They would, politely, for about five minutes, before the chronic blowing through their veins made them forget. So why bother.

You shuffle into your bedroom, strip off your uniform, pull on some fleecy pants and a long-sleeve tee, and slide on a pair of cushy slippers. The act of physically removing your day brings a sense of relief, helped along by the comfy clothes. You’d love to climb directly into bed, but you can’t. Not just yet.

Your brother and Jungkook are locked in a double headlock when you emerge from your bedroom. Probably arguing about something that one of them did in the video game. It’s never anything serious with those guys, but it does get messy sometimes, and as you stroll through the room towards the kitchen, you quickly grab the lamp from the end table and place it on the ground before Jungkook’s arm can knock it over.

Money’s been tight for a while, not helped by the rise in rent, the rise in utilities, the rise in everything basically, so between that and the little nest egg that you’ve been stashing away, you’ve had to get a little creative with your Christmas gifts this year. As in, you’re creating them from scratch. You connect your phone to the little speaker in the kitchen and put on a relaxing playlist as you wander around the small space, pulling out ingredients and tools until you have everything you need to make your favorite cookies.

The music drifting from the speaker isn’t enough to drown out the noise from the living room, but it doesn’t matter. You fall into a trance, measuring and mixing, turning mere ingredients into food, into love. Everything else falls away. Nothing else matters but this. Baking brings you zen.

Unfortunately, your activity does not go unnoticed. The scent of baking cookies fills the air, and before long, you have visitors. Invaders, more precisely. On the hunt for your goodies.

As you pull the first tray out of the oven, a head pops in the doorway. A hat, really, pulled down so low you see nothing but pink lips adorned with a silver ring. “You makin’ cookies, Noona?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Is that gingerbread?” a low voice drones behind Jungkook, as Taehyung follows him into the room. “Smells so good.” Namjoon is right on his heels, mouth hanging open a little as he spies the rows of perfectly baked gingerbread people resting on the warm tray.

“Yes, it is, but these aren’t for you, so hands off, okay?” You raise an eyebrow, looking at all three men. They nod, and you turn away to put another tray in the oven. “These are for my friends. If you’re nice, maybe I’ll whip u- HEY!”

There are three gingerbread people missing when you turn back, and all three men are chewing while exhaling loudly, trying not to burn their mouths on the hot cookies as they devour them. As they all reach for a second, you grab a spatula and swiftly slap their hands.

Whack whack whack!

“Mmph!” Taehyung protests, rubbing his hand. He chokes down what’s left of his cookie. “That hurt, Noona!”

“Well, maybe listen next time and you won’t get smacked!” You brandish the spatula like a wand, pointing it at each.

A gentle chuckle sounds from the doorway, where Hoseok is propped against the frame, laughing at his friends’ pain. “Tell ‘em,” he says, crossing his arms. “They gotta learn.”

You bite back a grin, rolling out more dough.

“Sorry, Noona,” Jungkook mutters. “But can’t we have a couple? ‘M so hungry.”

“That’s because you’ve been smoking all goddamn night,” you grumble, pressing the cookie cutter in. “Namjoon, if you don’t get your friends out of my kitchen right now, I’m going to try making real gingerbread people next. Starting with you, Jungkookie.” You shoot Jungkook a look, the one that he always tells you reminds him of Namjoon, even though you’re fraternal twins and don’t look a thing alike, and he holds his hands up in defense.

“Come on. Be happy she only used the spatula, she’s lethal with that rolling pin,” your brother informs his friends as he shepherds them out of the room. “Yo, Tae-yah, you still got that hookup with that girl at the dumpling shop?”

Hoseok remains behind, studying your work. You don’t mind. Of all your brother’s friends, he’s usually the most respectful, quietly observing the mayhem around him. You’re used to the sensation of his eyes on you.

Sometimes it’s what you think about, late at night, lying under the sheets, hand down your panties, biting your tongue to muffle your cries. Those dark eyes, watching you.

“These are for your friends?” Hoseok finally speaks, pushing himself off the door frame. Hands in his pockets, he strolls towards you, still watching as you prepare another batch.

“Yeah. Not a lot of money for gifts this year, so…” you shrug. The heat from the oven has turned the tiny room into a sauna. Your fleecy pants feel like a terrible choice. Wiping the sweat from your brow with the back of your hand, you look up at Hoseok, and he laughs.

“You’ve got a bit of…” He trails off as he steps closer, and your breath catches in your chest as he raises a hand to brush across your forehead. His gentle fingertips come away with flour on them.

“Th-thanks,” you stammer, quickly busying yourself with the dough again, cutting out enough to finish filling the tray.

“So can I have one then?”

“Uh…” Loud yelling from the living room tells you that your brother and the other two have started their game again.

Hoseok leans against the counter, heart-shaped mouth set in a soft smile. “You said they’re for your friends. We’re friends, right?”

Friends. Right. That’s what you are. “Yeah, sure.”

He beams then, a brilliant smile that flashes across his face in an instant and then disappears. Even though the cookies are identical, he takes a moment to examine the selection before picking one.

“This one looks perfect,” he announces, and you hum distractedly, moving cooled cookies into containers. Even though you’re not looking at him, you know exactly when he bites into the cookie, because he lets out a loud moan. “Mmmmm!”

You hum again, trying to ignore the fact that his effusive response went straight to your gut. You continue to pack the treats away, filling the tins you’ll be giving to your friends.

“Didn’t know you had this talent,” he muses, chewing thoughtfully. “Why’ve you been hiding it?”

“I haven’t been hiding it,” you laugh, cocking an eyebrow. “I just haven’t had much time to bake lately.”

“Yeah, I noticed you haven’t been around much,” he states, and you hope he doesn’t see the way you freeze momentarily at his words. “You’re working yourself to death. You gotta take time to relax, you know.”

“Oh? Never heard that before, thanks for the advice,” you grin. “I just gotta get through the holidays and then I can relax.”

“In your new place, right?” He reads the surprise on your face. “Joon told us you’re moving out.”

“Yeah, I am. I just need my own space.”

He nods.

After sliding the last tray in the oven, you help yourself to a cookie.

Hoseok grins. “There you go, that’s more like it. Enjoy a little treat. They’re really good.” He tilts his head. “Can I have another?”

You have just enough cookies to fill all the tins you’d purchased, just enough batches for all of your friends. But what’s one more?

“Yeah, okay, but that’s it.”

Again, he deliberates before choosing one. As his teeth sink in, he lets out another groan, and you clench involuntarily at the way his voice drops into a low rasp. “Fuck, these are so good!”

Is this what he sounds like all the time? Maybe it’s a good thing he’s always so quiet when he’s here. Because you’re wet enough that you can feel your underwear sticking to you as you start to clean up.

“Seriously, what do I have to do to get one of these tins?” he asks, tapping on a lid.

You nearly bite your lip in half as you keep all your suggestions at bay. “Listen, if you really want some, I’ll just make another small batch, okay? I think I have enough ingredients left…”

“Mmmm, you’re such a good baker! The best!” Hoseok moans around a mouthful, and you’re not sure if it’s his husky tone, or the words themselves, but something hits you like a bolt, and you swallow thickly.

And then you whimper.

Your eye is immediately drawn to Hoseok, like your body wants you to see his reaction even as your brain is cringing. He pauses with his hand to his mouth, little gingerbread legs in the air, and stares at you for a moment before he blinks.

“Uh, this batch will just take a minute,” you inform him, nervously grabbing your spatula again for something to do.

Hoseok just nods. “It’s nice of you to make some more. Thank you.” He shifts a little, comes closer so you’re between him and the counter.

“Oh, that’s - sure. You’re welcome.” Waving your spatula to emphasize that it's nothing, you start to measure your ingredients again, hyper aware of his nearness. If you turned your head right now, you know you’d see those dark eyes watching you. It’s so tempting, but you keep pouring your flour.

“You’re such a sweetheart, you know that?” he says, but it’s really more of a purr with all that bass rumbling through his voice, and again you feel that pulse of arousal hit you, and this time you clearly whine.

Again, you glance directly at Hoseok as the sound fades, and can’t move as his eyes slowly wander down to your breasts and back.

“You’re always so good to us when we’re here. Always taking care of us. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.” He moves towards you, slow and sure, his arms coming up to grip the counter on either side of you, caging you in. “Like tonight, cleaning up so we don’t break stuff. Or feeding us, even when you say you won’t. Such a sweet girl.” You’re gripping the spatula so hard, you think it might crack. If you leaned forward just the slightest bit, your nose would brush his. “Such a good girl.”

For once, you’re thankful for the loud commotion in the living room, because it means your brother did not just hear you moan, “Fuck, Hoseok,” in the kitchen.

You’ve never seen such a wicked smile from your brother’s best friend as he gently peels the spatula from your hand. “You like it when I call you a good girl?”

What is happening to you makes no sense. You spend all day getting called ‘good girl’ by patronizing customers and sexist assholes. And yet when Hoseok rolls those words around his pretty pink tongue, you become a whimpering, wet mess.

Maybe it’s because he seems to mean it. Or maybe it’s because it’s him. Either way, you let out a strangled noise at his question, and his grin sharpens.

“That’s what I thought.” His lips hover over yours. “Can I kiss you, sweet girl?”

The only way to answer him is with your own lips, tilting your chin up to meet his mouth. The kiss is soft, lingering, like he’s taking his time studying your lips the way he’s always studying you with his gaze. Then he slides his tongue out, tapping at your bottom lip, and you let him in, let him press his body against yours, nearly gasping when his hard length pushes against your hip.

“Hoseok, you want some dumplings? We’re getting some!”

As if your brother’s voice were a bolt of lightning striking between you, you and Hoseok split apart. Hoseok looks at you for a moment, chest rising as he catches his breath.

“Nah, man, I’m good. Got a sweet treat instead,” Hoseok shouts back. You roll your eyes and he smirks.

“Aw, did you get a cookie? That’s not fair!” Jungkook exclaims.

“Shut up, you had one too, dumbass!” With that, you hear the recognizable sound of your brother and Jungkook wrestling again.

A sudden yank on the waistband of your pants draws your attention. Hoseok tugs again, and then he slips his fingers beneath.

He doesn’t move his hand, just slides it into your pants, and stares into your eyes. You hold your breath as you hear another shout.

“I want another cookie, Noona!” Taehyung yells. “Aren’t they good, Hoseok?”

Hoseok crooks an eyebrow, just the slightest bit, and you nod. His fingers dip between your thighs, and when they find the wetness there, he hisses. “They’re so good, Tae-yah!” he declares, middle finger disappearing between your folds.

Your hands grasp at his biceps as you pitch forward, moaning at the sudden intrusion. His finger is long enough to curl perfectly into your most sensitive spot, and he employs a rapid tickling motion that makes your knees buckle.

“Hoseok, holy fuck!”

Is this really happening? Are you really letting your brother’s best friend fingerfuck you in the kitchen? Where anyone could walk in and see him knuckle deep in your throbbing cunt?

Yes, it is. And you know what? You deserve this little treat.

“Ah, sweet girl, I just love your cookies so much.” Hoseok licks his lips as he adds a second finger. “Can’t resist.”

Taehyung calls again. “Can I please have another?”

“Focus on the game, hyung, damn!” Jungkook yells, but not a second later adds, “Can I have one too?”

The thrusting of Hoseok’s fingers makes it hard for you to think straight. Everything about this moment makes it difficult, honestly - the way his arms flex under your fingers, the way his cock keeps bumping against your thigh, the way his eyes haven’t left yours for a second.

“Tell them no,” Hoseok whispers, thumb ghosting over your clit before he presses into the nub firmly enough to make your hips buck into his hand. “No more for them!”

“N…” Hoseok pushes against your clit again and you see stars. “No, no cookies for you!”

There’s a burst of laughter from the living room that perfectly covers the wail you let out as Hoseok fucks you with three fingers, hard and fast.

“Good girl,” he whispers, free hand cupping the back of your neck to kiss you. “So sweet, so good for me.” And with that praise, you come with a muffled cry against his lips. When your cunt stops clenching around his fingers, he removes them, and brings them to his mouth to suck them clean.

You groan, lightly pushing on his chest. He laughs, taking a step back, and you suck in a deep breath, trying to regain your composure. “Don’t make me grab the spatula.”

“Think you’ll do any baking in your new place?”

Caught off guard by the question, you furrow your brows. “Probably?”

“Good. You better text me if you do.” His gaze roams your body again, and you swear you feel an aftershock from your orgasm. “I definitely want more of your cookies.”

Masterlist ❄️ Find me on AO3 ❄️

Taglist 1: @babycoffeefire; @parkdatjimin; @reliablemitten; @yuugehn; @ut-dixisti; @hesperantha; @seokjinger-ale; @bangtanintotheroom; @taeshuworld; @nch327; @hannahbee12719ficrecs; @7minsuga96; @dvalitaes; @thatlongspringnight; @miscelunaaa; @acquiescence804; @itsirisz; @velvetskize; @starbtslove; @ajw05; @bruisedscrewedandtattooed; @minesuga; @greezenini; @aznstoner; @jkkkkkay; @xuxibelle; @soeur-de-ame; @boraborabts; @signmybook; @bbl32; @codeinebelle; @here4btsfics; @itbtoblikethatsometimes; @kookprada; @addictedtohobi; @shatzkrinslinzki; @jaiuneamesolitaiire; @joonjulyagust-d; @jinsquishes; @btsgotjams27; @allamericanuniverse; @pleaseshutupsara; @guvgguk; @goodgollyitslolly; @laylasbunbunny; @goldensugarywaffles; @jadda98; @lovelye79; @moonacholy; @luaspersona

If your URL is italicized, tumblr won’t let me tag you! 😤 Check your settings!

#hoseok smut #jung hoseok smut #hobi smut #bts smut #hoseok x you #hoseok x reader #jung hoseok x you #jung hoseok x reader #bts fanfic #hoseok fanfic #jung hoseok fanfic #12 lays of kinkmas #possumswrite #bangtanarmynet #btscarnivalnet #btshoneyhive #btswritingcafe #thebtswritersclub

571 notes · View notes

breezybangtanbebe · 9 months

Text

Eye On You: Wonho❤️‍🔥

A/n: anyone ever sit back and think about how rich Wonho would be if he had an OnlyFan's account? Just me? 🌚 aw ok well....here you go🥴. I wrote this in like an hour so...

3.75k words

You never imagined you'd be the type to subscribe to one of these websites.

Hell, you barely liked forking over that $9.99 a month for Netflix and a small part of your soul died at the sight of that reoccurring charge on your bank statements.

But this felt different.

It was midday and you were alone in your room, writhing in bed as your body's reluctance to go to sleep frustrates you.

It wasn't as if you needed a nap but sleep was the only thing that could distract you from the insatiable ache between your legs.

So after scrolling on social media for a little bit, seeing enough of a particularly fine man's face and body on your timeline led you to fish out your debit card and open your laptop.

The cursor idles over the pixelated rectangle for what felt like minutes.

You've already created the account and input your payment information.

All you had to do was hit subscribe and an uncensored world of Wonho would be unveiled for your and 120,863 people's eyes only.

When you'd first seen him, you were amazed by the exaggerated definition of his muscles and undeniably handsome face.

Every Instagram post was either him fully clothed and candid, smiling or looking away as if he weren't aware of a picture being taken.

Or he was naked.

Ok, maybe not full-on ass-naked but he might as well have been.

Plump and pert glutes.

Thick muscled thighs.

Massive pecs that could easily fit in a d cupped bra.

Buttered Hawaiian roll-looking abs.

And then there was his....lower half.

No matter what he wore, there was never a reason NOT to look down at the sizable print that bulged in the most provocative way in even jeans or dress pants.

Him wearing a size smaller than his normal fit, no underwear, and sitting wide-legged in every picture didn't help either.

Don't even bother asking anyone what color his hair or his shoes are.

You damn sure didn't know.

All you knew was that when you realized this specimen had a Stream4You account, similar to OnlyFans, it only took a shameful 8 minutes for you to decide to subscribe.

The membership fee wasn't bad.

About as much as your Netflix subscription and you were sure to be much more entertained by this than the thousands of shows and movies you'd scrolled through.

Plus you could cancel any time so...

You click to enter the website and your eyes widen at the array of pornographic thumbnails from past streams.

"My gawd.." you gawk as you scrolled.

Well-lit 4K snaps of Wonho on his black leather couch.

Some of him alone, gripping his thick print in different colored boxer briefs.

Some of him with a woman in various sexual positions.

Doggy style with nothing but their naked torsos and legs in the frame.

Missionary with Wonho's massive upper body looming over a woman much smaller than him, their pelvis' pressed together.

Another with a view of the bare back of a woman kneeling in front of the couch and between Wonho's spread legs, his hand resting on the back of her head with his tipped back in ecstasy.

All of them different races and body types.

All of the gorgeous.

A pang of jealousy struck in your chest as well as deep within your clenching walls.

What an experience it would be to get fucked by such a magnificent man. You didn't even have to watch him in action to know he could fuck.

It was all in his aura.

You sigh, leaning back with your laptop resting on your tummy, scrolling down his profile with a pout.

Suddenly a notification bell pings in the corner of the screen, followed by a drop-down banner letting you know that Wonho was about to start a live stream in 5 minutes.

It's a shame how fast you clicked the link that led you to the waiting room which consisted of a black screen with a countdown, a sidebar with his past live streams in the queue, and a frenzy of comments popping off in a chat on the other side.

You immediately found the 'Turn off chat' option in settings because you didn't want anything distracting you from the main event.

After an agonizingly slow five minutes passed, the black screen shifts to an unexpected view of who you knew to be Wonho's glistening chest and sculpted abs.

He's leaning over the tripod, adjusting the angle from what it sounded like.

A second later, his beautiful face fills the screen.

"Hi guys...." he croons, smiling innocently in that way that reduced his eyes to slits and lit up his entire face.

His voice is deep and soothing, something you'd probably want to hear up close or in your ear first thing in the morning.

Wonho furrows his brow and tucks the soft pink tip of his tongue at the corner of his mouth as he goes back to fiddling with the camera.

"Bare with me a second everyone...I got a new tripod and I'm still figuring it out. This angle is not...ah..there we go." He huffs in triumph as he rights the camera in the way he intended.

He then kneels in front of his infamous leather seat. Not to be confused with his equally infamous black leather couch.

Wearing nothing but some black Adidas shorts and a smile, Wonho seats himself comfortably on the floor in front of the camera. He leans forward, squinting at it for a second before smiling and waving again.

"Can you see me ok? It's in focus?" He asks and you snort at the irony of him speaking so casually considering what he was setting the audience up for.

"Looks like I am. Anyway... Hi again. It's Wonho, your favorite. I hope everyone here is enjoying their day so far. I um....really have no plan for today's stream. I just got back from the gym and showered so I'm at home for the rest of the day. What are you all up to?"

Again, he was speaking to his audience as if they were coworkers or neighbors he say occasionally on his way in or out of his home.

It was...cute. Unexpected but cute.

Your brow crinkles in amusement.

Wonho smirks softly as he stared at what you assumed to be the comments, which were no doubt coming in by the thousands per second. His eyes squinted again as he read them, his smirk persistent at what his paying audience had to say.

For a second you toyed with the thought of him asking you about your day with s genuine interest. He'd be looking at you the way he was looking at the camera now with expectant eyes and parted lips, hanging on to your every word.

" 'Just got off work.' Cool. 'Just had dinner..' Already? It's dinner time where you're at? I haven't even had lunch yet..'Hi, baby' Hi...' You're handsome' No you're handsome, whoever you are.." he chuckles cutely as he went through more similar comments before leaning back on his knees.

He lifts his arms and runs his hands through his hair, flexing his biceps and triceps unintentionally with the movement.

He then stands to extend his body in a stretch that gave you a godly eyeful of his body. Abs contract and quads flex as he stretched and your gaze falls to the plushy-looking hill that gathered at his crotch area.

He's not even trying.

After satisfying his muscles, Wonho exhales heavily and plops into the waiting seat behind him.

It groans under his weight and you could only imagine the things that chair had to endure being owned by this man.

On and off camera.

"Glad to hear all is well with you all. Thanks for tapping in." He says, resting his head in the nest of his interlocked fingers.

"As I said...I didn't really have a plan. I took a shower and had this urge to jack off but I didn't want to do it alone...."

Your ears perked up at the favorable turn of events and you reflexively push the laptop up to your chest.

"Oh..do tell," you mutter as if he could hear you.

"...So I figured I'd just get comfortable and do that while I chat with you guys until I cum. Or perhaps until you cum. Whichever comes first..." he jokes with a little chuckle.

His corny pun and little laugh alone should be considered a sin. How could a man so burley and huge be so cute at a time like this?

Wonho remains leaned back comfortably in his shorts that hung loosely from his tree trunk thighs, his hooded gaze fixed on the camera.

He lifts one of his hands from the back of his head to rub through his silky black hair again, mimicking the way you wish you could do the very same thing.

Beside him, an iPhone lays face down on the leather armrest and he picks it up, swiping his thumb over the screen a few times before focusing on reading the stream's comments from his own device.

Then he flashes that damned panty-dropping grin.

" ''Good plan' I know right? 'Deal.' 'Sign me up Coach. 'Cum first Daddy. I need frosting for my toaster strudel'...Wow. Nasty. And beautiful. You might have just inspired some future content with that one..." he says in response.

" 'Nice Tits.' Thanks. I work pretty hard on them so glad to hear it. 'Show us your dick please' Well since you're so polite.." he grunts.

Without wasting another second, Wonho lifts his hips to push down his shorts and underwear. They shimmy over his legs and drop out of view, leaving him shamelessly nude for the camera.

"There. That better?" He teases with a light-hearted chuckle.

As he continued to respond to comments, some funny and others nasty, your eyes fixated on the culprit of all of those damned likes on his Instagram posts.

Wonho's dick.

It sits lazily between his attractive man spread, not even erect yet but still impressive.

The fact that he's clean-shaven only allows you to appreciate his full size as you tapped the fullscreen icon in the corner.

Now filling your monitor, Wonho's muscular body and thick manhood captivate you entirely.

You'd never see a man so beautiful in your entire life and maybe it was your hormones leading you to exaggerate but...

"Shit..." you exhale, marveling at his size.

For a moment you wondered why he had so many subscribers. Beyond his good looks and entertaining content, you didn't think 120K for one guy doing normal amateur porn made much sense.

Until he took off his underwear.

Wonho's dick is gorgeous. Similar to his skin tone if he were blushing with a fat mushroom tip that looked like it had been kissed by lips stained pink.

Thick and surprisingly long to be flaccid. He reaches down to cup himself, ringing his shaft between his thumb and two fingers while his ring and pinky fingers rested over his balls.

Which looked heavy and smooth to the touch.

The thought has you nearly drooling on sight

Wonho slowly begins to stroke himself, the velvety smooth skin moving over his veiny shaft.

He readjusts his seating and spreads those massive thighs more for the camera, scooting forward so that the audience has a perfect view of all he was selling.

With his other hand, he holds his phone to read the comments. He smiles at whatever madness you imagined to be occurring in the live chat.

If you weren't already touching yourself, you might have been able to post a comment or two.

At some point the laptop materialized beside you on the bed, giving you the freedom to shuck off your underwear and caress your sensitive folds.

The pads of your fingers pass over your clit and you gasp, repeating the action in a rhythm mimicking Wonho's.

Slow and steady.

Teasing yourself just enough to arouse you more.

It's not long before Wonho's once drooping member is ramrod straight and standing up at its full length.

He's a grower and a shower.

My gawd.

Wonho pauses to reach for something on the floor and sits back up with a glistening glob of liquid from a dispenser off-camera. He drops the phone to clap the substance between his palms, warming the lube before reaching back between his legs.

His large hand encircles the shaft, twirling his wrist slightly on the upstroke that's now much smoother with the help of the lubrication.

Now his dick shined as if it were encased in glass, showing everything in greater detail. He jerks himself with the original hand, using the other to cup and tug his balls gently.

"Ah..shit.." he exhales.

His tongue runs over his top lip as he continued stroking, his chest moving with each breath.

Yours shuddered beneath your shirt as you rubbed over your clit in slow and teasing circles, but the wetter you become, the more stimulating your touch is.

A soft moan parts your lips and you spread your legs wider as if you were on full display for this beautiful man and not the other way around.

Wonho gets lost in his touch for a moment, not shying away from rubbing his perineum as he worked over his dick.

His head tips back and his eyes fell shut for a moment and you wondered what he saw when he did.

What did he think about when he touched himself? It's not like he didn't have a massive collection of savory images to recall from his past experiences.

You wondered what memories turned him on the most...

After a while of the same pace and some of the sexiest soft moans you'd ever heard come from a man, Wonho lifts his head and opens his eyes to gaze straight into the camera.

There was something different in his eyes now.

Long gone was the cute and funny guy with punny jokes.

There was now what you could only describe as a demon. The brown of his irises seemed black now and they hid halfway beneath his eyelids in a sultry stare that makes you clench around nothing with a pathetic whimper to follow.

"What the..." you pause, feeling as taken aback by his expression as you were by your body's reaction to it.

A little smirk lifts at the corner of the demon's lips before he releases his ballsack. He does a quick wipe over his thigh to rid his palm of excess lube before picking up his phone again.

Wonho goes back to reading the comments, leaning over to rest his elbow on the armrest as he stroked his dick slowly.

His brows go up at something he read but he doesn't respond out loud, only sparing the camera a knowing look briefly with a sly smirk.

He then goes on to read more, his thumb strumming over the screen.

He laughs at something someone said and pauses to switch up his tactic for a moment, focusing just on the tip of his dick and stroking over it with a shuddered sigh.

This makes his eyes roll back and he curses under his breath.

By now, your clit was so hard and swollen that your legs twitched every time your fingers passed over it. Occasionally you'd slide them inside to stroke the ache away that grew from deep.

But you could only manage that for so long before feeling like you were about to cum.

And you know once you did that, it would all be over.

Wonho looks back at his phone and smirks.

" 'Stroke faster' Yeah? That's what you wanna see?" He asks breathily, his eyes never leaving his phone.

He then adheres to the request, most likely accompanied by a cash donation.

The tacky sounds of the lube slicking the motion of his hand kicked up as he jerked himself faster.

It must have felt really good because his smirk melts into him scraping his teeth over his plump bottom lip.

"Ah fuck...mhmm.." he moans, exhaling sharply through his nose.

You match his energy, strumming two fingers over your needy clit, hips rolling and back arching.

You moan louder now, panting as the heat collecting at your apex mounts.

You were close and so was Wonho.

You could tell from the way he'd abandoned the phone to go back to sitting upright, the other hand groping his balls and rubbing under them. His dominant hand was doing what it did best, pushing him closer and closer with every upward stroke.

He cursed and moaned just as freely as you did and you only bit down on them so that you'd be able to hear him over yourself.

Not that it was an easy task.

Hearing him moan.

Watching his hips canting and his abs contracting.

Spotting the shine of pre cum dribbling from the hole at the center of his rock-hard tip...

You wanted him. You wanted him so fucking bad that it sparked tears in your eyes knowing it wasn't him fucking into right now.

Wonho's eyes lift and lock onto the camera as it had done a few times before and for a moment it felt as if he were actually looking at you.

Through you.

Straight to your soul.

"You're about to cum aren't you?" He asks and you hiccup amidst your moan in reaction.

You lift your head from your pillow and blink away the blurriness to inspect your screen.

"Yeah...Im talking to you. I've got my eye on you...I've had it on you this whole time.." he rasps, now stroking his dick as if her priming a weapon ready to fire at any moment.

His mouth goes slack for a second and his eyes roll back a little, but he resists the urge to look away from the camera.

From you...

"Oh fuck..I wish I was there. I bet you feel so good..fuck I bet you look so sexy right now. Are you touching yourself for me? Hmm?" He continues, this octave lifting to a gentle coaxing tone that has no will to resist responding to.

"Yes." You whimper, rubbing and swirling over your bud with the sole intention of getting yourself off.

"Good....keep going. And don't you fucking stop until you cum, you understand me?" He commands with a lifted brow.

"Yes..yes. Oh god..." you cry out, tearing your eyes away from the screen to shut them.

"Yes, baby! Like that...just like that...Im about to..." Wonho grunts and you open your eyes just in time to watch the thick spout of pearl shoot from his tip. Some of it hits his chest, drizzling over his sternum as he kept milking his dick for more. It was like it would never stop.

Your mouth hung open in a silent cry as you give in to the impending explosion as it sizzled down your spine.

Your breath hitches and your fingers pause over your clit at the memory of his intense gaze and throaty moan of release, and it's enough to send you hurdling over the edge and into a heart-stuttering orgasm.

Your climax hits you like shockwaves, making your muscles tense and relax as it passed over your body.

Hooded and lust-drunk, Wonho exhales finally and slows his strokes to rid himself of any remaining drops of cum he had left before sagging against the coach.

"Fuck...that was good...shit..." he pants, talking more to the ceiling than to his audience.

You lay limp in your bed, staring dazedly at your laptop with your now exhausted hand resting over your pussy.

That was good. Better than you'd expected for sure. You felt that same liberating tingly sensation all over that you always felt after an intense orgasm.

But this felt different.

Even though this was what he did for a living and thousands of people watched him exactly as you had...

And even though you knew there was no way in hell that this man could see you when he looked into his camera...

In your own little bubble of horny delusion, he was looking at you.

And that is perhaps what makes him so popular. The way he connects with his audience. The way he just doesn't set up a camera and act as if no one is watching him. He engages and puts on a show well worth the $10.99 a month.

Knowing and feeling that made this monthly subscription feel less like an expense and more like an investment.

Wonho's hand still rested around his dick, which was still stiff in his grasp but not as erect as it was seconds ago.

He sighs and leans up from the back of the couch, the sound of his sweaty back pealing from the leather surface making him cringe.

"Alright guys...that was fun but looks like Im gonna have to take another shower.." he huffs humorously.

You watched him in silence as he reached off-camera for a small washcloth he must have prepared beforehand.

Wonho cleans himself casually, wiping his cum from his chest and abs as if he spilled food on his shirt or something, and it makes you smile weakly.

He then wipes his hands thoroughly before tossing the washcloth aside. The cushions squeak beneath his bare ass cheeks as he scooted forward, lifting briefly to detach the device mounted by the tripod.

Now carried in the hand he just used to jerk himself off, Wonho held his audience and lifted them so that he was looking up at the camera in selfie mode.

"I hope you enjoyed our time together. I know it was quick but I didn't want to interrupt your day for too long. I have a lot of cool content planned for the month so stay tuned. Subscribe to get notifications and become a platinum member for exclusive videos. Until next time. Come back and see me. Bye..." he winks and gives the camera a quick wave before the screen goes black again.

And just like that, the stream was over.

I miss him. I miss his random IG posts of his bawdy. I miss his smile. I miss his laugh. I miss his dorky shimmy when he’s shy or embarrassed or happy over his food. I miss his daily vlives (dammit Vlive why’d you have to go!!? *waves fist)

*sigh* anywho..🌚 I think im gonna do more onlyfans wonho stuff

#monsta x smut #wonho smut #wonho #changkyun #jooheon #kihyun #hyungwon #shownu #minhyuk #hyunwoo #changkyun smut

60 notes · View notes