#there’s no point to anything I’m just a fucking waste of space

[sensitivegoblin]

Starting to think life is just a series of events that I fuck up

[glindyupland]

.

[chaoticace2005]

Why Vox needs to GET THE FUCK OVER THE RADIO DEMON:

(By Velvette, the only competent of the Vees)

(Her list for Valentino here)

1. He’s just not into you

2. We have better things to do than allocate company time to this.

3. He makes you look stupid

4a. He makes US look stupid (and Valentino already does that enough)

4b. Seriously how are we supposed to stop your boy toy from chasing whore around town when you can’t do the same with your ex? We need to set a (gag) good example for him.

5. What do you even see in him? Tacky coat. And that voice is so old-school.

6. You have two people who (reluctantly) want to work with you. Why spend energy on a guy who doesn’t?

7. This was seven years ago babe. Give it up.

8. I’m tired of finding your Alastor Body Pillow around the penthouse

9. Speaking of the body pillow, did you really have to spend 5k on it?

10. Company money should be used for COMPANY things. The fact we even have an “Alastor” budget is stupid. HE DOESNT EVEN GO HERE. ( @onesidedradiostatic )

11. He fucked off once, he probably will again.

12. Do you really want to fuck with someone who has the princess and king of Hell on his side?

13. It makes Valentino insecure about his sexual prowess, which is not good for anyone.

14. I have to LISTEN to him complain about it.

15. No matter how hard you try, nobody will ever beat “Susan” for #1 rival in that man’s heart. (Which is valid cause Susan SUCKS.)

16. Also you’re wasting company time by having Val put together shitty-Alastor look alike porns? Angel Dust does NOT look like Radio Demon ffs, I though Val was the blind one not you.

17. Your screens keep crapping out whenever you think about him, and we’re running out of ones in storage.

18a. I don’t want to keep having to go to overlord meetings for you because you’re having a breakdown over of he’ll be there or not.

18b. Speaking of breakdowns, STOP MAKING THE WHOLE CITY LOSE POWER.

19. You’ve taken over the entire office space with your Alastor-shrine. It’s not really an inconvenience, just creepy.

20a. Not to kinkshame but I walked in on you and Val fucking with Alastor-wigs on, REALLY?!

20b. Also I think you’re making Val insecure about his lack of hair.

21. STOP asking me to design Alastor-cosplay clothes for you. I don’t want anything to do with this.

22. I already have to deal with one pissbaby

23. Seriously, he isn’t into you. Maybe it’s cause you’re a mess. Maybe it’s cause he’s AROACE. Who knows.

24. You keep interrupting channels to brainwash people into hating the Radio Demon, when we should be brainwashing them into other things.

25. We can all hear you talking to yourself in the shower when trying to come up with shitty comebacks.

26. You display your dreams when you sleep, and while it was funny at first at this point it’s so boring. Val and I want to watch something actually interesting for once rather than the same shit.

27. You keep glitching out in bisexual whenever he comes up and it’s annoying waiting for you to put your shit back together again.

28. I’m sick of movie nights where we just watch your self-made compilations of “Alastor’s Epic Fails” or just watch security footage of him at the hotel.

29. Why do you even try and film him? Your shitty cameras can pick hardly anything up.

30. Honestly this whole thing is just pathetic.

31. Like it used to be cute but now?

[tteokdoroki]

☆༉ — RYOMEN SUKUNA. santa’s little helper.

about. dressing up as slutty santa warrants some unwanted attention, luckily, sukuna is there to play santa’s grumpy little helper. merry christmas.

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! sfw, fluff, meet cute, reader gets harassed/cat-called, reader is wearing a dress, modern!sukuna, fem!reader. it’s still christmas somewhere - enjoy !! (1K).

you meet modern bf!sukuna at a train station on christmas eve.

all your friends have gone home with guys that they fancied from the club, all the ubers in the area are either booked out or have sky high prices just to get you thirty minutes away not to mention the fact that it’s ice cold and your stupid mean girls themed santa outfit keeps riding up.

if you huff hard enough a cloud of smoke appears in place of your breath — like that of a mighty dragon, accumulating in the night air. it entertains you for all but a moment and doesn’t waste enough time for your train to come faster.

it’s not due for another thirteen minutes.

in that time you watch gangs of girls, groups of guys and just about anybody come and go from the station. your platform isn’t packed but it’s not too empty to the point where you feel unsafe.

“hey pretty girl.” ugh. as if your night couldn’t get any worse, a dingy looking stranger appears from nowhere — breathing down your neck, nastily drinking you in as if you’re a free shot at a bar. like you’re easy.

waving your hand away, you focus your gaze on the platform across the track and pray that someone notices your predicament. “no thank you.”

“oh come on gorgeous, give a guy a chance!” they press, crossing all of your boundaries to be in your space. even as you try to walk away, you can still feel the ghost of their sleazy words against the bare and exposed parts of your skin.. “where are you going all dressed like that, with no one to admire you?”

on instinct, you pull down your skirts as if to hide yourself from greedy eyes — storming down the platform. “none of your business!”

“hey now, little miss santa! don’t you wanna know? i’ve got a sleigh you can ride!”

“not interested! i’m all good.”

“why? you got a boyfriend?”

“yeah, i do.” you lie smoothly.

“then where is he?” the stranger mocks and closes in on you — you look around pathetically, waiting for some good passer-by to come and help you.

a heavy hand land’s on the stranger’s shoulder — making them jump in shock. you watch as the hand squeezes down, almost tight enough to break bone. “right here,” says a gravelly, husky voice that instantly fills you with warmth and relief. stepping aside, your hero reveals himself — tall with rippling muscles and spiralling black tattoos, lazy blood red eyes and a snarl that reveals sharp fangs and canines. all topped off my tufts of soft pink hair, which don’t do anything to dim his threatening aura. “you got a problem?”

“n-no! sorry man, i didn’t—“

“fuck off, will ya?” your hero spits out venomously and the stranger nods — practically disappearing into thin air after that. your shoulders sag and tensions dissipate from your body. “you okay…miss?”

tentatively, you give the pink-haired man your name — you owe him that much after he’d more or less saved your skin. “all good, thanks to you…”

“sukuna.” he doesn’t look at you, instead pulling a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket and lighting one with a flicker of a flame. it’s like he feels you watching him in dismay, and laughs as he takes a drag. it’s kind of sexy, you’ll admit — the way he throws his head back let’s you see the thick lines of black ink extending down his neck. “ticket office is closed and security is shit here. small station. no one’s watching me smoke.”

“right…thanks, sukuna.”

he finally turns to you, deep and blood red eyes drinking you in — almost scrutinising you. you squirm under his gaze, heat prickling at the back of your neck and providing some protection from the cold. “where were you off too?”

“christmas party with some friends.”

“where are they now?”

“sucking face somewhere, and no, they didn’t offer me an Uber before they left.”

sukuna taps the ash from his cigarette and it falls away in the icy breeze. “shit night.”

wringing your fingers, you shrug a little bit. “i guess it could have been worse. so thank you for helping out,” you hum appreciatively. “all i have to do now is wait for this stupid train.”

a beat of silence passes between you both, only broken by your chattering teeth and sukuna’s occasional sniff between puffs of smoke. you hate smokers, but you don’t ask him to stop. not after he’d helped you and is willing to be your human shield until your train comes. anyone else would have left by now.

“i can give you a ride home, if you want?”

you frown… was he, trying to make a move on you?

“if you have a car why are you at a train station.”

sukuna smirks slowly, dropping his cig to the floor and crushing it under his sneaker. you don’t remind him that there’s a law against smoking on the platform. “i’m waiting for my little brother to get home from a trip with his friends. we don’t live too far from here and i offered to pick him up from the station.” he shrugs.

you blink up at him with wide eyes. you’d never imagine a man that looks and carries himself like he does to care so deeply for someone else. you suppose you’re judging a book by his cover.

you’re dressed like slutty santa, so you honestly have no right to do so.

“what’s your brother’s name?”

“yuuji. it’s just us, no parents. that’s why i’m picking him up.” sukuna turns to you, running a hand through his messy pink undercut. “look, i promise i’m not some creep. y’just look cold and i’m not about to let some girl get fucked over by weirdos at this time of night. i won’t touch you, but you can sit in the back with yuuji if it makes you feel better. people usually prefer his stupid face over mine anyways.” he mumbles that last part to himself, but is pleasantly surprised by the cute flutter of laughter that escapes you. “what’s s’funny?”

with a hand resting on your bare stomach, you try to contain yourself. “is it the tattoos or the fact that you have resting bitch face?”

“both.” sukuna sniggers in response, shoving his cold hands deep into his pockets. “so, you takin’ up the offer or what?”

“yeah, thank you…sukuna,” you smile, subtly sliding up beside him for warmth on the chilly platform. “i’d like to meet yuuji for myself, see which brother i prefer.”

“oh fuck you.”

“maybe some other time.”

and even though he’s sure that you’re joking, sukuna detects a glint of honestly in your sparkling eyes as the train finally approaches — it’s yellowing light from inside the carriage only illuminating that spark. you turn your head, trying to spot yuuji while he ponders your words.

sukuna is definitely going to ask for your number after he drops you home. he’ll have to thank that brat of a baby brother yuuji for the opportunity next — without him begging for sukuna to come get him, this would have never happened.

you would have never met.

it’d be a great christmas story to tell the grandkids too. so he’d really have to thank yuuji, even though sukuna would never hear the end of it.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[tinytennisskirt]

best friend!patrick zweig who is totally not in love with you…

headcanons with a plot <3

warnings: mentions of sex, kissing, marijuana, smoking, casual touches, jealousy, and silent yearningggg

- insists that he drives you home even if you’re the slightest bit tired. you yawn at his place- you’re not driving home. he says it’s to keep you safe but really, he just wants more time with you.

“it’s like twenty minutes out, i’ll drive, it’s nothing.”

“i’m perfectly fine to drive! i just yawned, i’m not tired.”

his foot is down. “yeah, that’s not happening.”

“you’re going to take a bus home? patrick…”

“i’ll take a taxi if it makes you feel better?”

“uh huh.”

- he follows the sidewalk rule. he’s never heard of it before but he does it, just on his own.

- saves you the last slice or even bite of anything he’s eating that’s worth it. he orders a really good burger, the very last bit left is yours. ordering a pizza, the last slice is yours. even a slice of cheesecake, the last bite is yours. bonus points to him for making sure the last bite contains all elements of what he had. the burger has all toppings left on the last bite, the cheesecake has the crust and the caramel drizzle, etc.

- doesn’t get why you choose such shitty men to go out with and waste your best dresses for the wrong eyes. he plays it off as caring about you, but he’s jealousss

“i have another date tonight with tony,” you tell him. he looks up from the can of ravioli he’s opening.

“tony with the hair or tony with the fake hair?”

you tsk, “with the hair.”

“the guy with the weird moustache who runs the laundromat? really?”

“he’s nice!”

“just nice shouldn’t cut it. and doesn’t he have the weird butt-chin thing? come on.”

“he treats me well! compliments me, pays for things…”

“yeah okay, with the laundromat money, you’re sure it’s not going on credit?”

by the end of the conversation he’s telling you that you look nice, a little defeated, but he means it. he can’t talk you out of it truly without first admitting he likes you and secondly, admitting to you he likes you.

- he’s always down to spend time with you. he might say he’s busy but he’s not. and when he is, he moves things around just to see you, but he won’t tell you that.

- he buys the drinks you like just to keep them in the fridge. he buys more every time he goes out so the stock of it keeps growing and soon enough it’s taking up two shelves in his fridge.

“i’m going to make something to eat for dinner,” you say, opening the fridge. and the fridge is near-full of your favourite drink. he usually gets it for you, you’d assume he just had a few but no. he has so many. and the thing is, he doesn’t like the drinks. so it’s just really weird. there’s a million of your drinks and then in the empty spaces, ketchup, mustard, milk, ground beef, cheese, and two red peppers next to the can of opened redbull. what for? who knows. you walk back out to where patrick is sitting and he looks up from his phone.

“we can get groceries. don’t have much right now,” he reaches for his keys and you laugh just a little, which stops him. you hold up one of the drinks and he just stares at it, knowing you know about the shelves upon shelves of it. “they were on sale, fuck off.”

- any time you’ve slept at his place he either gives up his bed and sleeps on the couch, or if you fall asleep on the couch you always wake up the next morning with a comfy blanket over you and a proper pillow under your head. he won’t move you, he’s too afraid to wake you. or on nights when you know you’re staying over or even on a whim, he’s used to giving you his clothes to sleep in because he knows you like the fit of them. they’re comfortable.

- without you coming over, patrick wouldn’t do any of his chores. he’s only motivated by the idea that you might come over and think he’s a slob. you already know he’s a slob, but he does a good job at hiding it. it always smells a bit like febreeze when you come over and not that you mind it- it smells good. but it can’t mask the slight cigarette scent and the scent of his cologne which is without a doubt on every surface he’s ever layed on.

- he’s the guy you can go to for honest opinions because he’ll always shamelessly side with you. a fight with a friend who was clearly in the wrong? he doesn’t even try to see the other perspective, he’s on your side no matter what. your ex and his new girl? he thinks she’s ugly and a downgrade and he’s an asshole for posting the grocery store flowers he got for her. he’s jealous, but he’s good knowing your ex fumbled you.

“they’re yellow.”

“he got her yellow chrysanthemums?”

you chuckle and look at him. “you know what flowers those are?”

“saw them the other day at the store. on sale, $5. same ones, look at the wrapping.” he says, pointing at the laptop. “he’s broke and she doesn’t even know it.”

you laugh. he’s glad to hear it.

- when you go out to bars he pays for your drinks. says you deserve it- you do come over and cook all the time so why not?

- patrick is known to crack a few jokes but when you’re serious, so is he. you’re upset? he’s listening, he won’t make fun of you unless he knows it’ll make you feel better. he’ll sit next to you, let you talk, cry, get really angry, get really sad. he’s there. and he’ll comfort you in whichever way you need. it’s his softer side, the one you bring out. lets you lean against him, he’ll even hug you if you ask.

- he’s a GOOD HUGGER. he gives amazing hugs, they are so enveloping, so comfortable. his arms wrap all the way around and not only do his arms squeeze you the perfect amount of tight, but his hands as well. he’s always warm but not hot, and he smells like good cologne and slightly of cigarettes. he’ll take any chance to hug you and you’ll gladly have it.

- struggling not to think about fucking you when you’re trying on dresses for a date. he’s thinking ‘what will these guys think when they see you?’ and his mind is on one thing that they’ll be thinking. but his mind is on it too, when you come out in a little black tube dress and you ask him if it’s too short. it’s too short for sure.

“what about the cleavage though? too much? not enough?”

“hm?” he’s not paying attention to your words.

“the cleavage. too much?”

“yeah. maybe try a turtleneck.”

yeah yeah it’s wrong to think about sex with your best friend, but the dresses, each shorter and showing more skin than the next we’re making him so incredibly horny. he doesn’t do well with that. goes home and fucks his own hand at the thought. helps to distract himself from the fact you’re out on a date with someone else who might actually get to take off that dress :(

- he’ll show up at your place with whatever it is you say you’ve been wanting and he will make a night out of it. wings? he’s at your door with them in an hour. drinks? yeah he stopped for a six pack of whatever he grabbed. he’s always down to get food. you want to go out? he’ll pick you up to go get whatever it is you’ve been wanting. a good excuse to actually work on bulking. not that it’s date-like.

- he’s got a photo of you in his wallet. it’s a platonic thing, he swears to the girl he takes on a date. she’s pretty but she’s not you. the photo of you sitting pretty with a potted plant doesn’t give off ‘available’ and yeah he kisses her but she is not you. he leaves early and calls you on his way back. he’s pretty sure he’s fucked forever because he’s realizing he only wants you.

- he’s protective at parties. he’s already watching you dance and have fun but when you come there with him and start flirting with guys it provokes him just a little more than it would if he were sober. he’ll walk over and slip his arm around your shoulder or even your waist if he’s had enough to drink and he’ll ask the guy how he’s doing and he’s 100% running interference pretending he’s just out of it from the alcohol and it isn’t the fact he’s jealous.

“hey man,” patrick usually greets the guy, hand resting on the small of your back. he’s always got a big smirk on his face, tongue against his cheek. “what’s up?” the move usually scares the guy off and you playfully hit or elbow him, but it’s worth it.

- his doors are always open to you. you have a key if you need it. so when you show up, soaked from the rain, upset over tony the laundromat guy being the dick patrick was so right about him being (despite not knowing the guy at all), he wraps you in his arms and he listens to the whole story. you’re complaining about genuine men being so hard to find and he’s sitting right there. he just brings his hand to rest against his jaw and looks off to the side at something as you continue speaking and he’s listening, he just hates what he’s hearing.

- he’ll take off whatever jacket he’s wearing if you’re cold. he won’t be happy about it- or look happy about it, but he might be a little happy about it… he’ll complain about what he’s going to do in the cold but the sweater or jacket is on you within five minutes of your ask.

- he’ll begrudgingly do whatever you ask of him. like he does not want to get up at 4:50 in the morning and drive to the hilltop to watch the sunrise. he wants to stay asleep, snoring in his bed, but you wake him up and he hates it, but it’s you and it’s the sunset so he goes with you. but in his still-tired state all he can seem to focus on is the light of the sunrise hitting your skin. he’ll either do it super slowly or begrudgingly, sometimes he might even say no. but it never stays a no.

- again. can’t stand that you keep giving your time to men who don’t know how to treat you. he goes to the bar, he drinks about it a little, he talks to the bartender about you. the bartender knows you by name, knows your favourite album, knows you go out with guys who aren’t him, and he knows you’re beautiful, having your features described by a drunk patrick who uses his hands a lot to gesture. it’s weird when you go to the bar with patrick another night and the bartender already knows your name and the drink you want.

- drunk patrick uses all the self control he has not to tell you he wants you. he almost lets it slip with unfinished sentences. does everything he can to fend himself off, but he’s very close to you when he’s drunk, his already-bad spatial awareness so much worse while impaired. his face always close to yours, nose sometimes hitting yours, he comes so close. hands reach for your waist when he’s near you. you don’t mind it- it doesn’t make you uncomfortable. it’s a different feeling. you manage to wrangle him into his bed and make him drink water. he’s talking to you like there are important things you need to know before he absolutely passes out.

“if that tony guy comes around again i hope he knows i owe him a broken nose,” he’ll say and he’s grinning and you’re just rolling your eyes at him, he’s so stupid. “you have to stop dating these guys, fucking douchebags. i know i’m not much better, but at least i don’t wear axe body spray and pick you up in a beat up honda.”

“patrick, you drive a honda,”

“mine isn’t beat up.” he says. so honest. you laugh at him and hand him back the cup of water. but he says it, “you deserve more than that kind of guy. want you to have someone who really gives a fuck, you know?”

“if i could find one,” you say. half-oblivious, half-looking for him to say something that’ll have meaning. it’s the first time his drunk mind is telling him the feeling in his chest is heartache. oh my god, he feels like such a girl- he just grins, dimples on his cheek crawling all the way up. he covers his face.

- when you’re hanging out with mutual friends, smoking, talking, he’s always taking the seat next to you. your friends all know he’s into you- most of them suspect you’re already dating on the down low, the way you guys are so close. you’re sitting on the couch and his arm is up on the back of the couch behind you, your hand sometimes resting on his leg, you have your own conversations on the side and you’re laughing and leaning toward each other. it’s obvious. he’s obvious. YOU are obvious. and oblivious! painfully.

- patrick will shave his beard for your birthday. he’ll trim it regularly but on your birthday he shaves it all off, it’s an annual thing. bare-faced and you find it so so fun to see him without.

- the dress you wear on your birthday is a little too perfect. the mix of you and your hair done and your makeup and the intention of drinking with your girl friends and asking him how you look before you leave. you usually ask him before you go out. he’s going out with you and your friends, but he comes over a little early, just how things are. he’s always honest.

“you look… wow.” he’s looking at you. you’re standing in front of him, little dress, perfectly fit to your body. and you’re smiling, doing a little spin. and you’re beautiful and god you’re so fucking hot. patrick fears for the possibility of his sober thoughts becoming drunk words later. you’re already unbearably fucking beautiful what is he going to do with himself?

- he’s a touchy drunk. not with everyone, not the same way he is with you. when he drinks his hands are magnetic to you, resting on your hands, hand on the small of your back, your waist, your arm. like i said before, you’re used to it, you don’t mind it, but it’s different when he’s staying somewhat sober because he’s afraid of how he’d act if he had more than three shots. he wouldn’t do anything you’re not comfortable with- it’s not that, it’s the fact he’s scared if he drinks tonight that you in your element, dancing, laughing, having fun in that little dress would provoke him to spill all of his secrets. he’s got a stoic form of self-understanding he’s taking to prevent anything dumb from falling out of his mouth under the influence.

- he does, however, fend off the creepy guys or just the assholes who try and buy you more drinks or even talk to you. he won’t let them get so far as to ask for your name. you whine but he just tells you, “you wouldn’t want to talk to them sober.” and you’re like hmm true. the defender position includes closing your tab, getting you home, and getting you inside safely. and usually you take care of him when he’s drunk or high, but he takes the opportunity very seriously. before he’s helped you get to bed but this particular time you’re asking him to undo the zipper on your dress and you’re lifting your hair.

he’s not going to tell you no, so he undoes the zipper and in seconds you’re stripping in front of him unabashedly and he turns around, arms folded, grinning to himself because of course this was happening. he is not an asshole, so he won’t turn around until you’re dressed, but when he turns around you’re only in one of his shirts that he’s been wondering where it went- and your underwear and you’re asking him to come sit with you because it’s still technically your birthday (it’s not).

he will, but he doesn’t want to stick around too long. despite the lack of alcohol, there’s still a pull to tell you how he feels, but that’s girly. and you’re drunk. he puts you to bed after making you drink water.

- he’s the kind of guy to keep a condom in his wallet- he’s never going to use it, it’s probably expired and worn in front his wallet being in his pocket but he has it in there. in fact it’s right behind the photo of you.

- he also has a stolen street sign in his living room from when he was on tour after high school. it’s custom for all guests visiting his place to slap it before they enter the room. if you don’t, there’s no consequences, but it’s just wrong not to. he will, however, catch YOU on it if you forget. holds you to it in whichever way he can.

- he’s totally debating on kissing you almost every time he’s with you. it’s getting progressively worse every time he’s with you he swears he’s going to do it but he doesn’t want to. (he wants to sooo fucking badly, it’s insane). any time you pass him by, every time you say his name, when you sit next to him, when you’re talking to him about anything, engaging with him, looking him in his eyes. it’s a struggle not to.

and you’re friends, longtime friends so the casual touches get to be too much, even. you cup his face with your hands saying he needs to shave and he’s only staring at your lips.

or you sit sideways next to him on the couch facing him and your hand is on his shoulder and you’re so close to him when you talk he really could just reach over and kiss you.

you sit on his counter while he’s making spaghetti and you’re eating the shredded cheese out of the bag and it’s weird but the height your at, it would be perfect.

- you are the cause of his biggest grins and most laughter. you don’t even have to try. he enjoys your company more than anyone else’s. platonically, romantically, in every way. you are his best friend. you get him on a level even art didn’t.

- he’ll pick you up whenever you need him to. doctors appointment, from a friend’s- so when your self-proclaimed final attempt at a date ends up terribly, he’s the first person you call. you’re all pretty for another piece of shit and patrick has to pretend he’s not happy the guy was so weird. you get in the car and his eyes fall on your collarbone and your thighs and you yourself catch it. his eyes. you pull a knowing little look. “shut up,” he says, driving away without even letting you get your seatbelt on.

- he’s not a door holder very often. maybe for old ladies and kids, and the occasional friend, but he’s holding every door open for you. he even opens the car door for you most times. get back to his place, you don’t want to go home yet, he holds the door for you on your way in. you hit the street sign on the wall before flopping down on his couch. it smells like citrusy febreeze and a bit like his cologne. out of his personal needs of restraint, he tosses you one of his comfy shirts and shorts so you can be out of that little dress. and after you take them to his bathroom to get changed, he’s still feeling the same way about the way you look. it was not the dress’ fault.

- the thing with patrick and other women is he’s never been afraid to go up to a girl, hit on her, he’s hardly been afraid to kiss a girl. he’s pretty confident all around but you are so different. the need to kiss you is all-consuming. he wonders if he should talk to you about things first when he’s never considered more than the flavour of a girl’s lip balm in the past. you make him nervous, sitting there in his clothes. i say there, but you’re next to him, hair behind your ears, talking about how you think you’re done with dating and you’re going to wait until the perfect guy falls into your lap. you’re playing some angle but he’s thinking that it’s a good thing. the conversation turns to joking, he’s teasing you, you tease back it’s just normal.

- of course patrick has a snack pantry. if he doesn’t have groceries, he has snacks. at a random point in conversation you tell him you could really go for an oreo right now and he’s so on that. so you both take a trip to the kitchen and you’re looking in the cabinet and you find the oreos and share them while continuing to talk at the counter. you’re going on about how strange your date was and how you felt if you stayed you’d be on a true crime document and the conversation begins to turn to thanking him for coming to get you. but like mentioned before, he’d always come get you. didn’t matter how far you were but he wouldn’t say that.

“it’s different, it’s not like you picking me up from the dentist, it’s you picking me up when i know you were busy.” you say. he smiles because he really wasn’t that busy- he was just out with friends of course he’d drop them for you. “i just want you to know i’m grateful is all.”

“don’t need to be-“ he says with his mouth full of oreo. “it was nothing, i was nearby anyway.” he wasn’t. he sped. in his honda.

“you’re so weird,” you giggle. “why can’t you just be normal about people thanking you for things you do? you go out of your way far too often.”

patrick chuckles to himself, shutting the package of oreos. he doesn’t do it for anyone else. “how do i be normal about it?”

“you could say ‘you’re welcome’, maybe?” you say. he nods. “i say i’m grateful for you and the things you do for the people you care about, namely me and you say ‘you’re welcome’.”

“we’re rehearsing?” he straightened himself as if getting ready and you pressed your hand to your forehead, smiling. “go for it. say how grateful you are for me and the things i do for you. only you.”

“so stupid, just say you’re welcome.” you giggle, throwing your hands up in the air in defeat. he grins, a sly grin, dimple on full display, gorgeous. he turns away from you to put away the oreos (if you weren’t there he wouldn’t have put them away). he shuts the cabinet door. “patrick?”

“yeah?”

and he’s met with your hand on the back of his neck, pulling him into a kiss.

- the way patrick kisses is very passionately. that’s who he is. he kissed a lot of girls in high school, met a few on tour that were worth making out with. his kisses are full of passion. but this kiss is from you, so he receives it like a gift. surprisingly politely. he’s never ever been caught so off-guard by a kiss. he didn’t see it coming at all. it’s a small kiss, a few seconds of lips fitting together perfectly, but you pull away. his face stays close to yours. he’s never had a kiss like this before. in the crowd of girls he’s ever kissed. it’s never felt like this. and it was so small.

“i’m sorry,” you say, hushed, but you’re smiling, so how sorry are you? he grins and in an instant, you’re kissing again, deeper, more, hands in his hair and his on your waist, holding tight. it’s all he’s thought about for a month on end. there’s something better than drugs and it’s this, patrick thinks. your back against the pantry door, him against you.

- he’s never been so in need of a kiss before. he’s never been kissed like this before. it’s somehow everything he’s ever wanted and everything he’s never gotten from every girl he’s ever kissed. and the thing about patrick is, like mentioned, he’s a moderately horny guy but this to him is all he wants. he only wants to kiss you. a few minutes pass and he’s doing something he’s never done and that’s talking it out with you. but as soon as he admits he likes you, he’s telling you to shut up because you’re giggling and it’s adorable and you can’t be calling him out on his crush like that…

- you admit to being a little oblivious and maybe admitting to repressing feelings because you weren’t entirely sure- and he’s instantly on making fun of you for it. he makes fun of himself for not seeing it sooner or for making a move sooner but there’s no room for apologies between another kiss. a kiss full of laughter where you just can’t stop laughing but you also won’t stop kissing him and it’s kind of perfect.

[tadc-harlequin-au]

Harlequin AU - "Stalemate" (canon, fic)

This is a wip art! It will be updated in the future.

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One step.

Leather shoes made their way on uneven grounds.

The crinkling of glass underneath the soles made their way prominent to the stepper’s ears, but she couldn’t care less.

This was the last known location of the man she’d been tracking for a while now. And this is the moment of truth. Did she still got it? Or will she fall as a trophy on a mantle?

Time to find out.

Squeaks of a rusty metal gate aired out into the open, gathering the attention of a few unwanted pests. But in quick succession, they were no more, swiftly falling prey to the sharp blade of the Puppet. There was not even a chance for them to strike.

Satisfied with her work, she straddles into the grounds of the mansion. First, the gardens.

One could say it was a serene scene, but for her it was a mere distraction. Unimportant. Simply delaying the inevitable.

She steps out into the lush open grass of the area. A huge empty space filled with nothing but prickly green underneath the blue hues of the night. She found amusement in the fact that there’s a chance she can ruin this place once she meets her opponent.

A lone, mossy fountain sat on the front. Not interesting.

She makes her way onto the stairs of the mansion entrance. Each step fills her with more vigor, excitement coursing through her being. The giant, elegant oak door groaned in protest as she pushed it open.

Empty.

No matter, there were many rooms.

She quickly hears the puttering sound of rotor blades spinning, and she looks to her right, finding a mini-blimp with a literal sharp smile, and a vacant expression on it’s glossy eyes.

“Hellloooooo,” it said, dragging the last syllable playfully, “Can I help you with anything?” The blimp asked with not a care in the world.

“I’m looking for someone.” The Puppet claims, pulling out a parchment of a wanted poster. It was useless to waste her energy on this… creature. So she will entertain it’s questions for now.

“Oh! You’re looking for the boss! I’ll lead you to him!” The blimp confirms her suspicions.

He was in this place, and she’d successfully tracked her target down. Now all that was needed was proof of her soon-to-be victory. It was only by a few rooms that she’d found him.

But the sight wasn’t as grand as she envisioned.

She expected a confident, prideful, and powerful fighter….

NOT whatever this mess who’s currently laying on the ground and leaning deactivated against an office desk was. WHAT THE FUCK.

Did she seriously come all this way for nothing?! She felt a little furious, and she redirected her burning gaze onto the blimp, grasping tightly onto the sword and pointing it’s sharp end with malice. The Blimp did not seem to react at her wordless threat at all, still flashing a sharp smile as it slowly turned to face her.

“EXPLAIN.” She demanded. “HE CAN’T BE ALREADY DEACTIVATED.”

“Oh, this is just something that happens allllll the time. Give him a little time.” The Blimp answered, and turned it’s attention back to 'the boss'. She kicked a leg, no response.

“Let me try!” The Blimp says, and with a clearing of it’s throat, it shouts. “BOSS! Someone’s here to see you!”

And in an instant, the exposed chest of the man lit up in two separate hues, and he sits up straight as if plunged underwater for long.

“GAH! WHA- WHO IS IT!” He yelps in surprise, holding a glass bottle by it’s neck as if ready to throw. His shocked gaze soon falls on…. To the Harlequin, who unveils her tattered covers protecting her from outside elements, and reveals her face.

“Puppetmaster. I’ve come to challenge you.”

He blinks a couple of times with wide eyes, and his stare keeps shifting from the blimp, to her, and then repeat. After a while, his gaze falters and an unimpressed groan escapes the strange Puppet across from her. “Not again…” He mutters under his breath. "Bubble, what did I tell you about letting people you don't know in?"

...Not again?

“Wh- What do you mean “not again”- This is the FIRST time I’ve come here!” She replied, and the Puppetmaster only crosses his arms as soon as he manages to get up on two feet.

“And it certainly won’t be the LAST, I see.” He shuffles away, the metal cane tapping to the marble ground with each step he took, and the Harlequin is left utterly confused. She grumpily follows him to the main lounge, ready to demand once more.

“Are you fucking deaf or what? I said I’ve come to challenge you!”

“Not interested.” He feels around in a bookshelf, pulling out a rather large tome. He opens it and retrieves a bottle full of liquid.

He was really testing her patience, huh?

As soon as he turns around, The Harlequin makes quick work of slicing the bottle in half just to show how serious she is. The glass quickly detaches, and the liquid spills onto the floor, leaving the Puppetmaster with an unamused, disappointed stare.

“.... That was the last of it’s kind, by the way. You just killed off one of my favorite drinks” He replies with a hint of unserious humor, and it makes her teeth grit in frustration.

“I AM NOT LEAVING THIS PLACE UNTIL I GET WHAT I FUCKING CAME FOR!” She angrily responds. “So you either stop with your shit and fight me, OR ELSE.” She points the sword straight at his core, and the pair of dentures simply rolls his eye to the side, and pushes the blade away.

“Hmm. You know, for a moment, I really thought you were different.” He drops to the floor and detaches a tile after tapping at a seemingly hollow tile with the cane, revealing yet another hidden compartment full of unknown bottles. He sticks his tongue out a little as he reaches for them, but as soon as one was retrieved, The Harlequin repeats the same action as before, as well as shattering the other bottles within.

He blinks once, then twice. “Can you stop wasting the only thing that’s keeping me from jumping off of the deep end, pretty please?” He pleads, but it’s completely devoid of sincerity.

She growls, and grabs his collar. He is slightly surprised, but quickly goes back to his uncaring attitude while staring at her grip. “Umm… Normally I would not mind the touch, but you’re wrinkling my shirt.” His carefree attitude was picking at her nerves, and she bares her sharp teeth at him. His eyes widen a little, but it’s clearly not from fear.

He shakes it off, and squints at her humorlessly, unfazed by the threat.

“I am not repeating myself again, Puppetmaster. FIGHT. ME.” There’s a surprising yet subtle hint of desperation in her tone, but it was heavily masked by her aggressive tone and he finds himself disgruntled at his own thoughts.

He sighs.

“I don’t see a point in accepting that offer from a rookie like you, who doesn’t seem to know what fights they wanna pick… But fine.” He relents, “I’ll entertain you a little. I’d rather not cause more mess than usual for my little helper, though. All I ask is that we pick a different location.”

She was a little insulted at the term he had called her. But she swallowed her pride down in favor of the fact that he was finally agreeing to the duel. “Very well then.” She lets go of the collar. “I’m fine with any location of your choosing.”

“Much appreciated, dear. I know an abandoned circus arena that is ideal for this.” He taps his cane to the ground, in contemplation.

“In fact… I think you might like it as much as I do.”

══════☸☸☸════════════☸☸☸══════

It wasn’t the walk towards this “arena” that was agonizing.

But rather the wait she had to comply with if she wanted his participation. Nonetheless, he parts the curtains that cover the entrance, but she only crosses her arms and taps her foot. She was antsy, and his stare was questioning.

“You… won’t go first?”

“Why would I? You’re leading the way.” She replies in clear annoyance.

His gaze shifts to the entrance, trying not to be bothered about this as he makes his way inside. As soon as the Harlequin makes her way inside, spotlights let out a loud click as they all simultaneously turn on, all shining at the sand-filled arena slightly damaged by time… or something else entirely.

There’s a little prickling feeling that settles in her chest, and she can sense her core thrum in dissonance. But she doesn’t understand it, so naturally, she shrugs it off as if it never existed.

The Puppetmaster has had his back turned against her all this time. His head hung low, as if staring into the very ground. But she simply clutches at her sword with her left arm, the grip making a loud metallic clunk. He taps his cane to the ground, and it echoes throughout the tent despite the consistency of the very plane they stand on.

“Are you ready?” His voice, despite them being meters apart, is loud, bold and clear.

She grips her sword harder, unsheathing a little. Her right feet drags across the ground, an obvious stance of preparation before the action.

His eyes are hidden, depriving her of reading his full intent once he turns to face his opponent. Nonetheless, she squints, wordlessly giving him her answer.

The cane taps onto the ground yet again, and she rushes like a cobra. There’s a faint hum of voices in the background but she can’t decipher it.

Distractions.

That was all it is.

And a fighter does NOT get distracted.

She unsheathes the sword fully, ready to lunge as soon as she was close enough. A battle cry escapes her as she swings at the sudden cloud of dust that appeared in front of her.

“Slow.”

He easily avoids the swing, and she barely has a second to react at the speed of his movements, finding herself stumbling. Utterly confused, she quickly turns around to face where he had gone. He was now in the middle of the arena, side-eyeing her with interest that she interprets as complete mockery. 

She clutches the sword with both hands and another battle scream erupts from her. He grips at his cane harder, eyes once more hidden as his jaws snap shut in focus. She leaps into the air to bring down a hard slash, but his cane blocks her attempt, and it results in sparks flying from the exertion of force between both parties.

The Puppetmaster quickly ends this standstill by pushing her back, making her feet drag across the ground from the force by a mile.

“...Yet adept form.” He comments, squinting his eyes at her.

She wipes away at her face, just in case. Her posture straightens in confusion, but it is quickly taken over by anger. “YOU ASSHAT, STOP OBSERVING ME AND FIGHT!” a complain, but her expression changes to confusion once more as he disappears in a cloud of dust from her sight.

Where the FUCK did he go NOW?!

His form appears out of nowhere. Looming over. His eyes are devoid of pupils, and for a moment, she finds herself stuttering.

“H-HOLD ON W-WA-WAIT JUST A SECOND!”

There was no time for waiting in a duel of course, but it slipped from her mouth before she could even think about it fully. She could only assume that he was disorienting her, and it was working effectively.

His cane twirls on his hand, and he uses the other end of the metal rod to push her to bend backwards, just to avoid the flaring poke of electricity surging through the cane. There was no time for the Harlequin to get back up, and she cursed herself for making rookie mistakes, and proving his words right.

What was wrong with her today, of all days?

He sweeps her legs, knocking her off-balance down to the ground, but her athletic build allowed for a very quick recovery, and she was back to steadying her stance again.

“Fascinating. What an impressive reflex. You have a fast recovery.” 

The Puppetmaster seems to be taking notes of her actions, and it was then that she realizes he was simply toying with her.

“Maybe this could work… Hm.”

Her sword drops to the ground a loud clank, which forces his gaze to look up at her. But it was too late.

A very hard kick met his face and he barely had the reaction time for it. He could feel the blow produce a gust of wind as he flew to the old safety bleachers (much to it’s destruction), and a loud crack permeated the air as one of his teeth flew off and broke in half.

A heavy cloud of yellow dust hid him from the view of the fuming Harlequin.

He rises up, seemingly unaffected until he reaches to check at the loss of a denticle. A black substance covered his gloves’ fingertips. His gaze once more lands on the Harlequin, who is now emitting visible hot steam from her body, breathing heavily as her eyes shone brightly with the intent of murder.

“I’ve HAD it up to HERE, with your STUPID ANTICS!” She stepped a foot onto the ground, and the cement underneath the sand crumbled. The lights slowly flickered in response, and his eyes widens in alert.

Uh oh. This was not good. The fight needs to be ended as fast as possible now.

“I suppose I should’ve been paying more attention to a duel.” He clutches at his cane for support as he stands up undamaged (besides the lost tooth), but lets go of it as soon as it’s job is complete.

If she won’t possess a weapon, then it wouldn’t be right for him to possess his either.

Both of them rushed at each other in high feats of speed, and a small crater was created as a proof of the intensity of the hit. When the Harlequin would deliver a punch, a dense gust of wind would be produced as the Puppetmaster blocked each time.

There was now more steam emitting from her body, and the clock was ticking. He had no choice.

With a revenge kick to her torso that she blocks with both arms, he sends her flying to where she had previously dropped her sword, as he rushes to his own “weapon” of choice too. 

She grabbed at the sword and rushed.

He grabbed his cane and did the same.

The speed executed between both parties was unmatched, and a heavy cloud was produced for the last time in the middle of the arena as both fighters collided their weapons.

Their gazes were intense, the Harlequin smiling when she pointed her sword directly at his core. But the blue light emitting from the Puppetmaster’s cane made her look down to where it was pointed.

It was also at her core.

Satisfied with the way the Harlequin stopped fighting out of slight confusion, he opts to explain the current situation.

“Now, you can pry open my core and deactivate me just as easily,” he starts. “... But if you so much as move the required centimeter to do so, the tip of my cane will touch your core which will shock your heart with the amount of electricity that can power 5 large cities.”

Her eyes widened.

“We’re both made of metal. How the fuck are you going to defend yourself from this?!”

“I won’t.”

It was a simple statement that made the Harlequin realize what he’s doing. “Do you have a shitty death wish or something? That’s crazy! There’s no way you can produce that much charge either, you’re just fucking bluffing!”

“Am I, now?” There was not a hint of humor nor sarcasm in his tone. He was dead serious.

She couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t fucking believe it.

“We’re at a stalemate, dear.” She gripped the handle of her sword with much intensity, baring her teeth in frustration and denial.

“This fight is over.” He proclaims no winners, and the Harlequin begins to kick the remaining sand in the arena all around, throwing a temper tantrum.

“NO!” She shouted while gripping at her head, uncaring of the noise. “NO, NO, NO! THIS WASN’T SUPPOSED TO END THIS WAY! YOU CHEATED YOUR WAY OUT OF THIS, YOU-” Her joints stopped responding to her actions, and she finds herself kneeling onto the ground. Horror filled her entire system as she tried to decipher what’s happening, but before she knew it, All she could see now was the tattered, faded yellow-red stripes of the tent ceiling.

And then the view of his stupid dentures face came into her sight, and he was back to observing her again.

“You’re still functional, are you?”

“UNFORTUNATELY.” She grit her teeth.

“Hm.” An acknowledgement.

She could hear the way he takes a seat onto the ground beside her.

“You’re quite an odd one.”

“CAN YOU STOP TALKING.”

“Hm….” He contemplates. “No, I don’t think I will~.” There’s a smug pitch in his tone (that would’ve made a vein pop somewhere in her head if she was organic). “You’re the first sane Puppet I’ve talked to in a long while.”

… Was this somehow some kind of cruel punishment?

“Just let your body cool down and re-adjust for now. You really pushed yourself back there.” She couldn’t exactly tell what he was doing, but if the slightly muffled way of speaking was any indication, she could only assume he was checking his now missing tooth.

But that wasn’t what grabbed the Harlequin’s attention. Rather, she was slightly intrigued about how he knows what’s happened to her, when she didn’t.

“What are you even talking about? What’s happened to me?” She asked, temper slowly subsiding, although irritation was still present.

“What’s happened is that you accidentally began to overcharge yourself.” He was more than glad to explain. “Your body couldn’t keep up with the amount of energy spent, and now here you are, lying down on the ground.” He taps at the sand above her head with the golden sphere of his cane. “You also nearly overheated that you could’ve exploded your core. But you can’t feel that, can you?”

She sighs. “Of course I fucking don’t. I’m a Puppet. I don’t feel things, I just do things. At least that’s what I think I should be doing.”

There was a moment of silence between them, one that the Harlequin was more than glad to have. But almost as if being mocked by timing, this quiet was broken by the voice of Puppetmaster once more.

“What’s your directive.”

“Fight SOMETHING, I guess.”

“No.”

“What?”

“Tell me your FULL directive. I don’t want a summarized version.”

She sighs again. “FIND— FIGHT— PROTECT—- CITY—- FROM HARM.” There was a slight pause and a bit of glitching in her voice when she recited the blanks.

“…Well, I must say, this is quite the predicament.”

“Can you stop being so fucking cryptic and just tell me?!”

“... You’re broken.”

“EXCUSE ME?”

“An incomplete line of command. It’s making you act on your own." He explains. "For shorter terms, you’re a loose cannon.” He mutters something else under his breath that the Harlequin couldn’t hear, and for a moment, there’s an unreadable tone with his delivery that she can’t decipher.

“Wha… what the hell does any of that mumbo jumbo even mean…” She would drag her hand across her face if she could right about now.

“Say, how would you feel about an alliance?”

“I feel like punching another one of your teeth out, that’s for sure.”

“I’m flattered, but also serious. You and I are quite possibly the only Puppets left sane here in this world. And I have an idea that I can only really do with YOUR help.”

“I’m not fucking interested in your passion project.”

“Your purpose seems to say otherwise.”

Her brow creases. “What, are you gonna say it involves fighting something?”

“Not just that. It’s also to protect this city from further harm.” Now that got her attention. She’s cautious, but in all honesty, also intrigued.

“We can discuss this even further once you’re all good to go. But for now…” He trails off as he stands up, and she can finally move a little bit of her joints on her fingers. Her body was seemingly cooling down to allow slight movements again.

“My name is Caine. Do you have a name?” For a moment, she senses a foreign bit of deja vu.

“... Just the code on my shoulder.”

“What is it?”

“P-1210.”

“Well, I can’t be calling you that. How about a proper one?”

“Whatever knocks your socks off, I guess.”

“ ‘Pomni’. What about ‘Pomni’. ”

There’s a response at her core that she couldn’t fully understand. But it seems that it wants her to agree.

“... Sure, I-I…I guess.”

“Pomni it is.”

══════☸☸☸════════════☸☸☸══════

[bitchlessdino]

scream your heart out (m)

🔪pairing: fem!reader x seventeen (???) 🔪genre: horror, slasher, smut 🔪tags: DISCLAIMIER!!! MAY NOT SUIT MOST AUDIENCES, Graphic sexual and violent imagery color coded in pink, abrupt changes in text color, features/mentions members (Chan, Seungkwan, Wonwoo, Minghao, Seungcheol, Seokmin, Junhui, Soonyoung, Joshua), established relationships, scream au!seventeen, Hybristophilia, erotophonophilia, homicidophilia, graphic images, mention panic attacks, smoking, mentions disfigurement of faces, severed body parts, knives, guns, threatening phone calls, face masks (horror), knife wielding, blood, gore, death/murder, knife play, bloody handjobs, cum mixing with blood, consensual sex but nonconsensual murder, HONESTLY SOME REALLY FUCKED UP SHIT AND IM SORRY BUT YALL SHOULD BE READING THE WARNINGS, sexual innuendos, kitchen sex, daddy kink, unprotected sex, cream pies, cuck! (??) member, voyeurism, exhibitionism, breeding kink, PLS LET ME KNOW IF IM MISSING ANYTHING PLS 🔪word count: 6.8k 🔪summary: you and your friends get caught up in a classic horror slasher movie, only it's in real life. Now you're off to fend for yourselves in Seungcheol's million dollar home. The question is, did you keep them out, or did you just lock them in? 🔪author note: thank you @multi-kpop-fanfics and @wonwussy for beta reading for me <3. here's some of their notes “I’m scratching my face to not fucking scream” “WELL SHIT BRO WHAT THE FUCK” -Zeta “It definitely does capture that slasher essence” -SJ this was so fun yet mind numbing to write but this is way more extreme than anything I’ve ever written like I lost a lot of sanity writing this. FR one of the most fucked up things I’ve ever written. I hope it was worth it. ENJOY EVERYONE and even tho it came out late HAPPY HALLOWEEN

Ever since the murders over a week ago, everyone in town has been on edge. All including the individuals most closely involved.

You had lost three core members of your eight. 

Joshua, someone you’ve known since grade school who was sliced open from the back before being stabbed 8 times to the point of excessive bleeding. He had just gone out to walk his dog, the poor creature being the only reason they found his body at all. If not for the dog’s bloody paws, and the trail of blood they left behind finding help, Joshua’s cadaver would’ve lost deep in the woods.

And then Chan, your long-time boyfriend, was stabbed fifteen times in the chest. His face was so disfigured from obvious violence and what looked to be burn scars, that he was practically unrecognizable if not for the fact he died in his own home. Police are still looking for his severed arms and legs to this day with no luck.

And finally, Seungkwan, who hadn’t died but lost to the paranoia festering in his blood like a disease. That caused him to take the train to the furthest destination possible to attempt to escape death if at all possible, leaving the rest of you with only the reassuring texts he left in his wake.

All that was left was you, Seokmin, Seungcheol, Minghao, and Wonwoo; the core five.

“Okay, absolutely no one is leaving this house for the time being. Until the psycho is caught behind bars, dead, or whatever the fuck! We’re safe here.”

Seungcheol, the eldest, did just as expected: contacted the rest of you into a personal prison. Luckily, he was loaded. The prison happened to be six thousand square feet of space with countless rooms, amenities, and a housekeeper to boot. From the looks of it, it’s paradise, but it’s definitely a prison.

“Holy shit, you have an indoor basketball court?”

A prison with an indoor basketball court. And a pool apparently.

Seokmin wasted no time to enjoy these features, breaking out of his clothes and cannonballing in his underwear. If you knew any better, Seokmin didn’t even look like he went through any trauma at all. It looked like every other day for him.

“There's a murderer and you’re doing butterfly strokes?” You asked, baffled.

The golden man scoffed, reaching the edge of the pool and resting against it with his forearms. “What am I gonna do? Wallow, crying to my mom, worrying about dying, and not taking advantage of this gorgeous mansion we’re staying in?”

“Thank you, Seokmin,” Seungcheol grinned.

Seokmin winked back at him, “Of course, daddy.”

“How are you both so unserious about all this?”

Wonwoo left a kind hand against your shoulder, looking back at you with warm eyes and a small smile. “They’re grieving. Just in their own way.”

You sighed, crossing your arms. “They’re being ridiculous. We shouldn’t be here. We need to be at the police station or something.”

“You were there when I got the call. The creepy voice said no police or you all die. Remember?”

You shuddered, hands over your sides to relieve your chilled skin. “Of course I do, but we’re sitting ducks here. This isn’t any better. We need protection.”

It was Seungcheol’s turn to scoff then. He strutted in front of you, flaunting his wing span before flexing his arms and then crossing them over his chest. “Well, you have me.”

“And me,” Seokmin joined. “Pure muscle right here.”

“Maybe pure laughing gas, not sure about muscle. We’re actually living in a horror movie right now and you’re all making jokes.”

“Hey,” Wonwoo stroked your head as his soothingly deep voice serenaded you, “Don’t say that. We’ll make it out of here.”

His arms come around you, forearms pressed against your collarbones, and his chin crooked over your shoulder. “You have me too. I would run through that knife before it could get to you.”

You genuinely smile for the first time being there, your hand stroking over his embrace. Wonwoo delicately kissed the temple of your forehead, reminding you what it was like to be constantly adored.

You were grateful for what he had become in your life. Wonwoo had kept you company in your time of need. In the absence of Chan. He had come to your house with whatever he thought you might need, lent you his shoulder that you could cry on, lent his ears so that he could listen, lent his body that you could heal. In more ways than one.

“You’re right. You are.” You turned to face him, wrapping your arms around his body and meeting his eyes framed in specs of hard plastic. “You’re the first person I can sacrifice if we face them head to head.”

He mused at you. “Ooh, now look who’s pulling jokes.”

“Who said I was joking?”

“You two are disgustingly cute,” Minghao commented coming through the back door. “Horror movie rules: they get killed while having sex.”

You punched the new face right in the arm, watching him scurry away to your other friends laughing.

“Not funny, Hao.”

Minghao sneers at you, a jester smile still on his face. “Ease up, princess. Wonwoo, watch your girl.”

“Only because she’s so pretty to look at,” he briefly grinned down at you before directing his attention to Minghao sternly, “but come on. We’re all a little psyched right now. Cool it with the murder talk. Alright?”

Wonwoo pulled you aside into the dining area, ignoring the careless laughter outside. His thumb stroked against your knuckles, lips pressing sweetly against your cheeks. His grin sunk deeper in his cheeks the further he made it past your jaw and then down your neck. He felt your throat vibrate against his lips. “Wonwoo…”

“I can’t have all these guys get you heated like this. That’s my job,” he teased with a rasp.

You slightly pushed him off, your arms swung over his shoulders. “You’re so ridiculous right now.”

“Anything to put that smile on your face.”

His lips reconnected with your neck, nipping at your skin. His humming sent tingles down your spine, and he took your body to press you against the side of the counter. Your hands grasped his baggy shirt, lip close to his ear, fanning your breath against his face. You smiled like a girl in love. Obsessed.  “Daddy…”

“I love it when you call me that,” he mumbled, just as love-struck, if not more. Your giggles brought out the pink on Wonwoo’s ears and cheeks while tightening the groin of his pants. You noticed immediately, cupping it in your palm, and running your finger along the seam. Your eyes skimmed over his taken expression, leaning your full weight into him. “I know there’s something else you really love.”

“Do you now?”

You nodded, your bottom lip caught between your teeth. “But do you really want to do it here? Risk getting caught?”

He leaned into your touch, allowing your fingers to take apart his pants. “Try new things right? Like you always say. Plus you’re scared. Gonna turn that fear into pleasure. Make you feel good, just what my baby deserves.”

“You're so good to me, Daddy,” you moaned.

His hand finds the hem of your shorts, pulling them down to expose yourself to the cold air. He fingered through your panties and slid two digits through your folds. He felt your breath hitch as he squeezed your clit, eliciting your soft whines. “You’re so wet down there, baby.”

“Just waiting for daddy to fuck me where anyone can find us and watch.”

Wonwoo eagerly pulled down his pants, kicking them and yours aside, but not without pocketing your underwear. He lifted you up slightly from the ground, his exposed cock hitting at your hip. “Look what you do to me.”

Your throat went dry at the sight of him, hand aching to wrap your hand around his girth and have him shoved inside you.

He didn’t let you wait a second long, and pushed in slowly inch by inch, burying himself in your pussy until he was nearly balls deep. You grasped his shoulder in a gasp, savoring the fire burning in your stomach. The girth of his cock stretched your molten walls, allowing them to melt all around his cock as he spread your legs. You writhe in his embrace, your limbs closing around his lean and toned build, already blissful from the few seconds of him being inside you.

Wonwoo’s words kissed your lips, flushed your skin, and left a permanent smile on your face. It swelled pride in his chest, better than any physical trophy would have. His hips slowly rolled against yours, letting you adjust to his size. He massaged the flesh of your side through his fingers, mentally reassuring himself you were his and his alone, but his names on your lips became more than proof.

Your hips buckled towards him in heat, matching his pace before the carnal side of him decided to fuck you like an animal. His cock then plunged sharply inside you, and then again, a whimper coming out of your lips. Your hips stuttered the harder he pounded, arching your back, you felt his hand above your ass, pushing you against him.

“Daddy…”

He lost control when it came to you, addicted—religious—the second your body came in contact with his. He loved how your fingers ran through his hair, not caring how his glasses fell off his face in the process. With drool out of the corner of his lips, he could feel the blood rush up to the surface of your skin, making him feel warm at home inside you. Throbbing, he only got harder feeling how perfectly snug you were, pricking his clammy skin with goosebumps as he bottomed out.

“You’re sopping, precious,” he murmured with a sly grin.

He had you begging, flustered, and beautiful. Your hand clasped his face as your other arm looped around his neck, swallowing his lips, anxious and thirsty for his breath. You craved every part of him viscerally. “Cum in me, daddy. Please…”

He scoffed, lips ghosting over yours. “Will you take every bit of daddy’s cum, hmm? Hold my cum inside you.”

You nodded gingerly. “Yes, yes. I promise, daddy. Give it to me please, I want you to spill your cum inside me and make me yours…”

“Hold on to me.”

You obliged, met with the hot stream of his climax, yours quick to follow. He embraced your sides, devouring your lips and muffling your whines. His loads pumped into you in erratic thrusts, fucking his cum back into you and making sure you drained him of every ounce. His fingers dug into your flesh, feeling you just come apart for him, undoing the tension that festered earlier.

But that tension was needed. It was necessary to survive. Everyone let themselves forget the current predicament, basking in the glow of the sunset until dinner time arrived. Despite the housekeeper that supposedly exists, she hadn’t been around since all of you stepped foot in the house, like a ghost presence. Seungcheol scrambled to find her—reminding you of his peculiar obsession with the woman—as he wondered when dinner would be ready since a rise in temperature or a savory scent couldn’t be found in the kitchen.

“That’s strange. She’d be finished with a whole chicken by now,” the homeowner commented, noticeably picking his nails.

“Aww,” Seokmin groaned, “Well, is there anything else to eat?”

“I mean…you can look around.”

You narrowed your eyes at him in disbelief. “This is your house. You don’t know what you have in your own house?”

“You try navigating a five-story home with countless cabinets!”

“Buy a smaller house, you prick!”

“Guys!” Minghao chimed in. “Breathe in…and out. We’ll just find food. Seungcheol, your maid, your house, your search. She’s probably fine.”

Your hands slammed against those pristine marble counters. “We are NOT splitting up right now. This is what the killer wants. She’s probably already dead and we’re fucked.”

Wonwoo came to your side, laying a cool calm over your shoulder, and rubbed your sides. You let yourself melt in his touch, his sweet voice soothing you effectively. 

Seokmin sat up from his stool, “Okay, okay. I will help Seungcheol and you guys stick together.”

“That’s still splitting up!”

“Better than alone.” Seungcheol rebutted. “You guys stay.”

Despite your protests, they went on their search. Your head banged against Wonwoo’s chest, muttering in anguish about how everything was going wrong and that it’d only get worse. Meanwhile, Minghao seemed to regain some of that tension but masked the fear with the bright light of his phone, scrolling through TikTok. You didn’t know what was more annoying, sensation of imminent death possibly behind any door, or the same five songs replaying on Minghao’s feed.

After 15 minutes when they were nowhere to be seen, your patience had run thin. You picked yourself up from Wonwoo’s lap and dusted yourself off. “Fuck this. We’re finding them.”

You felt his hand on your shoulder, a concerned glow in his gaze. “Babe, hey. They’ve got it. Trust them.”

“Wonwoo, you know I can’t do that. Let’s just find them, hmm? Together?”

“Not a bad idea,” Minghao agreed. “Better in groups right? We go together, eliminate us as any potential suspects.”

Your boyfriend sighed, collected your hand, and laced his fingers through yours. “Fine.”

You were all joined together by the hip, making sure you were each other's sights. Through the wider than wingspan hallways, past the ridiculously expensive sculptures, you kept your eyes out for your estranged friends. Silence couldn’t have been more loud in these cavernous spaces, only hearing the gut feelings in your stomachs that’s churned in trepidation. Every step taken was the group closing in on the killer. 

Fortitude meant nothing if the danger was already inside.

Before turning around the corner, Minghao—reluctant to lead the group—crashed into a human-sized obstacle, causing the stumble of your entire party. You all faced a wide-eyed Seungcheol with the missing young housekeeper walking hand in hand with him. Suspicious, but besides the point.

“Holy shit, we said we’d come back!”

“It’s been 20 minutes, Cheol! You guys could’ve been dead for all we know.” You retorted.

“Wait, where’s Seokmin?” Wonwoo asked, noticing he didn’t see him nearby.

“He went ahead. He needed to piss or something and meet up later.”

“You idiot.” Your eyes burned a frustrated rage. “I said don't split up. DON’T SPLIT UP! That’s the number one rule of horror movies. You’re going get us fucking killed. He could be the murderer for all we know.”

Seungcheol scoffed, shaking his head. “Seokmin? No way. He’s the last person to even think to do that.”

“Well, do you see him? No! Probably he’s off someone being Ghostface reject with his stupid little voice modulator and cheap party city costume.”

“I told you—“ Before he could finish, his phone went off in the nick of time. When he pulled it out to saw Seokmin’s caller ID on display and the owner of the device wouldn’t help but smile. “See the bastard is even calling.”

He picked up and put him on speaker, eyeing you cheekily, amped to prove you wrong. “Seok, you little shit. How long does it take to piss, huh? Just say you wanted to take a dump.”

“Oh yeah, I took the shittiest, stinkiest, fattest dump. You could probably smell all the way from the other end of the hall.”

Instead of Seokmin on the other line, all of you were met with the eerie voice that had called you multiple times before. The voice that felt like spiders crawling up your legs. The voice that had you second guess whether you locked the front and the back door. The voice whose owner had killed countless people already. 

Seungcheol held the phone in a vice grip swallowing, fear stilling in his unsteady eyes. “You—Where the fuck is Seokmin, you son of a bitch?”

The morphed voice on the other end laughed, sounding bone chilling as nails against a blackboard. “What’s to say? Why don’t we play a little game to find out?”

“Mother fu—“You grabbed the phone from Seungcheol to answer in his place, cutting the older man off. “Why go through with this?”

“Why, I just want to help you find your beloved friend. All out of the kindness of my heart.”

“If it was all kindness, you could tell us where he is.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“Psycho,” Minghao muttered under his breath, eyes wide in shock and fear, as if registering the idea of death for the first time.

“And if we refuse?” Wonwoo interjected.

“Seokmin dies, rock for brains,” Seungcheol gritted.

“Ding, ding, ding. Or should I say, chop, chop, chop, since that’s what'll happen if you get any of my questions wrong.”

You scoffed, coming down the stairs with your friends to follow. “Have at it then, you freak.”

“Hey, hey, play nice. Maybe I’ll get too excited and decide to cut him up early.”

Seungcheol glared at you briefly before taking back the phone, storming down the stairs, and reaching the ground floor. “Ask away, as long as Seokmin is safe.”

“First an easy one. What’s your favorite scary movie, Seungcheol?”

His feet stopped at the end of the couch in his living room, stammering to answer. “What kind of fucking question—uh, The Ring?”

“Don’t lie to your friends, Seungcheol. You know that’s not the answer, that’s just what you say to anyone that asks. Say the real answer.”

“That’s the movie though!” he started to shout, visibly shaking.

“Just say it, Cheol!” Minghao pushed.

“Stop playing around Choi Seungcheol! Just say it,” You joined.

“Fine!” He faced the friends, evidently swallowing his pride as he choked up on his answer. “I never watched a goddamn scary movie! Is that what you want to hear? I get panic attacks every time I hear one in the background, why do you I’m always going off smoking when you guys put one on,” he confessed through his tears.

“Congratulations. Your first right answer. Now was that so hard? Pussy boy?”

“Fuck you,” Seungcheol sputtered, tossing the phone back to you.

“Next question. ‘The Texas Chainsaw Massacre,’ Leatherface is known for wearing a mask when it was in fact several. How many and what were they in the original movie?”

“Who the fuck would know an answer like that?” Minghao croaked in disbelief.

“Three. A ‘Killing Mask’, an ‘Old Lady Mask’ and a ‘Pretty Woman Mask.’” Wonwoo calmly answers, garnering horrified looks all around. “I wanted to be a filmmaker, remember?”

“Correct. Next question. What Was Freddy Krueger's serial killer nickname before he died?”

“It’s on the tip of my tongue,” you said slightly panicked, “Wonwoo?”

“The Springwood slasher.”

“Wow, Another amazingly correct answer. Hold on to that one, Y/n. He’s a keeper. He’s smart and fucks your brains out to the point of you screaming bloody murder? What a catch.”

You didn’t respond, impatience seething on the tip of your tongue, “Just tell us where this is all going.”

“Patience, sweetheart. Last question. What exact kind of knife does Ghostface use in the Stab movies? Here’s a hint: it’s the same one I’m holding in my hand against Seokmin’s throat. (Help me please...)”

“S-Seok.” Seungcheol gasped.

Seokmin’s voice could barely be heard on the other end, weak and afraid, only staggering breaths audible.

“Wonwoo, please,” Seungcheol begged, tears falling past his neck. “He’s our best friend.”

Wonwoo swallowed, gears visibly creaking in his head, “I know he uses a hunting knife, b-but—“

“Oh…” the voice cooed, “Well, that’s just not enough, is it? Seokminnie, say goodbye to your friends (Please, no…).”

“Seokmin!”

“Wait!” You barged, clutching the phone to the point of it almost bending. “A modified Buck 120. I remember now. It’s coming back to me. Now, let Seokmin go!”

The line went dead and in turn, light cast in the evening darkness of the poolside. All your eyes shot back at the change of light, startled at the sight in front of them. Seokmin was seated in a chair, bruises against his sides, bleeding from the splices on his forearms, and duct tape over his mouth. Yet the most frightening part was his closed eyes.

“Seokmin!”

You all rushed towards him, swinging the porch door in a panic. Seungcheol tried slapping him awake, pleading he’d be alive. “Seokmin please, please, wake up…

The poor victim's eyes start to flicker open, mumbling through the adhesive over his lips.

“Buddy,” Seungcheol ripped the duct tape clean off him, his ear coming up to his friend’s lips. “Speak to me…”

Seokmin’s voice came out in croaks, hardly incoherently, all except, “Be…hind…”

Minghao spat up blood, doubled over as Ghostface was revealed right behind him, and fell right into the pool. You and the housekeeper both let out a blood-curdling scream. The masked intruder wiped off the blood using his black rope, anticipating a lunge towards their next victim. 

“Run,” Wonwoo breathed out. 

He took your hand and ran with it. Taking a second to look back, you see Seungcheol and the housekeeper try to escape similarly before she was tugged right back towards the killer and she was stabbed right in front of him five times, each one faster than the last, having the poor Seungcheol paralyzed and fallen on his knees. The sounds of suffering were loud enough to hear throughout the neighborhood.

Wonwoo dragged you back upstairs, his survival instinct telling him to seek haven high and far up the house. 

“You left them there to die,” You proclaimed.

“He said he could manage it. You’re more important.”

“You actually believe that? Ghostface snuck up on Minghao with neither of us looking!”

“We’re going to have to. Secungcheol can handle himself.”

Finally, he finds the room, closing the door behind him and pushing heavy furniture in front of it for more time to stall. “We’ll be ok for a little bit here. Let’s look for weapons.”

He started rummaging through drawers, looking for anything strap, blunt, heavy, anything worth using. He was red in the face, sweat drenching his entire body. The only thing running through his mind was keeping you, the most important person in his life, safe. 

“Wonwoo, I don’t know if we’re going to find anything. Fuck. I’m so scared right now.”

He recognized the panic in your eyes, the bounce in your step, and the quiver in your voice. “Hey, hey, baby. Look at me.” He grasped your face in his hands, wiping your tears away with his thumb. 

“I’m here, hmm.” He kissed your closed eyes. “You’re alright.”

Then your tempered cheeks. “We’ll get through this.”

The tip of your nose. “I love you like hell.” 

Finally your trembling lips. “I’ll keep you alive.”

“Promise?” You managed to breathe out.

“Scouts honor.”

The banging resonated from outside the locked door, only getting louder and closer every passing second as if teasing you to death. You shook in Wonwoo’s embrace, burying your face in his chest. “I don’t want to die here, baby.”

“You won’t. Not with me.” One arm wrapped around your body, and another had his fingers locked around the base of a lamp, tugging it from the outlet. Pitch darkness joined you, only having to rely on the dim-lit sky through the peek of the windows.

Whomever on the other side cracked through the wood of the door, breaking it piece by piece as it fell to the ground, knocking over the dresser that blocked 

“Shit, shit, shit.” Wonwoo pushed you behind him.

Finally, your barrier came down with a final kick, rendering it useless. Wonwoo let out a battle cry, charging at them with the lamp above his head. He swung his weapon while Ghostface swung theirs, both missing simultaneously. Gritting his teeth, Wonwoo pulled forward, aiming for the head.

They crash against the wall in the process, but not without mutilating the midsection of Wonwoo’s stomach. The visually impaired man fell back to the ground, groaning in agony as he clutched his stomach, while blood trickled through his fingers. “Mother fucker...”

Wonwoo’s vision started to fight against him with the loss of his glasses, dimming images before him, and slowly processing the murderous figure trodding before him. Wonwoo’s determination picked him right back up slowly, picking up his lamp once again, trying to take another move toward the perpetrator. And by pure luck, the lamp crashed against the crown of their head.

Ghostface stumbled back, quick to recover but visibly agitated.  Soon enough, they plunged the full length of the knife right into Wonwoo’s gut, sticking it deep and long before kicking him off of it. Wonwoo lands on the hardwood, blood gushing out of him like a public water fountain. “Fuck, fuck!”

“Wonwoo!” You come by his side, clutching at his wound desperately. “No, no, no.”

The sinister figure approached once more, hand creeping against the edge before he pulled it over and off his head. His eyes stared back at you both maniacally. His grin stretched from both ends freakishly before overtaking in deep chuckles. “Happy to see me?”

“…C-Chan?” Wonwoo managed to gasp.

“Hi, bestie.” His signature smile, once warm and inviting, reflected horrifyingly as if out of a film, one with too much bloodshed and betrayal to imagine. “Well, didn’t think you’d see me again, huh?”

“Chan, what the fuck?” You screeched. 

“You’re supposed to be dead.” Wonwoo voiced panic-stricken. “What, how?”

One foot over the other, Chan carried himself with conviction, ease, and the confidence of a man who slaughtered countless amounts of people. 

“You guys don't know how easy it is to fake my death. I was surprised by how incredibly stupid police officers are. Find a body that’s my height, my build, cut off their hands and arms to not get their fingerprints, singe their skin and face to the point of unrecognition, and plant them in your own home. I’m a fucking genius.”

“S-Seungkwan,” Wonwoo wept, his adam’s apple, “You actually—”

“It was beautiful. Masterful.”

“Why?” Wonwoo stammered. “Your best friend—“

“He was an imbecile. Weak. All bark and no bite. You will never understand how good it felt to stick the knife inside him and watch the blood burst off of him like a sprinkler. Like the knife going in and out of him surged power throughout my entire body. So, I kept doing it. And doing it. And doing it. And doing it. And doing it. And doing it. And doing it. AND DOING IT.”

His smile. That violating smile.

You sobbed, covering Wonwoo’s wound with your hands. “Y-you monster.”

“This was all just fun for you?” Wonwoo bared his teeth. “You get your kicks from lying, deceiving, stabbing your friends? You think you’re some Billy Loomis?”

“Of course I have fun. I had lots of fun. We had so much fucking fun.”

“We?” Wonwoo repeated.

“What the fuck do you mean we?” You asked horrified.

Chan started to chuckle to himself, chest heaving exuberantly before he stood completely still. Dreadfully still. 

“Well, I'm not the one that killed Joshua, am I?”

A million guesses ran through Wonwoo’s brain. None made sense the more he thought about it. “Your Stu Macher? Seokmin…Seungcheol…?”

Your eyes turned to him fearful, before it melted into something else, something familiar. Something terrifying. “No…” your lips drew close to his ear. “Me…” 

Your hands squeezed around his wound, gripping, earning his moans of anguish, screaming at you to stop, before you retrieved the knife hidden behind your boot and drove it into his shoulder. Wonwoo let out the loudest scream he could ever muster, feeling the blade sharply cut his nerve whilst pain shot into his chest. He tapped his heel incessantly on the ground, tears streaming from his eyes, looking at you in disbelief, overcome with hurt.

“And he was a good fuck too until the knife I put through his back made him scream like a little bitch.”

You pulled out the knife from him, seeing how the pain he felt in his body only complimented the suffering pooling in his heart, his mind, his soul. His lips quivered in your direction, sucking in his breath. “Y/n…Why?”

You simply shrugged. “Why does anyone kill these days? They’re bored, daddy. Same reason why things can change in the bedroom, to spice things up. The flavor of life is murder now, darling.”

“You’re killing people.”

You drove the knife one more time into his thigh, savoring his scream of agony. “And we’re more alive than we ever have been,” you said, twisting the knife before pulling it out.

You walked toward Chan, helping him pull off his robe. “And so is our sex life.”

“So, Junhui, Soonyoung…Joshua, and even Seungkwan.” Wonwoo asked, catching his breath.

“Every. single. one,” You chuckled. “Draining their cum out of like having a second puberty until life is literally drained out of their bodies. What a bunch of pussy boys. So obsessed with sex, they didn’t see the knife coming their way.”

Your hand reached for the ottoman and pushed Chan there to be seated, underdressed in the black tank top and black jeans he hid underneath with his momentarily abandoned bloody knife at his side. You unbuckled his pants single-handedly, your knife still in your other hand. “And Chan just gets so fucking hard with all the bloodshed. Like a bloodthirsty animal.”

“You just look so fucking sexy with blood on your hands,” Chan moaned, “Touch me how I like it, baby.”

“Mmh, my pleasure.” Your hand used the blood covering it as a morbid form of lube, closing around the girth of his cock to squeeze and lightly stroking it from base to tip, softly thumbing over the small slit on top. 

His stomach flexed, bucking his hips in your direction as he bit down on his bottom lip, beaming like a child on Christmas. Horny for your touch, Chan couldn’t help but squirm in his seat, warning up to your touch. He was absolutely growing at a rapid pace. “Like that baby, like that.”

“That feel good, daddy? You like how the blood is covering your entire cock? Seokmin’s blood, Minghao’s blood, Seungcheol’s blood? Wonwoo’s blood?”

“Fuck. Yes.”

“You two,” Wonwoo’s shock couldn’t stagger from the scene in front of him, unable to process all this information at once.

“You’re massaging our friends into my cock so good, baby.”

“Yeah?” You traced your fingers over the details of his shaft, your nails prodding at the veins as your hand slowly picked up pace. You rolled him in your fist, letting him rut in your defiled hand as he moaned your name like an animal in heat. “I’m getting so wet watching fuck in my hand covered in blood. You’re just a sick lunatic obsessed with killing your friends and fucking my sweet pussy. I love that about you, Daddy.”

“Fuck,” he screamed, hands gripping the ottoman in restraint, brimming with passion, “Wanna mix Wonwoo’s cum you kept inside you with the blood. Sit that sweet pussy on my cock for me, lover.”

You nodded invitingly, not missing a beat. You never did replace the underwear from before, making it easy to remove your shorts and sliding him inside your warm walls, massaging his length as you rolled your hips against his. You held the knife you still had in a death grip, stabling against the reliability of Chan’s shoulders. You mumble his name pleased, arching your back as you grinded down on his lap. “Your cock feels so good covered in blood, daddy.” 

“Your pussy feels even better knowing how much fun you had stabbing Wonwoo for me.”

“Of course, daddy.” You turned to the body mutilated and defenseless on the ground, grinning as Wonwoo was forced to watch. “That look good, Daddy Wonwoo?” Your ass bounced purposely in Chan’s lap, the jiggle showing off the splatter of blood left from the handjob.

Everything in Wonwoo told him to look away but he couldn’t, like a train wreck or a car crash, he couldn’t part with the mess of a situation he was witnessing. He wasn't sure what this meant for him, mentally nor physically.

“You like watching Chan fuck me, Daddy? His bloody dirty cock fucking me like you did a hour ago, fucking me like a nasty little whore.”

He hissed through his teeth, right the strange feeling surging in his pain-stricken body, “Shut…the fuck up.”

You laughed obnoxiously. “You love it. You love being a little cuck, watching other guys fuck my pussy. As if you hadn’t peeped on me and Chan fucking when he wasn’t ‘dead’.”

“It’s not true, you bitch.” The twitch in his trousers told him otherwise.

“You’re such a liar a dirty, dirty liar like I’m a dirty, dirty fucking whore.” You groaned loudly taking Chan’s cock, bouncing against his lap as you felt him pulse around your walls.

“That’s right baby take my cock.” Chan’s hand came over your bare cheeks, striking them with his full palms while his hips jerked up your body. “Taking the murder fueled, hard fucking cock.”

“Daddy, your cock is making me so fucking wet, stretching my pussy the way you sliced open our friends,” You growled.

“Fuck you’re such a little succubus, baby. Bouncing on my cock, coating yourself in blood. And I’ll kill more and more for you. I’ll do anything for you.”

“Yeah,” You began slowing your pace, drinking in his every word. “You’d do anything for me?”

“I’d kill the entire human population for you.”

That left you smiling from ear to ear, the tension coiling in your stomach. Your chest pressed against his, pushing against his thrusts. “Yeah? Would you cum in me, Daddy? Mix our dirty mess inside me. Let me take your cum, daddy.”

“I’ll let you drain me of every drop, my little psychopath.”

“Cum daddy cum, make me full and breed me with our homicidal baby daddy. Make you a real daddy.”

Chan shuddered, overwhelmed with immense arousal. His hips found life of their own, hammering into you at top speed, and watching the pleasure morph on your face and the staccato rhythm of your breath leave your lips, all while the load threatened to burst out of his sack. “I’m cumming, baby, all for you, ah—“ then it exploded inside you. His cum launched out of his cock like a hose, he painted your wall in milky white, turning pink as it seeped out of you.

“I’m so close, daddy…”

Chan threw his head back to catch his breath, hands possessively finding purchases on your hips. “That’s it, baby. cum for daddy.”

“I’m cuming daddy, I’m—“ You gripped your knife, taking Chan’s abandoned one before plunging both in his head. His smile dropped, a small and weak, “baby” leaving his sweet lips before spitting up blood on your chest and he fell limp. 

You didn’t stop, however, given the fact that your orgasm had just arrived the mere second Chan tasted metal in his mouth. Your moans could’ve been mistaken for anguish if not for the smile on your savage face. “I’m cumming all over your cock, Daddy, fuck! You’re so good to me, you do so much for me. I love you so much. Hitting my spot even in death.”

The wave of climax finally started to fade, unlike your smile, wretched and demonic. “Thank you for your sacrifice, Daddy. I’ll miss you so much.” You kissed deceased Chan’s lips, coming down from him, and fixing his pants before fixing his pants before pulling your shorts back on your body.

“Y/n…what the fuck?”

Watching you pull the knives out of Chan’s head, Wonwoo's expression was a mix of confusion and horror, struggling to back away as you approached him calmly, almost serenely.

“Chan has served his purpose,” You answered plainly as if obvious. “It was his time.”

“You did that, all that, with him, and you MURDER HIM? Your partner in sick, sick psychotic crime?”

“I told you spice was necessary, plus I’ve grown rather fond of you.” You bent down to his level, eyes noticeably just a deep pit of disparity. “I couldn’t let him kill you, so I beat him to it. Good thing too, because that was the best orgasm I’ve ever had.”

Wonwoo whimpered under your touch—well, the knife’s touch—as the tip of it dragged over his jaw, drawing out a shudder. “Y-you’re letting me live?”

Your smile. That damned smile. You and Chan were mere reflections of each other. How had he not seen this sick image sooner?

“As long as it's with me, because you love me right? That’s what you said. You’ll always love me and keep me alive. You promised.”

You pressed the blade against his neck, “You’re cold-blooded. Fucking your dead friend’s girlfriend, leaving your other friends to die to save me, and taking on a mass murderer just for me.” Your other hand caressed over his face. “That’s hard fucking core, baby. I love that so much. You really love and want me. Well, I want you just as bad.”

“Like you wanted Chan?”

You scoffed, using the knife to point at the abandoned soulless body on the ground. “Chan was disposable. He was already fucked up in the brain. I can nurture you, let you prove you’re that you’re mine and only mine. Then I’d have no reason to kill you. Not at all…say you’ll be with me forever.”

“…yes, sweetie. O-of course I will.”

You sighed a breath of relief, your harmless hand coming over to stroke over the stray hairs on his head. “That’s my daddy. My one and only. We can be the finals. Together. Only us—”

“Hello! Wonwoo! Y/n!” Miraculously, Seungcheol found their way to you, barely alive it sounds like.

Rage filled your eyes. “Holy fuck how is he still alive,” you mumbled under your breath. “I’ll take care of him.”

You held the knife to your side, standing by the door and away from its open view. “Cheol! In here! We caught the killer!”

Seungcheol managed to find the defaced door, peeking through the rubble to see a disheveled Wonwoo, panting and close to death. “Wonwoo!”

“Cheol…” Wonwoo grunted. 

“Hang in there, buddy. I’ve got you.”

“To…your…right.”

You glared at Wonwoo, betrayal in your eyes before launching yourself at the hero, who hardly had a scratch on their body. Seungcheol, taking his friend's warning in consideration, built up a wall of defense. His eyes caught you just in time and held up your arms, pinning you against a wall. His eyes finally registered on your face, and his grip on you only tightened. “Y/n, you evil little bitch.”

You chuckled tauntingly, struggling against his weight and strength. “Hi, Cheol. I know you always wanted to stick something in me, mind letting me do it first?”

“You—wow, you’re actually mentally deranged.”

“You don’t like that? Maybe my knife through your skull can change your mind.”

He kicked you in the groin, having you plummet to your knees, cusses streaming out of you like a river. “You pussy. Ass. Bitch.”

“Seungcheol,” Wonwoo groaned, painfully cheering him on.

You managed to kick Seungcheol down in your distress, crawling on top of him to gain leverage. “I know you liked to be topped.”

You held the knife, hands wrapped tightly around the handle before striking. Meanwhile, Seungcheol’s hands were wrapped around your wrists, the tip of the knife tickling his nose. Sweat beaded against his forehead, struggling harder than he thought he would as you smiled still.

“This would be a lot sexier if you let me run my knife inside you, baby.”

“Fuck you and your demented punk ass,” he grunted.

“I would if you’d just FUCKING DIE!”

A gunshot follows soon after and the blood gushed from your neck, pouring from both ends and falling lifelessly against Seungcheol, who let out a shrill scream.

“I found a gun,” Seokmin proclaimed weakly from the door before fainting to the ground.

Seungcheol rolled your body off of him, sick to his stomach. “Sick crazy bitch.”

He looked towards his friend who remained helpless his entire journey before his eyes got caught on the dead body he only realized now. “Is that…”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo whispered.

“And they…”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck, dude.”

Seungcheol went around to pick up Seokmin from the ground, grabbing the gun. Meanwhile, Wonwoo’s eyes lingered over your body, in disbelief it was alive a mere second ago, then he saw something strange, causing his eyes to fly open. “Cheol behind you!”

Another gunshot. Right between your eyes and your body that stood for hardly a second longer than it should’ve—of course with the knife still in your hand—fell right back on the ground.

“They always come back,” Wonwoo quoted.

Seungcheol let out a deep exhale, loosening his grip around the gun. “And aim for the head.”

“Sorry about your house.”

“…sorry about your girlfriend.”

“Me too.”

post reading a/n: always like me to insert chan into anything fr. i have no excuses

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @homerunhansol @goblinvern @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @6969lilithcat @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch @smileysuh (felt fucked up not to tag you bc you’re fucked it just like me 💕)

[stuckinapril]

how do you fall in love with yourself

unlearn the idea that confidence is conceit. i see this belief imposed on women especially, that if they’re very unapologetic about loving themselves it automatically means they’re narcissistic / think they’re better than everybody else. that’s not true at all. you can love yourself while also acknowledging you’re not inherently better than anyone else. you can love yourself while also being kind & supportive to others. it’s okay to be both of these things at once.

let go of the scarcity mindset. women (everyone really, but especially women) get pitted/compared against each other all the time. you see it w female celebrities in the media, but it’s very prevalent in real life as well. this is very much years of societal conditioning & both women & men partake in this behavior. ignore it. rest easy knowing that there can be multiple beautiful women, multiple smart women, multiple funny women in any environment at any given time. there is enough clout to go around; you don’t need to feel like if there’s another pretty/smart girl it means you no longer have the space to also be a pretty/smart girl. instead operate from an abundance mindset: always (alwaysss) be happy for other girls when they succeed, when they’re praised, when they’re loved, whatever. see them not as competition but as inspiration. envy is such a colossal waste of time bc nobody else’s accomplishments have any bearing on your own!!

get to know yourself more. i love the analogy of dating yourself bc it’s true. i went through a rough period of being around my ex 24/7 to the point i didn’t even know myself, and then i spent the post-breakup year hanging around everyone else constantly to numb my thoughts. now i’m spending more time alone than ever & i’m getting to know myself so much. learning about my taste in fashion, music, everything. and i’ve had so much more time to invest in hobbies & skills, which is very instrumental to building healthy self-esteem. ofc there’s a more balanced way to do this, but make sure you’re not running away from yourself!

what do you like outside of everybody’s opinion? don’t interpret this the wrong way—it’s completely fine to be inspired. every single person you know has copied someone else to an extent. but if you find yourself going too far, not trusting yourself to make the simplest decisions, just following trends blindly and nothing else, you’ve left the inspiration territory and started crossing into plagiarism. move from a place of self-direction and really think about what is naturally appealing to you. it doesn’t matter if it’s not popular or nobody else likes it. if you like it & if it makes you happy, that’s all you need.

practice self-love! i had to do this lol but it works wonders. i started intentionally telling myself that i trust my own taste, that i trust my own choices, that if i think something’s cool it’s good enough, talking to myself kindly etc etc. eventually all this stuff will become natural to you & you won’t find yourself having to expend so much energy into simply loving you for you. don’t give up even if it’s hard to believe at times.

don’t give a fuck. seriously. just don’t give a single flying fuck what someone else has to say. there will always be That One Person who tries to tear you down, belittles you, gaslights you etc etc and if you know in your heart you’re not doing anything wrong, just ignore and keep it pushing. you can’t be everyone’s favorite person (nor should you want to be). think of your favorite celebrity. anyone ever. they probably all got subjected to hate. now think of how they’re successful still & how it didn’t take anything away from them. there you go <3

if literally everyone on this planet starts hating you, loving yourself is still the antidote. to clarify, how others perceive us does hold weight. but if legit every single person i know started hating me, and i still loved myself, i’d probably still live a full life bc my perception is all that really matters in the end. i don’t need anyone else to be my #1 fan—i can do that myself just fine. it technically is actually your world & everyone else is just living in it. so enjoy that! stop giving a hard time to the one person who will always be w you through thick and thin (yourself). eat good food & watch good shows & read good books & just have fun. i love u

[mggsv]

Personal Chef

poc f!reader x Toji Fushiguro (18+)

summary: As you finally land your dream job as a personal chef, you quickly find out it’s not what you though it would be.

warnings: age gap (reader is 23, toji is 28),food play, squirting, oral (f receiving) , SLIGHT porn with plot, praising

“You will be given your own living space in the penthouse in order to cook breakfast, lunch and dinner for the Ceo.”

“Right.”

“You will stay Monday-Friday, weekends off. You cannot stay here during the weekends. If you cannot work this way speak now.”

“It’s fine.”

“Perfect. You will not bother, speak to, or interrupt the Ceo at any given time. You are not friends, you are not worker buddies. You cook his food, that is it.”

“Right.”

“You will do the grocery shopping. Here’s what he usually likes to get, and his diet plan. Please stick to this list. If he asks you for something else then all means go ahead, however don’t get too comfortable doing so. This is your job. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Any questions?”

“…no“

“Great! Follow me.”

You stood there while the blue eyed, white haired man went on and on about your new life. You held a white folder in your hand, information about your “boss” who you weren’t supposed to formally meet, and various to-do’s. In fact you were to be completely invisible, “like a maid” the man had said at some point. You bit the inside of your cheek, almost regretting this. You hated having to adjust to new things, let alone staying at someone else’s home? The life of a private chef was something, but it was your dream. You finished college at the top of your class. You could do anything, and you chose what the little girl all those years ago wanted.

You certainly didn’t expect anything of the job other than the amazing pay and life style, instead you got that and more.

“Toji…” You moan, back arching on the marble kitchen counter. His tongue licking at your folds, licking at the syrup he poured just a minute before. “Fuck baby.. you make this yourself?” He groans, having another lick. Your juices mixed with the sweet tasting syrup went straight to his cock.

“M..Mhm..” Your hand tangled in his hair, eyes shutting tightly. You felt his lips suck on your clit, a sweet humming coming from him. Your legs twitch feeling his sticky fingers re-enter you. The sound of your juices as he finger fucked you drove you wild. Your hips rocked with the small thrusts. “Good fucking pussy..that’s my girl.”

“F-Fuck fuck-“ you whine, legs twitching at the feel of another finger slowly working its way inside. “My good fuckin girl.” Toji cooed. your hips rock against his face, his nose buried deep into your heat. You let out a small breath, feeling your cunt gush over Toji’s face. Eyes rolling as he slurped every drop, careful not to waste. “Let it all out..” he moans.

Toji never wasted his food. He always ate until he was full. His big hands pushed your thighs back, spread wide over the counter. You whimpered, your nerves skyrocketing at the thought of another maid catching you in the act with your boss. His tongue entered you quick, the muscle flicking in the right places. “Gonna cum..” You push his head further. “m’gonna cum Toji-“ He lifts his head up, eyes staring deep into yours, slick glistening on his chin.

“You gonna what?” He says. You balance yourself on your elbows. Your chest moved as you panted. Toji’s eyes trailed the pierced nubs with nothing but hunger. It was lunch time after all, and you were his personal chef. “nothing- sir.” You breathe. Toji reaches beside you, the homemade syrup still warm. He wastes no time pouring it over your breast. “That’s too bad,” he’s pulling his shirt over his head, hands moving to unbuckle his belt. His thick cock springing free, hard and leaking. “I’m fuckin starving.”

[renku]

Shared Bliss

Soloist Choi Yunjin (Jini) x Male Reader

[Part 1?]

A/N: I just feel releasing this short fic for some reason. Maybe it’s my impatient ass or something. Anyway, I truly enjoyed writing this one so I hope you enjoy it too. Let me know if you’re up for a 2nd part. Ideas are also welcome to my inbox! Good day to all!

To define the relationship you share with Jini is difficult, but to be bothered by such trivial things is a waste of time. People are going to think what they want at the end anyway.

Both of you possess the same traits; carefree, live-in-the-moment type of people, cherish, and spend the youth before it’s gone. No commitments. Feel the joy of life outside responsibilities and duties. Time waits for no man at all.

It started in the old fashion way—kicked off as high school peers that escalated until college. Ironic as it is sounds, met at the same company and now coworkers in the present. Same department, just different sections and ahead of her for a year. Taking into account Jini’s exaggerated storytelling (at least from your point of view) on why she left her previous job: the weight of just being there was unbearable. She said that she’d rather work as a waitress at a pub or something.

Sharing various moments with each other, there’s this bond and connection that felt exclusive and genuine. A safe space—comfort and no judgement. Romance? It doesn't cross your mind a bit and not would even dare to step into that unfamiliar realm.

Here’s the thing: random chances often come by to bring good things, chaos, or something in between the two. In your case, Lady Luck bestowed upon you the last one.

It was one Friday night—her occasional invites for dinner or plain drinking session are something you’ve become accustomed to. A fifteen-minute ride is all it takes. Not bad, better to spend the rest of the night outside than get bored alone.

“Still gets me,” you thought, looking at the front of her house. The amount of detail and work she put are remarkable. After a few steps, you pressed the doorbell.

“Oh, hey loser. Thought you wouldn’t come,” she said, “Just a sec. I’m coming.”

She did not even bother to ask who’s on the other side, like she don’t have any visitor besides you. After waiting for a few seconds, the door opened, and there she is—Jini in her off-shoulder dress with rose imprint.

Stunning... Captivating... Tempting.

Three words to describe the sight right before you, in flesh.

Her dress did its job flaunting her figure. Her presence that exude an intimidating aura—fierce, attitude, and boldness. One fierece look and she can make anyone kneel in a matter of seconds.

“Hey, loser. Hey!”

“What?” you replied, still in shock.

“You zoned out, are you okay?” Jini asked, you just shook your head a bit.

“Sure?”

“Yeah, yeah... Hundred percent.”

“Come in then, it’s freezing out here.”

Few common dishes and cans of beer were already placed on the table in the living room. “Not much, but that's a free meal. Besides, I’m not a bad cook,” she winked.

“Full of yourself sometimes, aren’t you?”

“I think the word ‘confident’ is what you’re looking for, mister.”

“Fine, fine... Let’s just eat,” you said, before sitting and opening a can of beer.

“Hah! I won!”

Throughout the meal, different topics fueled the flow of conversation. Some of them were about work, things in the past, gossips, funny, sad, and anything that comes into mind until all that's left on the table were the beers.

“A question,” said Jini, bringing seat closer so she can lean forward towards you across the table.

“Be my guest.”

“Did you ever think about having sex with me?”

Making a surprised reaction would not change the situation so you just answered her in a straightforward manner. “Yes, and if I'm being honest, I can’t stop thinking about it the moment I stepped inside this house. You’re so fucking hot in that dress.”

Maybe it’s the alcohol, or just courage that came out of nowhere but you still said it, and who gives a shit anymore?

Jini finished her remaining beer looking at you. She stood up, walked slowly and sat down on your lap.

“Is that true?” her focus shifted on your lips.

“Yes.”

A split second was it all took. She kissed you, and you responded accordingly bringing it to a make out session. Sloppy, wet, and warm. Jini pulled your head closer as her tongue joins the action and so are yours. It wasn’t a fight for dominance, but rather an exchange of intentions; something beyond words and better expressed through actions.

None of you can’t stop as your hand began an exploration of its own—the smoothness of the silk dress gave the impression of touching her bare skin.

Jini broke free; hazy, lust-filled eyes remained in contact with yours.

“Dress.”

“Not so fast, pervert. My house, my rules.”

“Playing tough?” you asked, raising both brows. “I’m born tough, loser. Now take that shirt off.”

“Okay, I’ll play along.”

You took your shirt off swiftly in one motion, revealing a body built for years. Astounded, it occured to her that this is the first time she saw you shirtless. Keeping the composure she displayed moments ago is crumbling.

“Happy?”

“Oh, shut up.”

She initiated the kiss again—on your neck going downwards, taking her time to taste your upper torso sending sending you into a frenzied state. Her tounge plays one of your nipples, while her finger does the other by means of making these circular motions, teasing you.

“Fuck.”

Jini’s dirty assault continues and not a word has had left her lips since. She’s acting like a predator aiming to completely devour her prey whole with no intention to stop until she’s satisfied.

“Let’s see what you pack down here,” she said, before pulling in one go your pants and underwear. Jini’s subtle gasp was still noticeable after seeing your cock.

“Well?”

“N- not b- bad...”

“Touch it.”

“Wh- what?”

“You heard me. Just do it.”

It was already erect, and Jini didn’t even hesitate to wrap her fingers around it—contact sent an electrifying feeling as she executed few, careful slow strokes. Unbelievable. It totally feels like the first time. Her jerking you off was overwhelming that precum is already leaking from the tip.

“Oh- oh, shit... That’s good!” you exclaimed, grip tightened on the arm rest of the chair. You don’t want to cum and if you’ll do so, it’s better to land it somewhere more interesting. Grabbing her arm lightly to halt her actions, caressing her face.

“Why?” Jini asked, her face blushed.

You just stared at her eyes, before brushing your thumb on her pinkish lips. She gets the hint and she knew it was going to happen anyway, sooner or later. She nodded as a ‘yes’.

Jini seemed to hold back a bit but she opened her mouth anyway, sticks her tongue out as she starts to lick one of your balls. Fucking hell. She attempted to put one in her mouth, drenched from her saliva. Jini gives a slow, long lick from the base of your dick going to its tip, tasting that precum still flowing. She takes time to know your proud member.

“Ahhh~ fuck, so good! Keep going!”

Hearing words of affirmation encouraged her even more as Jini started to give attention to your head. Putting it just inside her mouth made wonders—her tongue swirls around it and the sensation is driving you crazy. Unknowingly placed a hand on her head for support from the pleasure that travels around your body, trying not to get consumed by her actions.

Jini starts to take more by pushing herself with her tongue tracing the underside of your cock until she reache the limit—tip reached the back of her throat. Her gag reflex is evident as she holds on for a few seconds before releasing your cock with a pop. Jini catches her breath for a moment, still maintaining eye contact after what she just did.

You stood up while Jini is basically on her knees. No words were spoken at the heat of the moment.

You just position your cock right away in front of her mouth, slowly pushing the tip to enter once again and Jini willingly accepts.

Moving your hips backwards slowly until the glans remained inside, one thrust forward and from there the pace started to build up as you just basically facefuck Jini. Subtle, suggestive moans from her were signs she's enjoying it.

Lasting this long was quite a surprise as the inevitable first release of the night started to build up fast. Primal instinct took over you—faster thrusts, lewd and squelching sounds, moans of pleasure from both of you get louder and you knew holding back was impossible.

“Ji- Jini... fuck... I’m about to cum!”

One final thrust as spurts and ropes of cum went straight down to her throat, and Jini just swallowed everything. Some were escaping the sides of her lips. The high feeling of orgasm disappeared and you went back to your senses pulling out your cock.

“Yum.”

Jini catched her breath after what you just did. It took her a few minutes before returning to a more relaxed state.

She looked even more sexy; scooping the remaining cum using her finger, putting it back into her mouth.

One word and you knew the night is far from over.

“Should we head to my room? You can still fill me somewhere else, right?”

“Oh, you bet.”

[nightfalltales]

allow me to distract you

parings: ceo!nanami kento x employee!gn reader

cw: SMUT - size kink + foreplay + fingering + oral sex (giving) + office sex +  rough sex + lots of praise; mentions of yelling (bullying) + satosugu are boyfriends your honor; dom!nanami + sub!gn reader; explicit

summary: some fucker believes that he can yell at you and geto just because you unintentionally bumped into him. luckily, your boyfriend, nanami, comes by to save the both of you. nanami will then show you how much that scumbag’s remarks will not mean anything to you in his dimly lit office. 

word count: 3.7k+

author’s note: i was talking to my pookie wookie & she mentioned if i ever wrote nanami so i dedicate this post to her !! i love nanami sm why tf haven’t i wrote about him yet. also this happened to me irl expect i defended myself and turns out he was drunk but thank god, i made it home safe with my friend (please be careful when going out in public)

smut below (18+) !! MINORS DON’T INTERACT !!

it was a long day at work in the office, but you’re so glad the day has come to an end. everyone in the office is packing up and getting ready to head out for the weekend where they can relax. despite everything, you were actually happy though since you promised your loving boyfriend that you both will have a dinner date after work. 

everyone knows that you're dating the ceo of the office, but then again, people have lives and should respect one other's privacy. given the fact that many perceive him as a frightening guy, he nonetheless treats you with the same kindness and fairness that he shows to his staff. however, when you're alone, he treats you like royalty, taking care of your household duties when you're exhausted and supporting you with the work despite your insistence that you do everything solo. as long as you give him your heart and love to him, that’s all he wants. 

“ready to leave, y/n?” a voice asked behind you. it was geto, your friend. 

“yeah.” you nod your head. “i need a break. you?”

geto chuckles. “wish i could say the same.”

“how come?” 

“gojo and i promised each other a date and his idea of a date is to go to a bar..”

you chuckled. “i’m guessing your boyfriend needs to ‘unwind’, huh?”

geto playfully rolls his eyes. “you could say that..”

you both then headed to the hallway where geto would drop you off at nanami’s office so that you could go on the promised date with him. you and geto had been talking about how your days had gone and him complaining about how clingy his lover gets when he's drunk. 

however, you were carrying such a heavy bag that you were blind to the fact that it had unintentionally bumped into a man who was passing by.

you quickly realized and turned your head to the man. “i’m so sorry about that, sir.” 

“tch, you should be sorry!” the man spat at you. 

you and geto halted as the man turned his attention to you. he doesn’t look like he works here. 

“you think you can just bump into me and get away with it?”

“i apologize, sir, i didn’t mea-”

“god, just shut the hell up! i bet you bumped into me on purpose, huh?”

geto intervened right away. “sir, they just didn’t see you. they have no intention o-”

the man laughed. “oh so now they have a lousy bodyguard to protect them, i see how it is.”

you didn’t know how to act. you didn’t mean to bump into him on purpose. all you want to do is grab hold of yourself and bolt with geto to get out of this situation. and geez, what’s up with this guy making a big deal?

“listen, they bumped into me so that they could humiliate me? well i’m not having it! they’re just a waste of space, wanting to humiliate anyone and everyone.” the man continued as he pointed his finger at you. “you should be humiliated instead! you’re embarrassing to even be working here. you don’t belong here with that stickin’ fucking attitude! if i were your boss, i would fire you and get you banned from even stepping foot into this establishment!” 

you could feel tears pouring up to your eyes. you didn't mean to bump into him so that he could yell at you for being so ashamed in this place. geto notices and makes an effort to soothe the irate man, but it doesn't appear to be working as he keeps babbling about how embarrassing you are. god, you've had a long day and, particularly now, you really need a break. 

“is everything all right here?” a deep soothing voice came from behind you. you turn to see your beloved boyfriend, nanami. you wanted to sprint up to him and let it all out in his arms.

nanami glanced at the man who’s still babbling about you after noticing your tears. the man quickly noticed nanami. 

“HEY! you the boss?” he questioned. 

nanami kept his cool despite seeing you in tears. he knew the man made you upset because of his loud tone. “yes, sir. is something wrong?” 

“oh finally! fire this brat here!” he pointed at you. “they bumped into me on purpose and they shouldn’t work here. matter of fact, they shouldn’t even belong here! also while you’re at it, fire this good-for-nothing’s terrible bodyguard here!” 

you were unable to contain it at that point. you turn your head toward the wall as you weep, making an effort staying quiet. geto clenched his fist and jaw but kept his cool. he turned to you and comforted you by giving you a gentle shoulder rub. 

nanami saw and he wanted to wipe away your tears with his hands. he wanted to wipe them all. you shouldn’t shed tears over a loser who made offense at you accidentally bumping into him. he reached your face in an attempt to console you, but you covered it with your hands. he feels bad seeing you in this state. 

in his head, he wants to hurt the man who’s mistreating his employees like this, especially you. no one should treat you like this, no one should treat other human beings like garbage. it was unacceptable. 

geto swiftly explained to him what had happened. nanami became even more enraged at the idea of that man yelling at his employees, especially you, just because you accidentally bumped into him. nanami nodded at geto and then approached the man. the man took a step back, dwarfed by nanami’s intense gaze. 

“i see you’ve made a big deal out of an inadvertent bump with one of my employees.” nanami’s gaze penetrated through the man’s eyes.

“h-huh?” the man stammered, being afraid of nanami’s glare. “b-but they did it on purpo-”

“on purpose or not, you have no right to yell at my employees like that.” nanami cut him off. 

you’re done wiping your tears on your sleeves as nanami continues on, and you turn to look at the man and notice that his face is getting white. serves him right. and as you were aware, nanami is usually displeased or even furious when he interrupts someone. 

abruptly, a few well-suited security officers approached behind nanami.

“you want him away, boss?” one of them asked. you notice geto putting his phone away— guess he was the one contacting the security as he comforted you. 

nanami gestured with a nod and a finger at the man. “before you’re escorted out of my building, apologize to my employees.” 

“but-” the man remarked before backing up more as nanami got closer to him. 

“now.” nanami’s tone grew stern and demanding. “don’t squander their time and mine.” 

the man immediately fell to his knees in front of you and geto after being shaken to his very core. “i-i apologize for making a big deal out of you bumping into me! please forgive me!”

he looks so pathetic. geto gave a “tch,” but forgave him and you exhaled deeply. 

“you’re forgiven.” you folded your arms.

later, the security dragged him away as he appeared ashamed to be lectured by the company's ceo. that’s right. it’s him who ought to feel ashamed for creating such a fuss, not you.

but the grief from his comments remains. you're not sure why. perhaps those remarks still affect you since you had a difficult day. or perhaps.. he was right—you felt ashamed to work here. maybe even an embarrassment.

“suguru.” nanami turns his head at both you and geto. you both straighten yourself. 

“yes, sir?” geto asked. 

“you should head home, you deserve a break after what happened.” 

“i will. thank you, sir.” geto nods. he then patted you on the shoulder before turning to leave so both you and nanami have more privacy. nanami then glances down at you and you jump a little, his gaze can still make you feel uneasy.

you try to apologize in order to break the ice. “i’m so sorry, sir.. i didn’t mean-”

“do you think we can continue this conversation in my office?” he asked. you notice his attention shifting to the right and when you looked, some people were staring at you and nanami. crap, they must’ve seen what happened. 

you nod as both you and nanami walk down through the hallway to reach the elevator and to his office. once you both reached there, he contacted his personal assistant, ijichi, to cancel the remaining meetings for the day since he had personal matters to deal with, which is you. it was peaceful and quiet when you two entered; a dimly lit office radiates comfort. he placed his phone on his desk, helped you in setting your bag down next to it, and urged you to have a seat so you could tell your side of the story.

he listened. he’s always listening to you. he hears your sobs, how you apologize to the man and how that man didn’t take shit from your apologies. 

while you were explaining, nanami's jaw and hand tensed, something you missed to notice. how dare he yell at you and call you names just because you bumped into him? he considers those idiots to be garbage. he noticed your tears when you were explaining. were you genuinely convinced that his words were accurate?

"y/n, i'm so sorry you have to put up with that bastard." nanami sighed, wishing the man would suffer more consequences. 

“thank you for saving both geto and me..” you exhaled as you finished providing your side of the story. “and i’m sorry that i bumped into that man.”

nanami went silent for a few seconds but continued on. 

“y/n, people make common mistakes, especially bumping into someone. yes, you bumped into him by accident and you apologize, but that man made a big deal out of it. he shouldn’t yell at you and geto like that just because of that situation.”

you look up at him. “really?”

“it’s not your fault, y/n.” he nods. “please.. don’t blame yourself for it.” 

he’s right. it’s not your fault. but.. why do the man's words still haunt you? 

“you’re embarrassing to even be working here. you don’t belong here with that stickin’ fucking attitude!”

nanami is aware of your inability to go past the man's remarks. then a thought flashed into his mind. if you choose not to heed his consoling remarks, you will nonetheless be able to hear him through his words and, more importantly, by his deeds. he rose from his chair and approached you. you arched an eyebrow and gazed at him, puzzled, until all of a sudden you felt like you were being lifted off the chair and onto his desk. he moved closer to you, kicking the chair out of the way and putting his entire frame between your legs.

you swallowed without understanding what he was doing, but you could feel him kissing you, feeling his lips meeting yours, his hands reaching up to the back of your neck to intensify the kiss, the way he rubs against you swiftly and feels beneath your pants. 

“y/n..” he groans, breaking the kiss. “if you still feel guilty, allow me.. to distract you.”

“distract..?” you asked, panting heavily from the kiss. 

“yes.. will you let me touch you further?” you could feel his bulge and his firm grip intensifying, his hands now roaming your waist. 

he asks. he always asks. your comfort should come first when it comes to having sex. you nod and ask, “is your office soundproof?” 

nanami reached for the button on his desk to lock his office door. “now it should be.” 

you felt him carefully taking off each of your clothes as you drew him in closer for a kiss. he loves to savor the moment. knowing that his love is genuine, you whimpered as soon as you felt his warm touch against your skin. he gently grabbed your wrists as you attempted to take off his clothes by holding onto the blazer and pulling it out of him.

"let me do it.” he murmured, his voice growing raspier.

you moaned as he released his hold on your wrists and buried a kiss on your lower jaw. 

“don't worry about me, y/n. i’ll be concentrating on you. you don’t need to do anything right now."

with one arm, you heard him unbuckle his belt to remove his pants, and you felt him remove your top with the other, leaving you bare. nanami then catches both of your wrists, swiftly removes his silk tie from his shirt to bind them, and lowers you on his desk as you bury yourself in embarrassment, feeling your body and cheeks burn in the dark. feeling the cold glass against your skin makes you gasp, yet nanami's warm body from above soothes you. 

then, panting fervently, nanami removed his blazer and quickly unbuttoned his shirt while maintaining eye contact with you. you moaned as he took off his boxers and displayed his massive cock with loads of precum, leaving you to wonder how long he had been waiting. you looked away, preparing yourself for him, but as you felt his cock grind against you, he lowered himself to you and grabbed your chin to face him.

"nanami.." you whimpered, wanting him to fuck you already. 

“are you ready, y/n?” he asked.

you couldn’t wait anymore. you press up against him, hearing his seductive groan escape his throat.  

“yes, please..” you begged.

you thought he’s gonna take you here, but not yet. he had to get you prepared– prepared for the pleasure, prepared for him in particular. he will undoubtedly distract your mind from that man's insulting words.

he stood up and moved to kiss your thighs from below. you writhed as his wet, warm lips traveled up your thigh and onto that sensitive area of you– sensing his lips on yours. 

then without a blink, nanami then began to lick you, probing you with his tongue. you clasped your hands on your mouth to silence yourself.

the moment nanami starts to lick and suck you more quickly, your whole body trembles. his groans vibrate against you as his nose rubs against your sensitive areas. as if he were a starving guy, he’s essentially feasting on you. his name practically cried out of your muffled mouth. no matter how much you try to stop him, he will not stop until you are ready for him. it makes no difference how tightly you close your thighs. it's almost as if your legs are made of jelly from the overwhelming stimulation. 

you felt your stomach getting tighter and tighter, your body getting hotter and hotter beneath your muffled mouth, until at last you lost it. as you came, his mouth and chin were coated with your own juices. your chest heaves uncontrollably from the overstimulation as he laps at you eagerly, wanting a taste of your cum.

you can see he isn't quite content as your face flushes when you catch a glimpse of him. there's still hunger in his eyes. he is committed to capturing your attention—and yours alone.  

“i’m not done yet.” he panted in a low, grating voice.

and you're eventually here, biting your lip to contain your moans as you feel the intensity of nanami's thrusts inside you. and it appears you forgot his office is soundproof. nanami leans down to give you a kiss while your arousal is still in his lips.

"don't hide." nanami groans, feeling your warm walls squeezing him.

your voice is what nanami loves to hear the most when he makes love to you. as you felt him becoming larger, he lowered himself to gently suck your neck, your voice turning him on more and more.

"you're making me feel this way," he moans, breathing more heavily. 

“w-wha..?” you asked, feeling his warm breath on your neck. 

"allowing me to be the way i am around you. how much you turned me on, you know that?"

you squirmed, gripping his shoulders more as you became more vocal as you felt him stroking and pounding you. 

“n-namami..!”

“that’s it, y/n.. let it all out. let me hear you.”

you held onto him more tightly, unable to contain yourself any longer. nanami smirked as you screamed his name and he continued to mark your chest.

"look at how fucking gorgeous you are, y/n.” nanami spoke to you in such a way that you swear you felt like you were in heaven. with your thoughts numbed, all you could do was utter his name endlessly. 

“fuck.. i never regret having you here at my building.”

 you gazed at him genuinely as his words awakened you. did he really mean that?

"nanami." you whimpered, unsure if you should embrace him or cry in his arms right now. "am i always embarrassing you at least?" you added, wanting to hear more from him.

nanami left another mark on your neck by nipping you fiercely and giving you a hard thrust inside of you. you cried out as you felt his cock almost sinking more and deeper into you.

“never y/n, no, you never make me feel embarrassed." you drew him in closer, kissing him as a thank you.

you love him because he never tells you lies—his words are always accurate—you love him because he lets you be who you are around him, and you love that he says he never regrets meeting you and that you have never made him feel embarrassed. you could feel your eyes welling up with tears. not out of pain, but comfort. nanami gave you a kiss on your tears and grinned, the kind of smile he saves for no one else—not for his friends or acquaintances—but for you right now.  

his words quickly cause you to forget what the man said. you come to the conclusion that his remarks no longer pain you and that he's just a stranger you'll never see again. nanami’s prediction that he was going to distract your thoughts came true. 

“i love you, nanami!” you blurted out as you felt your high intensifying and his words sinking in. “i love you! i love you..!”

nanami chuckles with his hoarse voice. “i love you too, y/n. never forget that.”

nanami’s thrusts and strokes became rougher as your high approached, as you clawed his back to hold on to him. guess he’s getting close too.

“fuck y/n..” he moaned. “are you close?”

“y-yes!” you moaned. “i’m close! i’m close!” 

“then go ahead and cum, y/n. i got you.”

as you descended from your high, you cried out his name while cumming onto nanami’s fingers and feeling all of his warm cum inside of you. nanami groans loudly and moans your name as he came inside you, feeling your walls tighten around him and your cum finally coating his fingers and cock. you both panted as you sank onto his desk, and you whined a little as he slowly withdrew.   

when you noticed him sucking your cum from his fingertips, your flush got even hotter. he chuckled softly as he realized. he bent down once more to plant a kiss on you, allowing you to taste yourself once again. 

gazing into one other's eyes, you both release the hold on each other. 

“you think we can still go to our promised date?” you asked.

“are you asking me after our wonderful moment?” he grinned.

“y-yeah, just asking..” 

after giving it some thought, nanami asked, "is it possible for our scheduled date to double? i want to see how geto is handling his well being in light of what transpired. if you would still like to go to our primary promised date, that is acceptable.”

you gave a hurried nod. “actually i wanna see how he’s holding up too.” 

since you were having difficulty feeling your legs, nanami assisted you in putting on your clothes, and you made an effort to assist him as well. once you're both dressed, you give geto a call to check if he's still in the bar. it was fortunate for you both that geto was still there, enjoying food with gojo and shoko. shoko was also present in the bar, where she rapidly became a third wheel for the two of them.

nanami draped your bag over his broad shoulders and carried you bridal style. you two had no trouble leaving the building because, fortunately, nobody else was present. after that, nanami contacted his driver to arrange for him to grab you both and take you to the bar where gojo, geto, and shoko were hanging out. nanami assisted you in fixing your messed-up self during that period as the car picked you both up.

nanami carried you inside the bar even after you both arrived, where you both saw gojo consuming alcohol irrationally from the front at the booth table. geto and shoko both gave him a weary expression. you snicker at what you see. 

“having fun?” you teasingly asked. both geto and shoko shook their heads to you. 

“please save us.” geto sighed, taking a swig from his glass.

“getoo, i love youu~” gojo slurred. 

“i love you too, but you’re drunk right now.” 

nanami and you each had a seat saved when shoko patted the area next to hers. nanami seats you in between him and shoko. geto was trying to talk gojo out of drinking across from you. 

“y/n, whatever your alcohol tolerance is, please don’t be as overstimulated as him.” shoko giggled. 

“i won’t.” you grinned, taking the ambience. 

after that, you all enjoyed the bar food, with nanami feeding you, shoko going about her business, gojo being a clumsy man, and geto grudgingly lending a hand. 

you forgot about the man from the previous ugly remarks and were quickly replaced by nanami and this cozy moment. you appreciated this night with free beverages and free food that is paid by both geto and nanami. nanami responded enthusiastically to your prompt kiss on his cheek with a kiss on your forehead. he may do it with people he feels comfortable with around him, and that's with them right now. you are aware of and appreciate his lack of interest in pda. 

and with that, you all enjoyed this fantastic night together as you all toast a wonderful evening. 

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

No Pain, No Gain | Part 1 | PersonalTrainer!Aemond x fem!reader

Summary: The personal trainer your roommate Baela recommended to you is rude, condescending but also hot as hell. Series Masterlist.

A/N: shoutout to my personal trainer Alex for rotting my brain. This is my first modern!Aemond fic, so any feedback is genuinely appreciated, I hope you enjoy this, it was an absolute ball to write (and there will be more!)

Also I could not post this without tagging some absolute modern!Aemond QUEENS who inspired me to write this. @valeskafics @oneeyedvisenya @sapphire-writes​ you’re the real ones! Also massive hug to @ewanmitchellcrumbs​ for hyping me up and being a parent to this child she didn't choose to create.

warnings: EVENTUAL SMUT, 18+, sexual tension, binge eating, mentions of breakup, cursing, dickhead Aemond, reader is horny af, English slang (soz), warnings will be added when needed

To say you were broken-hearted would be a bit of an understatement.

You were angry, annoyed, frustrated, wound up tight and pissed off to the highest degree.

And it showed in how you acted these days as you polished off the salty family-size bag of crisps on your own in 10 minutes flat.

You look over at your phone and sigh when you see it’s already 6 o’clock in the afternoon. Another day sat on the sofa, wallowing in self-pity, eating yourself into oblivion and fairly soon pouring a glass of Baela’s finest white wine (now that it was officially almost evening anyway and it was justified).

Scrolling through instagram was like twisting the dagger that was already in your chest. All that stupid fucking app could show you was ‘ex in the bar with his new girlfriend’, ‘ex in the drive-thru with his new girlfriend’, ‘ex on the beach with his new girlfriend’.

It made you want to throw your phone directly at the wall. But you settled for squeezing the life out of it, imagining it was your ex’s stupid face instead.

The absolute waste of space had broken up with you over text on the night you were supposed to go out on a date. And as if that was not bad enough, not even two weeks had gone by before he’d managed to stick his dick into someone else with a pulse. At the time, you were so angry that you didn’t accuse him of anything, he’d already broken up with you. But you did suspect that this ‘sudden’ relationship he’d gotten into wasn’t as recent as first thought. 

It’s been a month since you found out about the other woman.

And clearly you were coping really well.

Indulging wasn’t something you usually did, but now you feel you deserved it. 

“Hello~” the soft, ringing voice of your roommate Baela was at the door. You half-considered hiding all the packets of various foods you’d managed to stuff down your gob, but Baela had seen worse of you. She’d seen you while you were throwing your guts up after freshers week at university. Nothing was worse than that and you shuddered at the memory.

She walks in, looking more put together than you by a long way, having been hanging out with her sister all day. That’s what you like about Baela, she’s not judgemental, and so when she sees you’ve barely moved an inch she just flashes her usual smile.

“Good day then?” she says with a smirk. You raise your eyebrows in return.

“Apart from seeing him plastered all over instagram I’m great” 

“Got any left?” she asks, extending a greedy hand for a crisp. You offer her the bag with a sigh as she slumps on the sofa next to you. She watches boredly whatever you have on the TV,

"Why don't you just block him?" She asks. And to be fair, she has a point.

But you huff and shove another crisp in your mouth, whining, "Cos I'm a nosy bitch with no boundaries"

Baela sighs, pulling out her own phone and scrolling through her notifications, "As much as I love you y/n, this is pathetic, even for you"

You'd be offended if she wasn't completely right. And you know she's only half joking so you just shrug.

"How was Rhaena?" You ask.

"Yeah fine, usual shit with Dad. Oh I didn't tell you-" she starts.

She has that glint in her eye which spells trouble. She's got gossip and you raise your eyebrows in anticipation.

"Hold that thought, wine first?"

"Obviously"

After giggling and waltzing over to the counter to pour two glasses of the finest box wine you could get for under seven English pounds, you hand her one and wait almost too excitedly for her to spill whatever sweet gossip she has.

She sips it, almost like she needs the liquid courage to begin, and she hisses at the sweet, acidic taste.

"God that's foul" 

"It was 2 for 1!" You retort with a laugh, but she is right, it does taste foul, "Stop stalling, tell me tell me tell me" 

She looks at you as if to say bitch, you are not fucking ready.

“Dad’s married Rhaenyra” 

The force of which your jaw drops open is almost comical. You’d guessed for a while that they were at least fucking, but to just elope?!

“I need money, cos I betted on this shit happening!” 

“Oh my gosh, Rhaena was fucking hysterical. Jace and Luke aren’t surprised at all, but Alicent is beside herself in the family group chat, it should honestly be a reality TV show” Baela says scrolling through said group chat. From what you can see without being too nosy, is that there’s a lot of long paragraphs and angry emojis.

“What about Viserys, surely he’s…” you ask, trailing off to sip the pissy wine in your hands.

“Oh no, he’s thrilled. Which pisses Alicent off even more if that’s possible”

“Baela I think your Uncle’s gone insane” you bite your lip to stifle a laugh.

“No fucking kidding”

You slump back onto the sofa, “Holy shit, I am a genius. I knew the whole time” you say, smirking in victory.

“And so humble too” Baela gives a sarcastic grin which you return.

“How do you feel about it?”

Baela shucks her phone onto the coffee table, sighing, “Not bothered, we’re all adults now, so it hardly makes a difference to me. Suppose it’ll get Dad to stop bringing back random women now” she says exasperated, “but Rhaenyra gets the impression we’re all really bothered so she’s invited us all to a retreat for a week. Think she just wants to butter us up for marrying our Dad”

“Oh? Anywhere nice?”

Baela looks over, giving you a wearied look.

“What?”

“Well that brings me to you”

“Oh god, what” you ask, dropping the tone to emphasise the seriousness of the talk all of a sudden.

Baela fiddles with the remote, in an attempt to appear cute, “Well~ There’s a spare ticket going and you’re my bestest friend. And I would hate to endure a week of watching my Dad eat Rhaenyra’s face off, so come with me please?” she begs.

You sigh, “Baela usually I would love to sponge off you like that but-”

“Pleasepleaseplease~” she begs, “Rhaena’s bringing her boyfriend and we’re basically together!” 

You fake a gagging sound.

“Oh come on, a week on a beach in bikinis,sweltering weather with as many cocktails as you can hold isn’t exactly torture”

You give her an incredulous look, opening your arms to emphasise all the bags of junk food around you, “Do I look beach body ready to you?!”

“Oh fuck off, you’re hot and have an ass that can keep the world fed” 

“I know I am hot, I just don’t feel hot” you stare blankly at the TV, trying to ignore her and stuff another crisp into your mouth.

Baela sighs, “I was just thinking it would be a nice distraction, that’s all” 

“I want to it’s just…” you start, trying to think of the right words, “...I don’t feel my best”

Baela gives you a playful slap on your arm, “Look, forget your ex, he’s dumb as fuck and it’s not solving anything by staying inside with the curtains drawn all day. If you want to feel better, might be worth taking care of yourself a bit, hm?” 

Fuck her, you think, rolling your eyes, she’s right.

You hate how often she’s right. Because she gets that look on her face when she is. Always has done.

“How about that gym membership you’ve not used since February?” she asks,

“Okay firstly, ouch. Secondly, I realised I don’t know the first thing about how to work out in a gym, besides the guys there were…weird”

You shudder at the thought. It was January and so all the new year’s resolution guys were at it in full swing, using the gym as a means to try and pick up girls. And since graduating you find that more often than not the guys who hit on you were students. Maybe it was different now?

Baela pokes her cheek with her tongue, racking her brain.

“One of my cousins is a personal trainer? I could text him to see if he’s happy to take you on. Mates rates” she smiles.

You side-eye her hard. You’ve heard briefly about her cousins. Some of the stories are a bit more…eccentric than others. And even though you’ve never met them, you’ve heard enough stories to satisfy your curiosity. 

“This isn’t the manwhore cousin, right? Because if it is then no” 

She scoffs, “No. Aegon hasn’t set food in a gym since graduating and he only went cos it was free. The personal trainer one is Aemond. He’s a bit…anti-social?” she pulls a face when she says it.

“He’s anti-social and he’s a personal trainer?” you ask, eyebrow raised, “makes so much sense”

Baela scrolls through her contacts, “Yeahhh. Don’t worry though, he’s just grumpy” she explains, “want me to text him?”

Your head falls to the edge of the sofa in a huff. You want to go and on top of that, it might be nice to finally have a break. That and you’d love to shove it in your exes face when he sees you’re on holiday looking your hottest. 

“How long ‘til the holiday?”

Baela grins victoriously, “A month and a bit. He does a month course for stuff like this, I can ask him about it”

What the fuck am I getting myself into, you think briefly.

Fuck it.

“Fine”

The force at which Baela’s nails tap against the screen is almost desperate.

Baela snorts a laugh at the message and turns her phone to show you the messages.

“He seems lovely” you roll your eyes sarcastically.

“Like I said, he’s just grumpy. He’ll be professional though” she says.

You sigh, crushing the empty bag of crisps in your hands.

“Can’t wait” 

After following him on instagram, you did a bit of shameless stalking. You’d heard a little bit about Aemond from Baela talking about her family, but he seemed the most mysterious out of all of them (save for the youngest whose name she struggled to even remember). 

He had very little photos of himself, mainly progress pictures of other clients he’s helped. And he seems to be pretty successful so far. A girl with a similar body to you managed to get toned on his one-month program and looked hot afterwards, so you had some high hopes that it was possible for you as well. But you did wonder what he looked like. There were only two photos where he was in frame, and he’d been tagged by another person, looking away from the camera.

From what you could see, he was very tall, lithe and slim but built, with silver hair that had been pulled up into a bun. Ah, so he’s a man-bun type of guy. Yikes. 

Unfortunately, the photo showed very little of his face, so you couldn’t be too nosy.

You sent a very brief message, introducing yourself, trying not to cringe at the idea that he might be doing the exact same stalking to your instagram right at this moment. A shiver went up your spine at the thought. 

It’s only when you’re in TKMaxx with Baela, shopping for gym gear the next day, that you finally get a reply from him. 

“What do you think of just wearing a sports bra?” Baela says, eyeing up a black shirt.

You’re too busy staring at the message, “Hm? Oh, I’d just go in gym leggings and a bra yeah. Just got a reply from your mysterious cousin”

Baela hops over, “What’s he said? Nothing bad I hope” she grins.

 You show her the screen.

Baela raises her eyebrows, “Very formal. Guess I shouldn’t be surprised” she says, seeming surprised that he’s at least cordial.

“It’s very ‘serial-killer-esque’ of him not to have a profile picture” you joke, locking your phone again.

Baela picks out a black gym set. Black leggings with a mesh pocket on the side for your phone and a black sports bra. You nod, “Yeah looks good to me”

“Oh please you’re gonna look hot in this” she smirks, leading you over to the counter to pay.

She rewards you for your efforts by driving you to McDonald's drive-thru. A send off to junk-food so to speak.

And when Monday rolls around, you nod in the mirror. She was right, it does look hot on you. At least in the safety of your flat where there’s nobody to look at you. In a gym, surrounded by other fit people and a personal trainer you’ve never met? It might feel slightly different.

There’s a faint swirl of anxiety in your gut but you pull your trainers on, grab a hair tie from your nightstand and drive to the gym you’ve agreed to meet at. Luckily it’s your local gym, large and packed to the brim with some good equipment at least. And you briefly wonder what kind of workouts you’ll be doing before pulling into the car park.

You see him as soon as you enter the gym. He’s very tall, slender but muscular and fucking gorgeous. What the fuck, is all you can think when you shamelessly scan him from head to toe. Like the pictures, he has his long silver hair in a bun, with a few pieces having come free and falling around his face. His legs are miles long in the black sweats he’s wearing, as well as the black top that sticks a bit too snugly to his front and shoulders, making your mouth water a bit.

And you can’t help but admire his side profile, how his jaw just so naturally and sharply juts into his chin. How his cheekbones sit so prominently and high on his face, framing his features. His sharp, defined nose. And you can’t see from here because he’s looking down at his phone, but his eyelashes are unnaturally long for a man. It’s just unfair, frankly.

Shaking yourself briefly from the trance you were in, you right yourself and approach him.

He looks up to see you before you even have a chance to open your mouth. Now that he's looking at you face on, you can see the shocking blue of his right eye and the paler, soft hue of the other. Not only that but the angry scar that ran down the side of his face, extending from his forehead to the mid part of his cheek, straight through the eye.

You look at it for a split second, surmising that perhaps he's partially sighted or blind in that eye. But you choose not to say anything and instead smile with an awkward wave.

"Hey, you must be Aemond"

He openly drags his eyes over you, from head to toe, just like you did a moment ago without his knowledge. But now that you're standing right in front of him, in the gym gear that you totally don't feel a bit self conscious in, it feels a bit weird.

He doesn't reply for a moment.

"I'm y/n" you say, forcing a smile to your nervous face.

"Hm" he responds lowly, "Baela's friend" 

You pull an awkward face and nod.

You feel so stupidly small against this absolute giraffe of a man and you daren't step forward any more, for fear of looking even smaller under his judgemental and indifferent gaze.

He sighs and gestures for you to follow him, seeming disinterested as he looks down at his phone. For a brief second you wonder how this guy keeps his clients if he's this rude, but you shake the thought away, not wanting to judge too quickly.

He leads you into one of the consultation rooms, separate from the rest of the gym. He sits on one of the seats, sighing as if he's had the hardest day in the world and taking a swig of water from his bottle.

Sat across from him, you feel a bit small under his gaze. He's quite intimidating, you now find.

"Have you ever worked out before" he asks flatly.

You shrug, "I've tried I guess, but never super seriously" you laugh awkwardly, but he doesn't return it.

He runs his eyes over you again, as if to say yeah I can see that.

"Stand up. Shoes off. We're going to take your weight and measurements" he orders, going to his bag to grab some things.

It's beyond awkward and quiet in the room with him as he idly takes down your weight, height and current eating habits, which you've had to be more honest about than you'd cared to admit.

Standing in the middle of the room, he twirls his measuring tape on his fingers. He measures your upper body first, which isn't too bad until he gets to your bust. You try and look anywhere else in the room while he measures across it, his fingers landing softly at either arm, taking a note of the measurement. You internally scold yourself, he is so much taller and surely must be able to see right down the sports bra. It only serves to make your face heat up with embarrassment.

If that wasn't enough, he gets to your lower body, measuring your hips and then thighs. He gets to his knees to do it and you resist the urge to pull your hands into fists at the proximity of him to your intimate area, separated only by a thin pair of gym leggings and underwear.

He doesn't seem to bother himself with the awkwardness. And every time you look at his face, he seems indifferent, bored even. Even then, his face is unnaturally beautiful, even with the scar.

He must really not like people.

Aemond sighs having taken all his notes.

"We'll do one training session and see how much weight we can do" he instructs. You nod.

"I expect you to be in the gym four times a week, three in the week and once at the weekend. We'll do one session together a week so I can check your progress" 

His tone is so flat, all you can do is nod. He looks at you,

"Got it?" 

Your cheeks heat up, "Um, yeah"

"Good"

He leads you outside to the actual gym floor which luckily isn't too busy, side-eyeing you massively when you pull your hair up into a ponytail to get it off your neck.

His large form leads you over to where the mats are kept, haphazardly throwing two to the floor.

He doesn't say anything past one or two word commands and it's incredibly difficult to not look in the mirror in front of you to watch him as he stretches. The way he stretches his arms over his head and it lifts the hem of his shirt a little, showing his happy trail, biceps rippling.

And when he does leg stretches, instructing you to do the same, you can't help but stare at how his thighs are basically bulging out from his sweats. It takes all of your strength and will to not look any higher than that towards his hips.

He watches your form as you try and copy him stretching. And your heart almost leaps into your chest when he uses his hand to move your ankle slightly, so that you put pressure on a certain muscle. But he focuses completely, professional.

Fuck, be professional.

All caution is thrown completely to the wind when he gets you on machines. He demonstrates some of them first, starting with the so-called 'easier' ones, like the inner and outer thigh machines that look way too…suggestive.

Of course, he's got it on a ridiculous weight to demonstrate which makes you scoff a bit. And when you get on the inner thigh machine, it locks into place with your legs spread. You thank every god there is that there's no mirror in front of you on this machine.

"You have to start with your legs spread as much as possible" he states simply, pushing the pads against your legs even further. It makes your eyes widen, sinful thoughts pop up in your head. But before they take root you shake them away.

It's ridiculously hard the first few times and he raises an eyebrow.

"Really?" He mocks a bit, the tiniest of smirks on his face "you're only on 14kg" 

"Fuck off" you mutter under your breath. He tuts and changes it to 9kg, bruising your ego a bit. But you finish the set nonetheless.

You think he's a bit of a psycho, because after that little remark he has you on every leg machine available. Making fun every time you have to be on the lowest weight.

After the session, you're aching in places you didn't even know existed and you haven't even rested yet. Knowing full well you'll be achy as fuck tomorrow and even wlrse than right now. The faintest sheen of sweet is visible on your pinkened chest.

"You're weaker than I thought" 

He runs his long fingers through his hair and you want to slap that stupid fucking self-indulgent look off his smug face seeing you all out of puff like this.

"Thanks, means a lot" you say sarcastically, drinking from a water bottle. He raises an eyebrow at the attitude.

"I'll send you your workout plan. If you have any issues do me a favour and don't bother me with them" he retorts.

"Charming" you mutter under your breath once he's gone past you. You watch as he walks away, briefly appreciating his broad shoulders, until the sour taste of his poor behaviour settles in. And you huff, texting Baela immediately.

You curse every god there is that you drive a manual car, because right now the thought of having your aching leg pressing on the clutch pedal might actually drive you to mass-murder.

This is going to be a long month.

Taglist: @mrsgrwy @lovelykhaleesiii

[kelcemenow]

Drive Me Crazy - Chapter 6.

Pairing Travis Kelce x Reader

Words 1438

Warnings Strong language, the intention of violence and a whole heap of protective Travis!

Huge thank you to the Anon who sent this in! They had such amazing words to say about my writing which I massively appreciate and then to top it off, had an incredible request for me! I only have experience with mechanics in the UK, so I’ve tried my best with this one! “I just recently got interested in Travis K. X reader stories and wanted to let you know, I read all of yours as quickly as I could. They are so well done and I couldn’t help but laugh/giggle and feel through each word you typed out. You’re doing amazing and I’m so glad to have stumbled onto your page. If you have any space for a request, I’d be curious about what Trav would think about having a military (like fighter pilot) or engineer or mechanic girlfriend. I see a lot of stories with him paired with models/singers/social media individuals (which are phenomenal!) but just wondering how he would be with a more tomboy like girlfriend!”

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

"Who's Jordan?"

You winced as you rose from the bed, grabbing your deep red satin robe from the corner of your door, "He works at the shop with me."

"Okay?" Travis said, his voice indicating confusion.

"I don't know why he's here." You mumbled quickly as your fingers fumbled with the ties, "He must be wasted."

Travis held himself up with an elbow, watching carefully as you stepped towards your front door. The cool hardwood flooring gave your skin a slight sting as your feet made contact. You paused for a second, your hand ghosting the handle, before pulling the door open.

Jordan was leaning against the wall, his head lowered to the floor, his balance unsteady. You glanced over your shoulder and looked to Travis, rolling your eyes and shrugging your shoulders quickly.

"Jordan?" You said impatiently.

His head quickly snapped up to meet your gaze, his expression vacant, "Hey, you took ages." His slurred speech was enough to confirm your suspicions.

You took a small step forward, holding the door open with your foot, "What are you doing here?"

"I was out...at a bar. And I lost my phone so I couldn't call a cab."

"You want to use my phone?" You pointed your thumb over your shoulder.

Jordan sloppily adjusted his messy, brown hair before reaching out for your hand, "Or I could...stay here?"

"I don't think that's a good idea." You retreated away from his grasp.

His eyebrows grew closer together, his confusion clear, "Oh come on...don't play me like that."

"I'm not playing you like anything, Jordan." You smiled politely and confidently stepped towards the door to block the entrance way, "I think you should go."

Jordan stumbled as he took a step, his eyelids drooping, "All this time... you've been flirting, leading me on-"

"Woah, that's not true." You held your palm up as Jordan grew closer, "We're friends, remember?"

Jordan's face twisted, his head swaying from side to side, "Are you fucking serious? I thought we were...you know? You...you let me crash here?"

"One time, Jordan. Because I didn't want you to drive home after 12 beers."

His hand grazed your hip, "You flirt with me...at work...and shit...now you're-"

An anger was beginning to build up in your chest, "Jordan, we're friends."

"Girls don't have friends that are guys!" He said with a short laugh.

"I do."

"You watched as "Yeah, well. You're not a normal girl, are you?"

"A...normal girl?" You failed to hide the hurt in your voice.

Jordan, unaware of his poor choice of words, sighed before muffling his next incoherent sentence, "Yeah, a normal girl. You know what I mean? You don't make an effort or anything, you don't wear heels or nice dresses...like, it's fine-"

"Jordan, stop."

"But, I know you. No one knows you like I do. We would be perfect." He closed the gap between you, "And I mean, I don't see any other guys knocking at your door." He exhaled an arrogant laugh, his tongue placed firmly in his cheek.

You rolled your eyes slightly, not enough for him to notice and heard Travis moving softly in the bed. As you checked over your shoulder, Jordan followed your gaze, his demeanour immediately changing.

"Shit. That's fucking...Travis Kelce." Jordan shook his head as a small laugh escaped his lips, "You've got to be kidding me."

"Okay, time to leave."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Jordan repeated, his voice louder.

As you pulled the door inwards in an attempt to close it, Jordan struck the surface with his elbow, forcing his way inside. Travis immediately leapt out of the bed, quickly making his way to your rescue. You noticed that he had already put his boxers back on, presumably anticipating his interference.

"Alright, buddy." Travis said calmly, replacing your hand on the door with his own.

Jordan seemed to cower in Travis' presence, shrinking in size figurately and quite literally. His cool and loose physicality switched for stiff and hunched shoulders but his intoxicated brain couldn't stop his mouth.

"Hey. I'm not your buddy." He retorted.

Travis smiled at you before turning back to Jordan, "The lady said no. She would like to leave, so why don't you be on your way."

His stern words sounded more like an order than a question and your heart gently fluttered as you watched your knight in shining armour defending your honour. Your emotions quickly flipped to dread as Jordan puffed his chest up and took a couple of woozy steps towards Travis.

"So, you think you can just muscle your way in, getting her tickets and sending her flowers, why? Because you're famous or something? Look, if you just want to fuck the girl, why are you going through all of this effort? Is she really worth it?"

Your chest quickly stung and a redness was flushing to your cheeks. A part of your brain knew it was the alcohol talking, but it still pained you to hear these words coming from someone who you considered to be a friend.

Suddenly, Jordan's hands were pressed against Travis' solid chest, shoving him slightly backwards.

"Jordan? What are you doing?" You hissed.

Your widened eyes quickly flashed to Travis, who did not seem phased at all. Instead, he simply rubbed his beard down and cleared his throat, keeping eye contact with Jordan.

"I don't think you've thought this through. You see, you have two options. Either you keep at me and I end up throwing your sorry ass out of this apartment building, possibly ruining any remaining self-respect and friendship with Y/N that you got left." Travis' gruff voice was clear and concise, it was more than enough to turn you on. "Or, you turn away and leave now, deal with a killer of a hangover in the morning and arrange an apology in the way of a delicious meal at a very expensive restaurant for my girl here." He nudged your arm with his as you looked up at him through your eyelashes, you mouth gaping open in absolute awe.

Jordan stayed still, processing Travis' words before his head rolled backwards and a loud sigh left his lips, "Fucking...whatever, bro."

He started to turn away but Travis spoke up with a deep growl, "Hey. I'm not your bro."

Jordan's eyes flashed slightly with fear, before half closing as he stumbled away from you both. You stood in silence as you watched him disappear into the stairwell, the door clanging behind him.

You exhaled loudly, not realising that you had been holding your breath for a significant length of time. You felt as if your legs were about to give up on you, but before they had the chance, Travis' arms were enveloping you and bringing you impossibly close to him.

"Are you okay?" He said into your neck, your hair marginally muffling his words.

Your fingers began to graze the stubble on the back of his head, your face buried in his chest, "Oh yeah, I'm fine. That shit happens all of the time."

Travis pulled you away and held you at an arms length, his eyes lowered in concern, "For real?"

"Travis, I'm joking." You smiled, "Just trying to lighten the mood?" You shrugged your shoulder which were still held firmly in his large hands.

His eyes creased into a smile, "Oh baby, I can think of a better way to do that."

His voice growled again, making your knees weaken as he leaned in to gently place a kiss on you forehead. Your feet were swiftly swept up from underneath you and Travis carried you impressively towards your bedroom, your legs instinctively wrapping themselves around his waist. Your surroundings darkened as you entered the bedroom and Travis gave your ass a gentle squeeze as he lowered himself onto the edge of the bed. You bent your knees and straddled his waist, ending up face to face with him.

Your hands moved to cradle the sides of his jaw, "Thank you."

The corners of his full lips barely raised into a smile, but his eyes glittered, "No problem."

You could feel his hands clinging to your back, his fingers tracing circles into the satin fabric that was covering you. A small shiver rolled over your body and you took your bottom lip between your teeth. Travis' eyes flickered to your mouth and his eyebrows raised.

"Did that turn you on?" He said with a surprise.

You rolled your hips a little, "Maybe. I don't know? I just felt...protected."

Travis' mouth moved into a wide grin, as he breathed a laugh, "Hey. I got no issue with that."

______________________________________________________________

As per unusual, I whole-heartedly apologise for the wait on this one. I'm still feeling a little bit of a writing slump and I'm finding everything really hard to get going...I really hope it doesn't show! The next chapter will be the reader going to the Chiefs game and her Dad being absolutely adorable so I am actually looking forward to that one! If anyone has any ideas for this story, please feel free to throw them my way! As always, let me know if you want to be added to my Taglist and any comments or reblogs are always much appreciated!

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[theidiotwhowritesthings]

TAKE CARE OF YOU [2]

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: 7,029

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: i am having too much fun with this, my mind is going wild]

02: HE'S LOADED, BABE

"take a chance. risk everything. be honest. jump. go for it. be all in. why not. or why do anything at all." -jacob holguin

For the first time, maybe ever, you were the one with the insane story to share with Nima. You were actually kind of excited. When you texted her, she said she was still in the office and she told you to swing by because she wasn’t too busy. This wasn’t the first time you had been to her office, but you found it amusing every single time. The rest of the floor had the button down kind of look one would expect of a workplace, but Nima’s little corner was decorated in bright colors. It was a testament to her skill really. If you were indispensable then you could push boundaries.

“Hey!” Nima bounced when she saw you walking toward her office. You stepped in and dropped onto the couch she had pushed up against the wall. “I’m so glad you’re here. I have the craziest story.” Nima was rushing around the room putting away papers and blueprints. Her space was always poorly organized in your opinion, but according to her everything had its place. “It involves a loose chicken, a gallon of paint, and that asshole from the third floor I was telling you about.”

Unable to hold it in, you blurted it out. “I got asked to be a sugar baby.”

Nima blinked for a moment, dazed, then screeched in shock as she threw herself down onto the couch beside you. “Holy shit, what?? And you let me waste time talking about the chicken?” You did want to eventually hear about that. “Tell me everything.”

“You remember that guy I bought a coffee for like two weeks back?”

“Yes!” Nima gasped and you nodded. “Oh my God! I told you I felt sparks.” She paused. “Wait, can he afford to be a sugar daddy? He looked like a homeless cowboy when we saw him.”

You pointed to her. “So, are you thinking ‘cowboy’ too? Because I have been going back and forth between that and lumberjack, but I haven’t⏤”

“If you don’t give me more details right now...”

“Sorry.” You chuckled. You gave her the shorthand version of how he had been visiting you at the bakery and how it ended with him offering to ‘take care of you’ this afternoon. Nima just stared, mouth agape, the entire time. You finished by telling her that he had asked you to meet him this weekend. “So… yeah. Yeah.” You shot her a sheepish smile and just repeated yourself. “Yeah.”

Nima clapped her hands, excited, but you watched as she steeled her features. She shifted so she faced you entirely on the couch. “Wait. You’re always the voice of logic when I get myself into something insane. My turn.” She cleared her throat. “Are you sure you’re willing to basically fuck a stranger for all this? That’s not you.”

You twisted your lips at her words. Was it so out of the question for you to go out on a limb and put yourself out there? Granted, jumping from the vanilla lifestyle you lived to having sex with someone so they’d pay your bills was like going from 0 to 120 in a racecar⏤ or rocket.

As if Nima could see your inner turmoil, she pointed at you. “No, no. Don’t misunderstand. It’s not that I think you aren’t capable of making that decision and going for it. However, up until now you’ve been the serious relationship kind, and your last relationship was almost six months ago.” True. “Plus, you like monogamy. There is no guarantee that would occur here. What if he has multiple sugar babies? And⏤”

“It doesn't matter.” You blurted. You realized then that maybe you weren’t prepared to consider all those angles. You still hadn’t even gone on another date since your last boyfriend. “He doesn’t want sex.” Nima tilted her head in confusion. “The deal is he ‘takes care of me’ and I offer him platonic companionship. Be his date at some of his work functions⏤ no strings attached.”

Nima scoffed. “Girl, then what the fuck are you waiting for?? Say yes right now!”

“Well,” You laughed, “There’s a lot to consider.”

“No. The only thing to consider was sex and if that is off the table? Done.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Somehow, I don’t think a sugar baby and sugar daddy contract is⏤ Jesus, I can’t believe I’m saying these words.” You blew out a breath. “Anyways, I don’t think it’s that simple.”

Nima paused in thought. Her fingers drummed against her thigh for a few seconds before her face lit up with a bright smile. “We’re going out to dinner.” Nima jumped up to grab her phone and dialed a number. “My cousin has a friend who has a sister who knows all about this stuff.”

You mentally tried to follow the line of relation that Nima drew out, but you didn’t have the time to question her before she started talking on the phone in Korean. There was no telling what your evening would have in store, Nima knew an odd collection of people, but you assume anything would be helpful right now.

The restaurant you and Nima traveled to in order to meet this mystery woman was the definition of upper class. It was the kind of place you wouldn’t even stop outside of in fear that they’d call the cops on you for loitering. You especially didn’t feel prepared to walk in right now in your work clothes⏤ simple jeans and a plain shirt. At least the apron was removable. When you walked in you were fairly certain the man working as the host was going to throw you out. However, all it took was name dropping the person you were supposed to meet and the host led you back. He gave both of you disgusted looks the entire time, but he still took you back.

As he turned to leave, Nima flipped him off from behind and you quickly grabbed her arm to bring it down. You hissed at her. “We’re already on thin ice.” The table was in a private room. “Who is this?”

“Rosalind Turby.”

“Yeah, you’ve already told me the name, but who is this Rosalind lady?”

Nima shrugged. “All I know is her sister owes my cousin a favor so we’re cashing that shit in.”

You shrugged and the two of you entered the private room. It was elegantly decorated with florals and crystals. An odd combination in your opinion. The table in the middle of the room was covered in a white tablecloth set for three. A beautiful woman sat there on her phone, but she peered up at your entrance and a brilliant smile filled her features.

She stood up, “Hello, girlies!” Rosalind motioned for the two of you to join her. She was probably in her mid to late thirties if you had to guess. Her blonde hair was nearly platinum and fell past her shoulders in beautiful, perfect curls. Right now she had on a tight light blue dress with jewelry dripping from her neck and wrists⏤ all diamonds. Were those real?? She didn’t seem to bat an eye at the clothes you and Nima were wearing. “It’s so lovely to meet you two. I’m Rosalind.”

You both introduced yourselves before sitting down. Nima was quick to grab the wine bottle sitting on the table and began to pour. You resisted the urge to nudge her with your elbow. Rosalind rang a little silver bell sitting on the table and you nearly laughed at the sight of it until a waiter swept in. She ordered something for the group. At least that’s what you assumed based on the way she motioned to the table. It was hard to say considering she was speaking French.

Rosalind finished and focused back on you and Nima who were just staring at her in shock. She laced her fingers together and leaned forward. “So, I hear one of you girls is thinking of becoming a sugar baby.” Nima immediately pointed at you and you sheepishly raised a hand. “That’s so cute. What makes you want to branch into my world?”

“Oh.” You blinked. “You were⏤ are a sugar baby?”

Rosalind nodded and flipped some hair over her shoulder. “Have been since I was 23.”

“Holy shit.” Nima hissed at you. “Is this gonna be your life?”

You lightly smacked her thigh with the back of your hand. No. Of course not. This wasn’t⏤ Nah. Well… Was this going to be your life if you said yes? You couldn’t picture yourself sitting where Rosalind was right now. She had an air of natural elegance. There was no way a restaurant host ever shot her bad looks. 

Rosalind chuckled. “Well?”

“Uh,” You had briefly forgotten her question, “I’m not sure. A man…propositioned me and I have a couple days before he expects an answer from me.”

“You must be thinking it over seriously to involve me.”

“I hope we’re not bothering you.” You blurted. “We’re strangers but⏤”

Rosalind waved her hand with a laugh that reminded you of tinkling bells. Where had this woman come from? Was she made in some ‘perfect woman’ factory? She shook her head. “Please. I’m always eager to help the new girls enter this world of ours. We’re a tight knit group.”

“Really? There’s a community of… sugar babies?”

“Why of course!” Rosalind scoffed playfully. “We have to look out for one another after all.” She reached across the table to squeeze your hand. “So ask me all the questions you might have, sweetie.”

You glanced at Nima who just shrugged before tossing back the rest of her wine. “Um,” You smiled at Rosalind, “Have you had the same…uh, the same⏤”

“Daddy?” Rosalind chuckled and your cheeks burned. “You’re going to need to be comfortable calling him ‘daddy’. There’s no shame in it.” She shook her head. “And no. I’ve had seven so far.” Seven? It sounded like this woman had made an actual career of this lifestyle. That was impressive. Maybe she was the perfect person to ask questions to. “That’s a conversation for another day though. Let’s just focus on your first daddy.”

You chuckled, “Yeah, right. Well, how does it…work? He just said he wants to take care of me and that seems…vague.”

“It’s subjective usually.” Rosalind began. Waiters came in with trays of food and Nima rubbed her hands together in excitement. “If your contract with him is the basic kind then he pays for you to live. Rent, bills, expenses. Not to mention toys and gifts and all the fun kind of goodies.” She scrunched her nose like she was sharing an exciting secret. “And in return, you give him your lovely company.”

You knew exactly what she meant by company.

“You said contract?”

Rosalind nodded. “If your daddy truly has the kind of funds to really take care of you then he’ll push for a contract. This is your opportunity to set firm boundaries. The last thing you’d want is for him to get a piece of you just to toss you aside. Or worse, you get used to this kind of lifestyle just for him to suddenly change his terms and hang it over your head.” She sighed. “I’ve truly heard all the horror stories.”

“Horror stories?”

“Yes. This kind of relationship is built on trust, but not all those who get involved are deserving. You need to make sure the daddy trying to buy you isn’t going to take advantage or hurt you.” You winced both at the idea of being abused and the wording of her statement. Is that what this was? You were being bought? If she noticed your discomfort she didn’t mention it. Rosalind took a sip of her own wine. “How long have you known your daddy⏤”

“He’s not my daddy.” You blurted. 

“Yet.” Rosalind winked. Your cheeks burned again and you tried to imagine what it’d feel like calling Joel that. Could he even take you seriously? Someone like Rosalind using that phrase sounded tempting and sweet. You, in comparison, were just awkward. “So? How long? And has he mentioned any contract details?”

Nima chimed in, “Like two weeks-ish?” You nodded. “Would he even want a contract? That’s for just the super rich guys, right?”

“Typically.” Rosalind nodded. “Here. What’s his name?” Your eyes widened at the question. “If he’s been a daddy before I’ll know him. As I said, we’re a close knit community. We even keep a track of the men who are black listed. I’ll be able to tell you if he's a danger as well.”

Oh, that was helpful.

“Joel Miller.” You smiled. Rosalind’s smile fell right off her face, jaw popping open, and Nima spat out a mouthful of red wine. It splattered and stained the white tablecloth. Your eyes darted between them as they just stared at you. “What?”

“You never told me Mr. Miller wants to be your sugar daddy!” Nima cried.

“You were there the day I met him! And how do you even know him?” You asked.

Nima gaped at you like a fish out of water. “He owns the construction company that hired my office! I’ve never seen him, except in like a few pictures, but Mr. Miller was never wearing flannel in any of those photos. I seriously thought he might be homeless the day we met him.”

“Construction company?” You breathed.

Rosalind cleared her throat before taking a long sip of her wine. Her smile returned, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Wow. I knew Joel Miller was on the market, but I wasn't aware he had chosen someone. And someone brand new for his first one.”

“I’d be his first too?” You asked. The knowledge that this was as new to him as it was to you actually made you feel much better. Maybe that was why he had been so nervous this afternoon. This was the first time he had ever offered that proposition. 

“Yes.”

Nima let out a laugh before shaking your shoulder, “He’s loaded, babe.”

“That’s a good description.” Rosalind chuckled. You were able to ask a few more questions, but about ten minutes later she glanced at her phone and then rose from the table. “I am so sorry, girlies. But I’m needed elsewhere.”

“Oh, well thank you for⏤”

She said your name in a sickly sweet tone while picking up her purse. You didn’t recognize the brand, but you knew it was probably just as expensive as everything else she wore. “I’m only saying this out of concern for you. Being a sugar baby can be very demanding and you seem to be jumping in the deep end.” Your eyes widened. “There’s a reason we all refer to Joel Miller as the ‘white whale’. He’s the dream daddy, but typically men with those kinds of means want the most. I’d hate to see you get hurt.”

“Thank…you?”

“Absolutely, sweetie.” She blew you and Nima a kiss before heading for the door. “So nice to meet you two!”

 Nima and you just watched her leave before turning to one another. You furrowed your brow. “That was kind of weird, wasn’t it? I thought it was going good, but…”

“I think she was jealous.” Nima replied. You rolled your eyes. “No, seriously.”

“Did you see her? The Rosalinds of the world do not get jealous over people like me.”

Nima scoffed. She motioned to you with her wine glass, “First of all, you’re a fucking catch. I’ve been telling you that for years and now you have proof beyond my genius because Joel Miller wants you to call him daddy.”

“That’s still weird to hear…”

“And secondly,” Nima continued on, “That warning she gave? That was a ‘I don’t want you to go through with this because I wish it were me instead’ kind of warning.” You leaned your head to rest it on the top of the chair’s back. As weird as this meeting had gone, it had been helpful. You learned a lot of things. “So? Are you gonna meet up with him?”

You blew out a sigh, “I’m still not sure.”

“Here.” Nima spun in her seat to face you. “Yes or no only. Got it?”

“Yes.”

“Do you like Joel Miller?”

 He was fun to talk to. You enjoyed the moments you got with him in the bakery. So, technically, you did. “Yes.”

“Do you think Joel Miller would physically hurt you if you just met up with him on Saturday?”

You never got that vibe from him before and if you met him in a public setting he wouldn’t be much of a danger to you. “No.”

“Do you want to explore this possibility a little further?”

“Yes.”

The answer came out easily enough. You weren’t ready to give a firm ‘no’ quite yet which almost felt odd. You weren’t used to relying on others for your needs. The idea of taking your hands off the wheel and letting someone else take control was daunting. However, the idea of not having to stress over bills or rent or finding a second job you didn’t love just to get by was very, very tempting. God, you just wanted a break.

“I think that’s your answer.” Nima shrugged. “Meet up with him on Saturday. You don’t have to necessarily say yes to him just because you met with him. This will just be a mission for further information.”

“Alright. Yeah.” You grinned and picked up your wine glass. “What the hell, right?”

“Exactly!” Nima cheered and the two of you clinked your glasses together before taking long sips. 

You glanced around the room and at the table. “Do you think Rosalind paid for this before she left?”

Nima nodded her head in thought. Then she poured more into her glass and tossed back the large gulp of red wine before she jumped up. “Wanna make a run for it?”

“Absolutely.” You grabbed your stuff and the two of you hurried off.

It took you over an hour to get dressed, and it was embarrassing how many outfit changes you had gone through. You almost googled ‘What to wear when meeting your sugar daddy to discuss terms’, but decided that would just stress you out more. After your dinner with Rosalind you had called Joel, a feat that was painfully nerve wracking for no good reason, and you both planned to meet up at the coffee shop where you had bought him that coffee. A public setting seemed like the best bet for you, and Joel was more than happy to accommodate. You almost suggested the bakery, but considering how empty it was these days you didn’t know if it actually counted as public.

You had shown up early, still not entirely loving the clothes you chose for this event, and now you were nursing a cup of iced coffee⏤ chewing on the straw nervously. The notes app on your phone had a bullet list of points you wanted to bring up, ask about, and you scanned through them for the hundredth time. Every single bullet point was burned in your brain, but you had a feeling the moment you saw Joel it would all disappear. You jumped in surprise when your phone buzzed as a call from Joel came through.

“Shit.” You breathed and watched it ring twice more before answering it. “Hey!”

The greeting left your lips loud and excited and you mentally cursed yourself for blurting it out like that. Jesus Christ you were overthinking this.

“Hey, darlin’.” Joel replied. Somehow his voice sounded even more charming through a phone which you found entirely unfair. “I hate to do this so last minute, but I’m not gonna make it to the coffee shop. A work meeting got outta hand, but…” He grumbled. “That doesn’t matter. I’m sorry.”

You twisted your lips and found yourself actually disappointed. “Oh. No, that’s alright. It happens. Do you want to reschedule for a different day or⏤”

“What? No.” Joel replied quickly. “This is important. I wanna talk to you about this today. Plus, I’d hate for you to get cold feet.” You chuckled at the irony because you kind of thought he was the one getting cold feet. “Can you meet me at my office? We can stay down in the lobby or courtyard, or in the cafe, so it’s still public.”

“Sure!” You chirped. “Uh, what’s the address? I’ll uber⏤”

Joel actually laughed at the word ‘uber’ and you just smiled more confused than anything else. He spoke up before you could question the joke. “I’m not gonna make you order a ride to my office, darlin’. I’m sending a car.” Your eyes widened. That was a wild sentence to hear out of his mouth, but you supposed that was par for the course. “Are you at the coffee shop right now?”

“Yes.” You glanced around as if you needed to double check. “But are you sure, Joel? You really don’t have to⏤”

“I want to.” Joel said firmly. “I’m, uh, I’m excited to see you.” Your cheeks burned at the admission. “Even if you’re just comin’ to tell me off it’d be a nice break from my day today.” The sigh at the end of his sentence made it clear he was stressed or frustrated about something. “I’m sending my driver now. Should be ten minutes or so.”

“Got it.” You cleared your throat. “I’ll… see you soon then, Joel.”

“See you soon, darlin’.” He chuckled.

You hung up and just stood there for a second. He was sending a car. A car that would take you to his office of the very successful company he owns. One of the plus sides of meeting Joel in the coffee shop was that it’d feel like equal ground. However, you knew this was something you needed to get used to. You had already decided that you would be accepting his proposition as long as nothing crazy happened during this meeting.

You’d be stupid to turn it down, right?

Before you could turn and go wait outside, you paused in thought then made the decision to buy him a cup of coffee. You still remembered what he ordered the last time, and maybe it’d cheer him up a little. This meeting would go better if he was in a good mood rather than stressed about work, you figured. After buying the coffee, you only had to wait outside a minute or two before a very nice black sedan pulled up to the curb. Was that for you?

A man exited the car and came around to open the back door. He made eye contact with you and called out your name. “Oh.” You waved. “Hi, yeah. That’s me.” Obviously, he knew that. You hurried over and climbed into a car with a stranger. The thing every adult told you not to do while growing up. When the driver got back behind the wheel, you spoke up. “Thank you.”

The driver didn’t speak to you during the drive, but you weren’t sure of the etiquette of these things. There were some Uber drivers that hated it when you spoke up to them. Maybe this was the same. The car pulled up to the curb after fighting traffic and you peered out of your window to the large, very impressive building right outside your door. It was at least seven stories, but it was wider than it was tall and built with a steel and glass design. The campus surrounding it was also gorgeous with an expansive courtyard that seemed to roll right into a park next door.

“Holy shit.” You breathed.

You were so distracted by the landscape that you didn’t notice the man in an expensive looking suit approaching the car. It took even longer for you to realize that man was Joel Miller. He reached out to open the door and you sat stunned as he leaned against it

“Hey there, darlin’.” Joel greeted with a small smile. Up until now, you had only seen him in flannels and t-shirts, but by God did this man know how to wear a suit. The one he had on was a dark navy with a clean white button up. If he had on a tie before he had shed it because the top couple buttons were undone. His hair was combed back neatly and though it was still a good look for him, it made you miss his fluffed up, messy curls. His head tilted a bit, amusement filling his dark eyes, “Darlin’?”

It dawned on you that you had yet to speak. Panicked, you held up the drink you had bought for him. “Coffee.”

“Yes. That is.” Joel chuckled. He held a hand out for you to take.

When your hand settled in his, he carefully pulled you out of the car and shut the door behind you. Joel leaned over to nod his head to the driver in thanks before turning back to you. You cleared your throat and held the coffee up once more. “Yours. It’s⏤ I got it for you. It’s the same one as last time.” Joel’s eyes widened in surprise. “You just sounded stressed so I thought coffee might help.”

“Well, ain’t you a sweetheart?” Joel replied with a growing smile. He took the cup from you then shook his head. “You should know this is a one time thing though.” You raised an eyebrow in question. Joel chuckled. “The point of this is,” He motioned between the two of you with the hand holding the cup of coffee, “I’m supposed to be buyin’ you stuff.”

You chewed on your lower lip and tried to find your bearings. “It felt weird coming with nothing to offer you.”

“All I need is your company. Thought I made that clear?” He countered.

“Still.” You shrugged. “Old habits die hard, I guess.”

“Fine. That just means you can’t argue against the things I bought you for this meetin’.

You blinked. “The what?” 

Joel didn’t respond. Instead, he held out one elbow in your direction and after a beat you slipped your arm through his. He led you across the campus and you couldn’t keep yourself from glancing over at him. Joel looked like an entirely different person, but when he spoke he still felt like the man you spoke to over a bakery counter. 

“How’s your day been so far, darlin’?”

“Good! Just, you know, normal.” You were not going to mention that you spent your entire morning just mentally and physically preparing for this meeting. “What about you? You sounded kind of frustrated over the phone.” Joel glanced down at you and you shook your head. “Not that you need to tell me if it’s personal or about your company. Obviously.”

Joel let out a breathy laugh. “Am I makin’ you nervous?”

Not wanting to lie, you scrunched your nose and just blurted out the truth. “A little. I guess I’m not used to seeing you like this and your company building is so fancy and I also think I’m starting to overthink this again. Don’t get me wrong I’m excited to see you, but…” Joel’s small smile remained as he listened to you ramble. “I should shut up now.”

“I’d rather you not.” Joel shrugged. “You have a nice voice.” 

Your face felt warm, a habit around this man you were learning, and he led you into the lobby of the building. It was just as pretty inside as it was outside. Open, filled with natural light, and decorated with glass panels and shades of soft green and blue. Eyes drifted to Joel, but he didn’t seem to pay any attention to it. He walked you up to the second floor where a small cafe-like area sat in the corner by the window giving a view of the park. Even more people seemed to stare as he pulled a chair out for you to sit in before sitting across from you. The other surrounding tables had what looked like workers on their lunch break.

“Anythin’ I can do to make you less nervous?” Joel asked. He took a sip from the coffee you got him. It was funny he asked because this was somehow more intimidating than just walking arm in arm. Now, across from him, you needed to maintain eye contact. 

You hummed and crossed your arms to rest on the table. “Tell me something embarrassing that will humanize you to me.”

“Embarassin’...” Joel hummed in thought. He laced his fingers together and nodded. “In college, I tried to serenade a girl I wanted to date with my guitar but I was under the wrong window and an old woman opened the window to dump a bucket of water on me. Then she called the cops.”

You grinned. “Nice. Except all I heard from that is ‘you are a romantic who can play the guitar’ so that only makes you more attractive and intimidating to me.”

“I’m attractive to you?” Joel smirked.

“I also said ‘intimidating’.” You replied then motioned to yourself. “This exercise was to make you less so and somehow I embarrassed myself even more? That does not seem fair.”

Joel shrugged, “If it makes you feel better I think it’s cute.” A stupid smile slipped onto your features and you shook your head with a small laugh. He leaned forward a bit and furrowed his brow. “I will admit though I have been dyin’ to hear your answer from the other day.” You sucked in a sharp breath. Joel’s lips twitched up once more. “So? Am I a cowboy or a lumberjack?”

Not expecting the question broke out in a laugh of surprise. Admittedly, it put your nerves at ease. You relaxed in your seat with a grin. “I actually do have an answer for you. I think I’ve settled on cowboy.” Joel’s eyebrows raised. “My friend helped me decide. She called you a cowboy too. Although, she also called you homeless.”

Joel chuckled. “Homeless?”

“You looked worse for wear when we first saw you that one day.” You shook your head. “But look at you now! You clean up well, Joel Miller. Owner of Miller Construction Company. Actual multi-millionaire.”

He bobbed his head with a slight wince. Joel rubbed the side of his jaw sheepishly, “I see you did your research.”

“A bit.” You answered. “I actually, uh, met with a…sugar baby.” Joel’s eyes widened and you wondered if it was because it was the first time one of you finally used the term ‘sugar baby’ in conversation or because you had met with one to interview. Maybe both. “I needed to ask her a few questions. You were infamous, by the way.”

“Infamous?”

You let out a small laugh. “Oh, yeah. Apparently every single sugar baby in LA, of which there is a community if you didn't know, wants you as their ‘daddy’.” Joel cleared his throat, shifting in his seat, and you could see a tint of blush across his cheeks. It made your smile widen. “They call you the ‘white whale’.”

“Jesus Christ.” Joel ran a hand through his hair, making it a bit messier which you found you enjoyed seeing, and he blew out a breath. “I told ‘em not to make such a big deal of it.” Amused, you leaned forward and rested your head on a fist making it clear you were waiting for elaboration. Joel chuckled. “I mentioned my… idea to an old friend, and he got me in touch with this group.” He raised an exasperated eyebrow and waved his hand. “Apparently that group. They, uh, they made me go on… dates.”

“Made you?” You teased. “Like at gunpoint?”

Joel shrugged. “May as well have been.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “That day I forgot my wallet? I had just met a bunch of different women who were…interested in being…”

“Your sugar baby?” You grinned.

“You’re enjoyin’ this a little too much.” Joel crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at you. “I think I liked it better when you were ramblin’ ‘bout how handsome I am.”

You held up a finger. “Hold up. I didn’t ramble about how handsome you are. I just said I found you attractive.” Joel smirked and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. “And also, when my friend and I saw you that day you were wearing a dirty flannel and old jeans.”

“Yeah. So?”

“So you went on a bunch of dates with women wanting to be your sugar baby, looking like that?”

Joel shrugged. “I was just tryin’ to be real. Hate these damned things.” He readjusted his suit blazer. “I thought it’d be best to show up how I usually look. Find someone who had similar ideals. I also took them to a diner to eat.” You covered your mouth, trying to hide the wide grin you were wearing. Joel shook his head. “What?”

“It’s just… You’re telling me that on all those dates with women who wanted to specifically be your sugar baby,” You said slowly trying to bite back a laugh, “You wanted to find someone who wasn’t in it for the money.”

Joel paused in thought before his face cracked in amusement. His cheeks tinted pink again and he forced his gaze away from yours with an embarrassed wince. “When you say it like that…”

“That’s adorable.” You nodded.

“I think I preferred the word handsome.”

“Never used that one.”

“Attractive then.”

“Nah,” You leaned back in your seat with a shrug, “I think I’ve settled on adorable.”

Joel clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “Alright. Guess I’ll take what I can get.” The sound of a phone buzzing cut through the air and you watched as Joel leaned back to pull his cellphone out of his pocket. “One second, darlin’.” He frowned at whatever message he was reading on his screen. It was interesting to watch the lighthearted smile he had been wearing switch to a grumpy frown. He grunted out a sound of irritation before shoving his phone back into his pocket with a shake of his head. When his eyes met yours once more, the frustration melted back into a small smile. “Sorry 'bout that.”

“Don’t worry. You’re a busy man. Running a company and all.” You held your arms up to motion to the building you now sat in. Joel chuckled, and you shifted in your seat. It was now or never. He really was a busy guy. Couldn’t beat around the bush forever. “So… should we talk about the proposition?”

Joel shrugged. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Well, we can’t sit here just joking around forever. You have work to do, right?”

“No.” Joel shook his head. “You’re in control of this conversation, and as far as I’m concerned if you wanna sit here and chat for the next few hours I’m more than happy to do just that.”

A warm sense of reassurance filled your chest and you nodded. “Thank you, but I think I’m ready to talk about it.” You held up your phone. “I even made bullet points.”

“Very organized. Better than half the people who work for me today.” Joel joked.

You took in a slow breath and then held a hand out to concede the next talking point to him. “Tell me your proposition.”

“Sure.” Joel laced his fingers together again and rested it on the table in front of him with a professional nod. “I wanna take care of you, darlin’. Every resource I have is at your disposal. I don’t want you worryin’ about bills or rent or any sort of money issue you might normally face.” You tried not to show any surprise. You obviously knew all of that, but hearing him say it again in this setting felt different. “All I ask in return is your platonic companionship, and you on my arm at a few company conferences and functions.” Joel offered you a reassuring smile. “I just like talkin’ to you is all, darlin’.”

You bobbed your head in understanding and searched for what you wanted to say. Unable to grasp a single word you held up a finger and opened your phone to find your bullet points. You heard Joel chuckle. “By platonic companionship, can you be more specific? Is there some kind of quota I have to meet weekly?”

“No, darlin’. It ain’t that formal.” Joel replied. “And as for specifics? Uh, I figure just phone calls. Texting, maybe? In the evenings we could meet up sometimes and have dinner?” As he answered your question you were reminded that you were his first sugar baby. It made you feel better that he was apparently as nervous and confused as you. “I figure we can puzzle it out as we go?”

“Got it.” You nodded. “My next question,” You glanced down at your phone then back up, “Just to absolutely clarify, there is no expectation for anything…” You leaned forward and lowered your voice, “Sexual?”

“Exactly. I never want you to feel uncomfortable around me, darlin’.” Joel said firmly. “All I’m askin’ for is,” He pointed down toward the table as if to make his point, “This right here. Just chattin’.”

“Really?” You asked in surprise. “That’s it?"

“Yeah.”

“You’re offering me a life of ease, the world on a platter, and all you want from me is to chat?”

Joel shook his head and leaned forward. “What I want is to take care of you. I wanna watch you enjoy life instead of constantly workin’ and stressin’. Along with your presence, that’s the reward I’m gettin’.” 

“Oh, okay.” You bit down on your lower lip in thought. It really did seem too good to be true. A different question came to mind, a kind of embarrassing one, but it was probably best to clarify it now at the start of this. You settled your face between your hands and nervously asked. “Am I still allowed to flirt with you?” Joel’s eyes widened in surprise, but they filled with interest. “It’s just, sometimes at the bakery…” Half the fun of talking to him was getting to flirt with him. “I mean, I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable either.”

Joel shook as he let out a quiet laugh. “You really don’t have to worry about that, darlin’.” His cheeks were flushed, but he kept his charming voice confident and firm as he winked. “If you wanna flirt with an old man like me, I won’t complain.”

“Alright, and you’ll match my energy?”

“Sure, darlin’.” He chuckled.

You wondered if he was fully aware of what he was signing up for. This meant you could say what you wanted without the stress of being pressured into something. Joel was a handsome man and the thrill of flirting with him was exciting. You lowered your hands from your face and rested them on the table.

“Hmm. Sounds like a plan then.” You nodded and decided to test the waters. You tried to force every awkward nerve out of your body and stayed confident. “Anything else we should clarify, daddy?”

It took all your strength not to laugh at the look of shock that flashed across his face or the color that filled his cheeks. Joel cleared his throat and straightened his posture before readjusting his suit’s blazer once more. A hoarse chuckle fell from his lips as delight filled his eyes, “You’re gonna be a bit of a brat, ain’t you sugar?”

“Me? Never.” You said with mocking emphasis. “Now, do we need a contract or something?”

“If it’d make you more comfortable we can make one.” Joel shook his head. “I have no preference.” You shrugged. Rosalind said he’d want one, but if he didn’t you saw no reason to press for one. Joel held a hand out across the table for you to shake. “So? This official then?”

You sucked in a breath then nodded and took his hand to shake. “Guess so.”

“Good.” Joel held your gaze and you felt hypnotized by him. He squeezed your hand once before pulling it back and reaching into his jacket. “I have some things for you then.” Your eyebrows raised surprised by how quick he had something prepared. “Here.”

Joel pulled a brand new iPhone from his inner coat pocket along with what looked like a credit card. A black American Express card to be more specific. He set both in your hands and your jaw fell open in shock. “This…What…I⏤”

“Your phone looks ancient.” Joel shrugged. You glanced down at your current phone. It was a few editions behind and the screen was cracked from where you had dropped it months ago, but it still worked. Usually. Joel tapped his finger against the card sitting on top of the phone that you had yet to pull back towards yourself. Your hand just sat open in the middle of the table. “I want you to use the card for anythin’ you might need during the week.”

“Like?” You pressed.

“I said anythin’, sugar.” Joel replied in a low voice and you sucked in a sharp breath. “That’s the point of this, remember?” You nodded dumbly and he slowly closed your fingers around the items then pushed your hand back towards your side of the table. “I also need you to send me the billing information for your rent, power, and water so I can get those covered. Can you do that for me?”

You gaped at him in shock and it widened Joel’s smirk. Seconds ago you had him in the palm of your hand with your ‘daddy’ comment, but now the tables were turned. It was occurring to you that having him pay for you to live your life meant actually accepting his money. 

“Sugar,” Joel leaned forward, still keeping his voice low in a hoarse whisper, “I asked if you could do that for me.”

“I, uh, yes, sir.” The honorific slipped your lips before you could catch it.

Joel raised an eyebrow at it before nodding once with a grin. “Good girl.”

Oh, boy, you were jumping headfirst into something here, and you had never been more eager for the leap.

taglist:

@weddingfairy @bfences @fairntonorth @jasminedragon @biwitchy @huffle-punk

[previous][next]

✨J.M. Masterlist✨

[ponyosmom35]

welcome to hell

Simon Ghost Riley x reader

Liability series, chapter one!

synopsis: reader is transferred to a new base as a medic. upon meeting the Lieutenant she realizes that she may have gotten in over her head.

warnings: cursing, ghost is rude

Link to full Liability series!

https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/733401347573088256/simon-ghost-riley?source=share

“What do you mean we’ve got a new medic on the base?” Ghost asks as Price slides her file across the desk. He picks it up and reads through it quickly, his eyes skimming the qualifications, more the lack thereof. “What the fuck is this Price”

“Miss y/l/n is a young woman whose been sent here by Laswell. She’s good at her job, she’ll do just fine here”

“Shes not military”

“No she’s not”

“Then why is she here?” he questions once more

“Between you and I, Laswell sent her in because her sister is training for 141”

“Emma” Ghost realizes as he puts together their last names. 

“In order to get Emma here, Laswell had to pull some strings. One of the requirements was the transfer of her younger sister”

“Its a waste of space!” he states, crossing his arms in annoyance “what good is a medic who has no military background or field experience? Sounds like a fucking liability to me”

“She’s strictly on base, she won’t be in the field”

“So I say again, what’s the point of her? We need medics for the field! She’s only 26!” 

“Ghost I don’t make the rules, I just follow them. When Laswell gives me a transfer I deal with it, just like you’re going to listen to me when I say that this girl is more than welcome here. If she’s the price we pay for Emma then so be it” Price says, taking the file out of his hands. He nods to the door and Ghost shakes his head before exiting the office. He was livid, just one more mouth to feed. One more person he’d have to worry about. He didn’t care if this girl was the best in the world, without military or field experience she was as good as useless to him. He fucking hated useless people. 

He walks through the base angrily, searching for Soap and Gaz to inform them. He stops dead in his tracks at the sight of Emma with her arm wrapped around a much shorter woman’s shoulders as she led her through the room. She was gorgeous, her long hair fell down her back, she was wearing a pair of scrubs, with a long sleeve underneath it. She had large golden glasses sitting uptop her small nose. He watches as she spots him, she stops in her tracks and stares at him in confusion. 

“Oh perfect timing, y/n I’d like to introduce you to our Lieutenant goes by Ghost” Emma says 

“Nice to meet you Ghost, I’m y/n, I’m excited to be here” she says with a kind smile on her face, holding her hand out for him to shake. 

“A medic with no combat experience, I’ve heard about you”

“Yeah, I’m on base only”

“Fucking useless” he grunts before walking away and leaving the women in shock. 

“Excuse me?” she calls out to him, dropping her bag and walking over to him, he stares down at her, his dark eyes boring into her. If looks could kill, she’d be dead. “How dare you speak to me like that!”

Ghost is taken aback at her words, he hadn’t expected her to react this way. Nobody ever talked back to him, this was quite new. “I’m your Lieutenant” he reminds her

“Okay got it, that gives you no right to be a dick!” 

“Oh fuck!” Emma calls out, hurrying over to her sister. “You can’t talk to him like that”

“I’d listen to your sister” Ghost warns as they continue to glare at each other 

“I’m so sorry Ghost, please ignore her, it’s been a long day she just got off a 10-hour flight, and she’s a little delirious” Emma rambles 

“No I’m not delirious, I’m just-”

“y/n!” Emma snaps, clutching her sisters arm tightly. “We’ll be on our way now” 

Emma pulls her sister out of the room, trying to ignore the whispers and small laughs from the others in the common room and. They hurry to her room and set her things on the ground. Nobody had ever seen anything like it, this young woman, fresh off the plane looked Ghost in the face and yelled at him, calling him out for being rude. 

“What the fuck were you thinking? That is my fucking Lieutenant! The only person above him on this base is Price!”

“He was a dick Emma!”

“He’s allowed to be a dick! He’s the Lieutenant!” she exclaims 

“I really don’t care who he is” 

“do you have any idea how lucky you are to be here? You aren’t a trained military medic, you don’t belong here! Ghost knows it, that’s why he reacted that way! The only reason you’re here is because Laswell wants me on his fucking team! You forget that I’m in training with him right now, that’s why I’m here, I can’t have you fucking it up for me!” 

“I’m sorry Em, I don’t want to get you in trouble”

“Then don’t pull that shit again okay?” Emma asks, she sits down on her bed and nods watching as her sister sighs angrily before leaving her alone. 

-

Later that night she walked out of her room for the first time in hours. Admittedly she was embarrassed about what happened earlier. She shouldn’t have lost her cool with the Lieutenant, but she was hurt by his words. They were simple yet they cut so deep. She walks to the dining hall and all eyes turn to her. Whispers spread through the soldiers and her cheeks burn. 

“Don’t worry about them, they’ll be over it in a day” a man says as he walks up to her with his own plate of food, his was stuffed so high she wasn’t sure how he’d gotten it all to fit. “I’m John MacTavish, call me soap” 

“Why soap?” she asks 

“I clean house” he answers with a smirk, as he walks over to a table with several people sitting there eating “come sit” 

“Oh it’s okay-” she starts 

“Come on lass we don’t bite” Soap says holding his hand out to the empty seat across from him. She nods and takes a seat next to another young man with a hat on. 

“y/n this is Kyle aka Gaz” 

“Nice to meet you love” 

“It’s nice to meet you, Gaz. How do you guys know my name?” she asks 

“That was quite a scene you made earlier, you’re a celebrity” 

“Great, my sisters gonna kill me”

“Yeah if Ghost doesn’t get ya first” Soap jokes

“You’re a brave soul” Gaz chuckles “in all my time here I never seen anyone do that”

“Oh so you guys know him?”

“Yeah he’s our Lieutenant”

“Oh you guys are on the taskforce?”

“141” Soap nods as he shovels food into his mouth.

“Thats what my sister is here for, she’s training”

“Emma”

“Oh you know her?” she asks in surprise

“Of course, we train with her daily, she’s one hell of a solider”

“Yeah she is” she responds 

“So you must be y/n” a deep British voice says, she looks up to see a tall man with mutton chops. 

“Yes”

“I’m Captain John Price, it’s a pleasure to meet you” he says holding his hand out to her, she takes it and shakes it. 

“Its nice to meet you too Sir”

“I hear you’ve made quite an impression already” he smiles 

“Seems like it” she says nervously 

“Between you and I, you’ve got guts I like that. Keep your head up, you deserve to be here. Stop by my office tomorrow at 7 and I’ll introduce you to the other medics”

“Yes sir” she smiles 

“Have a good night guys” he nods before leaving their table 

“Looks like you might survive, if Price isn’t mad at you then you might have a chance” Gaz comments 

“Great” she smiles sarcastically 

“Eh you’ll be find lass, just takes gettin used to is all” Soap says 

“Thanks guys” 

“Anytime you wanna go toe to toe with LT let me know so I can get front-row seats” Soap says causing them all to laugh.

"welcome to hell, love"

chapter two: https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/733825688470192128/you-dont-like-me-i-dont-like-you?source=share

[armins-used-qtip]

Armin finds your tapes

(This isn’t my best story but I didn’t want it to go to waste so I’m posting it :)

Armin had been staying with Eren for the past month due to renovations on his apartment. It wasn’t surprising he went to Eren since they’d been friends for as long as they could remember. You personally got along well with Armin and considered him to be your friend, rather than just your boyfriend’s friend. It also helped you were both film students.

Now that he was temporarily living in Erens house you saw a lot more of him. Often you two would hang out. Even when Eren wasn’t there, discussing your passions for filmmaking.

On this night you were in Erens room waiting for him to get back from his part time job. It was about 6:00pm and he got off at 10:00pm

Armin was in the living room, flicking through the large collection of dvds and tapes you had collected over the years. Unlike Eren, Armin also appreciated the older forms of entertainment and preferred DVDs over Netflix or Disney+.

Armins shuffling fingers stopped at a tape he didn’t recognise

“What’s this ‘Eren and me’ oh is this Y/N’s new project?” excitement filled him up as he pulled the tape out. He felt a feint sense of pride. That’s just the type of person he was, he cared so much about others goals and aspirations.

“She was probably going to show me this at some point, might aswell watch it now” he giggled to himself as he walked into his room with the tape in hand.

He sat down, turned his laptop on and slid the DVD in. He patiently waited as the video loaded. When it finally loaded he looked closely, turning the brightness up to really see the screen.

‘Ngh~ E-Eren fuck…’ the image of you getting fucked senseless came on Armins screen. His cheeks were blazing as he scrambled to shut the laptop. Suddenly he was so aware of his breathing- no it was more like panting.

Even after a few minutes had passed he couldn’t shake the lewd image from his mind. He wasn’t entirely sure how to react. It wasn’t like he hadn’t heard you two going at it through the thin walls before, but actually seeing it was so different. Especially since it was in such an intimate way. It wasn’t just cheaply recorded on a cellphone, no. It was filmed with a camcorder and put on a DVD. It was something to be cherished, and yet he had just invaded any privacy the tape held.

Armin had never regarded you in any other way than a friend. But he still couldn’t help the way his pants tightened and his face heated at the sight of you in such a vulnerable position.

As if something possessed him he opened the laptop again. The video had paused and it was a still image. Your mouth agape and eyes half rolled back. Eren had a fistful of your hair as he yanked your drooping head up, forcing you to look at the camera. Armins finger hovered over the space bar. He knew this would be pernicious to your friendship, the smart thing to do would be put the tape back and pretend he’d never seen it.

But sometimes ‘the smart thing’ doesn’t win. He pressed down and allowed the video to play.

Armin wasn’t particularly well versed, sexually speaking. He had only a few sexual experiences. Each time he had sex or engaged in anything of the sort he felt underwhelmed and disinterested.

This was not like those other times, his entire body felt like it was on fire. He forced his mouth shut as he intently watched. You were getting pounded at an ungodly pace. Tears were forming in your eyes. Suddenly Eren pulled out of you, the whine you emitted at the loss of contact made Armins pants grow even tighter. Eren walked out of the frame only to return with a lit candle. Is he trying to up the ambience??

An audible gasp left Armins mouth when Eren poured the hot wax onto your back. Your yelps of pain only seemed to up Erens ambition as he placed the candle down and began spreading the hot wax with his hands. The unholy sounds leaving your mouth left Armin gobsmacked. Surely you couldn’t be enjoying that? It looked so… painful.

He felt deeply ashamed at the way his dick practically jumped at the sight of you in pain. With lack of better judgment he unbuckled his belt and started pulling his pants down his thighs.

He shuddered at the contact between his sweaty palm and his dick. Then he positioned the laptop on his thighs so he could watch as he touched himself.

As Eren wiped the now solidifying wax of your back, your knees began to buckle from the intense and prolonged ecstasy you had been denied so many times. “Please… Eren” you panted in a desperate tone “I just want to cum” you pleaded to your boyfriend.

Erens face contorted into one of reassurance, a misleading smile plastered on his face. “Cmon sweetie, you can hold out for a bit longer” Eren said as he lifted your limp head to face the camera. “You have to put on a show for the camera, right? Fucking slut” he whispered in your ear, still holding that smile. You weakly nodded your head, making Eren smile even wider.

Armin blushed furiously as you looked straight into the camera. It was almost as if you were staring into his soul, like you knew what he was doing. This sent a wave of guilt through him, causing him to still his tugging hand.

Eren went back behind you and began pounding again at that ungodly pace. The lewd sounds of skin slapping and squelching drove Armin crazy and he started moving his hand up and down.

Armins hips were bucking, he desperately needed something more than his hand. He took his thumb and ran it over his throbbing tip. Pathetic whines left his mouth. It truly was a filthy sight to see. THE Armin Arlet jerking off to his best friend’s sex tape.

He kept his hand at the same rhythm of Eren pounding into you. His own Broken whimpers covered the sound of the tape.

The pressure was building too fast, he had to throw his head back to stop himself from cumming immediately. The deep pleasure in his gut started spreading through his whole body. At this point he was spasming like a mad man, biting on his free hand to stop himself from moaning. Although it was pretty ineffective as his whimpers filled the room. Armin wondered what you must think, hearing all the obscene noises he is making from the other room.

The thought of you catching him sent him over the edge. The scene was similar to a balloon exploding. His wild hips bucking as he shot ropes of hot cum from his cock. incomprehensible sentences were being spat from his mouth as he emptied himself all over his bed and chest.

After about a minute of cumming and shaking, he gradually calmed down. Minus his irregular and heavy breathing he was finished. His laptop was still open but the video had finished. He wasn’t sure when the tape had ended. Grabbing the box of tissues next to his bed, he wiped his lower abdomen. ‘I should put this back’ he thought as he looked at the DVD that was poking out of his laptop.

The end xx

I take requests or anything (as long as they’re AOT men 🙏🙏)