#in the eyes of the wealthy who have the kind of money and time to do things like expand railroad infrastructure
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champagne problems: part one
pairing: jake sim x f reader
genre: enemies to lovers, rich kids au, fake dating au, college au, angst, fluff
part one word count: 15.6k
part one warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, family drama, a fatal case of second son syndrome
soundtrack: boom - dpr live / bad idea! - girl in red / blood on the floor - kuiper / calico - dpr ian / comme de garçons (like the boys) - rina sawayama / lust - chase atlantic
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The second son of a wealthy family, Jake Sim has gotten used to always standing in the shadow of his older brother. From grades to girls to talks of becoming future CEO of the Sim Corporation, he’s no stranger to coming in second place. So when an opportunity arises for Jake to finally have the one thing his brother can’t and best him once and for all, he knows he’d be a fool not to take it.
There are only two problems. The first is that the thing his brother wants so badly isn’t a thing at all. It’s you, semi-estranged daughter of the Sims’ closest and most long-standing business partner.
The second is that Jake Sim can’t fucking stand you.
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PART ONE
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Fingers wrapping around the stem of your wine glass, you sigh. Punctuality may have been a steep order for someone who you suspect is running dangerously low on both common sense and regard for others, but twenty minutes? Really?
Your eyes land on the obnoxiously ornate grandfather clock next to the hostess stand. In a restaurant with ceilings so high you can barely see them and a carefully curated ambience that practically screams old money, it blends right in. It also gives you an updated timeframe on your would-be date’s tardiness.
Scratch that – thirty minutes.
Pulling out your phone, the absence of any new notifications is almost as annoying as whatever threadbare excuse you’re sure your date will offer you when he arrives. Glancing at the door, it remains devoid of any new patrons. Or perhaps rather if he arrives.
You’re running near empty on both pinot noir and patience, and you use the distraction of your phone to make you seem a little less pathetic. As if this entire restaurant isn’t already privy to the fact that you’re actively being stood up.
Well, you think wryly, at least you look good doing it. The off white ensemble you selected for the evening is Chanel, and vintage, at that. Usually you wouldn’t pull out all the stops like this for something as flimsy as a first date, but men like James Sim have an eye for this kind of thing.
Four years your senior, he’s already carving out a name for himself at twenty-five. You suppose it is a little less impressive, though, when the name he was born with already carries a legacy of its own in the business world you usually do your very best to stay out of. Rumor has it he’s already a shoo-in for the next CEO of his father’s company. When nepotism is that blatant, you can’t do much but scoff and raise a glass to it.
Scrambling for something to do to make your wasted time pass a bit quicker, you search up the social media profile of your would-be date. Honestly, you doubt you would learn anything more substantial about him if he actually bothered to show up than you will from scanning over his feed. In your experience, men like that tend to make up for their success on paper by lacking an actual personality and any sort of self-awareness.
Gym selfie. Scroll. Gym selfie from a slightly different angle. Scroll. Dog photo. Pausing, you suppress a small smile. The dog in the picture is pretty cute, if nothing else. Zooming in slightly, your eyes crinkle at the way the dog’s tongue lolls out of its open mouth in a grin. Well, at least he’s got that going for him, you suppose. A cute dog is enough to bump any guy’s ranking up a few points in your book.
If James Sim is nothing but a sum of his social media profile, it’s not like you expected anything else. After all, this is the heir to the Sim Corporation, a golden boy that was born with a crown on his head and a gold spoon in his mouth. Everything he’s earned has been laid out for him in painstakingly placed steps. His entire life has been guided by a heavy hand and the knowledge that he would one day inherit everything that makes his family worth knowing.
You probably wouldn’t be too concerned with showing up to first dates on time, either. Especially since you doubt he’s ever been denied a second.
Tonight is nothing but a blip on a radar, you’re sure. Something for a secretary to schedule and him to notice a day or five late. Maybe if you’re lucky, someone on his team will send a consolatory bouquet once he does realize the mistake. He is still building his reputation, after all, and you could use a fresh set of flowers for your apartment.
With another slightly pitiful sigh and a final swig of wine, your glass is empty and your optimism is shot. A second glance at the clock says that thirty-eight minutes have now elapsed since your scheduled meeting time. And in your opinion, that’s thirty-nine too late for a first date.
Retrieving your coat from the back of your chair, you figure tonight will be remembered as nothing but a waste of a good outfit. Besides, you suppose forty minutes of aimless scrolling is ultimately less painful than the inevitable headache this date surely would have been had he bothered to actually show up.
Suddenly, you frown. You won’t complain if this date never actually happens, but you may end up with a slight problem. Although you haven’t been on the best of terms with your mother in a long time, tonight was meant to be the final bullet point on a list of favors you owe her.
As you pull your coat on, you consider the best way to frame the events of the evening. Lean into the whole ‘getting stood up’ thing in an effort to earn some sympathy points? Lay out the facts in their most basic form, timestamps included? Emphasize the fact that you waited long past the obligatory twenty minutes for him to actually show up? Or leave your message chain as it currently is, tell her nothing at all, and let her assume what she wants?
They’re all equally iffy, you think. Risky in their own regard.
Signing your name at the bottom of the check, you scribble in a generous tip for the waitress who did her best to check on you often without making it obvious that she knew you were expecting company that never arrived, expertly skirting that line between overbearing and empathetic. At least someone will go home happy, you think, adding an extra zero for good measure.
Exiting the restaurant, you decide to make it two people. James Sim may be a hotshot at his father’s company, but you’ll be damned before you let him ruin your evening. Before you order the Uber back to your place, you add an extra stop at your favorite sushi place. Takeout in the comfort of your own home will certainly be easier to enjoy than whatever Michelin-Star concoction you would have ordered here anyway, eaten in small bites between forced conversation topics, awkward pauses, and too long sips of wine.
And an hour later, you’re polishing off the last piece of an absolutely divine rainbow roll, wearing nothing but silk pajamas and a face mask, with old reruns of your favorite show playing on the TV when James Sim finally glances down at the Rolex on his wrist. He’s finally arrived at the tail end of a meeting that’s running so far behind schedule he has half a mind to just walk out of it. He would, too, if his father wouldn’t actually threaten his life for it.
It’s late, James realizes. Stupid late. So late that he won’t have the time or energy to do anything but pass out by the time he gets home, which really sucks, because he was genuinely looking forward to his date tonight–
“Fuck.”
All he can do is curse, even as the shocked faces of a concerning number of top executives turn to look at him all at the same time.
…
Jake Sim is about to fail his econ midterm.
It will be at least a week before grades are released, but he already knows it. He can already feel it in the way the questions start to swim in his mind, making less and less sense the more he turns them over, in the way his gut fills with dread as the minute hand of the clock at the front of the lecture hall ticks closer and closer to the testing time limit.
And it wouldn’t be that bad, if it weren’t his second time repeating this course.
Oh, his father is going to have an absolute field day with this one. Jake can practically hear it now.
“You failed your midterm? After already failing this course twice? You know, James was actually the top scoring student in his economic section. Dr. Jeong still mentions his term paper every time I see him at the university…”
And that’s if he’s in a good mood. Or rather, if things at the company are going well. Jake doesn’t even want to consider the comments he’ll be on the receiving end of if the news of his failure finds his father already agitated.
Exhaling, he gives his exam one final once-over, scanning for completion more than accuracy. His brain is so fried that he knows it’s of little use to him now. For his own sake, the best thing to do at this point is turn his test in and send a silent prayer to whoever might be listening on his way out the door.
Leaving the lecture hall behind him, Jake puts his phone out of airplane mode and frowns at the two notifications that pop up on his screen. The first is a missed call from his brother, and the second is a message from the same sender, requesting that he give him a call when he has the chance.
Considering that it’s neither his birthday nor a major holiday, Jake is more than a little confused. Regardless, he honors the request, pressing his phone to his ear as he begins the walk back to his apartment. Although it’s significantly less spacious than his childhood home, he finds it far more welcoming in more ways than one.
The outgoing call rings once, twice, three times. Jake is about to be annoyed at the missed connection, but his brother answers in the moments just before he’s sent to voicemail.
“Hey, Jake.” Shocking. He actually bothered to check the caller ID.
“Hey.” Jake’s voice is careful, guarded. It’s not like his personal life is of any importance to his older brother, but he’s not in the mood to answer any questions. He won’t give James any reasons to ask. “I saw your message.”
“Right.” Jake can hear the shuffle of other voices, scattered movements coming from the other line. James sounds busy. Just like always. Usually, that would usually mean he’s distracted. But Jake has the odd feeling that he has his brother’s undivided attention when James adds, “I have a favor to ask you.”
Immediately, Jake’s stomach drops. There are very few things in this world that are not within James Sim’s grasp, and even less that are within Jake’s, relatively speaking. Whatever it is, he must be desperate, if he’s willing to enlist the help of his little brother.
“Okay.” Jake’s voice betrays none of his sudden anxieties. “What is it?”
At least James spares him the agony of suspense. “You know ___, right?”
Jake frowns. Sure, he knows of you. Just like he has a vague idea of every one of his family’s business partners and their immediate kin. Particularly the ones that are the same age as him and attend the same university. But it’s not like he’s close with you, not like he’s ever had an actual conversation of any substance with you.
Especially since the minimal interactions the two of you have had did not leave Jake wanting more. The only child of parents whose last name is on the front of the most successful law firm within a thousand mile radius, you strike him as everything he’d expect you to be.
Spoiled. Entitled. Vapid. Out of touch with any version of reality that doesn’t consist of you getting everything you want at the exact moment you want it. He supposes it’s a bit like the pot calling the kettle black, considering his own upbringing, but he’d like to think that he’s earned what he’s been given, at least partially. Especially since most of it has been his brother’s hand-me-downs. And it’s not like his father has ever been in the habit of doing him any favors that don’t come wrapped in criticism, comparison, and disdain.
Although rumor does have it you and your mother haven’t been on speaking terms since you left for university, Jake imagines it’s probably because you wanted to bring the limited edition Versace to campus with you, and she insisted it would be safer at home.
Oh, well. Whatever designer dispute happened between you and your mother is no skin off his back. Jake has his own problems to worry about.
One of them being his brother’s question that still lingers on the other line.
Weighing responses in his head, Jake finally settles on, “I guess.” It’s his best attempt at being noncommittal.
Unfortunately, it doesn’t do anything to dissuade his brother. “Do you have her number by chance? My secretary should have taken it down, but she can’t find it anywhere.”
Jake balks, footsteps faltering. An equally distracted student walking behind him nearly stumbles right into his back. Wordlessly, Jake sends them an apologetic look before clarifying, “Her number? Like, her personal phone number?”
“What other kind of number is there?” And there’s the James that Jake knows. Annoyed at the perceived incompetencies of his younger brother, just as always.
Suddenly, Jake’s patience is running short too. James is the one asking for a favor and still has the gall to be annoyed with him. Typical. Jake’s words are clipped when he says, “No, I don’t have ___’s phone number.”
Jake expects that to be the end of it, but his brother won’t let it go so easily.
“Seriously? Don’t you two go to the same school?”
Jake rolls his eyes. “Right, because I have the entire student body on speed dial.”
There’s a pause on the other end. Jake half expects his brother to just hang up on him. After all, he’s never been able to take what he gets, to swallow what he dishes out.
What Jake does not expect, however, is the way James sounds so tentative when he speaks again. “Well…”
“Well what?” Patience already running thin, it’s all he can do not to snap.
“Do you think you could get it for me?”
Jake must be dreaming. This must be a post-exam punishment, a hallucination brought on by over exerting his brain too far for too long. “Do I think I could get ___’s phone number for you?” he repeats flatly.
“Is there an echo in here?” Asshole. At least he’s consistent.
“Just an echo chamber,” Jake mutters away from the receiver.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.” Jake stops for a moment to fiddle with his keyring as he walks up the stairs to his apartment. “No, I can’t get her phone number for you.”
“Why not?”
The key won’t line up quite right. Jake tries again, frustration seeping through. “Because I have better things to do than run stupid errands for you. Why don’t you drive here and get it yourself?”
“Trust me, if I thought she’d give it to me, I’d be there in an hour.”
The lock on his door finally clicks open, and Jake all but throws his bag down after kicking off his shoes. “And what the hell makes you think she’d give it to me?”
“Well, you didn’t accidentally stand her up, for one.” James doesn’t sound embarrassed by it. Just matter-of-fact. Like a date is nothing but a business deal. Something to be rescheduled and redone if negotiations go sour the first time around.
It is enough to stir up some of Jake’s curiosity, though. “You went on a date with ___?” He supposes it makes sense. Even if the rumor mill and its rumblings about your rocky relationship with your mother ring true, you’re still your parents’ daughter. Still a perfect match on paper for the future CEO of the Sim Corporation. The king of a company and princess of a law firm. It’s a match made in heaven, he thinks ruefully.
“No, I didn’t. That’s kind of the whole point here.”
“Whatever.” Jake still doesn’t see what the hell he has to do with all this. “Why don’t you just look up her parents’ number in the company database and get it from them?”
Jake can practically feel his brother’s exasperation through the phone. “Right, because that would go over really well. Hi there," he imitates. “I’d like to make your daughter the mother of my future children. Care to pass along her phone number so I can get started on that?”
Jake suppresses a wince. “Jesus. I see why she stood you up.”
“She didn’t. I stood her up,” James clarifies. “On accident.”
Semantics. And not ones that Jake is interested in. “Either way. I’m not getting her number for you.”
“Yeah?” Jake is unsettled by the way there’s still no trace of defeat in his brother’s voice. There’s something almost sinister when he suddenly switches topics. “How are classes going?”
Jake’s lips pull into a taut line, disaster of an econ midterm still fresh on his mind. “Fine.”
“Really? Even econ? Third time’s the charm and all that?” Well, at least his brother can be counted on to consistently be an asshole.
“Why do you care?” The only thing Jake wants to do is end this call and crawl into bed for a well-deserved afternoon nap. Let his subconscious spare him from thoughts of his older brother and econ and you for at least a little bit.
James has other plans. “You must have taken the midterm recently, right?” Jake’s silence is confirmation enough. “You know, the only thing Dr. Jeong weighs more heavily than the midterm is the final paper at the end of the semester.”
A minute ago, Jake thought you were the last thing he wanted to talk about. The sudden shift in direction in this conversation is starting to prove him wrong. If there’s one thing Jake would rather discuss even less than his older brother’s dating life, it’s school. “What does that have to do with a–”
“And I think I still have my copy of the paper that earned me the top score in my entire section.” The smugness is practically palpable. “I might have to do some digging, but I’m sure it’s in my old files somewhere.”
Jake rolls his eyes, wishes the immediate comparison weren’t the first thing to rise to the forefront of his mind. Wishes it didn’t find him so lacking. Wishes it wasn’t narrated in the voice of his disappointed father. “If you’re trying to gloat, it’s n–”
“I’m trying to strike a deal. Jesus, no wonder you’re on track to be a super senior getting a business degree.”
“This is my third year,” Jake defends indignantly.
“And your third attempt at econ, which I passed in my first year.” He sounds like he’s settling a little too well into the CEO role when he proposes, “I’m trying to make it your last attempt.”
Jake would be lying if he said his curiosity weren’t piqued, even just slightly. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying, little brother, that my term paper, my notes, all of it, are yours.” It sounds too good to be true. It has to be too good to be true. James is a lot of things, but generous and helpful are very rarely any of them. “As soon as you get me ___’s number.” And there it is.
Jake hangs up without bothering to dignify that with a response and hopes it sends a strong enough signal of his refusal. Then, he falls into his bed face-first with a groan.
And a week later, when his econ midterm results are finally posted, the first thing Jake does is let his head fall on his desk with an alarmingly loud thud that has Jay poking his head in the door to make sure everything’s okay. The second thing he does, a solid twenty minutes later, is send his older brother a text.
Jake [7:21pm]: You better start digging through those old files.
…
All things considered, you’re easier to track down than Jake expects. The university campus is big, and judging from the way he can’t remember ever seeing you in a class, the two of you don’t share a major. But the similarities in your social status mean you’re bound to run in some of the same circles, and Jake is able to use this to his advantage.
Ultimately, it takes very little digging on his part. First, he mentions your name to Jay in the middle of an upper body superset in the university gym. Jay frowns, setting the weights back on the rack.
“That name sounds familiar. I think maybe Heeseung knows her?”
That tidbit takes him to Wednesday night, which always finds Jake in the library at a statistics study group Heeseung also makes a habit of attending. On their way out for the evening, Jake stops him by the door.
“___?” Heeseung pauses for a moment in contemplation. “I’m pretty sure she’s friends with Sunghoon.”
And the third piece of the puzzle proves a bit more difficult to click into place. Sunghoon is harder for Jake to find, at least in a way that comes across naturally. Much like yours, Park Sunghoon is a name Jake hears in passing more than anything. He’s a friend of friends, a mutual acquaintance that Jake has never really had a conversation with and certainly doesn’t know well enough to interrogate for your phone number.
But his most recent midterm score is still looming over his head, and the thought of retaking econ again is so nightmarish it sends a shiver down his spine every time he considers it. At this point, there isn’t much Jake wouldn’t put on the line to pass the damn class. Including his pride, apparently.
So when Jake hears from Jay who hears from Heeseung that Sunghoon will probably be at the party Epsilon Nu Eta is throwing this Friday night, he starts to formulate a plan.
And he starts to regret said plan less than twenty-four hours later when he finds himself on the doorstep of a frat party. A frat party. He can’t remember the last time he came to one of these things. At twenty-one, he already feels geriatric as he tugs self-consciously at the sleeves of the plan black long sleeve he put on for the occasion. Something that will hopefully hide the questionable stains he’ll inevitably leave with.
Entering through the front door with hinges that don’t align quite right, Jake has one mission in mind: find Park Sunghoon. Find him and somehow convince him to pass along your number. There’s a fine line to be walked there, Jake thinks. If he comes across as too eager, it will just be creepy. Nonchalance is the name of the game, but he’s never been good at keeping his cards close to his chest.
For Jake, it’s a tall order, which means the only detour he’ll allow himself is grabbing a cup of lukewarm beer from the kitchen before he sets out looking for Sunghoon. The alcohol is an effort to break the barrier of his inhibitions more than anything. To make what he’s about to do feel a little less painful.
Making his way out of the kitchen, Jake wanders aimlessly for a few minutes. He doesn’t know much about Sunghoon, other than the fact that he competes for your university’s figure skating team and is undeniably handsome. A good-looking figure skater, Jake thinks as he turns down yet another crowded hallway, narrowly avoiding spilling his drink. Where would one of those be hiding?
He spends a few more awkward minutes asking around to no avail. Just when he’s on the verge of saying fuck it and making some sort of sacrifice to the econ gods instead, Jake bumps into the man of the hour on his way to the bathroom.
In the chaos, Jake doesn’t recognize him until it’s almost too late. “Hey,” Jake calls out, bladder all but forgotten for now. He’s trying to fake an air of coolness when he adds, “Sunghoon, right?”
“Yeah.” Jake thanks his lucky stars that Sunghoon must be at least two drinks in, because he doesn’t seem weirded out at all by the sudden question from a near stranger.
“I’m Jake.” He reaches his arm out for a handshake. Blinking, Sunghoon just stares at his outstretched hand as long, awkward moments bleed into each other. Eventually, Jake just lets it fall back to his side. “I’m, uh, in a statistics class with Heeseung.”
“Right on,” Sunghoon nods, still unsure if this conversation has a point to it. Luckily, the pleasant haze clouding his thoughts means he doesn’t mind too much either way.
Jake figures there’s no point in dragging this out by exchanging more pleasantries, and he has the feeling Sunghoon might start forgetting his own name, much less yours, if he lets this continue for too long.
“Listen,” Jake starts, trying to sound as not creepy as possible. “I heard that you know ___ pretty well.”
Sunghoon just shrugs. Jake can’t tell if he’s succeeded. “You could say that.”
“I know this is a strange request, but, uh,” Jake scratches the side of his head, “is there any chance I could get her number? I promise not to do anything weird.” Word vomiting, the extra details are spilling out before he can stop them. “It’s not even for me, actually–”
Sunghoon spares him the rest of a rambling explanation. “Sorry, bud. No can do.”
Jake’s stomach tightens in panic. He really, really just needs your phone number. It has him forgetting his earlier inhibitions, throwing caution to the wind even if he’s making a bit of a fool of himself in the process. “It’s for something important, actually. I’m kind of desperate–”
Sunghoon just puts a consolatory hand on Jake’s shoulder, interrupting his train of thought. “Look, man, it’s nothing against you personally, but I have literally never met you in my life. Besides, if I gave out ___’s number to every random guy that asked, I’m pretty sure she’d shave my head.” Sunghoon leans in close, like he’s about to share a secret. Jake’s nose twists at the scent of alcohol on his breath. “And between you and me, I don’t think I could pull off being bald.”
Jake kind of begs to differ, but that’s neither here nor there. He opens his mouth to plead his case again, but Sunghoon doesn’t even let him get a word out.
“Sorry, man, but I really can’t help you.” Pausing for a moment, he considers. “You said your name was Jacob, though, right?” He doesn’t pause long enough for Jake to correct him. “I could ask her if she’s cool with giving you her number–”
“Whose number are you giving out?” And if Jake thought this conversation wasn’t enough of a train wreck already, trust the timing of your entrance to be more disastrous than divine.
Eyes turning to you and your sudden intrusion on the conversation, Jake’s mind goes blank for a minute. And yeah, he kinda gets why his brother’s so hellbent on having a second chance at your time. Dressed in all black, your hair is loose around your face. Even though it likely costs more than most people’s monthly paycheck, there’s nothing inherently special about what you’re wearing. Still, Jake is finding it exceedingly difficult to look away.
It’s something in your aura, he thinks. In the way you carry yourself. Something that money can’t buy. Something that makes his gaze want to linger.
“___!” Sunghoon grins, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, wobbling slightly. You jostle at the sudden impact, inching away from where the contents of his cup slosh dangerously close to the rim. “What a coincidence. We were just talking about you.”
Your brow creases in confusion. Jake tracks the miniscule movement with parted lips.
“You were?”
“Yeah,” Sunghoon confirms, just at the same moment Jake shakes his head, “No.”
Turning your mildly concerned gaze away from your friend, you glance at Jake for the first time. Brow furrowing further, you cock your head to the side as your lips part in partial recognition. He looks oddly familiar, but you can’t quite place him. “Do I know you?”
“No.” Jake shakes his head again, a little too fervently. “I don’t think we’ve ever met. At least not properly.”
It’s an odd way of putting it. You’re about to ask him to clarify when Sunghoon cuts in, clearing up the confusion for you. “It’s Jacob,” he says, as if that should mean anything to you. Turning back to the boy across from him, he adds, “Jacob Sim, right?”
And that clicks things into place.
“Sim?” you echo, realization dawning on your features.
“Yep,” Sunghoon confirms.
Across from you, Jake says nothing. He doesn’t think he could if he wanted to. In fact, he’s pretty sure his life is flashing before his eyes.
“Sim,” you repeat one final time, jaw ticking in agitation as everything starts to settle. “I do know you.”
“Oh, really?” Sunghoon asks at your side, oblivious to the way your tone betrays obvious animosity. A distaste so palpable Jake can practically feel it radiating off of you. Turning back to Jake, he’s apologetic. “Sorry, Jacob. I guess I could have given you her number, then.” Sunghoon smiles sheepishly, as if he hasn’t just made things a million times worse. “My bad.”
Jake’s eyes widen in horror as he scrambles for some sort of defense, an explanation that will dig him out of this rapidly deepening hole, but you beat him to it.
“My number?” The look you give him has a concerning amount of venom in it. “Seriously? God, why are all you Sim men so obsessed with me?”
“That’s not–”
“First your brother views my LinkedIn profile twenty-three times after standing me up, and now you’re harassing my friends for my phone number?”
“Hold on. I’m not harassing anyone–”
“No,” Sunghoon agrees, nodding diplomatically. “Jacob was perfectly pleasant–”
“It’s Jake, actually.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah, just Jake.”
“Sorry,” Sunghoon apologizes. Turning to you, he tries mediating again. “Well, like I said, just Jake was perfectly pleasant–”
“I don’t care how pleasant he is.” Your glare somehow becomes icier. “Leave me alone, and tell your dickhead brother to do the same.” Muttering to yourself more than anything, you add, “The last thing I need right now is you practically stalking me–”
“Stalking you?” Jake flounders, an edge of annoyance creeping into his tone. He’s not surprised to learn that you really do think the world revolves around you, but really? Stalking? “Don’t flatter yourself. It’s not like I’m enjoying this interaction any more than you are.”
You don’t back down, crossing your arms over your chest. The movement has Sunghoon teetering dangerously where he leans on you, but you pay him no mind, attention focused solely on the man in front of you. “Then why do you want my phone number so bad?”
“Like I was trying to say earlier when you wouldn’t let me get a word out sideways,” Jake bites, “it’s not for me. I made a deal with someone, and I told them I’d give them your number.”
Your gaze narrows. “Who?”
“What?”
“Who did you make a deal with?”
Jake hesitates, knowing how the truth will sound. Screw it – a lie would likely be just as damning. Still, it takes him another pregnant pause to eventually admit, “... My brother.”
Scoffing in disbelief, you double down on your ire. “Absolutely not.” Shaking Sunghoon off your shoulder, you turn to leave, dragging him with you. Jake’s eyes close; he can’t bear to watch his last chance at passing this semester leave him in the dust.
So much so that he pleads again, “Wait, ___. Please.” Jake is begging now, and he feels a little pathetic for it. Still, he can’t help the way desperation drives him to continue. “You can block him for all I care. I can’t explain everything, but my life is quite literally in your hands right now. I just need–”
“No.” The single syllable vibrates with finality. “Do I have to spell it for you? N-” you bite, enunciating so sharply Jake thinks you might draw blood. “O. No. I’m not giving my number to you or your flake of a brother or anyone else that so much as looks like they might have the name Sim.”
God, is the only think Jake can think as he miserably watches your retreating figure, Sunghoon stumbling along as you drag him with you. I am so fucked.
…
When Sunghoon finally emerges from your guest bedroom an hour before noon the next day, it’s to ask if you’d be kind enough to spare him some Advil. Even with a bad case of bedhead and the aftermath of overconsumption, he still manages to look good, albeit a little lifeless.
“I’ll do you one better,” you tell him, but reach for the small white bottle anyway, shaking out a few tablets and offering them to your best friend along with a glass of cold water.
“Bagels and coffee?” Sunghoon asks over the rim of his glass, with a little more alertness in his eyes than there was moments before.
“Bagels and coffee,” you confirm. A tried and true hangover cure, if there ever was one. And even though your head is feeling nice and clear, thanks to your trusty two drink limit that has yet to fail you, the local cafe a block from your apartment is very rarely something you turn down.
Thirty minutes later and a change of clothes later, the two of you are trading gossip and stealing bites of each other’s orders when the other person isn’t looking at the table in the back corner of the cafe. Sunghoon is just about to stuff another piece of your bagel in his mouth when he notices yet another notification light up the screen of your phone.
Sunghoon nods towards where it rests on the table, bagel suddenly forgotten. “Is that your mom again?”
“Yep.” Your lips stretch thin. You don’t even need to glance down at your phone to confirm. She’s been blowing up your notifications all weekend. “She’s been on my ass about the upcoming fundraiser event for days now. And reminding me about the utmost importance of bringing an appropriate plus-one.”
Across from you, Sunghoon straightens his shoulders. “I suppose it is about time I bust out the trusty old prom suit again.”
You sigh, sending your half-eaten bagel a forlorn glance. “I wish. She told me if I ever bring you again, I lose half my trust fund.”
“What?” Sunghoon looks affronted. “Why?”
You level him with a look. “Does soap ring a bell?”
Sunghoon splutters in indignation. “That was one time,” he defends. “And anyone would have thought those were edible! They were shaped like candies, and they were on a platter–”
“Soap presentation aside, I don’t think that excuse will work on her.” The dejection in your voice is apparent. “Besides, she’s already made it very clear that you’re explicitly forbidden from attending any future family events as my plus-one.”
“Whatever,” Sunghoon grumbles. “Keep all your stupid inedible soaps.” Pausing for a moment, he realizes that still leaves a giant question hanging in the air. “Who are you gonna bring, then? You know, it kind of is too bad your date with Sim number one didn’t pan out.”
You shrug, pointedly ignoring the way your phone screen lights up yet again. It really is a bit of a shame James turned out to be an unreliable flake. One that still hasn’t bothered to apologize to you or even give any sort of indication that he remembered your scheduled date. Still, you can’t think of anyone that would earn your mother’s approval faster. “I’ll probably just fake a stomach flu.” After all, you’re kind of out of options. “I thought about asking Jungwon, but he’s got stuff going on for his internship that night. A big economics conference or something.”
“Speaking of economics,” Sunghoon leans in conspiratorially. “I think I might have some intel on our new friend from last night.”
“How was economics the segue you went with? We were literally just talking about his older brother.” Giving him a look of disbelief, you add, “And what about that interaction gave you the impression that we’re friends?”
“Whatever,” Sunghoon brushes you off before he continues, “Anyway, I heard from Heeseung who heard from Jay that apparently little Sim is hot garbage at economics. Rumor has it he’s already failed the class twice and is on track to do it again.”
You’re not sure why he’s deemed this information relevant to you, but you’d be lying if you said it weren’t a little amusing.
“Really? Jungwon’s taking it now too, and he said that he sleeps through half the lectures and is still pulling an A.”
Sunghoon rolls his eyes. “Well, we can’t all be prodigies.”
Your lips flatten. “Pretty sure you don’t have to be a prodigy to not fail an entry level course three times.”
“Hey, cut him some slack,” Sunghoon argues. “He’s only failed it twice as of now.”
You scoff, entirely uninterested in the gory details of Jake Sim’s academic failures. “Whatever.”
“Either way,” Sunghoon says, “Jay told Heeseung who told me that’s why he’s so desperate for your number.” Confusion makes itself known on your features. You still don’t see the connection until Sunghoon adds, “Apparently he made some sort of deal with his brother that if he gets him your phone number, he’ll help him pass econ.”
A beat of silence passes between you. The barista at the counter calls out a customer’s name. It’s all you can do to not let your jaw physically drop open, mostly because–
“That is probably the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard in my life.” Glaring at Sunghoon, you can’t believe the theatrics of it all. “How many times have I told you to stop believing everything Heeseung says?”
“Technically, Jay said it,” Sunghoon corrects. “And I don’t know... It kind of makes sense when you think about it.”
You beg to differ. “It absolutely does not. What is this, middle school? Are we passing notes behind the teacher’s back and making our friends ask our crushes if they like us back?” It’s ridiculous. Absolutely, utterly ridiculous.
There is no way. Absolutely no way that James Sim, heir to a multimillion dollar company, is wasting his time giving his little brother an economics cheat sheet in exchange for your phone number.
Sunghoon raises his hands in mock surrender. “Don’t shoot the messenger. I just thought you might be curious.”
And you hate to admit it, but you kind of are. Even though every ounce of logic you’ve accumulated in twenty-one years of life tells you that Heeseung is a notorious gossip whose stories are just as much fiction as reality and your best friend is no better. Even though the whole thing makes absolutely no sense at all.
Even though you repeat it to yourself over and over for the rest of the day, that damn curiosity is still there. Pestering you and disturbing your sleep and leaving you wondering if maybe, just maybe, some things are entirely too ridiculous to be anything but true.
…
On Wednesday night, Jake and Heeseung are in the middle of a particularly brutal probability set when a sudden shadow looms over their favorite corner table on the third floor of the library.
Glancing up, Jake finds Heeseung’s gaze already trained somewhere over his shoulder. Jake can’t quite tell if the look on his face is confusion or terror.
“Mind if I join?” The request comes from behind him, posed in an oddly familiar voice. Heeseung is nodding in agreement before Jake has the chance to so much as turn around and identify the intruder.
All is revealed soon enough, though, when you slide down into the seat next to him, ignoring the way Heeseung scrambles to move his things and make room for you in the seat next to him. Instead, you busy yourself with setting your bag on the floor and pulling out your laptop.
It’s all Jake can do to stare at you blankly. This evening, you’ve traded the all black outfit from the other night’s party for something a bit more casual, something comfortable that blends in better to the background of a university library. The sudden proximity also means that the scent of your perfume is quick to waft over towards him.
Jake does his best to hold his breath before his brain can trick him into thinking he likes it.
“Stop looking at me like that.” A bold request for someone who just hijacked a study session and sat down with no explanation, but Jake wouldn’t expect anything less from you.
“Like what?” The words are out before he gives them permission. Across the table, Heeseung is staring too, but all three of you know the command isn’t for him.
“I don’t know.” Glancing at the battery bar hovering just above empty, you dig around in your bag for a moment for your laptop charger. Jake notes that you still have yet to look at him. Instead, you begin to busy yourself with typing something on your computer. “Just stop it.”
He hopes you can feel the way his eyes burn holes into the side of your head as his blank stare shifts into a glare.
Heeseung glances between the two of you. His outburst is sudden. “Oh! I just remembered.” He hits his head for good measure. The acting is wasted on this audience, though. Neither of you pay him any mind or even bother to glance in his direction. “I have to go, uh…” he trails off, finishing lamely with a rather flat, “somewhere else.”
“Great.” Your eyes don’t leave your screen, fingers still flying on your keyboard. “See you later.”
As Heeseung scrambles to pack up his unfinished statistics homework and high tail it out of the library, the air that has suddenly become stifling, Jake glances down at where your fingers are still moving.
Distractedly, he wonders how you can type so fast with nails that long, how you never seem to need the backspace key. How none of the pastel pink that coats your fingernails seems to be so much as chipped. A projection of perfection, he thinks, down to every last detail.
Moments pass, neither of you saying anything.
You still haven’t looked at him by the time you do eventually break the impasse. “I heard you suck at econ.”
And Jake actually cannot believe you. “Did you seriously hunt me down just to rub it in?”
“Rub it in?” That at least earns him some of your attention, even if it is just a brief, confused glance as your fingers pause in their typing. “It’s not like I’m the reason you can’t pass.”
“Believe it or not, you quite literally are.”
You sigh, removing your hands from your keyboard entirely. Then, before he can blink, you spin your entire body in your chair, eyes, shoulders, and knees all directly trained on him. Jake can’t help the way he flinches back a few inches at the sudden change in pace.
“Look,” you start. He can already tell by the way you wrap the single syllable sound in patronization that he’s not going to appreciate whatever you’re about to say. “I can tell that you’re not used to, like, having conversations with people, but usually what happens is you give someone enough information so that they know what you’re talking about.” He’s right.
And he’s quick to defend himself. “Maybe I could, if you’d let me get three words out without interr–”
But you’ve moved on already. “Is the whole ‘deal with your brother’ thing true?”
Jake lets the silence linger for a moment, looking at you in disbelief. “You literally just proved my point.”
You roll your eyes. “I knew what you were going to say, so I sped things along. Now answer my question.” You lay it out for him again. This time, even more directly. “Did you try to get my number because of some deal you made with your brother?”
He’s not sure why it sounds so ridiculous, narrated back to him in your voice. It’s not like it was a brilliant, foolproof plan to begin with, but the way you present it has him feeling about five inches tall.
“I…”
“It’s a yes or no question.” You really don’t beat around the bush, he thinks.
“Yes, okay?”
Looking behind you, you suddenly lean in a little closer. It’s all Jake can do not to flinch back again. Bringing your hand up to cup your mouth, it’s like you’re about to divulge a terrible secret when you whisper, “You’re that bad at econ?”
Jake just sighs. “Worse, probably.”
Frowning, you pull back a few inches. “Aren’t you a business major? Isn’t econ, like, pretty important for you?” If he were thinking clearly, Jake might wonder how you know that. But that only thing his mind has space for right now is annoyance. At you, at this exchange, at the way you so easily pick through his flaws and seem to have no problem laying them bare at his feet like he doesn't already know them intimately.
“Yeah, well, it’s not like I got any say in my major,” Jake counters. He might have more patience for this conversation if he were having it with anyone but you, if you weren’t throwing his own insecurities back in his face with every follow-up question.
At that, something flickers through your eyes. Sympathy, maybe. “Fair enough.” Whatever it is, it’s gone before he can identify it. And it’s not enough to make you pull your punches. “Still though, that’s probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” Jake doesn’t need the reminder. “Just get a tutor like everyone else.”
The thing is, Jake has thought about it. On more than one occasion. He’s even gotten so far as filling out the university tutor request form. He just could never quite bring himself to complete the ‘Name’ field without all of the potential consequences forcing him to hit backspace.
He might not be his brother, but he’s not stupid enough to think that his family would ever be okay with the Sim name anywhere near a tutor form. He tells you as much. “And listen to my dad tell me how much of a disappointment I am for not being able to even take a class on my own?” Jake laughs humorlessly. “No thanks.”
A beat passes. Two. You’re not done yet, but you at least have the decency to sound a little apologetic, a little tentative when you say, “Not to kick you while you’re down or anything, but I mean, that has to be better than failing twice.”
Jake just shakes his head. “You don’t know my father.”
You shrug but don’t press the matter further. Truth be told, you don’t know his father, but you do know fathers like him. You have one of your own. The third floor of the library doesn’t seem like the place for that conversation, though, even if you’ve already uncovered more than your fair share of each other’s secrets in the last ten minutes. “I guess not.”
…
Your phone is buzzing far too incessantly for a Saturday morning, much less this early on a Saturday morning. Internally, you curse Friday night you, who forgot to switch it into do not disturb before falling asleep. Face still buried in your pillow, you reach around your nightstand blindly with the intention of remedying that particular mistake and enjoying a few more moments of peace.
Before you can make good on your plan, you make the fatal mistake of reading the message preview before silencing your phone. And suddenly, to your neverending annoyance, you’re wide awake.
Mom [7:36 am]: Looking forward to seeing you next Saturday at the fundraiser.
Mom [7:37 am]: I also noticed that you haven’t indicated who you’ll be bringing yet. Please fill out the RSVP form when you have a moment.
Mom [7:45 am]: James Sim hasn’t RSVP’d yet. Are you bringing him? You should invite him if you haven’t already.
Mom [7:53 am]: I also never heard the update after your date a few weeks ago. Hoping no news is good news. I just spoke with his father the other day, and it sounds like he’s doing great things over at their company.
Mom [8:01 am]: I also heard that he volunteered a few summers ago rebuilding turtle habitats. Wow! I think you two would get along very well.
Groaning, you flip your phone back over. That about sums up how well she knows her only daughter, you think ruefully. If she thought wooing you with turtles was a good idea, she must have forgotten that you’ve had a lingering phobia of the freaky little reptiles since your friend from elementary school had a pet turtle that bit your finger when you were at her house.
Besides, you have serious doubts that’s actually how James Sim spent his last summer in university.
If memories from your social media scrolling serve correctly, rebuilding turtle habitats was code for partying on a yacht for a month straight. You don’t care how he spends his free time, but the way he already has your mother wrapped around his stupid finger is enough to annoy any lingering sleepiness out of your system.
Whatever. James Sim’s white lies are the least of your concerns now, and they certainly won’t solve your problems. If anything, you’re starting to regret not telling your mother anything about your failed attempt at a first date with him. Now, trying to explain that disaster of an evening would only sound like an excuse at best and a flimsy lie at worst.
And even if she did believe you, you still have the glaring issue of next Saturday and your lack of a pre-approved plus-one.
With one final groan, you pull your blanket over your face, trying and failing to banish any thoughts of your mother, James Sim, and the certain disaster next weekend will be.
Despite your best efforts, your worries linger. They follow you into Sunday; they start to make you desperate on Monday. With a diminishing handful of days left until the fundraiser, your anxiety only surges.
By the time Wednesday rolls around, you’re so stressed out that you can barely force your eyes to focus on the nearly blank Word document in front of you, all of the legalese and case details you can usually sort through in your sleep jumbling into one incomprehensible blob.
Halfway through your third reread of a paragraph that details the basics of copyright law, it strikes you. The seedling of an idea so utterly ridiculous it just might be your saving grace.
Your mother probably, definitely, couldn’t care less about James Sim’s so-called affinity for wildlife rescue. No, the only thing that makes him an appropriate candidate in her eyes for this Saturday has nothing to do with his personality at all.
It’s his name that she likes. His family name specifically.
In the middle of your favorite cafe, it hits you. The seedling of an idea sprouts roots, begins to bloom.
If one Sim is good enough to be your plus-one, then surely the other one would be too.
And you know exactly where he’ll be tonight. Glancing down at the time on your phone, you force your brain to think. Now, all you need is a plan. A way to convince him. Something he can’t refuse.
Closing the lid of your laptop, you smile. You know exactly what it is he wants.
Before you leave the cafe, you send a quick message to a friend. Set your plan in place so that the details are polished, irrefutable when you present it to him.
And then you set out for the university library.
When you find Jake and Heeseung sitting at the same exact table on the third floor of the library, Heeseung doesn’t even bother to stick around for the customary greetings. Instead, he takes one single look at you before offering another flimsy excuse about having somewhere to be. Or maybe something to do. You can’t remember, and it doesn’t really matter.
After all, the only reason you’re here is because–
“I have a way for you to pass econ.” Sliding into the seat next to Jake, the same one you sat in last time, you don’t waste any time before divulging the reason for your presence.
If Jake is startled, he doesn’t show it. Statistics homework forgotten on the table, the only thing you see on his face is pure, obvious relief as his shoulders relax.
“Thank god.” Reaching for his phone, he unlocks it, tapping and swiping until he’s ready to enter a new contact. “Give me your number, and I’ll–”
You shake your head, interrupting his train of thoughts. The way you smile makes him suddenly uneasy. He thought this was over, but now he’s not so sure. You confirm his fears when you say, “A different way.”
Now Jake just looks exasperated. If you keep up this habit, he’s about to start failing statistics too. Never mind the fact that he got his hopes up for what he is sure will turn out to be a giant pile of nothing. Still, he humors you. “What do you mean, a different way?”
“I mean,” you start, folding your hands across your lap. Jake has the distinct impression that you’re trying your best to be as convincing as possible. If nothing else, it does pique his curiosity. He’s never seen you be anything but annoyed or uninterested. It’s an interesting change of pace.“I have a friend who’s also taking econ right now and hasn’t scored below a 98 on a single assignment.” Jesus, Jake thinks. Must be nice.
And then you drop the bomb on him. “He said he’s more than willing to tutor you. For money, of course.” you specify, moving on so quickly he hardly has the chance to process what you’re saying. “And it’s not like you can’t afford it, but I’ll split the cost with you. For the principle of it all.” There’s a beat of silence as what you’ve just said settles into the air. “Oh,” you add, remembering the most important detail. “And he’ll be discreet. Under the table tutoring, if you will. No chance of word getting back to Daddy Sim.”
You do your best to give him your most trustworthy smile. Jake just stares back at you, mildly horrified.
When he finally speaks again, it’s to say, “... Please, and I mean this with every single bone in my body, please never refer to my father like that again.”
Not even bothering to look sheepish, the only agreement you offer is a mock salute.
Your poor taste in nicknames aside, it does seem like a pretty sweet deal from where Jake is sitting. He cannot fail economics again, and getting a tutor would mean that his brother couldn’t hold his success over his head, couldn’t claim to be the sole reason for it. And a discreet tutor would be even better. Not going through the official university system would mean a much lower chance of his father ever finding out he got some help along the way.
All things considered, and very much to his surprise, Jake is having a hard time seeing any downsides.
He goes through the list again. First, he gets to pass economics. Second, he doesn’t have to deal with his older brother in the process. Third, he gets a tutor that won’t pop up on his father’s radar, and all Jake has to do in return is–
Wait.
“Hold on a minute.” There’s an unmistakable edge of suspicion in Jake’s voice. There’s no way you went out of your way to find him a tutor, to help pay for it, without getting something in return. The wheels in his mind are starting to spin when he asks, “What’s in it for you?”
Next to him, you smile. It’s small, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d think you almost look nervous. “It’s just a small favor, really.” The expression on your face is not reassuring in the slightest. Still, you insist, “It’ll be easy, I promise. Just a few hours of your time at most.”
Jake knows better than to agree without details. And especially to anything you’re proposing. He’s already preparing to kiss his dreams of passing econ goodbye when he asks slowly,“What is it?”
You sigh, pretenses dropping. If you’re going to convince him now, you might as well do it with honesty. “That annual charity fundraiser event my parents throw. Your parents are usually there, I think. I don’t know if you’ve ever gone?”
Jake shrugs, frowning as he tries to remember. He’s not entirely sure either. After a while, fundraisers and events and family obligations all start to blur together. Although the name does ring a bell, albeit a distant, faint one.
“Anyway,” you continue, “my mother is insistent that I bring a date. Someone she considers appropriate company. You know, runs in the same circles and comes from what she would consider a good family.” Jake nods. He does know exactly what you mean. Picking up on his agreement, you add with a twinge of hopefulness, “Like I said, it would be easy. Especially for you, since you’re used to this kind of stuff. I wouldn’t have to train you–”
That has Jake rolling his eyes. “Let me guess. I get a treat for rolling over?”
The ice in your glare is half hearted. “You know what I mean. There are certain…” You weigh your words carefully. “expectations at these things.” Pausing for a moment, you add, “What I’m trying to say is that I don’t think you’ll eat the soap, even if it’s candy shaped and on a platter.”
If you were trying to clarify your point, you did a terrible job. Jake’s brow pulls downwards in confusion. “Is that supposed to be some kind of metaphor?”
“Unfortunately not.” You shake your head, but don’t explain any further. Sunghoon’s mishaps are not the point of this conversation. A mutually beneficial deal is. Which is why you ask him, “So, what do you say? Are you in or not?”
Is he? Jake says nothing, considering. Mentally, he goes through the list of pros and cons. Pros, he thinks. I get to finally pass econ, and I get to do it without my brother. He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, gaze tracking the movement as you nervously bite at your lower lip. Also, I get to show up at an event with the girl he’s been trying to get for weeks now.
He’d be lying if that didn't spark a certain warm feeling in his chest, if it didn’t inspire a sudden bout of preemptive vindication. But there are other things to consider.
Cons, he continues internally. I have to spend an entire evening at an event hosted by your family and make them believe you don’t annoy the ever-loving shit out of me.
Weighing his options, Jake has one more question. “How long would it be?” he asks, and you try to stifle a grin, as if he’s already told you yes.
“The event is technically four hours,” you say carefully, “but I’m sure we could manage to sneak out after a solid two and a half.”
Jake nods, thinking it over a moment longer.
“Okay,” he finally breathes, hoping this isn’t some kind of terrible, elaborate trick, that he isn’t about to sign his life away on a dotted line.
For econ, he thinks. For what’s left of his struggling GPA. He can manage a single night at a mind-numbingly boring high society function. Even if it’s with you. “I’m in.”
And it feels a bit strange, he has to admit, as he watches you type your contact information into his contact list. It feels odd to have your number in his phone with no intention of passing it on. To know that he’s the one who will be using it to confirm the details of this Saturday. To know that his brother will be none the wiser and not at all closer to having any kind of access to you.
And if that strange surge of smugness makes another sudden appearance, well, Jake just figures that no one ever has to know about it.
…
Frowning, you give yourself another once over in the full length mirror that sits next to your vanity. A shimmering, pale gold, the evening gown that flows over your figure was hand-selected by you for this very event. For some reason, you’re having a hard time rediscovering the magic you’d felt trying it on in the showroom here in the soft, ambient light of your bedroom.
Objectively, you’re sure you must look good. The compliments the store attendants had given you were more than just customary, and gold has always been your color. Still, a slew of sudden uncertainties simmer in your gut. Is the slight sparkle too garish? Does the gold wash you out? Your worries feel too big for your bedroom, at too stark an opposition with the peaceful ambience as soft, instrumental music plays from your speaker.
But this particular Saturday evening has its ways of making you feel jumbled where you’d typically be steadfast. Insecure where you’d usually find confidence.
It’s true that your mother has always had a critical eye, and especially where you’re concerned. If you were to search deep enough, however, you’d find that she’s not the person you’re most concerned about making a lasting impression on tonight.
With no small effort, you resist the urge to smooth out invisible wrinkles in the bodice of your dress. A nervous habit more than anything, it’s only exacerbated by the way your phone is still devoid of notifications. The clock on your nightstand is a reminder that your date for the evening should be here any minute, should be sending a message as confirmation of his arrival at your apartment. But your phone is still silent, even as the hour of the fundraiser draws nearer and nearer.
Maybe this was a terrible mistake, you think, a new bout of uncertainties beginning to brew. It shouldn't be a surprise, really. Trust him to be just as flakey as his brother, with absolutely no regard for previous commitments or anyone else’s time. It’s just your luck that you get stood up again, this time by the other Sim.
You're in the middle of disguising your fears and distracting yourself by cursing him and his future bloodline when your phone finally pings with an incoming notification. Well, you think, grabbing your coat, feeling a bit ridiculous for the slight overreaction, you’ll have to look into removing generational curses when you have the time.
For now, you settle with pulling on your heels for the evening, ignoring the way you feel a bit wobbly despite the fact that you’ve walked in far worse. Locking your apartment behind you and striking a slightly unsteady pace towards the elevator down the hall, you whisper a silent plea that tonight isn’t as much of a disaster as you’re afraid it could be.
You watch as the numbers on the elevator screen tick lower and lower, a swirling mix of dread and excitement starting to swim in your stomach. When you finally reach the first floor, you’re surprised to see a familiar face waiting for you in the lobby. Something in you softens, albeit just slightly. You’d incorrectly assumed he would just wait for you in the comfort of his car and spent the whole ride down preparing to awkwardly check license plates in the near dark till you found the right one.
An overwhelming sense of self-consciousness returns to you under the brightness of the lobby lights. Unconsciously, you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, wondering how long it will take him to notice you as you begin to walk towards him. You’ve only made it a few steps when it strikes you that he’s already distracted by something else.
Across the lobby, Jake Sim is engaged in a conversation with your doorman. One that looks slightly heated, by your judgment.
As you get closer, their words become more audible.
“Like I just told you,” The exasperation in your date’s voice is apparent. “I’m here to see ___.”
And you really should make your presence known, should step in and divert the brewing argument, especially since you seem to be the subject of it.
But then you look at Jake. Really look at him.
Realistically, you knew he would come well-dressed. That had been a big part of your reason for choosing him. The Sunghoon soap fiasco aside, you already knew Jake Sim wasn’t someone who needed you to put together a PowerPoint presentation on formal event dress code. He didn’t need you to explain the concept of complementary colors or the advantages of getting a suit tailored. Didn’t need you to explain that Converse were not an appropriate show or that no, a bolo tie is not acceptable attire.
Up until now, you were grateful for his pre existing knowledge. It saved you a lot of time and effort that you could use to focus on other things, like getting ready yourself. But it also meant that you were entirely unprepared to see him like this.
Eyes scanning him again, the immaculate fit of his suit is undeniable, as is the way his dark hair is perfectly mussed. It’s styled enough to avoid withering comments from elderly attendees who have the habit of asking how people see with their hair covering their eyes. But it’s also messy in a way that looks intentional, in a way that makes you want to run your fingers through it, tug at it just a little, just to tease.
It’s not just that he’s dressed well, though, despite the fact that he undeniably is.
No, what has you freezing in your footsteps is the fact that Jake looks good.
“And like I just told you, you’re not on her guest list. So I’m sorry, sir.” There is not a single trace of apology in your doorman’s voice. “But I’m afraid I can’t let you up. You’ll have to contact her and ask her to add you to her guest list.” You’re not sure how he manages to do it without losing any professionality, but your doorman makes it very clear that he thinks that will happen just as soon as hell freezes over.
Jake’s shoulders tense in visible frustration. You have to suppress an actual sigh at the way fabric stretches over the muscle there. “Again, I’m not asking you to. Could you please just let her know that I’m here? She’s not answering her messages–”
“How odd.” The sarcasm is unmistakable.
Getting a little desperate, Jake ignores the slight and continues anyway. “And we’re on a bit of a time crunch, so–”
From here, you can see the way his features start to twist in panic. It’s sobering enough to snap you out of your trance.
Cutting in, you make your presence known. “It’s okay,” you tell your doorman first. “I know him.” Then, you turn to Jake, putting on an award-worthy performance of false nonchalance when you explain, “Sorry I didn’t respond to your message. I was just on my way down.”
You watch as some of the tension drains from his features. “That’s alright,” Jake concedes easily. “I just wanted to make sure we weren’t late.”
A funny feeling, a new one, stirs again. Something in you softens. “I appreciate that.”
You can’t help the way you take another look at him. At his suit, his hair, his face. At him, at all of it.
Mistaking your gaze for scrutiny, he asks, a bit self-consciously, “What do you think? Will your mother approve?”
She will. There’s no doubt in your mind. But you’re not looking at him through her eyes when you tell him, “Yeah, you look good. Really good.”
The last part probably wasn’t necessary, but the way he flushes makes it almost worth it. Casting your eyes downward in an effort to hide a smile, you notice a detail that you missed earlier.
Jewelry. Gold jewelry. A handful of rings on his fingers and a delicate bracelet on his left wrist.
Suddenly, his message from last night makes a little more sense.
Jake [9:02 pm]: What color is your dress for tomorrow?
You [9:08 pm]: Gold. Don’t worry about trying to match. A black suit will be just fine.
Now, you’re grateful he didn’t fully listen to you, touched that he even bothered to ask.
Across from you, Jake is suddenly having a bit of a hard time breathing. The earlier near-fiasco with your doorman all but forgotten, you’re still admiring his bracelet as his eyes scan the length of you, throat bobbing by the time his gaze makes its way back up to your face.
“You, uh,” he coughs. “You look nice too.”
“Thank you.” You miss the way his gaze wanders, can’t seem to find a place to land that won’t dust the tops of his cheekbones an even deeper shade of crimson. “I’ve been looking forward to wearing this dress forever.”
And it is a nice dress, Jake thinks, but he’s not sure how to tell you that’s not what he meant.
Eyes finally landing on your feet, or rather, on the stilettos you’re wearing, he frowns. “I had to park kind of far away.” Meeting your gaze, he adds, “Why don’t you wait here? I’ll pull the car around front.”
“Okay.” Something in you melts a bit at his consideration, at the fact that he even noticed. “Thank you.”
And it is nice, you think, to not be beginning the evening with your feet already sore. To have someone pick up on the little things, even if he’s being compensated for it in the form of half-price tutoring.
Sliding into the passenger seat, you try not to sigh like a lovesick schoolgirl when he opens the door for you, when he puts his hand on the back of your seat as he reverses the car out of its parking spot. Get it together, you think. You’ve turned up your nose at far more obvious attempts at wooing you, and it’s not like Jake is here with you out of his own volition. The thought is surprisingly disappointing, as he adjusts the stereo, soft music filling the silence.
The drive passes like that, in a quiet that’s only uncomfortable if you look at it too close. Eventually, the soft melodies filtering through the stereo become a pleasant sort of background noise as you watch the world blur outside the window.
It would be smart, probably, to sort out your story for the evening and put together something coherent for when the two of you are inevitably asked invasive questions, but you can’t bring yourself to be the one to disturb the peace.
So when you arrive at the fundraiser a handful of minutes later, you just have to hope that the image the two of you strike together will be enough to stave off any unwanted questions for the time being.
Again, Jake opens your car door for you, offers a steadying hand as you step out of it. And when he gives you his arm as you enter through the front door of the venue, you take it, wrapping your fingers around his elbow. Pausing just outside the entrance, you watch as he takes a deep breath.
“Ready?” You’re not sure if you’re asking him or yourself.
Jake answers for the both of you. “Let’s do this.”
Walking through the lobby, you hand your jackets to the coat check attendant before entering the ballroom where the fundraiser is held. Despite your general distaste for this evening and everything it entails – you sneak a glance at your partner in crime. Well, mostly everything – you can’t help but admire the space around you.
Decorated immaculately down to every last element, your mother truly doesn’t spare any expense or detail when it comes to throwing parties. And like always, she somehow manages to have a sharp eye on everything and everyone, no matter how chaotic or busy. You’ve hardly taken two steps inside the ballroom when she finds you, approaches you will all the grace of a panther stalking its prey.
Pulling you in for a quick hug, the warm greeting she gives you is more for the benefit of onlookers than for you. And it forces you to remove your hand from Jake’s arm.
Looking over your shoulder, her voice is sickeningly saccharine. “And this must be James,” she beams, making eye contact with the wrong brother. Directing her attention to him, she gushes, “My daughter has told me wonderful things about you.”
Your eyebrows raise in disbelief. Jake stifles a laugh, expertly turns it into a cough.
Really? You think. She did all that digging on James’ so-called turtle philanthropy but never bothered to pull up a picture of the guy? And you mean, standard genetic similarities aside, it’s not like the two of them look that much alike.
“Actually, mom,” you spare him the expense of having to correct her mistake, “this is Jake Sim. James’ brother. We go to school together.”
“Oh,” her eyebrows fall at the slip, no doubt an unforgivable social faux pas in her mind. “You never filled out the RSVP form, sweetie,” she somehow makes the term of endearment sound like a curse, “so I wasn’t sure who you’d be bringing.” Trust her to find a way to make her mistake your fault.
Turning back to your date, she tries to remedy her mistake. “Jake, then.” She offers him a smile so forced you’re surprised her cheeks aren’t aching. Looking back at you, she fishes, “And he’s your…?”
Her dangling bait goes untouched. “He’s my plus-one.” It’s an intentional choice of words on your part. In your mind, it’s a neutral enough term that will hopefully let you navigate the evening without too many rumors or invasive questions about your personal life from people you only speak to out of reluctant obligation.
Jake is less used to the way your mother tends to poke and prod, the way she likes to examine the superficial details of your life with a microscope and make sure she can frame them in a way that will be pleasing for public perception. The way she doesn’t ask about your love life because it’s of any genuine interest to her, but because she wants sole control of the rumor mill’s production.
Next to you, he stiffens, feels as though he’s already failed some kind of test he didn’t know he was taking, wasn’t given any materials to study for.
There’s a lot to be said, probably, about the way you pick up on his discomfort so easily. The way your hand returns to the crook of his elbow wordlessly and gives a single, gentle squeeze. Reassuring him, putting his nerves at ease, as you begin to navigate your way out of this conversation.
“We’d better find our seats,” you tell your mother. The only reason Jake can identify the icy edge hiding in the superficial sweetness of your voice is because he’s been on the receiving end of it. On multiple occasions. Directed at someone else, he finds it almost amusing. “Wouldn't want to miss anything.”
“Of course,” your mother concedes, but there’s an undertone there. Jake can tell that there’s a war being waged here, battles and skirmishes in subtext and stilted pauses. He’s no stranger to the way high society likes to wrap up insults in niceties and skirt around delicate topics, but his own family has never been anything but blunt when it comes to their distaste for him and his choices.
He’s still not entirely sure what he just witnessed, but you’re dragging him by his arm to find your assigned table before he can sort through the offending slights and put on armor that may be of any use to you.
Carefully arranged, the maze of tables is easy enough to navigate. Each seat has a white place card in front of it, embossed with a shimmery golden script that matches your dress and holds the name of the guest who’s been assigned to sit there.
You drag Jake past a flurry of names and attendees he half recognizes, stopping only to grab two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter, handing one to Jake before you continue on your mission. After another minute of searching, you find your name at a table a few rows out from the far wall. Rolling your eyes, you can practically hear your mother’s reasoning: Not too close to the wall. Wouldn’t want people thinking I’m trying to hide her. But certainly not anywhere near the center of the room, in case she falls into that pesky habit of being an awful embarrassment.
Standing behind your chair, your eyes find the place card stationed in front of the seat next to yours at the same time Jake’s do.
“Oh my god.” The exasperation is apparent, even though your words are barely audible where you mutter them under your breath.
Because of course this hasn’t already been enough of a train wreck. Because of course the place card next to yours doesn’t have Jake’s name on it. Nope, embossed in the same shimmery gold is the name of another person entirely.
James Sim.
You turn to your date, apologetic. “God, I’m sorry. I really didn’t fill out the RSVP form, but I didn’t think she’d just assume…”
“It’s okay.” Jake gives you some grace. “Really, it wouldn’t be the first time.” And all things considered, he kind of is in his brother’s seat tonight. Attending an event that’s better suited for the future head of the company than his forgotten younger brother. Accompanying the girl that public opinion surely dictates would be a better match for him.
Still, you frown. Reaching for the small clutch that sits against your hip, you rummage for a moment before pulling out a black permanent marker.
Jake glances at you sideways.Your bag of the evening is tiny, barely even big enough to hold your phone. He’s surprised you managed to fit the marker in there, much less prioritize it enough to bring it with you. “You carry that thing around with you all the time?”
You shrug. “Never know when you’ll need to do some DIY vandalism.”
It would be a lie if he said something in him doesn’t soften, just a bit, when he watches you reach for the place card in front of his seat and put a giant, bold X over his brother’s name.
Your handwriting is no match for the computer-generated script, but Jake still likes the place card a little better when you’re done with it, likes the way his name looks next to yours when you set it back on the table, alterations completed.
“There,” you say, looking entirely too satisfied with your handiwork. “All better.” This time, you slide down into your seat before Jake has the chance to pull it out for you. Turning to him as he tentatively takes the seat next to you, he finds a small frown on your lips. “Wait,” you pause, realization written across your features. “Your brother isn’t coming, right?”
Jake shakes his head. “I mean, I don’t know for sure, but I doubt it. He has no reason to come. My parents are on a business trip, so they won’t be here either. And that also probably means he’s more swamped than usual at the office.”
Nodding, you take a sip of champagne. “Good.” Pausing, your lips quirk. “Although it would be kind of funny if he–”
“I think you’re in my seat.” The sudden interruption is flat, leaves no room for arguments.
Startled, the two of you spin in your chairs.
James Sim, despite his brother’s predictions, is in fact not otherwise occupied at his office. Instead, he stands directly behind his younger sibling, strikes an imposing figure where his shadow blocks the chandelier light behind him and extends over his brother and his altered place card.
Eyes flaming, he looks at where his name has been crossed out. Replaced.
Next to Jake, you remain silent, figure that you’ll let Jake handle this one the way he let you handle your mother. Far be it from you to step in on a family matter.
But then you notice the way Jake shrinks a little in his seat, hides a little further in his brother’s shadow. Reaches for the place card like he wishes he could take it back.
Sliding your gaze back to your least favorite Sim sibling, your voice is even, albeit icy, when you point out the obvious, “It’s not actually. Can’t you read?” Jake’s hand stops in its tracks, falls back to his lap.
A quick look your way is the only indication James even hears you. Instead, he continues his one-sided conversation with his brother, a barely controlled sort of fury crossing over his expression. “Hm,” he muses, glancing between the two of you. “Sure seems like you two are awfully close.” Casting an accusatory glare at Jake, he adds, “That’s funny. I could have sworn you said you barely knew her.”
Her. You’re sitting right there, and you don’t even get a name.
It doesn’t go unnoticed by Jake either. And it turns out to be just what he needs to find his voice. You’re almost proud of the sarcasm he manages to muster when he counters, “Yeah, well, this funny thing happens when you spend time together. You actually get to know each other.” Straightening his spine, there’s an unmistakable edge in his voice when he adds, “You know, when you actually bother to show up, that is.”
You hide a laugh behind your hand, albeit not very well. Glancing at Jake, a feeling swells in your chest that you can only identify as pride. You didn’t know he had it in him.
Reassessing his strategy, James turns to you, forcing a nonchalance that is entirely contradicted by the way his cheeks are rapidly reddening. “Actually, ___,” he tries, acting as if the last thirty seconds faded out of existence at his will. “I was hoping to speak to you about something. I’d love to get you a drink if you–”
“Actually,” Jake cuts in, doubling down. “We already have drinks.” Behind you on the table, the two near full glasses of champagne are undeniable evidence. The laugh that spills out of you this time is impossible to hide. Yeah, you decide, between the two of them, you definitely hate James more. Entirely amused, the only thing you wish you had is a bowl of popcorn as you root for the underdog. Not that he needs it. Much to your satisfaction, he’s been landing his punches well.
The giggle dies on your lips, though, when you feel the warmth of another hand suddenly cover the top of yours where it rests on your thigh. Gaze flaming, James follows the movement. Startled, your eyes fly to Jake. The only view you’re offered is of his profile as he keeps his gaze trained on his brother, the challenge in his features unmistakable.
The only consolation he offers for your sudden shock is a small, reassuring squeeze against your knuckles.
And then he says, “And I’d like to keep my girlfriend right here, actually.” At that, he does finally turn to you, eyes pleading, gaze imploring when he seeks your permission. Even though they’re performative in nature, his words aren’t solely for James’ benefit. “If that’s alright with you, that is.”
Girlfriend.
You were perfectly happy in the role of the observer, but now Jake has dragged you into the spotlight. Even though it pains you, you know you can’t leave him hanging. Not when that would mean a sure victory for his dickhead of a brother.
Girlfriend. The word echoes in your head, has you feeling dizzy.
“Of course,” you return hollowly, barely recognizing the sound of your own voice over the sudden rushing in your ears. “Boyfriend.”
When you smile at him, you make sure it looks sickeningly sweet enough to deter James. Your eyes, however, flash with a warning only Jake can read.
“You’re dating?” James can’t hide his shock, and his outrage is just as obvious.
“Yep,” Jake passes you a panicked look. But you don’t need it, don’t need his convincing. You’ve already dug yourself a deep enough hole. Trying to climb out now would only mean everything crumbles.
“Sure are,” you confirm with a tight smile. Turning back to Jake, you add, “Actually, sweetie, I need to talk to you about, uh…” you scramble for a moment. Finish vaguely with, “that thing.”
“Right.” Jake picks up on the threat in your eyes seamlessly, knows there’s only one acceptable response. “That thing,” he echoes.
“Yeah, so,” you turn back to James, barely acknowledging him as you start to stand. “We’re gonna step out for a minute.”
Jake is all but putty in your hands as you switch the positioning of your grip so that the hand that was resting on yours is now encased firmly between your fingers.
“See you later,” are Jake’s breathless parting words to his brother.
“Hopefully not, though,” you alter.
And then you’re dragging him back through the crowd towards the exit, and it’s all Jake can do to not run into the other guests or knock over the delicately balanced trays of hors d’oeuvres waiters carry throughout the room. He’s at your mercy all the way through the double doors of the ballroom, and you pause only briefly to determine which hallway is less likely to have people in it before deciding on the one to the right, towing him along behind you.
Once you’re far enough away from unwanted eyes and ears, you start wiggling every door knob you come across, growing visibly more frustrated until you finally find an unlocked one. Huffing, you push Jake into the spare storage closet first. Following him in, you close the door behind you.
The sudden change in space puts you in close proximity. Your nose is only a handful of inches away from his when you start laying out accusations.
“What the hell?” With the same hand than just dragged him on a half marathon, you shove at his chest. “Boyfriend?” You have half a mind to grab the broom standing next to you and start whacking him with it.
“I’m sorry!” Jake holds his hands up defensively. He doesn’t miss the way you’re eyeing every cleaning tool around you, no doubt deciding which would make the most effective weapon. “I panicked, okay? I just hate that smug little look he gets on his face–”
“Well you’re about to be seeing ‘that smug little look’ a lot more once he calls your bluff!” you half-shout, trying to convey your anger without alerting anyone to your presence.“The timeline barely lines up to begin with. It’s only been what, a few weeks since I was supposed to go on a date with him? And that’s not to mention the fact that there won’t be anyone to corroborate our story, because we don’t spend any time together, since, y’know, we’re not dating.”
Jake begs to differ. You’ve invaded more than one of his Wednesday night statistics study sessions.
But before he can point this out, you’re continuing. “Which means you’re gonna have to come up with some sort of believable explanation for why we break up after, like, three days.”
“Ugh.” Jake drags an open palm down his face. He hates to admit it, but you do have a point there.
Fingers running through his hair, his sudden stress is apparent. And you’re not trying to send him to an early grave, but would it have killed him to think before he spoke? Consider the consequences of starting the exact kind of rumor you’ve been hoping to dodge all evening? You get that his brother is not exactly an easy person to get along with, but was the short-lived victory really worth the potential fallout?
Across from you, Jake seems to be having the same realizations. A million thoughts whirring through his brain, he’s not sure where to place his focus.
After a moment, he settles on optimism. “Look, I think it will be fine.” The more he thinks about it, the more he convinces himself he believes it. “James has been up to his ass in company stuff since the second he graduated, so it’s not like he has extra time to check up on us or anything.” And even if he did, James would have no way of knowing who to ask. Jake has the sneaking suspicion his older brother couldn’t name a single one of his friends if his life depended on it. He would have no idea who to track down to corroborate your so-called romance.
“We won’t have to do anything,” Jake reasons. “I’ll just mention you in passing for the next few weeks if he happens to ask.” Even that should be simple enough. After all, Jake seriously doubts he will. “And by the time the holidays roll around, I can just say things fizzled naturally.” Easy. Simple. Uncomplicated. Mutual, and your pride and his both remain intact. “No big deal.”
Across from him, you weigh his words. It makes sense, yes, but there’s something starting to swirl in your gut that you don’t like. It feels a little too much like dread, like trepidation. Jake can read all of the uncertainty written across your face when you tell him, “I still don’t like it. My mother and your brother were both here tonight and already got different stories from us. This could get messy really quickly. I mean, what if our families start talking–”
“They won’t.” Jake shakes his head. “Your mom thinks I’m just a plus-one, and when my name comes up in James and my father’s conversations, it isn’t to discuss the ins and outs of my dating life.” Of this, at least, Jake is sure. His father couldn’t care less who he dates, as long as it’s not a liability to him, to the company. “Besides, we're university students.” Jake tries to lighten the mood, clear some of the tension. “Twenty-one and immature and all that.” For a moment, Jake imagines what life would feel like if that’s truly all he was, if that’s the only thing he got to be. No added pressure of a notorious last name and a reputation to maintain. Tucking that thought to the back of his mind, he decides he’ll mourn it later. “A short-lived relationship with a story that doesn’t quite add up is practically a right of passage. Not something to be suspicious of.”
You remain silent for a moment, but your hand doesn’t get any closer to the broom.
“Okay.” Some of the tension seeps out of your shoulders as you turn his reasoning over in your brain, nodding as his logic starts to piece together. “Okay,” you reiterate. You still don’t like it, but he’s right about one thing: it is the best option you have.
After all, there’s no way in hell you’re about to go tell your mother that your plus-one is actually your secret boyfriend, and you hate to admit it, but James’ little smirk is incredibly agitating. And it will all blow over, you’re sure. Like Jake said, James and your mother have no real reason to talk, and if Jake is convinced that his brother won’t be spreading this particular rumor, you’ll just have to believe him for the time being.
Letting him out of the closet first, you only imitate hitting him upside the back of the head once before you catch up to him, linking arms again before reentering the ballroom.
As the evening goes on, your worry starts to subside. Thankfully, every other part of the night goes perfectly to plan, even if you do have to force yourself to laugh a little too hard at one of Jake’s awful jokes when you catch James watching the two of you. The second glass of champagne you down helps, if nothing else.
Exactly as you predicted, after two and a half hours have passed, you and Jake are sneaking out the back exit, tiptoeing to his car as the fourth speaker of the evening continues their droning speech inside the event. Your mother is none the wiser to your early departure, and you hope it’s the first in a series of victories for the evening.
When Jake drops you off just outside the front doors of your apartment building, his smile is almost reassuring enough to put that lingering sense of unease to rest where it still sits in your gut.
Makeup removed, hair washed, and evening gown traded for pajamas, sleep is slow to find you a handful of hours later. Eventually, though, it does, and your rest is undisturbed, dreamless.
…
The next morning, with nothing but the pastel tones of sunrise and the sound of his brewing coffee maker to keep him company, Jake Sim stares at the message on his phone in abject horror.
Mom [7:32 am]: I can’t believe I had to find out from your brother! Family dinner next weekend at our place. Bring your girlfriend. :)
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CONTINUED IN PART 2
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note: thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed. part two still needs some love, and I'm hoping to have it out around this same time next week. I'll announce for sure when I have a release date & time. as always, I love hearing any thoughts/comments/screaming you may have. happy reading!
#enhypen fanfiction#enhypen x reader#enhypen x you#enhypen fic#enhypen ff#enhypen fanfic#enhypen au#enhypen scenarios#enhypen fluff#enhypen angst#jake sim#jake sim x reader#jake sim x you#jake sim scenarios#sim jaeyun#sim jaeyun x reader#sim jaeyun x you
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Heyo! I return!!!!
Could I get a mammon, blitzø and alastor (separate) with a wife reader who’s really oblivious and ditzy? Sorta like a bimbo?
🦷 anon! <33333
Alastor | Blitzo | Mammon [Romantic]
In which their partner is extremely oblivious and ditzy.
Well, that's what he was here for, isn't it?
To make it look like you know what you're doing, to be the reason or you little 'show'
According to the public eye, if you're his partner then theres no way it's not a character, Alastor would NEVER date a clutz, let alone have the patience for one
Alastor found these little whispers amusing
Everyone thought they had some idea of what he was, but they were always throwing darts at the wrong board
All the better for him, he gets the joy of you making every day new and exciting as well as the strange rumours people came up with about the two of you
Everyone else was just so boring, so pitiful to the overlord
Either kneeling to his every wish, or putting on a face until he left them alone, or the rare run away screaming
But when you bumped into him on the street, you asked him if he was that 'one guy who tortured people and put it online' before you even apologized
Then you asked if he would kill you, and when he said yes, you asked if he could not
Oh yes, that made him laugh alright, you were such a cracking star
Anytime you might ask something stupid, he turns it into a joke and explain it to you later behind closed doors
Falling? tripping over yourself? He catches you and makes it look like a romantic dip, or a small dance
To him, you're cluelessness has its charm, because you've always been so honest and forward about everything that he doesn't ever feel like he has to pull secrets from you
You also amuse his every little quirk, which everyone else just finds weird, so that's a major plus
Oh my god he is so stupid
But you make him look so smart it's insane, just add you to the room and suddenly he's a genius
At first, it was just by comparison, but now in order to compensate for you he is always trying his best to be the smartest he can be
Especially in his line of work, Blitzo doesn't like the idea of making a mistake that could cost your life
So instead he trains to make sure he can save you when you need it
You guys are very damsel in distress/knight in shining armour
Except this kind of backfires because him being so serious starts to get him caught a lot...and you always manage to get him out (usually by mistake)
Like that one time you busted into a room full of 20 armed demons and dropped your gun when they came at you, but it went off and landed in a crate of explosives
I mean both of you were very injured but you both got out soooo
" You really are the dumbest slut I know, my sweetie-pie. "
He gets really defensive about you, though
Sure, he’s your husband so he can make fun of you
But if anyone else calls you anything along the lines of stupid or useless he blows up on them
Sure, you're a bit oblivious, but they don't know your talents, and all the things you teach him behind closed doors
He won't let anyone get away with being cruel to you
A little bit of a roger rabbit and jessica rabbit duo
Honestly exactly his type
Extremely wealthy husband and his bimbo wife?
The newspaper headlines go crazy for you guys and your strange duo, and a lot of photos of the two of you together are popular
Sort of funny looking tree man and his dolled up wifey
He's not really the brightest either, not when it comes to simple things that don't have to do with money or his status
So you are both very oblivious to things that aren't entirely straightforward and always have to whisper back and forth about a topic until you can figure it out
Two idiots in love
Nevertheless, he loves your dependance on him
He likes that you are always by his side in case you need help, so you are safe and sound
He's just as clingy as you are, he always has one arm around your waist
Calls you all sorts of sort of derogatory pet names but in a loving way
Dolly, sweetheart, gorgeous, legs, etc etc
Honestly though you are also probably explaining as much to him as he is you, just in different topics
But he has the confidence to go with his lack of knowledge and obliviousness
And confidence gets you far
" Yeah, like, the moon is full once a week or some shit "
" Isn't it once a month? "
" No doll, that's how often a blue moon occurs. "
" Ohh! Like once in a blue moon? "
Anyone overhearing this shit is fucking rolling in their grave
Author's Note - Hiii welcome back tooth anon!!! Sorry this took a hot min, for some reaosn this prompt was so hard for me but I REFUSED to give up (Never sleep never what!?!?!) Thank you for requesting, and I hope you enjoy!
#koko writez#hazbin hotel#helluva boss#hazbin hotel x reader#helluva boss x reader#reader insert#x reader#alastor#alastor x reader#blitzo#blitzo x reader#mammon#mammon x reader
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"Working Overtime" - Toji Fushiguro
4,469 words.
warnings. nsfw (18+), toji is your boss, escort reader, thigh riding, p in v, spitting, toji rails you on a balcony, exhibitionism?, toji fucks you on a pile of money, mention of size difference, hair pulling, eye contact, oral sex (f receiving), creampie, praising, light aftercare
notes. corporate girlie by day, escorting by night. out of all people, who knew your own boss had to be tonights client? (ok but wealthy toji is such a refreshing experience from broke homeless smelly ass toji.)
art used is by @/yunonoai
Being able to say you work under Mr. Fushiguro meant that you were gifted of some kind. Just having the privilege to do so puts you on top of others in society.
Toji Fushiguro himself possessed a different category of wealth. Any high-rise building you walk into in the whole of New York, you could be 99.9% sure that he owns it.
Five star hotels, bars of any kind, and award-winning Michelin restaurants. Oh, you name it. This was his world and we were just living in it.
On the other hand, the Fushiguro company's pay was decent. Working conditions were way above standard. It was a luxury to work in his office, but knowing you, it just wasn't enough.
You needed more than that. Which is why you took up escorting, suggested by your best-friend one night while the two of you were intoxicated by liquor. She told you that you had the looks, the bod, and a personality anyone would die for. And lastly, you were captivating - you could have anything your way.
At first you took it as a joke. Thinking she was just being a lick ass. But surprisingly you had tried it out not long after the idea was proposed, and you ended up making almost double your annual net salary in just four months. This night job was a secret that only you and your best-friend knows about.
Of course, you worked on the weekends. Choosing to work Monday to Thursday would’ve been self sabotage.
You had more than enough money to buy whatever you want, send your mom on holiday, and you were always on top of rent. Your corporate job was just something to get through the day with rather than rotting at home.
During shifts, you and the other escorts would hang around in the night club changing rooms. Most of the girls were also strippers in the same club, but that wasn’t really your thing. So you just stayed with escorting. Your manager would just assign each of you clients, unless someone has personally booked you in.
Speaking of which, a voice came from the door frame. “Star, you have a client tonight. 9PM.” Star wasn’t your real name, it was just a fake one that you used while you escorted. It was safer, and most of the other girls did the same.
You look at Geto, your boss, in the reflection of the vanity mirror. Busy polishing up your eyeliner, you try your best not to poke yourself in the eye. “Name? And did he obey my no-home rule?”
As an escort, you did have some rules for your own service. You figured you’ve been doing this for quite a reasonable amount of time, so you made a personal rule where you’d refuse to go to a clients house. For safety reasons.
“Goes by the name.. uh… Eznin? And he did indeed. Seems like he booked in for the Ritz Carlton on 25 West. Think he’s a first time client too.” He reads the details off his tablet.
Of course, it just had to be one of Fushiguros hotels. You literally couldn’t escape that man.
The other girls in the room purred, “Aren’t you lucky.. Seems like he has money, don’t ya think?” Meimei takes a puff of her cigarette, looking at you in the mirror aswell for a response. “Maybe check for an expensive watch? I’d take it if I were you.”
“Not funny, Meimei.” She was known for stealing from her clients, you never knew how she got away with it. It even got so bad to the point that she sp¡ked a client, taking his wallet afterwards.
Getting up from the chair, you made your way behind the dressing divider, shimmying your robe off to slide on a dark blue lingerie set. Over it, you wore a simple black dress. I mean, you could never go wrong with a little black dress.
Throwing on some matching strappy heels, you stuffed your purse with some condoms and lube. And a plan B, of course.
“Your rides sorted,” Geto stood back from the door frame. “I’ll text you any further details.”
“Copy,” after spritzing on some perfume, you made your way out of the club.
An all-black SUV was waiting for you outside the entrance. Your favourite driver, Todo was standing beside the car door, smiling as you approached him.
“Hi, Todo.” You smiled as he held the door open.
“You look wonderful miss.” Todo smiles back before closing the door, walking around to the drivers side.
The car drives on, and as you were securing a secret mic in your purse, (for safety reasons but the client never knows) Todo speaks.
“Ah- Miss, not sure if I should disclose this information but your client tonight is.. very wealthy.” His leather covered hands clutch onto the wheel. “I’d be more demanding if I were you, make the most of it.”
Breaking out into a laugh, you stop fiddling with your bag, to look at him in the rear view mirror. “..Is that so?”
“Yeah… thought I might let you know.” He grins, bringing the car to a stop. Todo quickly scurries out of the vehicle before you could, opening the door for you.
“Thanks for the ride, Todo.” You slipped a $20 bill in his hand. “I’ll text you when I’m finished.”
He nods, getting back into the car as you made your way inside of the hotel.
Checking your phone for updates, Geto sent you a text with all the details around five minutes ago.
Eznin Caln
30 years old,
Net worth- $307,473,297
Floor number 43, he’ll let you in.
You walked over to the elevators, luckily one was already open. Taking a look at the buttons panel, you looked for a 43. Noticing it was the last highest button, you raised an eyebrow before pressing it.
Clutching onto the straps of your purse, the doors closed. You could only look at yourself in the metal reflection, taking a few deep breaths. Of course, you made sure to send a text back to Geto to let him know you were at the hotel.
Although you were decently experienced in this job, you’d still get nervous each time you were about to meet your clients.
Setting down the fly aways in your hair, the elevator came to a halt.
*Ding!*
The metal doors opened before your eyes. Hesitant, you walked inside, the bottom of your heels tapping against the wooden floors.
“..Hello?” You peeked inside the other rooms in the penthouse, one being a mini office that seemed like someone was just there, the other being a bedroom with big windows and a balcony, overlooking the city.
A deep voice spoke behind you. “Can I help you?”
You gasp, clutching onto your chest as you turned around. “I’m so sorr- Mr. Fushiguro?!”
Your eyes widened, and his mouth wide open. He was only in a towel wrapped around his waist, his dark hair wet from a fresh shower. You couldn’t help but ogle the drops of water that decorated his muscular body.
“…Are you.. the escort?”
Unable to form words, you swallowed your spit before speaking. “I.. I am.” You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, looking down at the ground.
“Alright, make yourself comfortable.” He eyed you up and down, a mini towel in his hand to dry his hair. “Sorry you have to see me like this, excuse me while I put some clothes on.”
Is he not going to question anything?..
Your breath hitched, God, did he know I was eyeing him? “Okay..”
He turned around to go back to the bathroom, but looked over his shoulder as he was doing so. “Just call me Toji, we’re outside of work.”
You watched as Toji continued to walk away, “Well.. I’m basically working, aren’t I.” you muttered under your breath, making sure he doesn’t hear.
Looking around, you remembered that he owned this hotel. I should’ve known when I was going to the 43rd floor, he doesn’t let anyone in here.
You walked over to his bedroom, it was bigger than your own apartment. The sheets were neatly made, and a bottle of Malbec sat on a table near the window.
Placing your purse on small sofa, you removed your jacket, neatly folding it over the arm rest aswell.
You made your way to his closet, in search for a white robe. There was a robe on the hanger beside his freshly dry cleaned suits. You took it out, tracing your fingers over “The Ritz-Carlton” that was embroidered onto the front in cursive.
Sliding your dress off, you covered yourself in the robe, only the dark blue lingerie set underneath. Afterwards you tied a knot around your waist with the belt. Kicking off your heels, you placed them inside the closet, along with your dress that was neatly folded.
Although you were an escort, you made sure to clean up after yourself. You hated leaving a mess around, so you respected your clients by making sure to leave the place clean.
You could hear Toji walk into the bedroom. Closing the doors of the closet, you turned to him, and he was already busy getting the wine bottle open with a corkscrew.
Taking a seat on the armchair in front of him, causing you to be at crotch level with Toji. You watched as his arms flex each time he handled the bottle.
You noticed Toji was in a more relaxed outfit. He wore a dark grey cotton longsleeve that sculpted over his muscles like paint, with bottoms in a matching colour and fabric.
“Toji,” you called out his name.
The pouring of the wine stopped, his fingers gently pushing the glass towards you. “Hmm?”
Taking the glass by the stem, you twisted it between your fingers. “Do you regularly hire escorts?”
Toji walked over to the edge of the bed, sitting down. He sighed, looking at the city view in front of him. “No,” taking a sip, he continued. “This is my first time, actually.”
You did the same, but taking a tinier sip. You didn’t want to be tipsy while carrying out your service. It was too dangerous. “..Oh.”
Looking back at Toji, he was busy staring at the red liquid swirling around in the glass. “I dont even really know how they work.”
As you were about to take another sip, you paused. Your eyes looked at him over the rim of the glass, before placing it back down on the table.
“You can just do whatever you want with me, really.” You crossed your legs, exposing the bare skin on your thigh to him.
"I see," he nods, slightly leaning back onto the bed, using his hands for support.
"So, you made up your mind yet?" you got up from the arm chair, making your way to Toji who was on the bed. "What you wanna do?" You stood yourself between his legs, as he tried his best to hold himself back from pulling on the knot that was holding your entire robe together.
Toji's hands rested on your hips on top the robe, dangerously close to your ass. He made sure to bring you closer to him, almost pressing your chest to his face at this point. "I don't know," His free hand tugged on the knot of the belt, slowly unraveling it until the robe slid off your body. "Maybe you, if that's an option."
He could feel his cock strain against his pants as he took in the sight of you in nothing but lingerie, it felt like he was opening a present on his birthday. Blue was his favorite color.
You choked on your words at his response, he sure did have a way with his words. "I don't usually allow that, but maybe I'll let it slide tonight."
Toji caressed your wet lip with his thumb, gradually sliding it inside of your mouth as you sucked on it gently. He stops and moves you to the side by the waist, getting up from the bed.
Confused, you stay standing in front of the bed, watching Toji as he grabs something from the drawer. He eventually makes his way back onto the bed, but this time, leaning his head back against the head-board.
Toji takes out his wallet, pulling a $20 bill out and placing it on the nightstand beside him. "..Crawl over to me."
Your lashes flutter as you watched him place the bill on the night stand, you could only obey what he asked you to do. 'I'm just doing my job.. this doesn't mean anything. He will forget about this.' You constantly chanted this in your thoughts, completely disregarding the fact that he was your boss.
You crawled onto the bed, and slowly to him. Toji's eyes watched you closely making sure to tell you, "Stop," as you were just about to crawl onto his lap.
He takes out another $20 bill from his wallet, this time, two. Toji gently raised his knee, just enough for it to rub against your warm cunt that was covered by the lace panties. "Ride my leg, until I tell you to stop."
Aroused, which you are not meant to be, you couldn't help but sink yourself down onto his leg. Part of you wanted this, but you did at good job at not showing it.
You slowly started to move your hips back and forth on his lower thigh, placing both of your hands down in front of you for support. Toji's hardened cock begging to come out as he watched you closely.
If you were to lift up his top, you’d be able to see his leaking top peeking out of his waistband. The straps of your bra slowly fell down off your shoulders. Toji could almost groan at this lewd sight in front of him.
"Good girl," He did his best to hold himself back from holding onto your hips, "Keep going."
A spot on the fabric of his pants turned into a darker grey than before, your slick making its way through your panties. Nothing can be done.
Breathy moans started to crawl out of your throat, Toji noticing as you started to grind on his leg harder and slightly faster. "Stop."
You whimpered quietly as Toji retracted his leg from underneath you, observing the newly made wet spot on his pants. "Look at this mess you made all over me.."
Speechless, and breathless, you fell back onto your heels in front of Toji, he took another bill out, but this time $50.
"..I want that bra off." He slaps the bill onto the growing pile on the nightstand, followed by another 50. But he doesn't take his eyes off you. "And the panties. They're kinda annoying me now."
Doing exactly as he said, Toji's hand rested on his crotch, aching to palm himself through his pants. You slowly, but teasingly unclasped your bra, Toji clearing his throat by the time your tits were finally on display to him.
Followed by your soaked underwear, which at this point was no use. They managed to fly across the bedroom, hanging off a small statue that was on top of a console table.
He just wanted to wrap his mouth around each of them, or even motorboat your titties.
Toji propped himself up in a less relaxed position. "Lie down on your back, legs spread."
Your last sight was him before you fell back on to the bed, your head nearly hanging off the edge. Toji noticed your nipples hardened as soon as your skin made contact with the cold satin sheets. You felt the weight of the bed shift around, as Toji grabbed both of your legs by the thighs, positioning his head between them.
Squirming about, Toji peppered kisses on your inner thighs, his large hand wrapped around one of them. Wasting no time, he went straight to sucking and softly biting on your folds, using his tongue to lap at your bud until it was swollen. Moaning into your pussy, he softly massaged the flesh of your thigh, the vibrations from his grunts adding more to your stimulation.
Busy sucking away, wet noises from his tongue and the slick of your dripping pussy echoing throughout the bedroom. His hand reached behind him, then slowly went back over his shoulder. It was a $100 bill, tucked between his index and middle finger.
You were too busy hanging your head off the edge of the bed in pleasure, grabbing the sheets beside you and wrinkling them as Toji devoured you like he hasn't eaten for weeks.
The paper bill fell onto your stomach, tickling you slightly. You could feel Toji spit onto your pussy, the saliva trickling down almost into your hole before he slurped it back up, sticking his fingers in there instead. You felt them slide into you with ease, Toji swirling his warm tongue around on your clit.
"O-oh God.. To..ji." You managed to choke out a moan, your manicured hands clawing at his hair and eventually messing it up.
Letting go of your thigh, he used his now free hand to fondle with your breasts eagerly, twisting your nipples between his fingertips before giving them a slap.
One last lick on your clit, Toji removed his head between your legs, this time his whole body kneeling between them. You sneakily push up against him, his bulge through his pants grazing against your bare cunt.
Using your strength to lift your head from the edge of the bed, you watched as he took off his shirt, letting it fall onto the floor. Its neckline was soaked from eating you out earlier, but we don't talk about that.
Panting, his hands frantically rummage through his wallet. You noticed it was still bulky, as if the previous cash he pulled out didn't make any difference to the amount he had now.
Toji pulled out $1000 all in 20 bills, your eyes widening, wondering if he was serious.
"Please.. let me fuck you." Toji also sat back on his heels, $1000 in his hands as you were underneath him, fully naked. He just wanted to indulge himself in you, and if he could, he'd make this night last forever.
You slowly nodded, honestly begging to having his cock inside of you too. Before you knew it, your vision was filled with the $1000 raining down onto your body, and by your sides on the bed. He quickly pulled his bottoms down to his knees, before realising they were too annoying. He proceeds to fully kick them off.
Toji glances around the room for a condom, before you stopped him. "..Is it okay if we don't use one? ..I want to feel every inch of you."
You read his mind. "Anything you want, gorgeous."
His large hands shuffled through the pile of cash that was over your body, making sure that he could still see your tits and your beautiful face.
One hand grabbed onto your waist, and the other was used to align the tip of his cock with your hole. As soon as he slightly pushed the tip in, both of his hands were on your waist now.
Toji carefully slid in, making sure you take every inch of him. He closes his eyes in pleasure as he feels your plush walls clench around him, Tojis grip on your waist intensifying.
And, god was he big. In both cock, and Toji in general, he could destroy you if he decided to use full stength tonight.
"Y-you're too.. big," Toji not even halfway, you cry out, only wrinkling the sheets more to the point they weren't tucked into the frame hotel-style anymore.
You could feel both of his thumbs caress the soft skin of your sides as he cooed, "I know baby, I know," Toji let out a grunt as he tried to move in and out of you.
The difference of size between you and Toji made you throb, at this point he could just use his hands to fuck you on his cock back and forth like a doll in his grasp.
Toji starts to pant as he picked up the pace of his ruts, your tits bouncing, only adding to the pornographic sight in front of him.
Covering your face with your hands, you moan into them, the feeling of being full with Tojis cock was driving you mad. You could feel one hand let go of your waist, bringing it to your wrist to pull it away from covering your face.
The rustling of the cash beneath you and the sound of skin slapping echoed out into the living room from the bedroom. "Look at me when I fuck you," Toji says sternly, causing you to whimper in agitation as you did your best to keep your eyes on his.
"To..Toji.." You moan out, choking on your words as your hand grabbed onto his that was wrapped around on your waist.
"Come on doll, say my name." Turning feral, Toji pounds into you like a fleshlight. Voice shaking as you try to moan out his name, and by tomorrow you wouldn't be surprised if you lost your voice.
He comes to a halt, completely. Toji slides his cock out of you, a creamy white ring formed at the base. You whine before he hushes you. "Y'know what," He picks you up, cradling you in his arms.
You switch positions, instead you lock your legs around his waist, as the two of you made your way to the balcony door of the bedroom. Is he..
*click!*
Toji slid the glass door open, the two of you stepping out into the balcony. It wasn't cold, and you could see the still busy city carrying on with life underneath the hotel.
Suddenly, Toji peeled your legs off his waist, making you face the railing, and the city in front of you. You gasp as he roughly positioned your body, placing one leg up onto the rail, your two hands clutching onto the cold metal.
He slides into you again, but this time not allowing you to adjust. Toji immediately goes in with brutal force, your ass ripping against his pelvis as he drilled into you. On the balcony. For anyone to watch.
Toji spits again, his saliva falling onto your asshole and soon enough drips onto his cock that was continuously pounding in and out of you.
Your moans broke out into a giggle due to the ticklish feeling, Toji couldn’t help but smile at your reaction.
Both hands on your waist, Toji groans in pleasure and praises you non-stop for taking him like a good girl. His hand wrapped around your lower stomach as he felt you give in, your legs unable to support yourself. "You're doing so good for me," he whispers in to your ear, only to leave a trail of wet kisses down your back afterwards,
You moan continuously, for sure, everyone below could hear. Your hand made its way to Toji's nape, bringing him closer to you as he repeatedly fucked into your sweet spot.
"I’d do anything to be able to see a view like this one for the rest of my life," his left hand made its way down to your clit, lazily rubbing circles.
This just did it for you, lowly moaning, you let go of Tojis neck. Leaning forward, you rest your chin on the metal rail ontop of your same hands that were grabbing onto it. But a certain someone didn't let you do that.
Toji immediately grabbed you by your hair, pulling you back against his chest, taking your leg off the rail. You felt him interlock his hands around your inner elbow, suddenly fucking into you upwards as you grab onto his bicep for support.
"G-o-d Toji, please just f-u-ck your c-um into me." The enunciation of your words came out in bits, as Toji drilled up into you at a brutal pace.
He grinned against your necks skin, leaning further to plant kisses on your jaw."You want me to fill you with my cum, huh?"
You frantically nod, but that wasn't enough of an answer for a man like Toji.
"Oh baby, use your words." He purred into your ear, holding his orgasm to make sure you get it when you deserve it.
"I need it- I need it so ba-ad." You whimpered out, squeezing onto his bicep. "Please, Toji."
He whined, balls tightening as he heard you beg for him. You already drove him crazy, and that only drove him crazier. With one deep thrust, his movements come to a halt, allowing his warm, thick seed to fill you up completely.
Toji placed more kisses onto your back and your neck, making sure to never lose grip of you in case you go all jelly. Followed by him, slowly pulling his cock out of you, his load dripping out of your hole and onto the balcony flooring.
He stuck two of his fingers back into you, slowly fucking the load inside of you to make sure it stays inside. With his cum covered fingers, he slid the two of them past your lips and into your mouth. You sucked on them, humming as it covered your taste buds, and eventually swallowing.
Toji slapped your ass, and you yelped, giving him a glare. He chuckled before picking you back up bridal style, carrying you back inside the penthouse.
He gently and carefully placed you on the bed, quickly cleaning a bit of the mess you two made around the room.
"How about I go run us a nice bath, hmm?"
Fiddling with your thumbs, you watched as Toji neatly fold the pile of money together alongside the one on the night stand. Of course, it’s still yours. "That sounds good," You smiled as he walked over to give you a peck on the forehead.
The dripping of water from the bath tap rang throughout the room, Toji leaning back against you as the two of you were in the tub. You squeezed a sponge over his abs, the hot water dripping down his skin as he closed his eyes.
"..Toji," you called out his name, and he hums back in response.
You gently rubbed the sponge up and down his arm, "Would you say this counts as me working overtime for you?"
He smiles, opening his eyes to look up at you. "I'll add another $500 bonus and a shopping spree if you ride me in this tub."
You scoff, letting go of the sponge as you sulk against the marble of the tub. "I'm literally stuffed with your cum. I think you had enough, thank you very much."
Toji only laughs, "Aren't you forgetting you got an asshole and that throat of yours? We can easily squeeze in three more rounds."
⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ © luvwestwood ‘24. all works are owned by me, and originally come from my own head. please do not re-post on a third party platform without my permission!
⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ as always, thank you for the love on each and every one of my posts. 🎀🩷
#toji fushiguro smut#toji fushiguro x reader#toji smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen toji#jujutsu kaisen#toji fushiguro#toji x reader#toji zenin#jujutsu toji#jjk fushiguro
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Hazbin Hotel idea: Morningstar! Reader
Featuring: Gender-Neutral Reader, Platonic Hazbin Hotel x Reader, Yandere Hazbin Hotel
Reader's design
Link to part I
Haven't you ever wanted to transmigrate into the world of your favorite media? Of course you have! Otherwise, why would you even be here?
It's a story we've all seen before. Someone dies and wakes up in a new, exciting body, in a new, exciting world!
You've seen it all before. But you never thought it could actually happen to you.
There's a baby crying somewhere in the room.
You're staring up at nothing, the most gorgeous chandelier you've ever seen in your life hanging from an unfamiliar ceiling. It takes you a moment to realize it's actually a baby mobile.
What kind of rich freak buys something that elaborate for a baby? You're in a strange place, that's for sure.
The crying gets louder. You reach to cover your ears, only to stop dead in your tracks as you realize just how small you are.
No way...that baby...is it you?
[More under the cut]
So, this is really happening, huh? You've reincarnated (or something) into the body of some (assumedly very) wealthy family's baby.
This.
Fucking.
Rules.
You're no stranger to the transmigration trope, having read countless light novels and webcomics during your time on Earth. You know what to expect—a loving family, beautiful male leads, and more money than you could ever spend. Of course, you'll miss your old life and friends, but honestly, who could turn down a life like this? You were (re)born with a silver spoon, and you plan to take full advantage of it.
The crying gets even louder, and you realize that you're hungry. It's a different kind of hunger than you've ever felt before. It almost...doesn't feel human.
But that's silly, isn't it?
You've been born with a silver spoon, who could ask for more? You will yourself to stop crying, but it only gets louder and louder as the hunger grows.
The door opens, and the most gorgeous woman you've ever seen steps inside. Judging by her attire, she must be someone of high social standing. Is she your mother?
"Aw, hush now little one, Mommy's here," she says, picking you up and rocking you gently. The crying ceases almost immediately, leaving you feeling slightly irritated. How come this woman has more control over your body than you do? You don't have very long to stew in your irritation, however, as the woman pulls out a bottle from seemingly thin air, a dark red liquid gently sloshing around inside.
You're no expert, but you can say with 99% certainty that that isn't milk. You don't know what it is, honestly, but you do know that it's the most appetizing looking thing you've seen in your life.
The woman, your mother, places the bottle to your lips, and you lap it up greedily. "Hungry, are we?" She asks. You obviously don't respond. Even if you could, you're far too focused on drinking down every last drop of whatever is in that bottle to pay any attention to what she's saying.
Finally, your hunger satiated, you finish the bottle. Your mother poofs it out of existence, but you don't have time to think about the potential existence of magic before the door opens again.
"How is our little one?" A male voice (your father, most likely) asks. It sounds familiar, but you can't quite place it.
"They've got quite the healthy appetite," your mother responds, turning to show you to the man.
Your eyes grow as wide as saucers.
Lucifer...?
A/N: I'll write more of this if it gets popular. Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist
#hazbin hotel x reader#yandere hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel#hazbin lucifer#hazbin hotel lucifer#lucifer morningstar#lilith#hazbin lilith#charlie morningstar#hazbin charlie#hazbin alastor#angel dust#hazbin hotel husk#vaggie
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stealing hearts
Mob!Bucky x Thief!Reader
Run-through: His mansion was highly secured, and yet, breaking in and trying to steal from him was rather easy for a skilled thief like yourself. Key word: trying. Of course you got caught by his men. And the mob boss was known to be ruthless, cold, merciless – the list of his villainy was endless – so you thought he’d end you the moment he laid eyes on a thief like you. However, he didn’t. Instead, he made you an unusual offer. One you couldn’t resist.
Themes: thief!reader, mentions of homelessness and parental death, slight angst, mob!bucky, dom!bucky, slight daddy kink, sex toys, age gap (reader is in her early twenties), smut, fluff, cocky!reader
a/n: more mob!bucky bc i need to write him for my mental health
“Where is he?”
You heard a deep, surprisingly calm male voice ask, followed by multiple footsteps that echoed outside this dark room which resembled a dungeon, or rather a large storage room filled with boxes.
You heard someone correct the man. “Uh, it’s a woman, sir.”
The footsteps stopped for a brief moment, then resumed. The first authoritative voice spoke up again. “She was alone?”
“Yes.”
Silence. More echoing footsteps. “I’ll handle this. Wait here.” Immediately all the other footsteps stopped and only one continued approaching.
A few seconds later, the door opened and a tall man walked in. You knew who he was, you’d broken into his home after all. Bucky Barnes. You had seen his face on the news multiple times. He was also easily recognisable because of his metal arm. He was the one most people feared around here. He was the infamous mob boss. Filthy rich, arrogant, merciless. But powerful more than anything.
He took one look at you, tied to a chair in the middle of the dimly lit room, and scoffed. The asshole scoffed.
You glared at him. “Spare me whatever dark villainous speech you have planned and just shoot me already.” You hissed, looking away from him.
He was quiet for a second. Then said, “What makes you think I have some dark villainous speech prepared?” His voice was surprisingly softer than how he sounded outside. Smooth, rich voice. The kind that felt like a caress.
You turned to look at him again, still glaring, “All you old, rich bastards are the same. You love to hear yourselves talk.”
He chuckled this time, shoving his hands in his pockets as he walked in a slow circle around the chair you were currently tied to. “I’m not that old. Besides, wealthy is the right word here.” He ignored the way you scoffed at his words, and continued, “Also, a thief who hates wealthy people? Very original.”
You sarcastically chuckled this time. “See what I mean? You love to hear yourself talk.”
He stopped right behind you, where you couldn’t see him. You would be lying if you said your heart didn’t start racing immediately. Out of your sight, he could have a gun pointed at your head right now and you wouldn’t even know.
He didn’t say a word. He just stood there. Letting the anticipation build. Until you couldn’t take it anymore. Yanking on the ropes didn’t work, you tried that earlier. So you said, “At least have the decency to look me in the eyes while you kill me.”
He was quiet for a moment.
“What’s your name?” He asked.
When you gave him your name, he sighed and said, “Who said I’m gonna kill you?”
Oh?
“Well I can’t imagine you’re gonna let me walk away just like that either.” You’d been observing rich people all your life, you knew how they operated. You knew he would ask for something in return.
“No,” He said, remaining out of your sight. “No, I won’t let you walk away just like that.” He confirmed.
You laughed humorlessly. “Just so you know, I don’t have any money.”
He ignored you. “Who sent you?” He asked.
Ah, the interrogation. Again. “Your loyal guard dogs already asked me that while they were tying me down. And they used some very colourful language too,” You scoffed. “And I’ll repeat what I said to them. No one sent me. I don’t work for anyone.”
He began walking around you again, coming to a stop right in front of you this time. You looked up at him. Damn he was… kind of handsome. You couldn’t help but smirk, then failed at hiding it.
“What’s with the smirk?” He asked. You were surprised with how calm he was with this whole thing. It was unnatural.
You held his stare as you spoke, “Nothing I was just thinking about how I used to watch the news growing up and they always mentioned how much of a big bad monster you are. But there’s not even a single battle scar on your pretty face.”
He chuckled this time, shaking his head as he looked away from you for a brief moment. “Stop making me sound old. Also, the scars are everywhere but on my face.” He said, stepping closer, bending down a little so he could whisper, “And did you just call me pretty?”
Your smirk faded. Your murderous glare returned. “Fuck you.” You said quietly.
He stepped back with a proud smirk on his face. “How did you get in here? With no help? I’m finding that hard to believe.”
The smirk came back. “You’re doubting my amazing thieving skills? I spent years perfecting them mind you.”
He sighed. “Years? You look twenty-five at most, have you been stealing shit since you were a kid?”
You shrugged, or tried to, “Gotta do what you gotta do to survive. Dead parents, grew up with shitty relatives, ran away from there, been a thief ever since.” You summarised your life in that self-deprecating way you always did.
He didn’t laugh, or chuckle. He just stared at you with an expression you couldn’t read. “Where do you even live?”
You gave him a sassy smile, “I’m a thief, I break into somewhere new each night. You’d be surprised at how many vacant apartments with comfy beds there are in this area.”
Again, he gave you that same poker face. Handsome poker face. “And you broke into my house tonight for what? To sleep?”
“House?” You gasped dramatically. “This is a damn castle. Though the décor is a little too dark, then again it suits you, you know? Nice gardens, by the way.”
He sighed again, like he was dealing with a difficult child. “Why did you come here? And how? How did you get past my guys?”
You took a deep breath and began explaining, “Number one, I came here to steal whatever expensive things I could find. Though you do have very nice comfy beds but I never,” You put more emphasis, “ever, sleep in a house when the owner is home.”
“Charming.” He commented.
You continued explaining.
“And as for how, well I spent the last few days hiding and watching. You have thick bushes out near the entrance of your castle. I stayed there, observed and learnt your security guards’ schedule, and found out that the multiple cameras around your property also rotate. I figured out that I had exactly a fourteen-second window to get past the gates. I found a chance and took it. Picking the locks was easy. But then your people just had to catch me while I was halfway through stealing that lovely painting from your lovely library.” You finished with a smile so sweet it had him sighing again. “And now here we are.”
He mumbled something under his breath about god saving him, then he walked to the door and opened it. He called out a name and someone came running. A young man with a sweet face, looking younger than you even, walked into the room.
“Peter, I need you to make all necessary arrangements.” Bucky pointed in your direction and said, “She’ll be staying with us. Looks like we have a new member.”
You ignored Peter’s very confused look, and hissed at Bucky. “What? I didn’t agree to this!”
Bucky turned to face you with a serious look on his face. “You have no job, no income, and no place to live. I’m offering you all three and you are not in a position to refuse me.” He continued over your attempt at cutting him off. “You have skills I could use. From now on, you work for me.” He paused. “Agreed, little thief?”
You glared at him. Damn. A job, a salary, and a roof over your head? The bastard knew you couldn’t refuse. You had to be smart here. He could’ve killed you, but he didn’t. Instead he made you this almost irresistible offer. This could only mean that…
“You really need me for something, don’t you?” You asked, suddenly sounding cocky.
He clenched his jaw. And that was confirmation enough. “We’ll talk business later.”
You laughed in his face. “Alright, alright, don’t get too excited. But if I’m working for you, I have some conditions and requests.”
He blinked. The Peter guy was so quiet and still you almost forgot he was in the room. “What makes you think you’re in a position to have conditions, or make requests? I could’ve killed you the moment I saw you, you know that?” That cold voice of his would’ve sent shivers down anyone else’s back.
“But you didn’t because you need me.” You argued with a sly smirk. “Now, here’s everything I need,” You turned to Peter and began listing, “A nice room, preferably the guest bedroom at the end of the right wing.” You winked at Bucky and said, “I checked it out earlier and it has the best view.” You turned to Peter and continued, “I also want a whole new, complete wardrobe, with bags and shoes and everything.” You looked at Bucky and said, “Can I also have a car and a chauffeur?”
He frowned. “No.”
“What if I need to move around? Run errands, go get my nails done and all?” You fake pouted.
“I said no.”
You rolled your eyes, “Fine, can I have a pet horse?”
Bucky sighed, “No.”
“A puppy then?”
“What are you, a child?” He questioned.
You smirked, “I mean you’re probably old enough to be my father.” You teased him and tried again, “Can I please have a puppy, daddy?” You knew the way you said it sounded far away from innocent.
Bucky walked over to you so fast your brain barely registered it. He grabbed you by the back of your neck and stared deep into your eyes. “If that’s the case then daddy can also put you over his lap if you keep being a brat, and spank your little butt raw until you either cry or come, or both. Is that what you want, little thief?”
You were breathless as you whispered, “No.” That wasn’t entirely true, and damn it, you both knew it in that moment.
Bucky smirked. “Good girl.” He whispered. Then stepped away and turned to Peter and said, “Untie her and get her whatever she wants.” He looked at you as he said, “No cars, horses, or dogs.”
Then he left the room. Leaving you speechless, and very much wet.
—
Peter, you learnt, was one of Bucky’s assistants. Whatever Bucky asked him to do, he did. That included sending a group of mean looking men out to shop for all that you had written down on your ‘Requirements’ list.
He showed you to your requested room and promised your stuff will be here before the end of the day. And sure enough, by the time the sunset everything you had asked for was brought to you.
You squealed when you entered the closet, excited to put away all your new things. Clothes, accessories, bags, shoes, toiletries, makeup, skin care products, and more.
Peter came by again in the evening, bringing you dinner and said, “Boss said he’d see you in his office tomorrow morning at eight. Don’t be late, please. He hates it when people aren’t punctual.”
You’d be lying if you said the mention of Bucky didn’t immediately remind you of what he said earlier about you being on his lap and… ugh. Damn him.
For the first time in a long time, you went to bed with a full belly that night. And you squealed again when you got in the comfy bed, freshly showered and moisturised. As you drifted off to sleep, feeling weirdly warm and safe, you forgot all about your meeting with Bucky the next morning, and how you needed to be up early for it.
—
Bucky couldn’t sleep that night. So much had happened in such a short time. One moment he was having a quiet, calm day of golfing with Sam, and the next he got a phone call from his security guys that his mansion had been broken into.
He went from spending a rare day off with his best friend, to having a sassy, drop dead gorgeous thief in his guest room. He sighed, sipping on his whiskey, holding the phone to his ear as he looked out of his bedroom window.
“Oh, I know that sigh of defeat.” Sam laughed through the phone. “Is she really that pretty that you couldn’t even use your brain?”
Bucky rolled his eyes. And here he thought calling Sam to complain about everything was a good idea. Of course the latter would only make fun of him. In fact, he thought, maybe Sam would team up with you and you two would make fun of him together.
“Shut up, Sam. I’m serious.” Bucky sighed again, “She pisses me off but at the same time… I don’t know. This girl has been living like a fugitive since she was a kid. I looked up the relatives she ran from, her uncle and aunt, and honestly, anyone would run from them. God knows what kind of messed up shit she’s witnessed and been through her whole life.”
Sam was quiet, listening.
Bucky continued. “You know the bushes near the entrance? She hid there for days. Days, Sam! Through the rain, and cold nights all just so she could study the guards’ movements. She probably didn’t eat that whole time. Who knows when’s the last time she had a warm meal? She’s so resilient. And strong. But so sassy, and the way she runs that mouth it makes you want to-,”
Bucky exhaled, exasperated. And continued.
“She has that look in her eyes, you know?” Bucky thought back to earlier when he first saw you. “Life hasn’t been kind to her. She has really sad eyes. Like she was forced to grow up and take care of herself. I couldn’t…” Bucky trailed off, “I couldn’t just let her go back to living like that. Go ahead, make fun of me for it.” He sighed. “She’s gonna be really useful to me.” He stated. “You remember last year? When I was ambushed by Roger’s men? Something of mine was stolen then, and I’m gonna get it back using her.” Bucky already had a plan made. “I needed a skilled thief anyway. I mean she managed to break into my house, that means she actually is really good. She could even lead some of my guys when they go-” Bucky stopped talking and asked, “Are you even listening?”
Sam chuckled, “I am, I am. It’s just rare to see you admire someone like this. Who knew big bad Bucky could be so soft? You better let me win next time we’re golfing, otherwise I’m telling everyone that you have a crush on the thief.”
Bucky groaned, “What is this? What are we, children? I do not like her like that, alright? I’m about a decade and a half older than her. And she won’t stop reminding me of it.”
Sam laughed again. “Oh I like her already. Anyway, have fun with your crush and tell me how it goes.”
“Goodbye, you asshole.” Bucky ended the call and shook his head at the thought of what Sam said. A crush? On a thief? No way.
As he made his way to his study room, Bucky couldn’t help but pause outside the guest room in which you slept. He could hear soft snores coming from within. Something in him felt satisfied that you were able to sleep soundly here, not having to find vacant places to break into. He wanted to keep it that way.
Why? He didn’t know. Whatever it was, Sam was wrong.
As he sat at his desk in his study room, Bucky tried to get work done but he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Something about you was different. Bucky never trusted people this easily, let alone allow them into his home.
That reminded him of something… Bucky found the list that Peter had left on his desk. The list of Requirements, as you called it. And as he read all the things his men had to go out and buy earlier, Bucky couldn’t help but laugh. He hadn’t laughed like this in a long time.
Oh this could be fun. Bucky couldn’t wait for your meeting the next morning. At eight sharp.
—
When you woke up, the sun was in your face. But you hadn’t felt so warm and comfy in a long, long time so you relished the feeling. You let out a yawn, opening your eyes slowly. And you found yourself looking right at a rather pissed off Bucky standing at the end of the four-poster bed, with his hands in his pockets.
All black suit, perfect hair, and those blue eyes…
“Oh hi,” You said, taking your sweet time as you sat up in bed. “Good morning.”
“It’s two in the afternoon.” Bucky hissed. “Who sleeps in for that long? You and I had a meeting at eight this morning. I was waiting.”
You yawned again. “I’m sorry, this bed is really, really comfy.” You said, as if that was a decent excuse. “Maybe you shouldn’t have put such nice beds in your guest rooms if you didn’t want your guests to sleep in.”
Bucky closed his eyes for a moment, looking like he was trying very hard to contain his annoyance. “You are not a guest. You work for me. So when I tell you to meet me in my office at eight, I want you there.”
You smirked, peeling off the covers and slowly crawling over to the end of the bed where he stood. You knelt on the bed right in front of him, “Oh? You want me?” You teased, knowing he would snap at any moment now.
You remained kneeling on the bed as his metal hand reached out and wrapped around your throat, squeezing just a little. The smirk on your face stayed in place this time, only pissing him off even more. “Watch your mouth, little thief.” He said.
“Or what? You’ll spank me till I… what was it you said?” You repeated his words from the day before, “Till I cry, or come. Or both?” He remained quiet. His hand tightened around your throat, choking you a little bit more. You couldn’t help but whisper, “Jokes on you, I’m into this shit.”
Bucky let go of you immediately. You laughed in his face as he shook his head and shoved his hand in his pocket again.
“Get out of bed and get ready. Meet me in my office in half an hour.” He ordered and turned to leave.
“But I’m hungry,” You said right before he could walk out of the door. “You can’t treat your guests like this, you have to feed me.”
Bucky refrained from groaning. “Fine,” He said, turning to look at you over his shoulder. His broad shoulder. “I’ll have someone bring up some food for you. Now hurry up, don’t be fucking late again.” He barked.
—
Bucky was embarrassed to admit to himself that his hands were shaking as he left your bedroom and walked to his study room. Fuck, less than twenty-four hours and you already had such a bizarre effect on him.
Bucky shut the door behind him, and closed his eyes to find some kind of composure. Fuck, fuck, fuck. The sight of you in those black satin shorts and that tight, excuse of a top… fuck. The sight of you so comfortable in bed had messed him up so much he’d gripped you by the throat like an animal.
He was grateful you didn’t seem to notice the hardness in his pants. He needed to get a grip. How the hell was he supposed to boss you around if this is what a brief interaction was doing to him.
He sat at his desk and waited. And about twenty minutes later, there was a knock at the door. It was one of the housekeepers with a tray of breakfast food. Bucky waited some more and after a short while, there was another knock at his door. Before he could even open his mouth to say something, you walked in.
Bucky’s heart skipped a beat. Just who allowed you to look this good? You were glowing after a good night of sleep. You looked incredible in your little sundress. Bucky watched as you took a seat on the other side of his desk before he even asked you to. The smell of your body wash and perfume drifted over to him, and he was almost salivating.
He kept watching as you moaned in delight when you took your first sip of coffee, then your first bite of warm croissant.
“Glad to see you’re enjoying your breakfast at,” He checked his watch, “almost three in the afternoon,” He spoke, finally. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to discuss your position here in my house and as my employee.”
You scoffed through a mouthful of some kind of pastry. You swallowed it with a sip of coffee and said, “So formal, my god. Just tell me where to go, what to steal and I’ll do it, no need to be so poetic about it.”
Bucky sighed. “I don’t need you to steal anything at the moment. There is something, but the time isn’t right. I will let you know when it is. But as of now, I have other plans for you.”
You frowned at him as you finished your breakfast. “Okay… I’ll do them under one condition.”
“Enough with your conditions.” Bucky hissed.
Despite his warning, you continued, “There’s this old, abandoned apartment complex,” You said, grabbing a pen and a sheet of paper from his desk like it was your own, scribbling something down, “I have some stuff hidden in there that I need. Not much, just two boxes. I know you won’t let me go but could you have someone go get it for me, please?”
Bucky looked down at the address and apartment number written on the paper. “What stuff?” He asked.
“Just stuff I’ve stolen over the years.”
He scoffed, “But you have everything you need here.”
You nodded, “Some of the things are… priceless.”
Bucky nodded. “Fine. I’ll have someone go get it. Now, about your role here. You’re gonna start training with the guys tomorrow.”
You frowned, “I’m a thief, I don’t need exercise.” You argued.
“No,” He said, calmly as he leaned back into his chair. “But you need to learn how to fight, how to use a gun, a knife, self defence, how to be part of a team and all that.”
Okay. Things got very real. You stayed quiet and nodded.
“Can you drive?”
You shook your head.
“I’ll have someone teach you.”
You shrugged. “So, no stealing for now. Only training like I’m going to battle. Anything else?” You asked.
“Yes, actually.”
–
About an hour later, you stood in the middle of what Bucky called your new workstation. You looked around the spacious room, impressed. It looked a lot like a lab, with every equipment a thief could ever need, even some new tech that you yourself weren’t familiar with. Weapons, trinkets, everything.
“So you want me to teach your guys how to steal using this stuff.”
“I want you to teach them necessary skills.” Bucky corrected. “Strategies. How to be observant. How to pick locks, how to be discreet, how to be invisible and hide for days, how to use a narrow, fourteen-second window to infiltrate a secure place. Whatever else you can teach. Minus the stealing.”
You smirked, leaning against your new desk. “So you like what I do, huh?”
Bucky ignored that. “Don’t cause any trouble.” He said. “I’m paying you to do a good job here.”
You looked around again, not able to fight the genuine smile that formed on your face. “It’s like paying a kid to be at the playground.” You smirked, looking at him with determination in your eyes, and some mischief. “I’m gonna have so much fun here with my new friends.”
“Do not hurt my guys, I need them.”
—
The next couple of weeks went by rather quickly. You woke up each day, excited for a change. No more having to be constantly on the run, no more having to steal for food, clothes, or find shelter. You had more time to live now, not just survive.
Plus you had the lab. It was your favourite place ever. Surrounded by gadgets and tech you didn’t know could exist, weapons that you were starting to get the hang of, and Bucky’s guys that you used as if they were your test subjects – you actually had fun each day.
The dynamic between you and Bucky changed too. And it all started the day after he first showed you your new lab…
“My guys have your stuff from the old apartment. It’s in my office, come get it.” He spoke through the phone – your new phone – ordering you to come collect your stuff.
You almost ran out of your room and to his office. When you got there, the two boxes were placed nicely on one side of his desk. A cardboard one, and the other one was a medium sized metal code-lock box. He stood behind the desk, watching you.
“As requested,” He pointed at the two boxes, “Your stuff.” He paused, then said, “Open them.”
You froze. “Uh, what?”
Bucky shoved his hands in his pockets. “If I’m gonna allow you to keep your stolen goods in my house, I should know what they are. Now come on, open the boxes. I need to check them.”
You walked into the room, shutting the door behind you. As you approached the desk, you tried to find a way out of this. “You don’t need to. They’re nothing. Just things I’ve collected over the years.”
Bucky gave you the usual, handsome poker face. “Would you like me to open them?”
“No,” You said quickly. You rushed to the cardboard box, opening it to let him see the contents. “See? Just books I’ve stolen from everywhere.” You explained as he looked inside the large box filled with old and new books.
“Now the other one.” He said, eyeing the metal box.
“That one has… um, personal things.” You said. “You don’t need to see all that.”
Bucky walked around the desk, stopping only when he was inches away from you. He leaned a little close to your ear and whispered, “I have received bills of all the things you made my guys buy recently. Some of the bills explicitly listed each and every piece of lingerie and underwear you ordered, including a certain little red thong you’re possibly wearing right now.” He said, making you shiver. “And now you wanna talk about boundaries?”
You pulled away to look at him, seeing the proud triumph in his eyes. “Fine.” You refused to let him win this one. You reached for the box, unlocked it, opened the lid and waited. Bucky was quiet. Too quiet. “Say something.” You whispered, “This is very awkward.”
Finally he did.
“Get on the desk.” He said. You froze again and seeing that you weren’t moving he leaned in to whisper into your ear, “I said, get on the desk. If I’m gonna allow you to keep all of these toys, then I better test their… effectiveness as well.”
You avoided his eyes, focusing on the top buttons of his shirt as you asked, “What kind of rule is that?”
“My kind.” He replied. “Now get on the desk. Legs up and spread them so I can see exactly what I have to deal with.”
Fuck.
You sat up on the desk, feeling just a little coy as you lifted your legs up and placed them on the edge of the desk, spreading your knees as far as they would go so he could look at you down there.
Bucky scoffed. “See? There’s that red thong.” He pulled his metal hand out of his pocket, placing it on your inner thigh, slowly inching upwards. His cold fingers lazily teased your clit, then slid down to inspect your wet folds. He pulled the thong to the side and mindlessly dragged a metal finger up and down your slit, making you shiver and moan as he touched you.
You let out a quiet whimper which made him groan.
You looked down in between your thighs, his hand teasing you like it was the most casual thing. You sheepishly looked up and into his piercing, icy blue eyes that were already staring at you. You couldn’t look away.
“Which one’s your favourite?” He asked. And it took you a little while to realise that he was referring to the pile of sex toys in the metal box.
“The, uh… the vibrator.” You answered. Your face got all hot but you refused to seem embarrassed.
Bucky smirked, pulling his hand away to reach for the vibrator. Light pink wand with a bulbous head. Bucky looked at it, then at you. He looked down at your wet folds and spat before turning the wand on and pressing it right on your clit. His spit helped the toy to move around better as he circled your clit with it, before moving it up and down your slit.
You couldn’t help but moan and gasp as you felt the familiar pressure forming in between your legs, and you involuntarily bucked your hips against the vibrator, trying desperately to chase your orgasm. Of course Bucky noticed, and he scoffed as he lifted the vibrator off you, denying you your release.
“No,” You whined, closing your eyes and tilting your head back, “Please…” You begged.
“Look at me,” he said, softly. You looked back at him as his other hand wrapped around your throat. Bucky leaned in enough so that his lips brushed against yours when he spoke. “You will come when I allow it, you hear me?
You nodded immediately.
“Good girl.” He said as he placed the vibrator back against your core. You felt the vibrations all over your body, as you stared into his icy blue eyes. He moved the toy around a little more before lifting it off you again, turning it off this time. “You can take your books and go now, this box stays with me.”
He put the vibrator back safely, shutting the box.
You closed your legs, hopping off of his desk. “What do you mean it stays with you? You can’t just… just steal my toys!” You frowned at him, pissed.
Bucky gave you an annoying smirk. “Yes I can. Now whenever you need a toy, you can come ask for it. If I feel like it, I’ll let you have it.”
Bastard.
You left his office angrily that afternoon. And vowed never to beg for any of the toys in that box. Let him have it. Screw him, right?
Wrong.
You couldn’t sleep that night. Your fingers didn’t relieve you as much as the vibrator would have. And that’s how you found yourself swallowing your pride and knocking on his office door. The lights were on so you figured he’d still be in there.
“Come in.” He said and you could already hear the smirk in his voice.
You opened the door, walked in and shut it behind you. “I need it.” You said, looking at him as he lounged on the couch near his desk.
“Need what?” He asked, acting oblivious as he placed his drink down and pretended to be confused.
You rolled your eyes at him. “The vibrator. Please.”
He leaned back on the couch, with a playful smirk on his face. “Oh I put it in the trash. I put all of them in the trash.”
You blinked. It took a moment for the anger to surface. You took a step towards the couch. “Do you know what I had to do in order to rob that sex store? I had to fight the guy who was closing up for the day. With a baseball bat! And you know the worst part? He was one of my ex flings!”
Bucky let out a chuckle.
“Don’t just sit there and laugh! What am I supposed to do now?”
He gave you a mischievous look and said, “Come here.”
You crossed your arms over your chest and stood there in the middle of his office. “No.”
“Keep being a brat and I will drag you here by your hair if I have to.” He raised an eyebrow at you. “Try me.” And those words had you moving towards him at once.
You reached the couch where he was sitting and stood in front of him. “Now what?”
“Get on my lap.”
You rolled your eyes, refusing to show how his words and tone made you want to drop to your knees and take him in your mouth instead. “You’re such a disgusting, old, pervert who just wants to-,”
He cut you off by pulling you into his lap and grabbing you by the throat. His metal hand squeezed your throat just enough to make you whimper. “What did I say about you and your smart mouth? Hmm?” Then he scoffed and said, “Right, I forgot you’re into this shit.” He squeezed your throat a little more. “If I reached down there, would I find that you’re completely wet and ready for me?”
You whimpered again, instinctively grinding on his lap. He chuckled, shaking his head.
“Look at you,” He murmured. “You won’t need your toys now,” He said, “If you need to come, you ask for my cock. Understood?”
You nodded immediately.
He smirked. “Now, will you be a good girl and fuck yourself on daddy’s cock or what?”
You whined, nodding, “Please…”
Bucky couldn’t help but lean in for a kiss then. All your whimpering was too much for him to handle and he couldn’t take it anymore.
You kissed him back, allowing him to almost tear your PJs off of your body. You only pulled away from the kiss to say, “We need a condom. I’m not on birth control.”
Bucky nodded, reaching to pull a condom out of his pocket. “Remind me about the birth control thing tomorrow.”
You watched as he undid his trousers and put the condom on. The moment it was on, Bucky pulled you in for a kiss again. He helped you as you lifted up and then slowly lowered yourself down on his hard cock.
You couldn’t look away as he held your stare. You both gasped and moaned as you finally sank down on him. Your body resisted just a little to fit him inside at first. Bucky felt it too, and an arrogant smirk formed on his face as he grabbed your hips in place and gently thrust his hips up, filling you up.
You moaned out loud as he did. “Fuck, you feel good, little thief.” He whispered.
Once he was buried deep inside you, you leaned in to kiss him again while lifting your lower body just the slightest, before sliding back down on his cock, you whimpered as he groaned, filling you up and being all snug inside of you.
“Oh fuck,” He swore again, “You feel so tight around daddy’s cock.”
The tip of his cock reached places you never knew existed. You whimpered, whining in pleasure as you took a good look at the man beneath you. He oozed power, manspreading on the couch with you on his cock.
You moved faster then, impaling yourself down on his cock each time. You whimpered shamelessly as you felt him filling you up completely each time, feeling him reach deeper into you with each thrust. His hand slipped between the two of you and found your clit, he rubbed it lazily. Grunting and moaning under his breath as you sped up even more, riding his cock and making him lose his damned mind.
“You have such a perfect little cunt…” He said, “It’s all mine now.”
You were whimpering and whining yourself as you took more and more of him. But you couldn’t help but tease him, “And here I thought mixing business with pleasure was a bad thing.”
Bucky playfully slapped your thigh. “I make the rules here. From now on, mixing business with pleasure is a very good idea.”
You leaned down to kiss him, biting down and tugging at his bottom lip while you sped up, and his cock stretched you out each time he filled you up. “Fuck,” You whined.
His hand circled around your waist and he pulled your warm body closer to his. He was still very much clothed, except for his cock being out and buried inside you. Meanwhile your PJs were on the floor, leaving you completely naked on his lap. Something about that contrast made it even hotter.
“Beg.” He said, “I want to hear you beg me to let you come.”
You bounced on his cock moaning and whining, feeling him stretch you out as you stared into his blue eyes.
“Please daddy,” You whimpered, “Please, can I come?”
Bucky held you at your waist and rhythmically thrust his hips up each time to match your movements. “Hold on, just a little,” He panted against your cheek, kissing the side of your face and gripping your jaw with his hand. “Just a little,” He whispered, “Wait for me.”
“Please… I can’t,” You didn’t slow down as you felt your orgasm wash over you, and he kept thrusting his hips up into you as your eyes rolled back and you moaned out loud as you came, hard, feeling your walls squeezing and clenching around him as you came undone. You panted and leaned forward, pushing your face into his neck to catch your breath.
Bucky came right after you, his warm load spilling inside of you, filling you up as he wrapped his arms around you and pressed your trembling body closer to him.
“I’m sorry,” You said as you caught your breath. “I’ll wait next time.”
Bucky laughed. “It’s alright. You were still such a good girl for daddy.” He murmured.
—
That night changed everything.
Ever since, each time you annoyed Bucky he would just fuck you against the nearest surface. Safe to say you began to annoy him even more.
But he could also be kind sometimes. For instance this one time when he found you in the library:
You were lounging on a sofa, reading when he walked in silently.
“Winter’s tale?” He surprised you with both his literary knowledge and presence.
You peaked at him from behind your book and said, “Leontes is such a cunt. Quite like you sometimes.”
Bucky ended up fucking you right there on the sofa. And then promised to get you your own bookshelf in the library because he didn’t like the way you stuffed your books among his on the current shelves. It’s messy and immature, he said. Grown ups don’t keep their books like this, he said.
Bucky could also be so confusing at times. Like how he would always treat you like the thing between the two of you was just a casual fling. But then he would get jealous whenever he saw you getting too close to any one of his guys while you trained with them.
“I will be overseeing your training from now on. No need to join the guys in the morning.” He said out of nowhere when you joined him for dinner in the dining room one night.
“Why?” You asked.
“Because you distract them too much with your shenanigans. Constant flirting, walking around in your little workout outfits, all that needs to stop.” He spoke, avoiding your eyes.
You smirked. “So we’re gonna be early morning workout buddies from now on?”
He sighed, “Don’t make me regret this.”
You chuckled, “Oh you will regret this.”
He did. But in the best ways. So each morning workout either started or ended with a nice fuck sesh.
—
You were at your workstation one morning when Bucky walked in with a serious look on his face.
You’d just seen him a couple of hours ago for your ‘workout’ so you wondered why he was back. Usually he left you alone for most of the day, only finding his way back to your bed late at night. So this was unusual.
“What’s going on? Why do you look like you want to murder someone?” You asked as he stood right in front of you with an earpiece in hand.
“Put this on.” He said.
You did as he asked. And waited.
Bucky grabbed his phone, walking to one of the nearest screens and a few taps later, you were looking at the live feed of some kind of body cam.
“What’s this?” You asked. Just then, you began hearing muffled voices coming from the earpiece.
Bucky turned to you. “My guys are… retrieving something of mine from a secret location. I need you to guide them.”
Your eyes widened. “Wait, is this it? Is this the thing you needed me for?”
Bucky’s face gave away nothing. “Just do as you’re told.”
You nodded, quickly looking back at the screen. “Who’s leading them?” You asked.
Someone’s muffled voice replied from the earpiece. “Thor is.”
You nodded, looking at the screen. “Right. How could I miss those biceps that are bigger than my head?” You said.
Bucky smacked you on the butt and said, “Focus.”
“I am, I am. I got this.”
Anf for the next few minutes, you led the men through whatever maze of a building they were in. You found the location within seconds and managed to have a blueprint of the place. You warned them of the cameras, told them when to move and when not to. You instructed Thor how to pick an ancient looking lock that led them into an even bigger maze. But you did everything right, used the right strategies, the right tricks up your sleeves, and you managed to get the guys out of there safely, with the mystery package they stole.
Once they were out in the clear and confirmed that they were on their way home, you turned to Bucky and asked, “How did I do?” You waited eagerly for his response.
Bucky just smirked and said, “Good. You passed the test.”
Your smile faded fast. “What? What test?”
Bucky explained, “The guys weren’t actually out stealing shit. I just wanted to see how you would do in a situation like that. And you did great. Congratulations, little thief.”
He turned to walk away but you called out. “You know, I deserve a nice gift for being so amazing.”
“Do you now?” He asked, not turning around.
“Yes, I want a dog!”
Bucky paused at the door. “No.” He said and left.
“Please, daddy…” You pouted.
“No.”
Oh well, it was worth a try.
—
The next morning, you woke up and got ready for yet another day of annoying Bucky. However, when you stepped out of your bedroom door, you noticed something outside your door.
It was a basket. And inside it slept two puppies, two of the fluffiest little balls of fur you’d ever seen. Once the shock passed, you began tearing up immediately.
You picked up the basket as slowly as you could and made your way to Bucky’s bedroom. You walked in without knocking. And there he was, standing in the middle of the room, getting ready for the day, buttoning his black shirt, casually looking like a god. Once he saw you, his playful smirk showed itself.
“So, how do you like-,” He stopped talking the moment the first tear fell down your cheek. His smirk disappeared. “What is it?” He asked.
You carefully placed the basket down, the puppies inside it sleeping soundly. Then you rushed to Bucky, wrapping your arms around him tightly.
Bucky hugged you back instantly, though confused concerning your reaction. Out of all things, he didn’t expect this. “Hey, what’s going on?” He asked, softly.
You sniffled, hiding your face in his chest. “I was thirteen when I ran from my uncle and aunt’s house.” You said, voice muffled. “And they had dogs so I grew up with them. But when I took off to be on my own, I couldn’t have a dog because I could barely take care of myself.” You sniffled again. “And it’s hard being without animals when you grew up around them, you know?” You let more tears wet his shirt. “Thank you,” You said, finally.
Bucky held you as your shoulders shook with your sobs. He placed a gentle kiss on your temple and whispered, “Oh baby, I’ve got you now.”
You pulled away to look at him, both of you ignoring the patch of wetness your tears left on his grey shirt. “You got me two puppies.”
Bucky smiled down at you. “You deserve it.”
You sniffled, “You’re being nice, what do you want?”
“Nothing,” He rolled his eyes, “Now get out of here.”
You stayed put. “I can’t. I have to make it even.”
“Yeah?” Bucky raised an eyebrow at you. “How?”
You shrugged. “I don’t know, let me suck your-,”
He cut you off by pulling you closer, a hand wrapped around your throat already. “You are very tempting right now, in your little red dress. And if you don’t want want me to tear it off right this instant, I’d suggest you-,”
You cut him off this time, “Who said I don’t want you to tear it off?” You asked with a smirk.
Bucky sighed before pushing you down on his bed. “I’ve got a busy day ahead.” He said, looking down at you as he hovered above you, “But you don’t care about that, do you?”
You giggled, shaking your head. “Not one bit.” You said, running your hands over his chest and his strong shoulders.
He smirked, giving in. He leaned in for a brief kiss while he pulled your dress up and placed both his hands on either one of your knees and separated your legs, settling in between them.
Your heart raced in anticipation. His hand slowly dragged your thin underwear down your legs and threw it around somewhere behind him as he inched his face closer to your already dripping core.
“Such a fucking brat.” He mumbled and brushed his soft lips along your inner thighs, making you giggle and moan quietly under your breath.
“Shut up, admit it. You’re obsessed with me.” You sassed, then moaned out loud when you felt his warm tongue lick from your entrance up to your clit. You felt a familiar rush in your veins. Fuck he was addicting.
Your hands grabbed fistfuls of his hair, tugging on it as his mouth teased you. His tongue slowly circled around your clit, earning more moans out of you as your back arched off the bed. His bed, you realised. This was the first time you two were fooling around in his room.
Only now did you realise how it smelt like him. Dark, male, addicting. But most of all, dangerous. Fuck, just his scent made your head all foggy in lust.
Bucky had you squirming, moaning, a complete mess under him in no time. “I love seeing you like this,” He said, kissing your inner thighs, “Too busy moaning for me to run that smart mouth.”
You couldn’t answer as your legs trembled around his head, he locked his arms around your thighs and pushed his tongue deeper into you, making you cry out of pleasure.
“See what I mean?” He chuckled, “I bet you want to say something sassy so bad right now, but you can’t.” He playfully bit you before sucking on your clit. “Daddy’s tongue has you all tongue-tied, huh princess?”
You cried out. “Please… please daddy,” You whined.
With a proud smirk, a look of determination in his pretty blue eyes, and a couple more strokes of his tongue, he had you gushing out all over his tongue, lapping up all that you gave him. While you moaned and squirmed on his bed as he sucked on your sensitive clit until you calmed down.
You kept your eyes shut as you caught your breath, feeling him leave small kisses all over your thighs.
When you opened your eyes again, his face was right above yours. His devious blue eyes looking down into your wide open ones. You were certain all he saw in your eyes was hunger. For him.
“I want you,” You whispered, sliding your hands into his hair. “Now.” You demanded.
“Brat.” He hissed when you tugged on his hair.
You smiled. “Pretty sure it’s princess.” You teased.
“A bratty fucking princess then.” He didn’t give you a chance to sass back as he leaned in for a deep kiss, holding himself up with one hand as he quickly undid his trousers. You helped, pulling his cock out and stroking it. Bucky moaned into the kiss as you did, and the sound of it sent shivers down your back.
You gasped, and whined into the kiss as he carefully slid into you, filling you up entirely, inch by inch. Stretching you out deliciously like he did all the time. Bucky wasted no time, he pulled out and pushed back into you, making you moan into the kiss each time until the makeout turned lazy and messy, filled with gasps and moans.
You noticed he wasn’t being as ravenous as usual. He was… trying to be gentle with you.
Indeed he was. Your heart skipped a beat when Bucky laced your fingers together and pinned both your hands above your head as he sped up just a little into you. He was groaning and panting against your lips as he fucked you slowly, and you were unable to focus on anything other than him.
His hips rolled against your body perfectly, and his body weight pressing down gently on you was comforting. His grip around your hand tightened each time you’d moan his name out loud.
“That’s it, princess.” He whispered against your open mouth, “Tell me who’s making you feel this good. Who’s fucking you, huh?”
You kept whimpering his name over and over again as he fucked you nice and slow, kissing his way down your face, from your collar bones to down your chest. And you cried out when he took a nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue.
You opened your eyes as he pulled away to look down at you, his lips soft and pink and parted as he breathed rapidly, fucking into you a bit faster.
Something shifted in that moment, you weren’t sure what. But something changed.
His brows furrowed as he tried so hard to hold back and make you come before he did. “Fuck,” He swore. “Come for me.” He smirked and leaned down to whisper in your ear. “Come for daddy, princess.”
You felt the pressure building in between your hips as he sped up even more, his metal hand reached down and grabbed your hip gently, keeping you in place as he sped up into you. Your bodies moved perfectly against each other.
Bucky pushed his face into you and nuzzled your neck as he growled in pleasure. With a few more strokes of his cock, you came undone, moaning and whimpering under him, grinding against him hungrily while he came right after, filling you up again.
He stayed there, limp on top of you for a brief moment, before he slid off of you and laid down beside you. He caught his breath while you blinked rapidly, trying to calm your racing heart and figure out what the hell just happened.
Before the awkward silence settled in completely, you got up on shaky legs and fixed your dress. “Well, this has been fun. I gotta go feed my new kids now. See you later.” You grabbed the puppy basket and almost ran out of his bedroom.
As you shut the door, you heard him laughing to himself. A boyish, carefree laugh that made you smile.
—
With your new dogs, training, your lab, more training, days flew by.
Whatever Bucky had planned, whatever big heist you were supposed to carry out, you knew it was coming soon.
You often wondered what would happen once you successfully stole whatever he intended for you to steal. You didn’t even know what it was yet. Must be something precious either way, if all this planning went into it. But what after that? Would you no longer work for Bucky then?
Would this… whatever it was between the two of you that both of you absolutely refused to acknowledge – no matter how much Sam teased you both for it – would it all end?
You were lost in thoughts of all this when you found yourself mindlessly making your way to Bucky’s office one evening. Your two dogs, loyally in tow.
You found Bucky in an equally sour mood as you, sulking at his desk with a drink.
You shut the door behind you, leaving the dogs outside as you made your way to Bucky. He looked up at you and silently patted his lap. You made yourself comfortable on his thighs, an arm around his neck as you leaned in and nuzzled his cheek. His stubble rough against your nose and cheek.
“What’s wrong?” You asked, “What has you looking like an evil god plotting the end of mere mortals who are standing in the way of you dominating the world?”
He chuckled at that. “You are so annoying you should be grateful at least you’re pretty to look at.” He mumbled, taking a sip of whatever was in his glass. You assumed it was whiskey.
You couldn’t help the laugh that left your lips. But then you noticed that distant look in his eyes. Unfortunately, you were very good at reading people. You leaned in and kissed his cheek softly.
“What is it?”
He let out a sigh. “You never ask me what I’m keeping you around for.”
You shrugged. “You said you’d tell me when it’d be the right time. I’m just waiting, I guess. You told me about Rogers and his men and how they stole something from you. The details aren’t necessary, whatever it is, I’ll get it back. I promise.”
Bucky placed his glass down and turned to look at you. His metal arm held you securely on his lap. “It’s my mother’s ring.” He said. “The ring has been in our family for generations. All the men propose to their women with it.” He paused, then added, “I have nothing left of hers. Just the ring.”
Damn. Well. You would have never guessed that. A family heirloom? Why would Rogers tell his men to steal that? How would he even know to steal that?
You began to ask just that. “How did-,”
Bucky answered before you could even finish your question. “Steve, Sam, and I used to be friends. I always thought we’d be friends till the very end. But then Steve went rogue, power got to his head.”
Shit. No wonder Bucky and Sam were so close, they survived the downfall of a strong trio.
“I’m sorry.” You murmured, gently stroking his cheek. “I’ve never had close friends like that, I can’t imagine what it must be like to lose them. But I can tell it makes you really upset.” You pointed out. Then you took a deep breath and said, “I’ll get your mom’s ring back. And I will even kick Steve for you if you ask me to.”
Bucky gave you a faint smile.
“Just get the ring back.” He said, staring deep into your eyes. “I need it.”
Oh? The thought of him on one knee, asking someone to marry him was surprisingly uncomfortable. But you pushed all that aside.
“So when do I go?”
—
Another week later, the plan was ready. Bucky’s men were ready. You were ready.
You had the location, had studied the blueprint very well. You’d be in contact with Bucky the whole time through the earpiece. Steve was rumoured to be out of town. His guards would not be expecting the heist. This was perfect.
Or so you thought. The moment you got near Steve’s house, a gut feeling told you something was off. And you must’ve mumbled something to yourself because Bucky’s voice came through the earpiece just then.
“I’ll say it again. The moment you sense something wrong, fall back. Do you hear me?” He used the cold, bossy tone.
You scoffed and replied, “Yes daddy.”
A few of the guys chuckled around you. And you could hear Bucky sighing as you giggled to yourself.
You noticed the guards getting ready to move, the typical security rotation. You looked behind you and whispered to the guys, “We have exactly twelve seconds to make it past the gates. Don’t be too loud, and follow me. If you can’t make it, stay back here and keep watch. Everyone understood?”
They all nodded silently.
“Okay… now!”
Not all of the guys could make it. Some had to stay back because the twelve-second window was too short for everyone to beeline through the gates.
But the group of you that made it past the gates and into Steve’s house were in for a big surprise. It was a trap, Steve wasn’t home but his people had been waiting for you.
What was meant to be a clean heist ended up in a crossfire.
You could hear Bucky barking orders through the earpiece. “Fall back! Now!”
You almost did… but fuck you were so close. So close. That was when you took the earpiece off and tucked it into the pocket of your cargo pants. He may have been right, but the adrenaline was too much to resist. You’d missed this feeling, this rush of being so close to danger, to being caught…
So you went for it.
Walked deeper into the trap.
You knew where the ring was kept, you had the little box in your hand. You didn’t have time to see what it looked like as you put it away in your pocket, along with the earpiece that Bucky surely was still screaming through.
And then. The room exploded.
Then there was nothing. Just ringing in your eyes, and blurry images in front of you. You coughed, gasping for air and all you got were dust in your lungs.
You faintly remember hands reaching for you, dragging you, trying to get you to walk. But your body did not cooperate. It refused to.
You don’t know how much time passed. Or where you were.
You could hear the panic in his voice as you tried your hardest to reorient yourself. Bucky was here? You were lying on the floor somewhere. You couldn’t remember much.
The heist. The ring. A lot of fighting. An explosion.
Ah, an explosion that threw you across the room causing you to collide against a concrete wall.
Your side hurt, badly. Your head throbbed. Your vision was blurry, but at least Bucky was here. He was here, you could hear his rapid footsteps approaching.
“Baby….” His voice sounded distant. “Baby, open your eyes. Please.” He had never sounded so vulnerable. Due to the way your body moved, you assumed you were in a rapidly moving vehicle. “Look at me,” You felt his hands on your face, “Princess, please…” You couldn’t focus too well on what he was saying, “... sorry, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have… baby, please…”
Then there was just darkness.
And pain.
And a headache that refused to go away.
But you were with Bucky so you gave into the darkness. You knew you were safe now that he was here.
—
When you woke up, you realised you were in Bucky’s room. On his bed. The headache was still here, not as bad as before though.
The room was dimly lit, so you figured it must be well into the evening. The house was quiet, but as you tried to sit up, you heard him.
“Thought you were gonna sleep for two more days.”
You couldn’t help the smirk. “I slept for two whole days?” Then you panicked, looking around, “Where are my dogs?”
“Safe, fed. Sleeping.” Bucky stepped out of the dark corner of the room, but didn’t come any closer. He was quiet for a few moments. Then, “You almost got killed.” He stated, looking like he hadn’t slept in days but no less handsome.
You scoffed. “As if that’s all it would take to kill me. You know, I once fell from two storeys and survived with just a twisted ankle. I’m amazing like that,” You winked at him. “Besides, I did a good job. I managed to get your precious ring,” You went to pat your pocket, only to realise that you were no longer wearing those cargo pants.
Of course, he wouldn’t have left you in those same clothes for two days while you recovered. You looked down under the blanket and you were wearing clean clothes. His clothes. Sweatpants and a t-shirt. The t-shirt smelled like him.
“Looking for this?” He held his hand up and there it was. Prettiest piece of jewellery you’d ever laid eyes on. You could see the big, heavy stone from here. Dark green, black, silver. It looked elegant, and like it was crafted in some fae realm. It was truly unique.
“You changed me.” You pointed out, looking down at the clean clothes.
He gave you the same poker face. “What does it matter? I’ve seen you naked more times than I can count.” He said.
“And you made me wear your clothes.” You gave him a bratty, triumphant look.
He glared at you. “I’m sure my clothes feel more comfortable than those tight little dresses you wear all the time.”
You gasped dramatically, “You mean those tight little dresses you fuck me in all the time?”
That had him walking towards his bed immediately. “Don’t fucking tease me. Not right now, you’re hurt.”
“Aww,” You teased, “You care about me.”
Bucky sat down on the edge of the bed, turning to face you. “I guess I do.” He said, reaching out to touch your face carefully.
You couldn’t look away from him. He was so gorgeous. Even in poorly lit rooms with his face half hidden in shadows, he was the most handsome man you’d ever seen.
He smirked when he noticed you checking him out, “I know I’m pretty, stop drooling.”
You scoffed, shoving on the shoulder. The muscular bastard of course didn’t even move an inch.
“I’m gonna go bring you some food.” He said, taking your hand in his metal one. “You’ve been unconscious for days, you need the energy.” He slid the ring on your ring finger so casually it took you a few moments to realise what he’d just done.
Only when he got up to walk away did reality hit you. Hard. “Wait, what the fuck?” You held your hand up, “What does this mean?”
Bucky gave you a shrug, “Get used to it.”
“Bucky!”
“What?”
You blinked, mouth open, your body frozen in shock. “Did you just… are you for real? I thought the plan was to get the ring back so you could display it in your office and admire it like the deranged villain you try so hard to be.”
He couldn’t help but laugh. “Change of plans.”
You lowered your eyes, tracing a finger over the big stone on the gothic looking ring. “You can’t marry a thief.”
Bucky sat back down again, taking your chin between his fingers. “Why not? You stole something very precious the day you broke into my home, and this is your punishment now. A life sentence, if you will.”
“What did I steal?”
“My heart.”
You groaned at his cheesiness, leaning in and hiding your face into the crook of his neck. “You bastard.”
Bucky chuckled. “I love you too.”
You were quiet for a moment, breathing in his scent. It grounded you. But then you pulled away and asked, “What about Steve?”
“I’ll deal with him.” Bucky answered, sounding grave and cold. “He hurt my princess,” He said, pulling you closer so much that you were almost on his lap, “I’m gonna kick his ass.”
You giggled, “Well technically he hurt your princess because she broke into his house to steal. Honestly, he had every right to hurt your princess.” You argued.
Bucky smirked, “So you agree? That you’re my princess?”
You rolled your eyes at him, “Technically I’m your fiancé but I don’t really care about labels so yeah, I’ll be your princess or whatever.”
He laughed, “Oh you don’t get to be nonchalant about this. I’ll throw a big party, invite the whole city if I want to. And you’re gonna be the centre of attention the whole night, parading around in a pretty dress of my choice, showing off your ring, and telling people how much you’re in love with me.”
You groaned again. “You are insufferable.”
“I love you too, princess.” He repeated, kissing your forehead.
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Hard Carry CL16 - 01. It's 2018, Baby!
Pairings: Charles Leclerc x driver!reader
Summary: It's the big year of 2018 and y/n is looking forward to win her fourth championship title. A pretty boy with green eyes won't distract her damnit!
Word Count: 4.5k
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2012
When Formula One fans talked about paid driver, they said that the position can go either two ways.
The first one, is being proven unworthy for the seat. With the highly competitive nature that the sport serves, it will only took one race, one qualifying, only one bad day, to show the world that you don't have enough experience or talent to deserve a seat in Formula One. That the reason why you're one of the top drivers in the pinnacle of motorsport is because daddy's got money.
Unfortunately - to the fans, or even to the said paid driver themselves - this scenario is often the case.
It is such a bad branding for rookie to have. To be branded as a spoiled and talentless kid that doesn't know how to do anything without the help of their famously wealthy parents. For someone that ha just entered the sport, for someone that is still searching for fans and sponsors, this kind of branding can be the death of their career.
Yet, why is there so many paid driver when the risk is evident?
The second scenario, is the most unlikely one. Though, it is still possible.
There is a probability that a paid driver can enter the sport, and show the world that they're as talented as y/n l/n, just like what she did back in 2012 when she famously entered Formula One because her dad bought the Porsche Formula One team.
It was such a controversy back then, for such a young driver - a female driver, something that the sport had never seen in decades - to easily enter the pinnacle of motorsport with the large monetary support from her dad. Back then, when it was not revealed yet that her dad had bought the team, many had anticipated her debut. When the news came out, many had muttered things like-
"Maybe she's just that talented?"
"She did won a lot of trophies in the lower category."
"Who cares? It's a sign that Formula One is finally evolving!"
"Bet she got a lot of skills."
And well, y/n does have skills. People had actually anticipated her arrival at first, saying that it’s time for Formula One to change and she will be the one to start the change.
Though back in 2012, that was not the reason why she managed to get into Formula One. Her dad, a famous billionaire from France, had bought the Porsche Formula One team and gave one of the seat for his daughter.
Cue, the many controversy.
Now, when she looked back, y/n really have to admit that the online and offline attack that she had received back then was simply atrocious. News outlets and magazines would print photos of her without her knowing, calling her a spoiled princess who is throwing tantrum and making Formula One a joke to the eyes of everyone.
Sport critics would make a whole segment with previous or current Formula One stars to talked about her. Many calling her undeserving, talentless, and many many sexist slurs that she doesn't even want to remember anymore.
While, okay, being a paid driver, it’s obvious that controversy will always follow. Thought, back then, she had thought, if she was a man, would the controversy became this big?
Paid drivers, after all, is known secret to everyone who watches the sport. Formula One is an expensive sport to start with, so it's no wonder that many people from a privileged background would start using Formula One as a chance for them to have a career outside of their wealthy family.
And don't get her started with drivers who has connections with retired Formula one Drivers!
At least half of the grid is the son or a friend or a family friend of a retired driver. If you want to talk about the sport with the most nepotism, y/n thinks that Formula One is up there.
Though, her controversy got blown up this big just because she has one thing that separates her from the rest.
She's a girl.
A girl who has no space in the world of motorsport.
Someone who doesn’t have balls hanging between her legs and somehow, it made people think that she’s less than them.
Honestly? Fuck them.
She knows the world of Motorsport. She knows, if her dad didn’t bought the team, there is no way her dream to become a Formula One driver will come true. No matter how much they preach about equality, women in sport, or even feminism, there is no way any of these teams will even look at her.
How can she get into the sport when no one will give her a chance? When everyone in this goddamn sport will always think that the world of Motorsport is only for men and she has no place Ini it? It’s only fair for her to use her advantage so that she somehow can have an equal ground with everyone else here.
During the start of the 2012 season, y/n is already in a bad mood from the start.
She fucked her qualifying. So fucking badly. She honestly thinks it's because of the added pressure from the press as well as the pre-race jitters that she had, almost throwing up in the garage due to how fucking nervous she is. All of those added, and yes, the result is a really bad qualifying.
P10 honestly is a really bad position when you have a car like Porsche. After all, her other teammate, Antonio Bacque, managed to snag P3 during the qualifying.
It's an embarrassing result and she really hates it. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that y/n was going to be eaten by the media with that kind of result.
Her first interview ever since the announcement of her position was with some famous sport channel. Y/n knows them, considering the've been blasting a lot of her controversies and 'questionable' behaviors for their viewer to watch.
So she should've expected the question that they had prepared just for her.
"What do you think about your path towards Formula One?" asked the woman, blonde hair and seems to be older than her for a couple of years. "Do you think that you still deserve the seat without the help of your father?"
She had froze, eyes flicking towards he PR manager who also got her eyes widened. It seems, the interviewer had asked her a question that was not previously approved by her team. Illegal? She doesn't know. Nor she cares.
After all, she's really fucking exhausted at this point.
There are too many glances and cameras towards her way. Too many layered questions and fake empathy from those around her. Too many, judgmental look from those who doesn't even know her personally.
Y/n is tired.
"Yes," she said, staring straight back at the camera. "Yes I deserve it."
"How so?" pressed the reporter once again. Fully knowing that she's a paid driver. Fully knowing that she had just fucked her qualifying up. Fully knowing, that she haven't shown the world her skills.
Yet.
The female stared at the camera, she's aware that her next answer will be the headline of every major sports channels the next day. That this answer can be the one to make or break her career. A brand, that will stuck to her until her retirement.
Should she play the part of a spoiled child? Or should she play the part of a hothead driver with a too big ambition? She could play with the male fantasy and become a docile and demure little girl with too much naiveté in this cruel cruel world of motorsport. To become the doll for this sport to play with without care in this world.
But she's better than that.
She's y/n l/n and knows she's worth more than those fake personas and branding. She knows that she deserves her seat and she will be damned if she didn't prove it to the world.
"Like this,"
And, she gave them the middle finger.
In the end, all of those criticism changed during the Australian Grand Prix.
It's stuffy and unbearably hot inside the car. Her race suit didn't help much. If she's in any other situation, she would've complained to everyone that's willing to listen.
Though, at this moment, she found herself to not care.
Bright eyes stared at the car in front of her. She could see the familiar Mclaren in front of her, passing the checkered flag. She could see the Mclaren team cheering by the fence near him. Y/n could only see Mclaren in front of her.
Only one car out of 22.
"P2, y/n," breathed out her race engineer on the radio as she passed the checkered flag. There's a hint of disbelief and wonder on his tone. "Fucking P2."
She screams, no doubt flooding the team radio with her rather inhumane scream as she let go her steering wheel and hold the top of her helmet. It's a bit unbelievable, a bit hard to belief, and of course, so so fucking wonderful.
"YES!" screamed the woman. "YES YES YES! OH MY GOD!"
Y/n could hear the announcer announcing the result of the race, voice excited at what just happened. After all, today on the 18th of March 2012, a Formula One history was just made. This day would be written as one of the most memorable moments in the history of Formula One.
As she hopped out of her car, her team is already out there, ready to celebrate with her.
Some would have criticized that action as excessive, considering that she didn't won the race. Though, this race was the debut race for Porsche. This is the race where the team can show the world that they're not here to play. They're here to win.
It could be said, that both the team and y/n's goal are aligned.
The girl wants to show the world of motorsport her worth. Want to show everyone, that she deserved her seat in this sport. Want to show, in this men dominated sport, a girl like her too, can thrive.
Her team too, wants to show the world of motorsport their worth. To show everyone that Porsche Royale Formula One team is here to stay and to make history.
Maybe that's why they worked so well. Maybe, that's why both Porsche and y/n became unbelievably loyal to each other. That the team, had became her second home and y/n had become someone that the team can trust fully.
If she looked back towards that day, she can confidently say that it was one of the happiest day in her life. It was her first race in Formula One, it was the start of her historical journey in this sport, and of course, it was the day that she managed to shut every criticism that was directed at her way.
It was satisfying.
2018
Y/n's presence is almost mythical at the grid.
Which is a bit weird, considering she had been a constant presence in the grid for years at this point. Still, it still didn't diminish the almost divine status that she had achieved amongst the fans of motorsport.
After all, there are drivers that's like that. Drivers that can command a room with their simple presence or someone that had reached so many achievements throughout their career that it sounds almost unbelievable. Drivers, that you had ever only heard of and never seen. Drivers, that had inspired the next generations of motorsport enthusiast to follow this adrenaline filled career path.
Y/n is one of those drivers.
Today is the pre-season testing and y/n is ready to retire from the sport.
"I'm going to retire," said Y/n as she groaned, stretching her back inside of Porsche's hospitality. "Like for real."
Truthfully, the weather today is perfectly warm. Barcelona in February had never been glaringly hot. The sun is shining above them and yet the temperature didn't rise unbelievably high. It should be a good day to do your daily routine and well, for y/n, this should be the perfect weather to do the pre-season testing.
Though, the ache on her joints is saying otherwise.
A hand hit her shoulder playfully. "You're only 23" said her athletic trainer, Luca. "That's like the age where everyone started their career," he said as he slid a strange concoction of healthy smoothie in front of her. "Drink this."
"But I started my career when I was 17," whined the woman as she sniffed the drink. It smells healthy. And weird. She really doesn't like it. "It's almost 6 years, I think it's an appropriate time for retirement, or maybe a promotion. Do you think I'll make a great team principal?"
The mere thought of this woman being Porsche's new team principal sends shiver down Luca's back. "Honestly, don't even joke about that because I seriously think Herman will get a heart attack."
Y/n laughed at that. Just imagining her team principal being shocked to the point of a heart attack just because she's going for a retirement is a bit funny to her.
It's the start of the 2018 season and she could feel excitement ringing through the air.
Somehow, the grid feels different than usual. People seems more excited, a bit wary, and yet, still excited. Y/n likes to think that it was because how exciting the 2017 season was, considering how intense the battle between her and Lewis for the driver championship title. Though, she knows that it was not the reason.
She glanced towards the cameras that littered around her.
In this season, somehow, there will be a documentary crew film documenting their 2018 season. Which is, weird. Formula One teams are notorious with their secrets and fear of corporate espionage after all. Now they're letting a filming crew to document all of the behind the scene of the season?
It's a new concept.
Herman had told her that almost all teams in the grid had allowed the filming crew to lingered around the garage. Well, except Mercedes and Ferrari - which shocked her a bit because she really think that this kind of thing is something that Lewis would do. But oh well.
Hopefully, this kind of coverage can boost the ratings of Formula One and make the sport more known to the general public. It will be great if there's a lot of new fans who will start to watch the sport from the documentary.
"Now that there's a film crew following us around," started y/n with a snicker, leaning back on her seat. "I think it will be more dramatic for me to announce my retirement right now, no?"
Luca sighed, "Y/n-"
"I hope you're not serious about that," said a dry voice behind her.
She doesn't even have to turn around to see who's standing behind her. "Herman!" she greeted, cheerful as always and as if she was not talking about possible retirement just a few seconds ago. "My favorite team principal, how are you?"
"Good," said the German, raising an eyebrow at her. "As long as your retirement plan stays like that. A plan."
The female nudged his shoulder playfully. "You know I love you too much for that."
"Really," muttered the team principal as if he doesn't believe what she's saying. "With how you behave lately, I really doubt that."
That, actually, made her laughed louder. "What do you mean? I've been a perfect worker!" she said, tone full of teasing. "I'll be a more star worker if our car this season is perfect like always." At this, she added a wink towards a team of mechanics that's sitting on the next table, eliciting a round of laugh from them.
"I'm counting on you then," said Herman as he took a seat in front of her. "I'm here to talk about other things."
She blinked. "What other things?"
The pre-season testing had barely started and he's already here to talk some serious stuff towards her? She's allergic to that.
"Someone wants to meet you," continued Herman as he took out his iPad, writing something on it. His thick rimmed glasses glinting. "It's a favor from a friend."
"Oh?" asked y/n. "Like, I don't know if you're aware, I'm a pretty popular girl," she started and Luca actually has the nerve to roll his eyes at her. "Lots of people want to meet me."
"It's a favor from Fred," continue the man, ignoring her comment. "It seems they found a star driver or something, someone that they really cherish. And apparently that rookie is a huge fan of yours"
Y/n blinked at that. Fred Vasseur is the team principal for Sauber Formula One team, one of the teams in the grid right no. They never really interacted much with Sauber, though she do knows that Herman and Fred are friends. Golf buddy or something. While the Sauber team itself is not one of the top team that will compete for the championship, it's famous for one thing.
Its relation to Ferrari.
While true, it's not like Sauber is Ferrari's b team like what Toro Rosso is to Red Bull, they still have a really close partnership with each other. Like really close. So close to the point that almost every part of Sauber came from Ferrari. For Fred Vasseur himself to ask a favor to Herman for their rookie driver can only mean one thing. This rookie driver is projected to drive for Ferrari.
A competitor then, she thought idly.
"Well, I'm honored," the woman finally said. "So where's the superstar?"
"They should be here soon-"
Just at that, someone opened the door towards Porsche's hospitality, calling Herman's name. "Herman!" greeted Fred as he entered the building with a perky energy. "And of course, y/n, always lovely to meet you."
"Freddie, Froyo, Fredman, it's been awhile," she greeted back, standing up to give the man a short hug.
Maybe it's because Sauber itself is not a champion winning team that it made them interact easier. After all, she can’t even imagine greeting Christian or Toto like this.
"Yes, yes," laughed the man, not looking the slightest bit uncomfortable at the random nicknames being used. "I told Herman already, but there's someone that want to meet you."
It was at this, that y/n realized that there's someone standing behind Fred.
A man, maybe around y/n age, a bit younger perhaps, could be seen standing a bit awkwardly. He's wearing the white and red Sauber shirt, paired with a ripped skinny jeans. From the get go, it's obvious that he seems uncomfortable at the sudden familiar setting of Porsche's hospitality. At the same time, his eyes looks excited and a bit jittery.
Y/n immediately knows that this is the future superstar. Sauber's apparent cherished rookie driver who is now being projected to be one of Ferrari's future driver.
For a career prospect, not bad. A Ferrari driver certainly is a good option. Though, y/n is sure if this Formula One driver gig doesn't work out, he can be a model or someone in the entertainment industry. Because honestly, the guy is really pretty to look at.
Warm green eyes, messy dark colored hair, and a nice face to look at. If he ever decided to become a model, he could probably be a successful one.
"Y/n," called out Fred, catching her attention. "This is Charles Leclerc, he's a big fan of yours."
He seems a bit embarrassed at that mention, what with how his cheeks started to redden and how he flail his hands around. Which is, cute.
"Really?" she said, smiling as a teasing grin entered her eyes. "Really honored, then."
Charles let out a huge smile at that, looking a bit relieved. "I should be the one saying that," he said and his English is thick with accent. French, she realized. "I've been following you since your debut."
She let out a low whistle. "2012? That's a long time," laughed y/n easily. "You were how old back then?"
"15," he replied.
"Ah, I'm only 2 years older than you then," she said, putting it at the back of her mind. "At long last, it's no fun to be the youngest on the grid for so long."
Herman coughed, eyes staring at her straight in the eyes, "There's Verstappen, he's also two years younger than you."
"But Max is way too serious!" she whined out, remembering Christian’s favorite driver. Ever. "It's no fun to tease him when he gets all broody, which is like 70% of the time."
"It's because you keep annoying him," said Herman dryly. "Anyway, Charles, correct? What do you think of F1 so far?"
Now, all of them are seated at the same table, making conversation with each other. Honestly, y/n is a bit invested at the topic. Moreso on Charles because with him entering his rookie season is like a wake up call for her.
Lately, more and more young driver debuted in F1. It started with Max and Carlos back in 2015. Younger and talented drivers with more vigor and a brand new vision for the sport. Back when she debuted, the grid was way older with more experienced driver filling up the spots. Now, it seems, the teams want to change the way they view the sport a bit.
Younger drivers started to arrive every year. Guys who had karted since they were four or guys who basically just skipped F2 straight into F1. Thinking back, it's a bit sad, because it made her realize that more of the older driver too, will retire soon. That the grid will change soon.
Hm, she thought. It's an added pressure for her.
Maybe it's because she debuted so young and had become a world champion when she was only in her second season, it made her think that she's way older than she actually is. This year is her seventh year in F1 and now she has three driver championships under her belt.
It's a bit jarring thought that she is now one of the most experienced driver in the grid.
Charles talked about his experience so far with so much enthusiasm and starry eyes that it made her want to protect him a bit. Which is normal, because to all of them, Formula One is a dream that they had ever since childhood. When they first entered the sport, it's only normal for them to look at everything with full of reverent and wonder.
The male seems to live and breathe just for racing. A feeling, that y/n can relate to.
"So you liking it so far?" she spoke up, catching everyone attention. "Does it fill up your expectations?"
"Yes," nodded Charles with a huge smile. "I'm really excited for the first race."
"Nice," grinned y/n.
Really, if anyone ever asked her what is one of the defining moment in her life, she would described this moment at one of them.
With Charles smiling in front of her inside the Porsche's hospitality, with the impending knowledge of a new generation of Formula One, and with the fear of destroying all of those Formula One hopeful dreams. It was at this moment that she decided something.
She really really wants this sport to be enjoyable for the young drivers. For them to have someone to talk to and not became a clueless little shit like she was all those years ago.
It was a decision that stayed on her mind as they continue their conversation. Herman seems interested in Charles, not that they can sign him for Porsche considering his love for Ferrari, but still, having an option is still a good one.
They stayed and chatted there until both Charles and Fred presence is needed back in the garage.
"Hey Charles," she said a few minutes later when both Fred and the younger male was about to leave Porsche's hospitality. The younger had asked her to sign three hats, saying that it's for him and his brothers who is also a big fan of hers.
Perking up, he motioned for Fred to walked ahead before he jogged back to where she's standing.
Pulling out of her phone, y/n let out a grin towards him, "Give me your number yeah? I think it will be fun to stay in contact."
Charles stared at her.
"Seriously?" he asked, blinking rapidly.
"Yeah."
Almost immediately, he scrambled to get his phone out of his pocket, to the point that he almost dropped it to the ground. It was such a comical sight that it made her laugh, which seems to only embarrassed him further. Maybe when they became a lot closer she can tease him more about this? Certainly a thought for the future.
They exchanged number and Charles thanked her many times, saying things that she's his idol and he really admire her. Y/n merely watched him, amused, at the blabbering, before he seems to realize that he had talked too much and excused himself in such a hurry.
Well, certainly, Formula One will be more interesting in the coming years, right?
Humming, y/n entered the Porsche hospitality once more, only to be called by Herman to discuss something.
"So," started the man, finger idly fiddling with the papers in front of them. "We need to talk about your teammate,"
"Ah," realized y/n. This is going to be a long and painful discussion.
Drive to Survive Season 1 episode 3
It's all about Porsche
Will Buxton appeared on screen, smiling. "The thing about Porsche is," started the man. "It's a team that most drivers doesn't want to be in."
A shot of y/n talking with Herman and the mechanics could be seen. Her face is serious as they discussed details about today's Grand Prix and the car. They seems dedicated in their work, a true showcase of the prowess of one of the top team in Formula One.
Which makes Will's earlier statement a bit bizarre.
"At least, if you're not y/n l/n," continue the man with a small laugh. "It certainly not because they have a bad car-"
Porsche's Formula One car could be seen zooming at top speed, a clear indicator on how fast the vehicle is going.
"-Nor is it because it's a bad team-"
Y/n's car could be seen entering the pit stop, something that the Porsche team handle flawlessly without a hitch.
"It's because of the strict hierarchy there," laughed Will, a wry smile appearing on his face. "A really really strict one."
Herman appeared after that, eyebrow raising at the question that the producer had asked off screen. "I think it's quite obvious who will be the no.1 driver," said the man bluntly. "It's an open secret in Formula One, no? About no.1 and no.2 driver?"
Christian Horner appeared in the dark interview room, wearing a dark cardigan and a light blue cardigan underneath it. The man laughed, almost throwing his head back at that. "No.1 and no.2 driver is common in Formula One, but no one impose it as strict as Porsche," said the man, eyes full of amusement. "The team is basically a y/n cheerleading squad."
Many clips appeared after that, of team orders to let the woman through or the team failures to handle a simple pit stop when it's not y/n on the car. Articles too appeared, of how often Porsche has to change one of their driver and to find someone that is perfectly fine to be the second best in their team.
It's a team that prioritize y/n. It's a team, that undoubtedly will choose y/n l/n as their number one driver and will never budge on that decision.
The thing is, if Porsche is not a championship winning team, this shouldn't be a problem. Many drivers are grateful to have a seat in Formula One even they ended up not in one of the top team.
But Porsche is a team that fights for championship. Their cars are fast. They're the team that fight for wins and podiums. They don't fight for points, they want wins and glory.
A complete domination. Just like their motto. And when a driver tasted that sweet sweet taste of victory, it's hard to stop.
"Formula One driver needs to think that they're the best," said Will. "It's a mindset that they need to have if they want to survive in this sport," he continued. "Can they really, give up wins for their teammate? when their direct rival is that teammate herself?"
Y/n has too much presence for her to be the number 2 driver.
She is the icon of the sport, someone that is way too talented and way too influential to be the second best driver. The team itself was basically assembled around the woman needs.
The mechanics is someone that she can easily discuss the car with, her race engineer remains unchanged ever since her debut because she's comfortable with him, heck, even Herman position is secured because y/n actually likes him as a team principal.
It's y/n l/n very own personal cheering squad and everyone knows it.
"Fighting y/n on track is already a hard fight to win," continue Will. "A really hard one."
A clip of her racing and passing so many drivers could be seen. Her skilled handling of the car, overtaking those in front of her, and being an all around driver that deserves the title of a world champion.
"Fighting y/n for a spot as Porsche's number one driver? Impossible."
"The drivers need to understand that we're fighting for championship," said Herman as the scene cuts back into him. "We need someone that can support us in that cause."
Christian appeared, laughing. "Well, there's a reason why they need to change their second driver five times since 2012," said the man, looking so fucking amused.
Porsche after all, is y/n's kingdom.
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༊*·˚ FOREVER WINTER (IF YOU GO) — task force 141 x reader
11 — COME BACK TO REMIND ME OF WHO I WAS
featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price + (non-endgame phillip graves)
warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, enemies to lovers, slow burn, polyamory, ghostsoap, pricegaz, alerudy, heavy angst, requited unrequited love, graphic violence
series masterlist. read on ao3. read on wattpad. fanfic playlist.
<- previous part | next part ->
“I forgot how ugly he was.”
Price, beside you, raises a slightly bemused brow. Taking the binoculars from your easy grip, he too, examines the target standing on the mansion’s balcony. A cigar sits between Price’s lips, mirroring the less sophisticated Marlboro between the Lieutenant General’s.
The man, one of the few higher-ups you were somewhat close with, is a decorated Shadow Company leader. Known for his strategy and persuasion, he was always a good asset.
Shame he was always this side of too touchy, and a general ass to anyone who had a vagina. Or an inclination for the same sex.
Real pity that he’s the one with the information you need, and the one you can’t kill.
“You’re not wrong, darlin’,” Price murmurs under his breath, exhaling a puff of smoke as he slips the cigar from his mouth, the cherry burning in the dark of night.
Ghost, like usual, is found a few buildings down, sniper at the ready. Soap and Gaz were ordered to stay behind for this mission, much to their chagrin. It was the closest you’d seen Gaz fight with his Captain, and Soap was just being generally pouty.
Both you, and Price, had managed to reason that expertise in explosions and protection wasn’t exactly wanted for a quick get-and-grab.
And, maybe, a small part of you needs a break from the two Sergeants. Your night with Gaz has infected your mind, even now, the day after. And seeing him, with his bright smile and dimples and eyes made your heart skip a beat. Especially with how no one could know of your rendezvous, lest you be kicked out of the deal.
Or worse.
You swallow, once, accepting the binoculars once more when Price hands them back to you with another puff of his cigar. He’s surprisingly courteous about it, not blowing the smoke into your face.
“Lt, we have eyes on the target. Over,” you speak into your radio, eyes like a hawk as you watch the Lieutenant General shake off flakes from his cigarette over the pristine white railing. He’s shorter than most, especially considering his rank, and you can’t help a small, private smile growing on your face at that small fact.
“Been around bloody Johnny too much,” Ghost mutters, and you roll your eyes. “No hostiles spotted, you’re good to go.”
Rising into a crouch, Price gives you a curt nod, before gesturing for you to follow him. You do so with quiet movements, the only sound the barely there crunch of dirt underneath your boots.
Your previous Lieutenant General was always an uncomfortably wealthy man, and you see now what he’s chosen to do with such an abundance of money. He lives in an off-the-grid mansion, deep in the middle of nowhere, only hills and trees around him.
Those families in Las Almas, displaced and killed and ruined – they were entirely more deserving of just a fraction of this wealth. Your tongue feels coated with something sour.
Price smells like cinnamon and spice, even in his gear, and it’s a scent that settles in your belly like a warm stew.
It’s rare, these days, to see daylight. All this recon work done well past midnight, hiding in the shadows and staying low. Not your favourite, but at the same time, it’s kind of… nice, doing this, just you and Price and the moon. No having to tiptoe around what to say around Gaz, or avoiding Soap’s innuendos.
If only it wasn’t for Ghost, too, watching over the two of you.
God, how you hated that man. His snarky comments, the roll of his eyes, his mask he refused to take off. And the way he almost looked down at you, questioned your authority, not unlike all the men you’d known. Worked alongside. Hated, too, in much the same vein.
You wonder, distantly, if he’ll ever come around. If there was at all a possibility of a civil interaction between you both, one that didn’t end in death threats or glares or passing out.
“Somethin’s on your mind.”
Head snapping up, you meet Price’s knowing blue eyes. Calculating, always aware, always ready for the worst case scenario.
“Not really, Cap,” you easily shake off in a whisper, continuing to follow him, until your backs are pressed against the beige, concrete wall. Your assault rifle is pulled to your chest, safety off.
The bandage on your cheek had been replaced just this afternoon, a soothing balm and fresh wrappings alleviating the growing itch that had been forming on your face. What was another scar, even? This one, at least, had somewhat of a neutral memory attached.
Ghost’s chest, his arms, a single threat turned into a promise.
You blink.
“You’re gonna get yourself killed if you underestimate our smarts,” Price says, low, under his breath. His words have you halting.
“Sir –”
“I know you’re used to bein’ the smartest kid in the regiment,” he continues, not unkindly, “But you’d do yourself well to remember that my boys are here for a reason, too. We know more than you give us credit for.”
His voice is deep, gruff, even in the low whisper he’s reduced to.
A shiver erupts down your spine as you feel out where to start climbing the wall, trying not to look at the man next to you. His words – they hit a part of you that you don’t want to acknowledge.
“Never said you guys weren’t smart, Captain.”
“Actions speak louder than words, Colonel.”
You have nothing to say to that – an irony, all things considered. Instead, you jerk your head towards the bricks that’ll allow you both to scale the side of the mansion. With your gloves on, the two of you make it to the third floor, shuffling through an open window.
It’s pitch black, except for a lone light turned on in your target’s study, just down the hall.
The air is stale, stifling, potent with old filing and decade-old cologne. It has your throat feeling clogged, your eyes slightly glassy as you move towards the light, gun at the ready.
This is, you realise, the first time you’re working beside the Captain.
You’d worked in tandem, obviously, but never so closely knit like this. With him at your six, his body like a furnace when beside your own, it’s an entirely new dynamic. So different to that of his subordinates – more steady, controlled.
Ghost is silent over the radio, a small mercy, as you two find your way into the study, backs to the wall as you quickly clear the room. You never knew when a surprise could be awaiting you.
“Check the drawers, I’ll look through the shelves,” Price whispers, a direct command delivered in a raspy breath.
You nod, immediately transferring your gun to your back as you rush through the desk’s contents.
The room is dusty, obviously having seen little use in recent years, and the drawers are filled to the brim with knick knacks. Old paper clips, photos, receipts – everything, except for what you need.
“Got anything?” You find yourself asking, a harsh whisper in the still quiet of the room.
Price shakes his head, a stern movement, still searching through the shelves with a stealthy yet quickened pace. You focus back on the drawers, going through each one with efficient and expert ease. Some old gum packets, paper clips. Fuck.
Your heart pounds in your chest, your throat feels thick with dread.
The contract you were looking for – it could be the beginning of the end. You needed this like you needed air, right now, and if you didn’t find it –
“Darlin’,” Price calls, smooth but demanding. You instantly look up, drawn to the man like a moth to a flame. “We’re goin’ to find it. Stop thinkin’.”
It’s, obviously, easier said than done.
You appreciate his sentiment – the way he’s trying to guide you – but that sinking feeling of despair has you gripped in its tenuous claws; unrelenting and powerful and cruel. It feels as though everything is riding on this; like your very existence will disappear as soon as you find out the document has.
A hand on your shoulder startles you out of your thoughts.
It’s Price.
“You need to get your head in, Colonel,” he orders, his voice no longer patient or kind. This is the voice of a Captain. “I am not about to waste my time here if you can’t do your job.”
It’s exactly what you need, right now, and he knows it. You know it.
You take a breath.
And you nod.
He claps your shoulder, a firm glint in his eyes as he jerks his head towards the rest of the room. You’re running on a timer – your mini spiral an unnecessary hurdle. All you have to do is block off that side of your brain, and get the bloody job done.
Although Ghost is still silent as ever, you can feel his looming presence even without being at all in his line of sight.
It’s debilitating.
With more meticulous movements and keener eyes, you look through the drawers. Less desperate, more knowing, because if there’s any doubt that you won’t find it –
“Target is leaving the balcony – I’m ‘bout to lose sight on ‘im,” Ghost’s quick voice starts through your radio. The slight tone of worry has every inch of you on edge. Your wide eyes flicker to Price’s – whose jaw sets.
“Copy, Lieutenant,” Price murmurs, voice low.
The gun strapped to your back feels heavier than before, now, and your hand drifts to the pistol attached to your thigh. The same one that’s come in handy time and time again.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Footsteps – down the hall. Heading towards –
A hand on the scuff of your neck. A door being pulled open – pitch black.
Your heart thunders in your chest, Price’s hand pressed against your sternum, his chest against yours. The air is tight, and you’re cornered in a…
Closet.
Price pulled you into a closet – and now, you’re stuck with his thigh between yours and his arm outstretched above your head. You feel entirely weak before him, the Captain of the 141.
If it was at all in question, anymore, you would’ve considered that this would be the perfect time to kill you. To be rid of Grave’s right-hand woman, and to cut off any loose ends.
Instead, all you can feel is his warm breath against your forehead.
The footsteps pause, but the creak of the study’s door has your spine rigid all over again. Price presses in closer to you – and you don’t make a single movement. Don’t speak a single word, in case its very syllables are your undoing.
You can’t see, not in this speckled darkness, but price’s very existence feels so strong against your own that you can’t help but shudder a breath.
“Sir – You can’t possibly be serious. Use your damn brain.”
Your ex-Lieutenant General hisses into what you assume is his phone. And by his grating voice dripping with stress? There’s only one man on this Earth that he could be talking to.
Phillip Graves.
You can’t make out what your Commander says in response – not through the small, tinny voice of the phone, but you can pretty much guess his sentiment.
“Most of our men are gone! We can’t take down that bloody Task Force –” He hisses, his voice palpably furious. Without realising it, you find yourself curling in further to Price – his own head ducking down to shield you subconsciously.
The creak of the study’s floorboards, echoing under the weight of the man’s boots, makes your heart pound.
You feel not unlike a small child, hiding from their parents while the sound of yelling and smashing glasses echoes around the room. The long since buried memory of your father – before he left, before he broke your mother’s heart – of dark hair and angry, pulsing veins. The same veins you inherited.
The ones of which you wish you could carve out of your skin, just to watch the fury bleed out.
“Why the fuck is she so important? Good pussy or not –” Your heart, a thud, thud, thud, “ – She’s just a girl. She’s not worth it.”
Price’s hand tightens his hand, unconsciously clasping your throat like it’s a new necklace of yours. It’s oddly comforting, even if it threatens to block your airflow. His chin nearly rests atop your head, so close, but all you get is the waft of cigars and ink.
Graves must respond with something – something that the man just a few feet away from you does not appreciate.
“At this rate, the worst case scenario is that she finds out,” the man starts to pace, the rhythm of his footfalls matching the heaving rises of your chest, “And then what? Get your fucking head in, Commander.”
Your mind’s flooded with possibilities, what could possibly constitute the worst case scenario, when the next sentence shatters you entirely.
“She’s smart, Commander, and she’s gonna want to figure out the truth of dear old mum’s death soon. Don’t be idiotic.”
Silence.
Your ears ring – your throat closes, and your common sense crumbles at your feet.
The next few moments happen in easy, recognisable steps.
One. You shove Price off of you – not in a way that’d cause him pain, but forceful enough that he can’t push back in time to stop you.
Two. You swing the closet door open, the light flooding your view, along with the large frame of the Lieutenant General.
Three. You slide your trusty pistol from your hollister, flick off the safety, and aim with a shaky grip.
And you shoot.
The bullet slices clean and true through the man’s forehead, blood instantly dripping between his eyes as he falls forward, body slumping, until the phone clatters to the carpet alongside him.
Price yells something. You can’t hear it past the ringing in your ears, the muffled sound that drifts between reality and thought.
Dropping to your knees, you clasp the phone in your grip, blood staining the face of it. You bring it to your ear, hand no longer shaking. Steady as a surgeon.
Graves says something, sounding desperate.
“When I kill you, Commander,” you rasp, and you think you can hear Ghost’s irritating voice through your radio, “I’ll do it the same way I plan to finish Shepherd.”
“You’re gonna regret –” Graves hisses, but all you do is pull the phone from your ear, and press the circular red button.
The line cuts.
A hand falls to your shoulder, shaking you, and it’s only then that the ringing stops, and all of your other senses fall back into place.
The hand moves to the hair at the base of your skull, Price fisting it and pulling your head back to face him. He looks… angry, but it’s softened, somehow, by the understanding in his blue eyes.
“You had one order, Darlin’,” he borderline growls, and your skin prickles, “Tell me what that was.”
A petulant child is what you are. How he’s treating you.
You answer anyway.
“Not to,” you swallow, throat dry, “Not to kill him. Captain, you have to –” His grip on your hair tightens, and your words stop short.
He shakes his head, eyes narrowing. “If you’re gonna let your feelings get in the way of our mission…”
Even though he doesn’t finish his sentence, you understand the meaning of it. You’re acting reckless, growing impatient – risking yourself and others over petty disputes.
Everything feels so difficult, right now, impossible to comprehend. Like your mind’s on auto-pilot, your body, too.
Price releases his grip from your hair, and you find your gaze moving to the body laid in front of you.
And…
A piece of paper – folded – has fallen just beside his jacket’s pocket. You lean forward, clasping it between your hands without a second thought, and open it up with careful movements.
With every word you read, your mouth falls open wider – until you find yourself standing on unsteady feet, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes.
It’s.
“It’s not the contract,” you breathe, realising Price is just watching, waiting, looking out for you. You finally look up from the sheet.
“It’s something better.”
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#🤍 : forever winter#⌨️ : love's writing#cod mw2#ghost cod#cod x reader#ghost mw2#john soap mactavish#mw2#soap cod#tf141#tf141 x reader#john price#kyle gaz garrick#captain price#price x reader#gaz x reader#soap x reader#ghost x reader#gaz garrick#cod#kyle garrick#gaz mw2#gaz cod#soap x ghost#soapghost#call of duty x reader#task force 141#task force 141 x reader#cod smut#simon riley x reader
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Sink Your Teeth In
pairing(s): vampire!natasha romanoff x werewolf!reader
summary: Vampires and werewolves were known enemies, but Natasha is more than willing to change that. Even if it's just for one night.
warning: amab!reader, blowjobs, sub!reader, slight dubcon
a/n: ummm nat gives the best head case closed
Event Masterlist
Werewolves and vampires were always at odds with each other. Not a thousand years could go by without vampires attacking werewolves or werewolves attacking vampires. It was all the same bloodline ending bullshit. 'Your father killed mine and now I must kill you!' over and over again. Some of those fathers weren't even worth killing anyone over. It was truly a shame that no one could see how compatible the two factions were. Vampires were strict, organized people that valued loyalty above all else. Werewolves were nothing short of loyal and obedient, you just had to train them. Natasha was so close to finding the perfect werewolf for her to prove that.
Natasha had tried many times to tame a werewolf, but she'd run into a number of problems. They could be taught, but not many of them were willing to learn— especially not from a vampire. As disappointing as it was, it wasn't exactly a shock. A millennium long feuds were rarely ever one sided. Her previous attempts were also foiled by pride, shame, and simply being too boring to have any real fun.
So, Natasha spent another Friday night on the prowl.
Club Sonar was a rather interesting place. A tall building in the middle of nowhere buzzing with all forms of life. Monsters from all over the globe came together under the moon just to party. It was a messy place. The music was loud, bodies grinded against each other without a care, and secrets of all kinds were shared over the strongest alcohol. Though cultures mixed, money did not.
Each floor of the bar was more expensive than the last. The alcohol got smoother, the music got slower, and the floors actually got cleaned. Upper floors were for people who supported the cause but had no interest in getting dirty. Natasha had more than enough money to sit at the top floor, but that wasn't any fun. She'd never find what she was looking for if she stayed up there.
Werewolves were just as wealthy as vampires, but they were rowdy. They liked to play rough and get dirty. Big fancy houses just didn't appeal to them as much. Fancy clubs appealed to them even less. Natasha wasn't looking to tame someone — not to say her hand couldn't be forced — she was looking for someone soft and easy to mold.
You weren't the easiest to find. Despite your size, the people on the dancefloor had no trouble pushing you around. You kept your head down no matter where you went. Natasha could tell you weren't there on your own, which made it harder to take you home. Not too hard though.
"This really isn't your scene," she said when she took the bar stool next to you. It was hard to keep her eyes in the right place. Your shyness was adorable, but there was no denying what she was really feeling.
You looked around to make sure she was actually talking to you. Though you weren't opposed to the conversation, it was hard to believe such a pretty woman had approached you. "Um, no. My friends wanted to come here. I mean it's cool just…couldn't we have a library or something? There's no point in intermingling if you're too drunk to remember what you're kissing."
Natasha laughed and scooted closer to you. "I guess you're right, but there's no shame in being curious. Right?" She looked at the glass in front of you. "Oh, that just won't do." Before you could interject, she tapped the countertop twice and brought over the bartender. It was a quick exchange, you didn't even see Natasha pull out any cash. Despite your confusion, you didn't put up a fight. You were exactly what Natasha was looking for.
Guilt filled your eyes when you looked down at the fresh cocktail in front of you. Was it more rude to let it go to waste or ask the bartender for a refund? "Oh, you really didn't have to do that." Your hands hesitantly wrapped around the glass before taking a sip of the alcohol. The burn hit you immediately, but you tried to play it off. You tensed up to hold in the coughing fit building up in your chest. "It's…great, thanks," you forced out through a tight chest.
Natasha gave you a firm pat on the back to force you to cough. She took away the glass and slid this towards you. "I would expect a werewolf to have a stronger alcohol tolerance," she said teasingly. Her hand stayed on your back even after your coughing had subsided.
You shook your head. "A lot of us have sensitive pallets. I can taste whatever crappy oak barrel they made this in." There was an unexpected comfort in the way she touched you. "I should have asked this earlier, but what's your name?" You sat up straight as her hand moved down your back. You never really paid attention to your posture, but you had the strange urge to be better around her.
"My name's Natasha, but you can call me Nat if you want. What's yours?"
"My name is Y/N. I don't really have a nickname, but whatever you come up with is fine."
The conversation continued without trouble. Natasha seemed so enamored with how strong your pallet was. At the expense of Natasha's wallet and your sobriety, you had tasted just about every drink the bar had to offer. Eventually, you settled on just drinking strawberry daiquiris while you two talked.
Natasha pulled your seat closer to her and she leaned down to whisper in your ear. "So how many more of those little smoothies do I have to buy to take you home with me?" Her hand slid up your thigh and gave it a firm squeeze. She could feel your dick twitching already. "I promise I'll only bite where it feels good."
You practically jumped out of your skin when Natasha kissed your neck. It was quick, but you could feel the pointed tips of her fangs brush against your skin. "Um..Can I finish this one first?" Before Natasha could say anything else you pulled out your phone and texted your friends. 'Leaving with a hot lady, ttyl!' was all you sent before cutting off your phone and downing the last of your drink.
Natasha adored your enthusiasm. "I promise I'll get you home safe in the morning." She kissed your neck one last time before dragging you outside to her car. It was a good thing she brought her chauffeur along because there was no way she'd be able to keep her hands off you the entire ride home.
You stumbled behind Natasha as best you could. Vampires were usually weaker than werewolves, but you were a little too tipsy to show your strength. You let Wanda push you into the backseat of her car. One sniff of the air and you could tell someone else was in the car. "You have a chauffeur?" Natasha covered your mouth and pushed you further into the backseat.
"Home," was all she told the driver before closing the partition and focusing her attention on you. "Yes, but I promise the back of the car is soundproof." It certainly wasn't, but she needed to hear how whiny you could get. Natasha practically pounced on you after she closed the door. The kiss was hot and passionate. Your fangs bumped against hers every time your lips collided. "Can you taste what I drank earlier?" She asked with a giggle.
A whine escaped your lips when Natasha pulled away. "Um…a lot of vodka and cooper..?" Your answer earned you another kiss. Natasha's lips felt like heaven against yours. She overwhelmed all your senses in the most delicious way possible. You didn't even notice how hard you'd gotten. "You smell…really good." You mumbled in the handful of seconds between kisses.
She chuckled but didn't respond. You were too cute. "I'm going to make you feel so good tonight." Natasha's kisses moved down the side of your jaw until she reached the base of your neck. Her hands wasted no time undoing your belt and tossing it on the car's floor. One of her fingers circled around the tip of the tent in your pants while she watched you squirm. "You're so sensitive."
You opened your mouth to speak only to be interrupted by a string of cursing and desperate whimpering. "Sorry, I'm just new to all of this," you confessed. It was a little hard to imagine your first time going to a bar would take such a turn.
"Don't tell me someone as cute as you is still a virgin." Your silence was enough. It was as arousing as it was disappointing. Natasha didn't want to go slow by any means, but the thought of getting to corrupt that innocent little mind of yours was exhilarating. "I promise I'll be extra gentle with your little friend."
The car parked before Natasha could pull down your boxers. Natasha's lust-driven craze left you in quite an awkward position while waiting for her to unlock the door. Holding your pants up only made your bulge stand out more and there was an obscene amount of lipstick covering your neck. You hoped Natasha wasn't secretly vampire famous or else you'd be in real trouble.
Natasha pulled you into her home and wasted no time undressing you. Your shoes, shorts, sweater, and T-shirt littered the soft carpet. Natasha had you completely naked by the time she pushed you onto the bed. "You're making a mess already," she whispered seductively as she crawled onto the bed. Her eyes focused on the way your member throbbed and leaked precum.
Your eyes followed Natasha's as she began stroking your member. It was tortuously slow, but it felt good. A near-pornographic moan fell from your lips as your head tilted back. "Your hands are so soft," you whimpered pathetically. All your willpower went into staying still. You didn't know what to do with yourself. "C-can I touch you too?" You blindly reached out and grabbed the first thing you could feel. Mindlessly, you groped the soft flesh in hopes that it would make Natasha feel good too. Your face burned bright red as she moved your hand to where her breast actually was. “Sorry…I wasn’t looking,” you mumbled.
Natasha kissed up the underside of your cock before licking all the way down to the base. “A good pup would pay attention to someone making them feel this good.” She waited until you looked down at her. Once she was sure you wouldn’t look away, she swallowed you down to the base. Her cheeks hallowed out as she began sucking you off.
Your hips twitched and your eyelids fluttered, but you tried your best to keep your eyes open. As your orgasm got closer, you found it harder to control yourself. An animalistic growl ripped through your throat as you tried to control yourself. Your fangs forced themselves out of your mouth and your claws had nearly ripped Natasha’s sheets. “W-wait, slow down,” were the only words you could get out before it happened.
Hot white cum painted the inside of Natasha’s throat as she swallowed down everything you gave her. Natasha didn’t give you a break and continued until you pushed her away. “Is that all you have left?” She blew on your bulbous tip before giving it a kiss.
“N-no, I just…I need a second. That’s all.”
#natasha romanoff smut#natasha romanoff fanfic#natasha fanfiction#natasha romanoff#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanoff x you#natasha romanoff fic#natasha x reader#natasha romanoff imagine#natasha romanoff x y/n#Pluto's Halloween Bash 2023
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Your dream spouse vs. the real one ❤️🔥
You & your Destined fs 🌙
Take a deep breathe and pick a picture you feel most drawn to.
Disclaimer : tarot is not 100% accurate, this reading is just for fun. Tarot does not substitute professional treatment of any kind. I'm not responsible for any decisions you make on behalf of my readings. This may not resonate with everyone. Please be mindful of your own actions and thoughts ♡
I'll be very straightforward with whatever comes through and if you're not comfortable with that, please don't read this post.
Pile 1
Your dream spouse ❤️🔥 ‧₊˚
TW ⚠️ : tr*uma bonding.
You want the bad boy/girl type husband/wife. Someone who is impulsive, daring and savage. You may want someone who is your perfect match, and very compatible with you. You desire to bond over trauma with someone. You know those couples who've seen each other's most vulnerable sides. You want a very romantic and caring connection which goes till soul level. You may also want someone who is famous or well known or even who has power and command in the society. You like big surprises. You want to take care of someone who has been emotionally broken down or sad. You want to comfort a sad person. You want a spouse who has old money. You know that trope when there is a powerful person in the society, who's famous and all that, but they have love missing in their lives. You want to be that love to your spouse. You want a deep and intimate spouse who's cold to others but warm snd loving to you only.
Your real spouse 💓 ‧₊˚
33 and 66 can be significant. Your real life spouse is someone very hardworking and honest. They may like to socialize or be with family and friends. This is a very cute and homely energy. Your fs can be someone well known in their field for what they do. They are a family person, someone who's purpose is their family. They believe in long term commitments. They don't joke around, they want serious commitment or else don't enter their life. They may like to meditate or they are calm and composed, they don't seem to lose their cool easily. They are energetic and quick to make changes. They can be an engineer or in business. They are funny and cool. Their personality is very easy going and smooth. They may have emotional outburts a lot of times, but they don't vent it out on you. They may sometimes unknowingly disturb people and then get sad snd walk away when someone tells them something. Despite all of this, they can be of a very giving nature. They donate and do charity work a lot. They sometimes may have limiting beliefs that stresses them out.
Pile 2
Your dream spouse ❤️🔥 ‧₊˚
You want your spouse to choose you over any other girl/guy. You wanna be their top priority over anything. You want a mysterious spouse who only opens up to you. You want someone closed off from the world. You want a romantic person who is just like a gentleman/woman. Very caring towards you. You want an happily ever after with your fs. You want to have a rich and happy married life afterwards. Your fs may have a other women's eyes too on them. And they would choose you. You want a rich and wealthy fs.
Your real spouse 💓 ‧₊˚
Your fs may have many expectations of others on their shoulders which constantly makes them fight for themselves. Alright, this person is unhappy with their family or something. They get really sad about this. They somehow gather courage to do what others want from them. But they don't like it. And this is taking a toll on their mental health and making them hate everyone and everything. This thing came through so i told you. Let's get some more cards about their personality.
They want a stable and committed partner with a long term vision. They can be a hardworking person. They are undergoing a transformation right now with the death card. They are pretty emotional and romantic. They have the ability to give lots of love to you.
Pile 3
Your dream spouse ❤️🔥 ‧₊˚
You want to meet your spouse by destiny or fate just like kdramas. You want someone romantic, caring and loving to you. You may want someone who is like a reward to you. You want someone emotional, you wanna share an emotional and deep connection with your fs. You want a lawyer by profession? You want someone dominating, loyal and family oriented. Someone who works on a high position and offers you stability. You dream of a happily ever after marriage life with your fs. You want someone to heal or fix your broken heart. You want someone who listens to you without telling anything. You want someone rational as well as emotional, a balance of everything. That's good, actually. You secretly desire a soulmate for yourself.
Your real spouse 💓 ‧₊˚
Your fs may have two sisters. Your real life fs is someone who has a lot of options and choices in love but still, somewhere their heart says that no, there is someone else meant for them, that can be you. They're waiting for you. They are someone with a strong will and determination. They always act fast and logically. Whatever They're doing right now, they are starting someone new and afresh, can be a new start in life or work related. Their feminine energy can be a bit imbalanced right now. There is something which stops them from being expressive of their emotional side. This may be due to some childhood issues by a female figure i see. They are facing this blovk right now. But they're working on it.
#tarot reading#tarot blog#tarot cards#tarot#tarot and astrology#pick a pile#tarot community#tarot asks#tarotblr#pick a card#tarot pick a card#pick a picture#future spouse pac#future spouse reading#future spouse#fs#divine feminine#divine counterpart#the divine masculine#divination#girls with tattoos#witchblr#kalki tarot#witchcraft#psychic readings#timeless#psychology#pac#kpop tarot#kpop reading
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Hai, do you take request for Enola Holmes? If so could you do a headcannon for Yandere husband Sherlock holmes x Young Duchess Of Somerset who is a very wealthy, prestigious, powerful and Influential woman in England?
(Both in headcannon and Boi, please)
❝ 🔍 — lady l: I hope you like it, anon! I certainly enjoyed writing it and here is the link to his bot :) have fun and forgive me for any mistakes! ❤️
❝tw: stalking, mention of kidnapping and death and unhealthy relationships.
❝🔍pairing: yandere!sherlock holmes x female!reader.
Sherlock Holmes never planned to get married, too focused on his work to even think about the possibility of getting a wife and having children. He always kept that thought in mind for a long time, until the day he met you, the Duchess of Somerset.
During an investigation, Sherlock had to go to a ton society ball to get clues and with the money and fame he had, it wasn't difficult. He just didn't expect to find you there, so beautiful and surrounded by flatterers. Holmes did not expect to be taken away the way he was by your smile.
You changed his way of thinking very quickly, leaving him intrigued and a little curious. Who were you, anyway? And why don't you get out of his thoughts? Endless, unanswered questions were all Holmes had.
Sherlock did extensive research about you and your family. You came from a noble and powerful family, very rich and prestigious and there were many benefits to marrying you. Several young nobles had their eyes on you as your title and powers were very tempting. This made him furious.
They were all leeches who only wanted you for the power and riches that came with it. They could never appreciate you the way he would, they couldn't worship the ground you walk on the same way he would. They would never be as good to you as he would be.
Sherlock wasn't sure why he felt this way about you, but he knew he couldn't allow you to marry one of those unworthy fellows. He had to have you, it was a need, a desire that dominated him completely. You would be his, he would be sure of that.
He was quick to pursue you and court you. Being the excellent detective that he was, Sherlock quickly discovered all of your interests and places you used to go to and he consequently started appearing in those places and talking to you. He knew he shouldn't seem crazy, so Sherlock was kind and showed an obvious interest in you.
It didn't take long for him to become in love with you, even with the dark and unhealthy feelings taking over his mind, Sherlock still remained the same with you. You also fell in love with him gradually, he was handsome, kind and not a brainless sycophant. He was everything you could want in a husband, so when, one autumn afternoon, he asked you to marry him, you happily said yes. Holmes smiled at this, everything was going the way he planned.
Fortunately for your family's life, they had no problem accepting Sherlock into the family. He was a good suitor and had good fame and fortune, so he was good to marry you, the Duchess of Somerset. Sherlock was happy about that, satisfied with the fact that he wouldn't have to convince your family in less orthodox ways.
Life with him was good and Sherlock was a good husband by the standards of the time. He was faithful to you and loved you deeply. You never thought a husband could love his wife as much as he did, but Sherlock was one of a kind. He made you feel loved every day, every little bit of you was adored by him. He loved the ground you walked on and did everything he could to make you happy.
He spoiled you endlessly, anything you wanted he would buy for you. Even if it wasn't necessary due to your status, Sherlock still loved giving you gifts. Your wardrobe grew a lot after your wedding and there were many times when you only wore a dress once out of the many you received.
Sherlock was very protective and slightly possessive over you, but he won't let you down. He will vent his jealousy and fury in other ways, he could never think of upsetting you with that. But his overprotection could be suffocating, as he made a point of personally taking care of his safety and he was constantly attached to you. It was part of the job, he would tell you.
He would teach you self defense if you didn't know. He knows it's dangerous, but Sherlock wants you to know how to defend yourself in case he can't protect you. Especially when you were pregnant, he wouldn't take any risks.
Being the Duchess of Somerset and having so much power and influence wouldn't stop Sherlock from pursuing you. He might have some problems with that, since due to your heritage he could never kidnap you because he would be discovered, but he would deal with it. After all, you are his and he is yours. And when he became your husband, he swore to himself that he would never stop loving you and he would never let you go.
You are united until death, at the end of it all.
#enola holmes#sherlock holmes#sherlock holmes x reader#yandere enola holmes#yandere sherlock holmes#yandere Sherlock Holmes x reader#yandere sherlock holmes headcanons#x reader#yandere headcanons#headcanons#romantic yandere#dark!sherlock holmes
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virginity
words: 3.2k
warnings: 18+ only!, smut, virgin!reader and virgin!rafe, kind of bullying at the beginning, very cute and fluffy rafe, reader is implied to be a kook, first date, female receiving oral, fingering, p in v sex, protected (for once! yay) sex
taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @thelomlisrafecameron @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @dreamingwithrafe @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog
“oh my god, bridgette, you'll never guess who asked me out!” you squeal, flopping onto her bed.
“ooh, umm… kelce?” she guesses, but you just shake your head no, the smile on your face growing.
“rafe!”
bridgette sits up instantly. “rafe as in rafe cameron?” you can tell by the look on her face that she's skeptical.
“the one and only.” you nod.
“but um… he doesn't date?” she says, genuine confusion in her voice.
“i thought you said he was basically a rich frat boy?” you sit up, now thinking over the interaction, but there's no way to confuse “will you go to dinner with me tomorrow night?” as anything other than asking on a date.
“well, yeah, he parties and stuff but he doesn't… date. he's never had a girlfriend.”
“well, ive never really had a boyfriend.” you shrug. “and don't say jonathan because he does not count.”
“yeah, but you have an excuse, y/n. your parents moved you all over the country, you didn't have time to date until your parents settled here a few months ago.” bridgette counters, and she does have a point. you've never been in one place long enough to form a true relationship. “i think rafe just doesn't date because he doesn't like any girls enough.”
you frown, thinking over her words. “well i guess that means he likes me enough to ask.” you say quietly.
bridgette shrugs. “good for you. he better take you somewhere expensive, boy has MONEY!” she says, causing you both to erupt into laughter. “oh…” bridgette suddenly quiets. “i wouldn't tell evelyn. she has the biggest crush on him, she'd get so jealous if she knew you asked him out.”
-- the next day --
“hey dad…” you say in a sweet voice, fluttering your eyelashes at him.
“oh god, y/n, what do you want?”
“can i borrow your credit card?” you ask with a whine.
“y/n, you are an adult! you can’t keep borrowing my credit card! what do you need anyways?”
“a new outfit… for a date tonight.” you whisper the last part, but your dads eyes still bulge open.
“a what?”
“come on dad, all my outfits are so revealing, don’t you want me to buy something more covered up? or should i wear that pink skirt mom got me-”
“no!” your dad cuts you out, fishing his wallet out of his pocket, slapping the credit card into your hand. “something that doesn’t show too much skin, y/n.” he warns, and you nod and run out to your car before he can lecture you or ask you any more questions about the date.
--
you look through the rack of dresses, trying to find one that you like and would feel comfortable in tonight with rafe. you don't want to give him the wrong idea by showing up wearing a dress that's more suited for a club or party.
you have some hangers already in your hand of dresses to try on when you hear a shout of your name. you look up to see evelyn and her two best friends following her.
when you moved to the outer banks, you quickly assimilated into the social scene and learned that evelyn was the queen bitch, super wealthy, but not at all likable, with an insane amount of possessiveness over rafe, despite him never even showing interest in her. evelyns first words to you were to stay away from him, but you won't let her intimidate you away from this date.
“what are you shopping for?” evelyn asks, her lips smeared in a bright red shade of lipstick that contrasts her light hair.
“a date tonight.” you reply, keeping your eyes mostly on the clothes, trying to convey that you're not interested in whatever show of dominance she's attempting.
“i heard about that. how did you scam rafe into taking you somewhere?” she asks, her friends snickering behind her.
“he asked me, actually.” you hum, keeping your body language disinterested, despite feeling your heart start to beat faster. “I guess he likes me.”
“that's real funny, y/n.” evelyn says, placing her hand on the rack to stop you from looking. “because rafe is mine.”
“should i call him right now?” you look her in the eye, your temper reading on your face. “should I have him tell you what you already know? that he's not interested?”
“you are such a bitch!” evelyn yells, and the storekeeper finally becomes aware of the situation, heading out from behind the counter and towards you. “i will ruin you for stealing him.” evelyn states before turning and stomping out of the store, her entourage falling in step behind her.
“miss, are you okay?” the shopkeeper asks.
you hum and nod, knowing that whatever they plan on doing won't work, evelyn may have popularity because of her money, but everyone knows not to trust a word out of her mouth. “can i get a dressing room to try these on actually?” you ask, picking up a dress that you think would be perfect for tonight.
--
the doorbell rings and you give your father a glare, already having warned him to stay in the living room and let you answer the door. the last thing you need is your father scaring rafe before your date has even begun.
you open the door, letting out a breath of relief when rafe is also dressed up. you realized while buying the dress that you didn't actually know where you were going for dinner, you just assumed it would be on the fancier side.
“wow.” rafe let's out a gasp, “you look beautiful.”
you blush, smoothing out the front of your dress, giving you an excuse to break eye contact and look down at yourself. “you look really handsome too.”
“let me help you down the stairs.” rafe extends his hand, and you subtly wipe your palm against your dress before placing it in his, accepting his help out the front door as these are new heels (you couldn't resist when your dad gave you his card).
rafe keeps your hands locked together as he leads you towards his truck, of course opening the door for you and helping you in.
you smile at rafe as he gets into the driver's seat. “im excited.” you tell him honestly.
“me too.” rafe grins, keeping his eyes on the road as he takes off but reaching over your tangle your fingers together again. “im nervous too though.��
“rafe cameron did not just admit he is nervous.” you gasp, making rafes smile grow as he shakes his head.
“i really like you.” he explains further, making you smile and lift his hand to your face, pressing your lips to it in a kiss.
--
“how's your food?” rafe asks, taking a bite of his own. you ordered salad, too nervous to eat anything else in front of rafe. since he admitted how he felt about the date, it felt all the more real.
“it’s really good!” you say. “thanks for taking me.”
rafe smiles at you, his eyes containing a warmth you haven’t seen before. “so, where did you live before moving to the outer banks?”
you had told rafe before that you moved around a lot, but never got into the specifics, so you spend most of the dinner telling him all the states that you’ve lived in and responding to his questions while asking some of your own.
rafe accepts the check and pays for you without question, brushing off your thanks before leading you out of the restaurant, his hand firmly placed on your back.
“do i need to get you home by any time?” rafe asks when you get back in the car.
“no.” you shake your head. “i don’t want to go home yet either.”
rafe smiles at you, reaching over to place his hand on your thigh as he drives towards his house. you hum softly to the music, glad for the short drive before you’re walking into tanneyhill. rafe informs you that everyone else is gone, so it’s just you two.
“should we watch a movie?” rafe asks, gesturing towards the couch in the living room.
“sure! you pick though.” you say, not wanting to have to make the choice. rafe sits down on the couch and picks up the remote, navigating to some comedy you haven’t seen before. you sit down next to him, close enough for your thighs to be touching.
rafe wraps his arm around your shoulder, letting you get comfortable against his side.
the movie is decently funny, but you’re far more focus on being tucked up against rafe. at a funny scene, rafe lets his laughter loose, and you can’t help but turn and look to him, watching his face light up.
rafe notices you watching him and his laughter softens into a smile. “can i kiss you?” he asks.
you nod, turning to face him as rafe places a hand on your cheek, bringing your mouths together in a kiss that quickly turns more passionate as you deepen it. you shift again so that you straddle rafes lap, placing your hands on his shoulders as you continue to kiss, your dress pooling on his lap.
“y/n-” rafe gasps when he pulls away, realizing both of you went a little overboard when your lips first touched.
“i have to tell you something rafe.” you say, realizing the compromising position you’re in and not wanting to give him the wrong idea.
“what is it baby?” rafe questions, his hands falling to rest on your hips.
“i’m… i’m a virgin.” you admit.
rafe lets out a sigh, like he’s relieved, which causes your brows to scrunch together in confusion. “i never thought i’d say this to you but i am too.”
“what?” you question. “i thought you were known for partying and flirting and stuff!”
“yeah, i used to flirt a lot but i was never serious enough with anyone to sleep with them… not until you.”
“oh my god.” you coo, leaning forward to press your lips together again. rafe wraps his arms around your waist, pulling your chests closer together.
“i would lose it with you, baby. if you want.” rafe says.
“i-yes. i want that.” you nod.
“tonight? now? only if you’re sure.” rafe says. “i know we’ve only gone on one date, but it feels… right.”
“i agree.” you nod. “i’m not saying we are going to be together forever based off one date but i want to lose it with you. together.”
“let me take you upstairs then.” rafe stands effortlessly, with you clinging to his front as his arms hold you steady. you press soft kisses to his neck as he carries you, feeling equal parts nervous and excited for what is about to happen.
rafe sets you down on the end of his bed before stepping back, admiring you in his bedroom, especially knowing what you are about to do together.
“can i take your dress off?” rafe asks, and you nod, letting him come up and grab the bottom of your dress. you lift your hips so he can pull it up and over your head, and you let out a silent thanks to god that you wore matching underwear.
“you’re so gorgeous.” rafe says, looking down at you with glossed over eyes. you can tell from the tightness of his pants that he’s not unaffected by seeing you like this.
“sit down, let me take your shirt off.” you tell rafe, grabbing his hand so he sits next to you on the bed. you tug his shirt off, admiring his muscles as you run your hands over them. rafes hands stay on his knees, waiting for permission to touch you now that you’re scantily dressed.
“do you… do you want to take your pants off?” you ask, glancing down at his crotch. “it seems painful.” you giggle.
“yeah, the zipper hurts.” rafe admits, unzipping his pants and pulling them down his legs so he’s in just his underwear, his cock straining against the fabric, a small patch of wetness already growing.
“do you wanna lay down? i want to kiss you some more.” rafe asks.
you nod, moving up the bed until you can rest your head against the pillows. rafe crawls over your body, his eyes mesmerizing every inch of bare skin until he can press his lips against yours, the kiss is passionate but slow and deliberate, building up gradually until you’re moaning against rafes lips.
you reach behind your back, unclipping your bra before taking it off, flinging it somewhere in the room to be picked up later. rafe gives you a final kiss before looking down at your bare chest.
“oh fuck.” he groans, reaching with one hand to grip the underside of your breast, holding it in his palm as he slides down, his mouth falling open onto your nipple. you let out a moan as rafe explores your chest and what makes you moan the loudest.
he plays with your nipple with his tongue, then teases around it before ultimately sucking it into his mouth before switching and repeating on the other side.
“is that good?” rafe asks, and you give an enthusiastic nod. “really good.”
“should i…” rafe looks down at your underwear, and you give another nod.
“you’re going to have to um… finger me. to open me up for you, ya know?” you cringe at your words, but you know it’s true and don’t want your first time to hurt.
“yeah, yeah of course.” rafe tugs at your underwear, his eyes staying between your thighs as he tosses the fabric to the floor. you take a deep breath before spreading your legs, putting your cunt on display for him.
“so sexy.” rafe praises you, moving so he’s lying between your thighs. he spreads your folds open with two fingers before using his other hand to rub his pointer finger over your pussy.
he traces around your clit before bumping it, making you flinch at the sudden pleasure.
“was that good?” rafe asks, and you just let out a moan in response when he doesn’t wait, rubbing over your clit again.
rafe smiles, moving his finger lower to your entrance before circling around that as well. he presses against your tight ring of muscle, thankful that you’re already quite wet as you relax and give way, letting his finger slip inside.
he begins to thrust it in and out slowly, building up speed as it becomes easier for him to move.
“try to add a second.” you tell him after a minute.
rafe nods, managing to work a second finger inside of you, but he can tell by the way your forehead scrunches that it’s not as comfortable as one, so he leans forward and presses his tongue against your clit.
“oh fuck!” you scream out as he flicks the tip of his tongue over and over, allowing you to focus on that instead of his fingers thrusting in and out of you.
rafe even makes a point to separate his fingers some, widening them to open you up even more. you don’t even flinch this time as his tongue stays playing with your clit.
“i’m ready.” you pant. “i’m ready, i need you rafe.”
rafe nods, moving to kneel between your legs, not sure what the best position to put you in is, but you seem to have it already thought out as you take a pillow and put it under your hips to raise them so he can stay kneeling on the bed.
rafe works his underwear off, and your eyes widen when his cock is revealed, regretting telling him you were ready after just two fingers. he grabs the condom he must have tossed onto the bed earlier and rips it open, sliding the latex down his length.
“if you need more time…” rafe trails off.
“just go slow.” you say, knowing he will stop at any point if you really need him to.
rafe moves closer, holding himself in his hand as he lines up with your entrance. his head pushes in easily, but the further forward his hips move, the more you struggle, but rafe sees it and slows down until he’s finally fully seated inside of you.
something sparks in that moment, realizing that you have both lost your virginity and it has rafe bending down over your body to press your lips together. you appreciate the kiss as it gives you even longer to adjust before rafe starts rocking into you slowly.
“that feels good.” you reassure rafe, all feelings of pain now gone.
“you feel good.” rafe says, unsure how he’s able to keep so much control over himself to not go feral in this moment, but he likes you too much, cares too much to move any faster and potentially cause you pain.
he keeps up the slow movements, moving from just rocking to actually thrusting as he starts to pull further out.
“faster.” you whimper, eyes sliding closed as you focus on his length inside of you.
rafe doesn’t question you, needing to move more himself as he begins to speed up his thrusts, pushing his hips forward harder as well.
“i-i’m sorry i don’t know much longer i’m going to last.” rafe admits.
“it’s okay just touch my clit again.” you say. you would do it yourself but your body feels weightless right now, and you’re not sure if you can raise your arms up.
rafe nods, gripping your hip with one hand but letting the other roam to your cunt, rubbing his thumb over your clit as he tries to hold back his orgasm as long as possible while still pushing his cock into your heat repeatedly.
you let out your moans with freedom, knowing that there is no one else in the house to hear you. rafe begins to grunt and you feel him swelling inside of you and you know that he’s close.
rafes body falls forward, his thumb still moving on your clit but his cock stilling as he cums, filling up the condom as he pants heavily.
“y/n!” rafe finishes with a call of your name. you are so close to your orgasm, and you surmise rafe must know as he stays inside of you, rubbing faster until you cum, your body arching off the mattress, even underneath rafes weight as your high hits you with a shout.
you manage to reach to push rafes hand away, needing the overwhelming pleasure on your clit gone as your orgasm works through your body.
rafe curses when your cunt pulsates around him, but waits until you’re done to pull out. he flops to the side, pulling the condom off and tossing it into the trashcan next to his nightstand.
“how does it feel to no longer be a virgin?” you ask.
“felt good to finally use that condom i’ve been keeping in my wallet since i turned 16.” rafe laughs, reaching his arm out to pull you closer to him. “but seriously, i’m glad i lost it with you.”
“i’m glad too.” you smile, pressing a quick peck to his lip.
“and maybe i should have asked you this before we had sex but… will you be my girlfriend?”
“oh my god, yes!” you squeal.
#rafe smut#rafe cameron smut#obx smut#outer banks smut#rafe fic#rafe fanfic#rafe fanfiction#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron fanfic#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron one shot#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron drabble#rafe x reader
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hello!! ⭐, I saw that your order section was open and yesterday I read your story of buggy with the Roger effect and Jessica Rabit and I loved it, and I would like to know if you could do a one shot or something shorter if you prefer showing how they met and they decided to get married I love your stories and I think that, like your buggy, he is my favorite character. If you don't like this request or you think it's not good to do it, you can just ignore it, it won't be a bad thing 😸 thank you and have a good day!! 💗✨ (pd. English is not my first language so sorry if something is not written well😔)
Deal! I love this little idea
Buggy x FemReader
Small angst + Fluff
Heart on my Sleeve
Prequel Of Roger and Jessica Rabbit Effect
Wanna Buy me a Ko-Fi ☕️
• Your village was one of the poorest villages in the East Blue, the taxes from the World Goverment crippling your home to be a starving wasteland.
• Mainly to the wealthy Governor who lived above your town.
• You owned a fabric shop but the fabrics you owned were old and starting to rot from the lack of buissness. The moths having more use put of your fabrics then you did-
• The newest pirate on the scene Buggy the Clown shows up to your village ready to pillage it, in his early 20s with a fresh faced crew. However they did not expect the village to look worse then before they arrived.
• "I thought you said this place had money?" Buggy asked as he looked at the place. Lowering his blades as it looked like this place- it was in shambles. Like it had been pillaged to time then a pirate
• You had walked out of your shop, seeing if maybe the baker had just enough flour so you could feed yourself. Turning to see the group of pirates that seemed better off then you and your people.
• Buggy stared hard at you and matched forward, seeing that you were quite pretty in his eyes as he stood before you.
• "You! Tell me what the hell is wrong with this place! We heard it was rich here!" He said angrily, clearly upset at not getting to a small village that at least had a few Berries.
• You looked up at the pirate, noting the far too big of clothes for his frame and his painted face- Not liking he was putting such an unflattering green around his watercolor eyes. His face twisting up in anger as he caught you staring at his face.
• "What are you staring at!? You looking at my nose!" He yelled angrily, his fingers going to the inner part of your coat where you assumed some weapon would be.
• "No your shirts too big for your frame and that shade of green doesn't compliment your eyes well" You said truthfully, At this point a knife or bullet being a kinder death then starving anyway-
•"U-Uh- What?" He said confused, Unsure how to answer. You reaching forward and putting your arms around his frame to pull back the shirt. Taking a pin from your pocket and pinning the shirt back so it fit properly.
• "See- Your shirt is too big. It looks better fitted like that" You pointed out, His faze looking down at the pinned back shirt. His face red at how close you got to him, or that you'd touched him at all.
• "As for money we have non. The governor has the taxes so hide no one here can even feed themselves" You said truthfully, The young clown blinking at you in surprise.
• "Er- Y-Youre making fun of me somehow right? Like my Nose" He tried to yell again grabbing the front of your dirty shirt- clearly not used to someone trying to give him kind useful advice without some sort of motive.
• "I would never make fun of your nose, it looks fine to me anyways" You snap back and slap his hand away calmly. He blinked at you surprised and released your hand- His eyes going up the hill of the village and seeing the grand governors house hidden in some trees.
• He huffed and shoved you hard, you falling into the mud as him and his crew marched past up to the Governors home.
• However what did surprise you was the next Morning the Captian and his Crew stood in the village square and announced he now owned the village. Saying he was Buggy the Clown- and that he was now in charge.
• Before starting to hand out some stolen treasure??? Giving some supplies he had 'liberated' from the Governors house.
• You also noticed how his eyes lingered on you as he did this.
• It had been a few months like this, he would stop by randomly pay for the village. He wasn't taking taxes but instead paying things- it was improving greatly, the cracks of the pavements on the streets getting repaired, new paint on the building and new businesses flourishing-
• But you noticed how he would pay extra attention to your shop- Getting all his things from you. How you got extra rolls of fabric delivered to your door or how he would pay for all these extra accessories to his costumes.
• "You seamstress I want another coat!" He yelled as he invaded your shop.
• Buggy was there again, asking for another ridiculous costume. You couldn't help but notice how often he was coming by- claiming he wanted new costumes by you and wanting to be measured everytime he came in.
• How he would blush when you measured around his chest. "You know, I noticed you always come through here and stop specifically at my shop for new outfits when you wear the same coat" You tease, watching him blush at you pointing this out.
• "So what!" He yelled out, his face as red as a cherry. You look at him and raise a brow at him, Not even having to say a word as Buggy deflated.
• "...I uh wanted to take you on a date" He grumbled, finally admitting what his plans were. You smiled at this, Setting the tape aside.
• "Now please do tell me, Why should I accept your offer for someone who not only yelled in my face but pushed me in mud-" You point out, even though you knew he most likely made up for it by him saving your village.
• "..I am sorry about that.." He forced out, you could tell he wasn't used to apologizing and was trying his hardest.
• "I forgive you, But that doesn't mean I'll forget" You say calmly. Smiling softly as you saw him looking ready to flip put at the rejection but you held a hand to him-
• "I know- So why don't we make a deal. Since I can tell you're really sorry why don't we agree to dinner and go from there? Its not a date per say but its a start" You said with a smile, his eyes lit up at hearing this at the prospect of getting to win you over.
• "Really!?" He says excitedly, Jumping up and down like a school boy as he blushed and giggled into his gloved hands like a kid. You couldn't help but find it adorable-
• For the next year Buggy would send gifts, love letters, help rebuild the village. Do everything to get in your good graces and ask for a official date every time he visited.
• Buggy would essentially own the Village at the point, 30% of his money went to the village to get it on its feet and keep it a small strip of paradise the very limited taxes he implimented later affer the village was florishing acted as a small form of secondary income. Mainly making sure people knew the place was protected by him as his reputation grew through time.
• Him even showing his unique Devil fruit abilties- Which you often abused for him to float up and grab the more expensive rolls of fabric or hang up finished cloths.
• The village also being a popular tourist destination for the friendly locals and nice scenery. So for Buggy it was worth the investment since originally put in.
• After that 'probation' year you would finally agree to officially date him and he was over the damn moon.
• While he would be secretive about you, his love language was strong. He is both physically and verbally affectionate- While he still throws his fits you know how to handle him well. Loving him both for his strengths and flaws.
• It would be 1 years of dating before Buggy would start planning how to pop the question.
- You were closing up shop for the day, humming along to a made up tune when you heard the back door of your shop being unlocked. You didn't have to look to know who it was, only one other person had the key to it.
"Hey Buggy Boo" You call out, smiling as you heard Buggy grumble and peel off his boots to leave them by the front door.
"That is still such a bad nickname" He grumbled before walking behind you and kissing your cheek and wrapping his arms around you. He smelled like the sea, clearly having just gotten off his shop to visit you. He had been taking more time out to see, wanting to get his bounty higher. Currently proud of his 5,000,000 berry bounty which for a early 20s pirate was fairly good he claimed.
"Ah you love it" You giggle which earned a adorable chuckle from the man.
"You know (Y/N)- I uh really like you and Want to spend my.."
"So I wanted us to have dinner tonight- I know you like that place down the street and want us to go there" He said, his voice very soft- Much softer then normal.
Smiling you turn around and kiss him on the lips.
"I'd love to" You say cheerfully, earning a crooked smile from him as he held you close.
As promised, that night Buggy took you to your favorite restaurant. Having gotten a private table in the back, you two spending hours just talking and sharing a meal together.
Buggy even pulling out a box of your favorite candies he had gotten out from his last adventure.
After dinner he lead you away to the more scenic parts of your Village a small meadow pass that had the most beautiful blue and white flowers, under the moonlight it looked so magical. You saw Buggy reach in his pockets and turn to face you, nervousness painted on his face as he shuffled his feet. Clearly prepared to get on one knee-
"You stole my Thunder!!" He cried in faux anger, you laughing hard as he ranted about how you knew so quickly, happy tears running down your cheeks as you smiled and his face turned deep red.
"Yes I will!" You said with a wide smile, your excitement getting the best of you as you slapped your hands over your own mouth. His jaw dropping in shock.
"I've been planning this for 4 months!!" He whined, face so red his nose was glowing as he stared at you.
"Im so sorry Baby, You just- You talk in your sleep my Love." You reveal with a smile, His face twisting up as he realized you'd known the whole time and let him try to have his moment anyway. You had just got too excited and answering too quickly-
As this sunk in he smiled widely and started to laugh, he couldn't help it! You were just too perfect for him! Despite everything you still let him have the spotlight. He kissed your lips eagerly and held you close, rocking the two of you side to side in pure joy.
"I.. I love you (Y/N)..So much- I cant wait for you to be my wife.." He said as he pressed his face into your neck- You could feel the warmth of tears hitting your skin exposed. Your arms wrapped tightly around him as you hug him close and cried against him in joy.
Pulling the both of you to the ground with a loud laugh as you two laid in the flowers- Laughs leaving you both as tears stilled from both of your eyes.
"I love you too Buggy Boo"
#x reader#one peice x reader#one piece#one peice live action#buggy one piece#buggy the clown x reader#buggy x reader#buggy thoughts#op buggy#buggy x female reader#buggy x wife reader
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PAC 🙃: Random Facts about your future spouse.
Disclaimer: 18+ mature. This is about random things about your husband. and what crazy stuff about them? Remember, this is a general reading. I got these pictures from Pinterest. These Are All Eight Piles about Your FS
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Pile1:
• They are an emotional guy/girl and you two have a telepathy connection. They are looking for a life partner for life. They want to spend the rest of their life with their life partner. Your Spouse is a bit bitter, Resentment, and angry. He gives people’s second chances. They are easily forgiven. They are opening up their eyes and seeing a new perspective in their life. Clear head space. 💋. They're the type to come clean (confession). They repeated cycles in their life.Your Spouse is a big tall guy. Either 6’5 or 6’3. They love love ❤️, hopeless romantic kind of guy/girl. They were in a terrible relationship they got out of. With someone who didn't treat them right. Your Spouse is a Dominant Daddy.Your Husband is The Type To Keep You Safe and Protected they are. Your Husband Is Processing Taking Steps toward their life partner. Your Husband Might Come Into Your Life Next Year. Your Husband Are A CHAIN BREAKER Your Husband Loves Music, and is old-school. Your husband is a religious man. They're traditional and it is hard for them to change Their mind. They're either a Cancer ♋, or they are born around Cancer season. Random things about your husband are that they let their friends help them on the dates. They are the type to pull people aside and talk to them. Including you. When you two meet they'll be the ones who’ll pull you over and talk to you privately. So private husband you got ladies/gentlemen. They are stepping into their new beginnings. Your husband doesn't like to stay stuck. Some of your husbands might be Aries, or Born around Aries Season. Or maybe, that's their favorite season. Remember, what I said earlier they are not in a relationship. They are doing some healing process right now. So aren't looking for a romantic relationship. If you had to meet your husband right now. You two would just be friends. But they like to keep their friends in a friend zone. They won't want to cross that limit. They like going to the hospital to volunteer to help people with medical. Your husband goes to the park to think or just to walk around. Just to be in nature. They spend time with their friends or by themselves at the nightclub. Having a good time.
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Pile 2
•Your Husband has a hard time opening up their hearts. They date around. They love spending time alone by themselves. They're the type to anyone they love they'll handle your family members or friends, or anyone they'll expose who they are. Very protective. Your husband is the type to bring a girl/guy/they/them flowers. They are gentlemen. They'll give someone all their attention. I mean all of it. They are a passionate lover including the bedroom🤤🤤. Their friends are very possessive of them. I heard “unhealthy.” these friends might be unhealthy for your husband. Yikes😮. They still clinging to the past. They still have past people around them. Your husband is a player, immature, and closed off. They think they are not worthy of love. Your husband is Easy to impress. They are the type to run away from conflict. They'll ignore the situation the next day. Change a whole different topic. Your husband is a Celebrity but they are famous in a different way. Your husband got money. I heard “wealthy.” So they're Rich. They love going to the shopping Mall. They are always shopping. They go to the gym to work out their bodies. I heard “meeting people”. They go to the gym just to socialize. Your husband goes to the forest cabin just to clear their mind and get away from the world for a little while. Maybe, they have a favorite gas ⛽ they like to go to. Like a convenience 🏪.
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Pile 3
•Your husband likes to keep their loved ones safe. If he had to meet you they'll keep you safe. Cuz they love your energy. They are honest. Very straightforward kind of person. They don't like lies or deal with liars. Your husband going through some kind of family drama and they are feeling drained right now. Oh, sorry 💔 to them. They dreamt about you or someone like you. They have a hard time remembering. Your husband goes to their heartbreak place. To grieve and just cry out their tears. I believe because they are going through some drama with their families. 😭. So they drown themselves in their workplace. So their favorite place is work. Like to be in their zone. Your husband likes to be in the kitchen, and train 🚂, and they like to stare out the window too. Maybe, they have a plant by their window. I heard “love being kitchen.” So they like to be in the kitchen 😂. Your husband is a sports player. They love playing sports. I heard “As a Hobby.” so even as a hobby they love playing sports. They love to read too. They probably have a library in their House. Your husband is dreaming about you or your energy they are dreaming about. They seem impatient. Your husband is a momma’s boy and they love their mother. They can play piano, guitar, and other instruments. They are a musician, either a rapper, singer, etc. They want to do other dreams. But I feel they are unsatisfied with the job they got. Your husband might have to choose as to which girl/guy they want. I don't know how that came to be but yeah. Haha 😂 your husband is talking sarcastically. For example, if they like you and you are going on a date with someone they'll be like “Yeah, I don't think he's good-looking for you. Or there is someone else better for you.” Haha 😂. They'll meet you when they are going through a big transformation. Just divine timing.
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Pile 4
•Your husband is a hippie kind of guy/girl. They believe in freedom, peace, and tranquility. They might be a gambler and they go to the casino 🎰 to hit the jackpot. 😂. But they are good businessmen. Your husband loves sex. They have some dark kinks they want to share and try with someone. I heard “made fun of.” With these kinks, Your husband gets made fun of. They are a workaholic. They’ll burn themselves out to make sure that their whole family is taken care of. They are the type that will curse your ass out whenever you get out of line. They'll apologize at the end but they'll get their point across. Your husband is around bad energy right now. A lot is going on with your husband. They are a player and they are closed off. Your husband likes to go to the park. I think that they like to be around nature. That's where they go to retreat. They travel a lot. Your husband goes to the airport a lot. I heard “business meeting.” so they go on business meets. I’d think that this business trip by far. Your husband is a gambler so they go to the casino 🎰 a lot. Your husband might be a boxer or they love to box. So they'll knock someone the fuck out if they have to. I heard “hard knuckles.” so they might have some hard knuckles. Your Spouse still clinging to the past people. I think they still have them in their life. Your Spouse is a pushover. People always playing with your husband’s heart. They don't know that they are getting hurt. Oh yikes. So basically, your husband is a sweetheart. They are known but not famously known. Your spouse is a celebrity but know what you think a celebrity is.
☀️🔆☀️🔆☀️🔆☀️🔆☀️🔆☀️🔆☀️🔆☀️🔆☀️🔆
Pile 5
•Your Spouse is going through some family drama 🎭 right now. This is a bit similar to a Pile 3 or 4. They are feeling drained right now. Your husband is a lover. They love love. They are searching for it in everyone else. But they get heartbroken. Aww, sorry 💔 to them. I heard “bird watching or hiking.” I think your husband loves to birdwatch. I think they have binoculars. Your spouse might be an engineer. They work on cars, or they might just work there. Your Husband loves going to the beach. That's where their favorite place to go since they were a child. Any beach ☀️ they love to go to because I heard “that's their sanctuary” I believe that their safe place to go is the beach. Or they might have a beach house. Your Spouse is a geek, they read comic books and I feel that they like going to art conventions. Check out some art paintings. I had a vision just now. They were wearing black suits and just staring at the painting. I can see them right now. Wow, definitely, a handsome man/woman/they/them. They're the type to bring a girl/guy or they/them flowers. Even if you didn't ask for it or didn't slip your mind they'll buy them for you because they thought of you. Everybody loves your husband’s attention. Everyone! Woo 😯 that man/girl/ they/them are fine as hell. 😂💋. Your spouse is the type to handle what needs to be handled. They'll expose your family if they have to. Your husband is a happy guy/girl, They/them. They don't like to be in a low vibrational sense. They truly don't. You know they've been through some hard times in their life. So Your Spouse always smiling. Some of Y’all husbands have an aggressive tone of voice. It does intimidate other people. I feel that a lot of people are scared to approach your husband.
🎰🎰🎰🎰🎰🎰🎰🎰🎰🎰🎰🎰🎰🎰🎰🎰🎰🎰
Pile 6
•Your Spouse is a boxer. They like to fight to get their frustration out. I do see them having a bad temper. So your husband has a bad temper. Not physically tempered I don't feel that way. But they have a lot of anger issues. I don't want to assume but that's what I'm getting. So they get easily mad. They are quick to defensive. Your husband has a big ego. It will trigger the fuck out of you. But they have a huge ego issue. They think that they are better than people. Your husband is the type to curse your ass whenever you get out of line. But they will apologize to you at the end. I heard “straightforward.” Your Spouse is an honest man/girl. They have a lot of bad energy around them. So much bad energy around them. Yikes, they don't know how to handle conflict. So they remove themselves from drama✌️. Your husband is a pushover. A lot of people are playing with him. I heard “manipulated.” so they are kind-hearted they are sweethearts. Your spouse is a big guy/girl or they/them are tall. They got out of bad situations. They'll help you get through some hardships in your life. Your Spouse has plenty of planotic soulmates and I think some of you, this is your planotic soulmate. They'll be a part of your life. Your husband is a divine masculine and they are looking for their divine feminine. They'll meet you at a workplace and I believe that your friends will hook up with them. Spouse is a player and they are closed off with their heart. They act all immature.
🙌🏽💍🙌🏽💍🙌🏽💍🙌🏽💍🙌🏽💍🙌🏽💍🙌🏽💍🙌🏽💍🙌🏽💍
Pile 7
•Spouse is a happy guy/girl or them/they. They've been through a lot. They’ll be the type to handle your family if you have some messed up family members. They'll expose them. Your spouse is looking for their Divine Feminine because they are Divine Masculine. They like to wear matching outfits and it does take them a minute to get dressed. Their true love is a celebrity or your spouse is your true love. They are a celebrity but in a different way. Most of your spouses could be veterans. They love taking care of animals 😻. I feel that their higher self is watching you. They are process of moving forward with their life. Your husband could be an engineer. Your husband is a big guy/girl. They love love.
❤️🍀❤️🍀❤️🍀❤️🍀❤️🍀❤️
Pile 8
•7 of wands, your husband might be defensive and keep their cards close to their chest. They are guarded. They feel that everyone is after them. I heard “tempered.” they are paranoid. Random things about your husband are that they are fucking guarded as hell. They don't know how to let their guard down. The Hermit, your spouse keeps to themselves and they like to stand alone by themselves. I heard “work by themselves.” so they probably do a lot of shadow work. They can be mercury-dominant or just very dominant. 7 Of Pentacles, they are patient. They keep to themselves. They know how to just flow. 4 Of Wands, your spouse knows how to celebrate their wins. Whatever opportunity they have they'll celebrate. But I keep looking at the seven of Pentacles. Makes me think that your husband is the type to be patient and flow. Whatever the universe got for them💋. They know that they have earned it. I feel that your husband does magic too. I don't know why but that's what came to my head. So they are strong manifestors.
🍀🍀🍀🍀🍀🍀🍀🍀🍀🍀🍀
Reblog, and like this post. These are random facts about your Spouse. Enjoy! All 8 Piles!! Comment and reblog!
#pac reading#tarot reading#free tarot reading#tarot cards#fs pick a pile#pick a pile#divination readings#love reading#intuitive readings#pac reblog#free readings#tarot community#future spouse#tarotblr#welcome post#tarot sale#pac tarot#pick a card#18+ only#taroteverydamnday#paid readings
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Wedding Crasher ~ Part II of 'Street Rat'
YANDERE BAKUGO KATSUKI
TW: OBSESSION, KIDNAPPING, MURDER, VIOLENCE, GORE, YANDERE THEMES
A/N: This was in very high demand so I hope you guys enjoy! Thanks for all the support xxx
READ PART 1 HERE
(Female Reader)
One cold, dark evening, Bakugo Katsuki walked away from the store you worked at and never came back.
Part of you couldn't care less. Another annoyingly persistent part of you cared far too much. It didn't make sense to you. Katsuki was nothing, and yet you still found yourself searching for those scarlet eyes in a crowd. The eyes that never drifted away as if they were anchored on your visage. Sometimes, in the quiet of your mind, you wondered if anybody would ever look at you like that again.
"Y/N, smile!"
Your cheeks hurt as your lips pulled into a wide grin. When you thought back on it, agreeing to marry the first wealthy man that asked might not have been the best idea.
"You lucky bastard!" One of Yuto's drunk friends laughed loudly, as he slung an arm around you carelessly. His breath stunk with expensive alcohol when he leaned in too close to you. "How did you end up pulling a girl like this when you look like that?"
The group laughed at that and you tittered along dutifully. Yuto smirked. "Laugh all you want but she was all over me from the start."
His friend (what was his name again?) groaned dramatically and your resisted the urge to push him off. Just a few more hours, you thought, and we can go home.
"Come on man, just tell us what you did!"
Yuto shrugged and sipped his drink. "You know girls like her. All they need to see is you throwing some money around and they practically throw themselves at you."
Everyone laughed again, voicing their agreement as if you weren't standing there, still smiling like a fool. It was true that Yuto and his friends were in a much higher tax bracket than you but it wasn't like he thought you were some kind of gold-digger.
...right?
The drunkard, whose name you still couldn't recall, leered down at you, bony fingers digging into your hip. "So she's that kind of girl huh?" His breath reeked. "Tell you what, I've got a five dollar bill, do ya think she'll let me get lucky tonight?"
This time, the only people that laughed were Yuto and his smelly little friend, though by the way his hand kept creeping downwards, you could tell it wasn't a joke. The crowd sort of chuckled awkwardly, many of them glancing at you, and you realized you had stopped smiling for the first time since morning.
Kenji. You remembered his name now. When you looked at him, all you could see was your reflection in the display area of the shop, looking down with a pompous, self-satisfied smirk. As if you were untouchable. The only difference was that you were the one being looked down on. The same way you looked down on Katsuki.
Kenji was still laughing when you swung, fist hitting his throat dead on. You watched impassively as he choked and coughed, eyes bulging nearly out of his sockets. Someone screamed and the creep gaped at you, holding his throat. You hoped it would bruise.
"Your breath fucking stinks," you hissed, just as Yuto pulled you away into the garden, away from the wedding reception. You stumbled and tripped but your husband's harsh grip on your arm kept you moving, deeper and deeper into the dark garden maze. The thought of a steamy escapade in the dark of night would have been promising any other time. But not this time.
You expected Yuto to be angry but you didn't expect him to slap you across the face. "What the fuck is wrong with you?! Do you know who you just hit right now?!"
"I could ask you the same."
The sudden voice made both of you jump. What you thought was a shadow shifted, revealing a large, broad frame of a man. He towered over Yuto, who was fairly tall, to his credit, but you could barely make out any features other than his light colored hair.
"And who the fuck are you?" Yuto snarled. "This is a private garden!"
The figure didn't move but Yuto surged forward, perhaps in some convoluted attempt to seem threatening. You wanted to tell him to stop, that something felt dangerous about this man but the stranger beat you to it.
There was a loud crack and you gasped when Yuto fell, struck down by the stranger's weapon. He stepped closer and a beam of moonlight fell over his face, highlighting chiseled yet familiar features. Your breath halted in your chest.
Bakugo Katsuki squatted down and fisted Yuto's hair, dragging him up to face level. "I asked you, do you know who you just hit?" The bat he used was covered in nails and a dark red substance you figured was blood, part of which was flowing from your husband's head.
"P-please," he stammered, all bravado gone. "I didn't d-do anything..."
A scowl marred Bakugo's features and he released Yuto's head, standing up. "Wrong answer, asshole." The spiked bat curved in a powerful arc in the sky before landing on Yuto's face. Again and again and again until he stopped screaming and only gurgled noises came from the mess of blood and flesh that used to be a human face.
You were paralyzed with fear, from the beginning of the assault until Bakugo finally locked eyes with you. Your knees gave way and you slumped to the ground, tears spilling uncontrollably. "Oh god, oh god, p-please- don't kill me...!"
Those eyes, those terrible scarlet eyes that you had stared down at from your pedestal, darkened. "Y/N..."
He recognized you. You sobbed and curled up protectively. "Please I'm sorry, please j-just don't kill me, I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry, I-"
This was it, the moment he would take his revenge on you for all those years of dismissal and mockery. Bakugo frowned and moved towards you but you immediately scrambled up, intending to run further into the garden. You had to at least try to get away.
But Bakugo was much faster and stronger than the scrawny kid you remembered. You barely took two steps before he had caught you, hooking a thick arm around your neck despite your screams and struggles.
"Don't worry, baby, everything will be okay once I take you home."
Darkness creeped into your vision and the last thing you saw was the scarlet blood on your dress that only reminded you of those terrible, terrible eyes.
READ PART 3 HERE
A/N: if you liked this, please like, repost and drop a comment or request!
#obsessive love#obsessive yandere#yandere#bnha#boku no hero academia#fanfic#mha#my hero academia#yandere boyfriend#writers on tumblr#yandere x reader#yandere bakugou#bakugou katsuki#mha bakugou#bnha bakugou#bnha fanfiction#yandere mha#yandere bakugo x reader#yandere bakugo katsuki#yandere boy#yandere boku no hero academia#yandere my hero academia#female reader#yandere bnha#bakugou x reader#x reader#tw yandere#yandere x y/n#yandere x female reader#bakugo
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I SAW UR SUGAR BABY!SOOBIN FIC AND IT'S SO FUCKING HELLO ?!? could u possibly write something similar for hoon :00 (n could it be male reader :00)
HIIII thank you im glad you enjoyed it ahhsagds !!! and i have so many thoughts for sunghoon <3 i think he would be a bit more smug compared to soobin, not as obedient but playful and cute in his own way!
the ending is a little rushed because i wrote this on the airplane to shanghai 💀😭 (also not proofread so its probably really bad)
— sponsor | sub park sunghoon
tags: aspiring skater!sugarbaby!sunghoon x rich!reader, amab reader, power dynamics, praise kink, unconventional settings to have sex, soft sex, shower sex, frottage, thigh fucking, body worship
you were old money, the kind that people call 'disgustingly rich'. the type of rich family that throw galas instead of family gatherings, and that's where you met him in the first place. it was one of your many cousins' birthday, excessively wealthy and extravagant, a golden gilded hall decorated with a specially laid ice skating rink for performers. you heard your cousin had been an avid ice skating fan and wanted a live performance for his birthday.
the night had been smooth, dull as you would expect out of a bunch of old-money conservatives whose idea of humour is joking about tax evasion. but you notice just by the off-chance, a lean man clad in all black, bumping into a column, a word slips from his mouth; which you can only guess was a swear word. it was strange, he was clearly out of place. but this wasn't some wattpad story about you sweeping a mysterious man off his feet, so you shrugged and continued sipping on your champagne glass.
you only really notice him during the performance, the mass was seated in the grand hall, lights dimming as the spotlight shone; and it was seriously strange. because he wasn't even the main lead, in fact, he was one of the many backup dancers. yet you just couldn't take your eyes off him. there was something so enchanting about his elegance, you could feel his genuine dedication and passion from where he skated. when the show finished, you find yourself clapping, eyes still mesmerized as the boy leaves for the backstage.
a crowd gathers around the main leads, interested sponsorships and words of praise exchanged. while your eyes drift to the man walking off, taking a scone from the buffet stands before disappearing into the balcony. naturally, you follow after him— which in hindsight was slightly creepy because you've been practically eyeing him down. but you really wanted to spark up a conversation with this pretty boy.
when you reach the balcony, you find the backside of the man leaning on the railing. you lean next to him and he was visibly startled— so much so he dropped the scone in his hand. he does attempt to catch it— horribly, and the dessert tumbles into the void, his mouth agape.
"aish..."
"ah, sorry."
"no, it's no problem! really! sir!" he quickly rectifies, aheming into his fist and waving his other hand around before looking directly in front of him. occasionally glancing at you with his eyes only. he was visibly nervous, definitely embarrassed too. he straightens his back and raises his chin, probably trying to seem professional in front of you; but you could tell with the way he clenched his jaw that he was tense. and you don't blame him, it looks like this was his first time coming to such a luxurious gala, surrounded by tons of powerful men and women who could either make or break his career.
"well, what's your name?" you offer a conversation starter, since it didn't seem like he was budging.
"i'm park sunghoon, sir!"
"nice to meet you park sunghoon, how old are you?" you ask smoothly, stretching a hand out for him to shake. he couldn't even look you in the eyes, what a shy and polite man.
he wipes his sweaty hands on his pants, before taking your hand with both of his, bowing. "nice, nice to meet you too! i'm 21 turning 22, sir."
"we're the same age, that means you don't need to call me sir."
"yes sir." he replies without much thought.
you give him a pointed look and he quickly shuts up. he was endearing in his own way though, the interaction made you smile. this man who had previously been so elegant and precise on stage was actually very timid.
"you caught my eye in the performance."
he lights up at this, turning his head to you with a small bashful smile on his lips. "thank you so much, i'm surprised you remember me."
"of course i do, couldn't keep my eyes off you in fact." you advance, tilting your head as you subtly flirt. you were into him and you wanted him to understand that.
"oh." he mouthed, and it seems like he was starting to recognize the connotations of the conversation. he was still smiling, but you could see a pink tint on his pale skin.
"no, seriously. you're super talented, i want to sponsor you."
his smile drops, a shocked expression on his face instead, soon he's ecstatic. "really?"
you chuckle, "yes, really."
☆★☆
perhaps, your definition of sponsor was just sugar baby with extra steps. because soon, the two of you fall into that type of relationship. it started with a bouquet of flowers after his practice (which you went to weekly), then it became a dinner invitation, and eventually you were lavishing him with gifts and luxury items. okay, perhaps you were just courting this man in the form of presents.
you watch on the sidelines as sunghoon does his usual practice on the ice (a private ice rink you hired for him), he glances towards you with a mischievous grin before doing a silly spin. you just chuckle, shaking your head. when it was over you sling a towel over his neck like usual, handing him a water bottle. he stares at you, rather proud of himself.
"did you see the spin?"
"nah, i was looking at the wall." you joke, there was literally no one else but sunghoon to look at.
"issh" he shakes his head, lightly punching your arm.
after, you treat him to a nice dinner in this expensive restaurant, he’s used to your dinner invitations, but he still can't settle his nerves coming to such a high-end restaurant. chatting with you soothed his anxiety though, and shortly he was joking and laughing like usual.
the first course was served, and you took this opportunity to slide over the blue container with the tiffany and co logo. sunghoon takes it shyly, glancing at you, you give him an encouraging look. at the beginning of this dynamic; he did try to refuse the expensive gifts, but you were insistent and sunghoon secretly enjoyed receiving the presents too.
he feels his heart thumping with excitement as he unwraps the case, a genuine surprise in his eyes when he pulls out the silver wire tiffany t bracelet. he’s been wanting it for a while now, mentioning it once casually. and you remembered! he tries it on for you; because he knows you like seeing him with your gifts. the bracelet glints in the light and he looks at you with a reserved smile.
"thank you so much... i don't know to repay you—"
"by being mine." you interrupt him, the words come out before you can even comprehend it, baffled by your impulsivity. "i'm sorry it just came out— if it makes you uncomfortable i apo—"
"yes."
you blink slowly, while he looks at you with full seriousness. and that's how sugar baby sunghoon came to be.
☆★☆
navigating the dynamic was like navigating any other romantic relationship, though sunghoon treated it like a contract at the start. unusual, but usual for sunghoon. it made you chuckle about his seriousness of the entire situation. the whole circumstance was bizarre but silly. what an endearing man. he would sit you down one day, hands clasped together.
"what are your expectations for me?"
and you snicker. he said it like it was a full-time job, which maybe it could be.
"recieve my gifts, and enjoy your best life."
he looked determined, continuing on.
"is sex on the table?"
he was surprisingly straightforward. it's always the quiet ones who were unexpectantly bold huh...
"if you're comfortable with that, yes." you give him a firm nod.
"i see." he pulls back, shy again.
"so, are you?" you tease, because he didn't outwardly give an answer.
he pauses, and you spot a glint in his eyes. his tongue darts out to wet his lips and his mind runs rampant. how cute.
"i am."
☆★☆
and wow was that quite literally the best decision in your entire life. everything remained the same, except now you have an extremely hot and sexy ice skater whose libido was as high as his talent. life was good. life was great.
training went as you expect, sunghoon absolutely smashed through his routine. running back to you with a proud smile, hands on his hips.
"i did pretty good, didn't i?" he always asked similar questions, pridefully, wanting to be praised.
"did you? didn't see." you would always tease him, and he would respond by playfully hitting your shoulder. the sass doesn't last long though, because the moment you two are alone in the locker room that's when you go down on him, embracing him as his lovely quiet moans seep out from your kiss.
it should be classified as an addiction at this point, the amount of unconventional places you guys had done it in. collecting locations like pokemon cards. it was tame at first, or tame for your standards anyway. the first time was in the hotel, of course, but after that, you went straight for the ice rink. its not exactly public, as you had rented the entire private rink for your beautiful ice prince, but the setting itself was scandalous. just imagining the sanction that housed many hours of his talent, being dirtied by his sweat in another sense was downright sinful. sunghoon never complained however, because as long as you praise him, he was satisfied. boy was he a sucker for praise, he keens when you whisper in his ear, almost over the moon when you compliment him on his skating. he would moan unashamedly, (normally he would block his moans or whimper) and you respond by spreading his legs in clear view of the ice rink. slam him down and feel his back arch prettily against your chest.
sunghoon was contradictorily both shy and straightforward when it came to his words and actions during sex. he's quiet and sometimes downright refuses to moan or beg. yet when he's close he would straight-up demand things from you. when you fold his flexible body in half and ram into his sensitive hole, he would spread wider for you (which you thought was physically impossible but he proves you wrong), yet bashfully hides himself when you praise him. he was a man full of contradictions, but it really drove you wild.
but it wasn't all about sex anyway, sex made up barely half of it, because it was really all about him. sunghoon just had a soul that was born to attract you. he's introverted and reserved with others, which explains why he doesn't attract sponsors or gain lead roles, but underneath it all was such a uniquely endearing man with a strong ambition for his passions.
you absolutely loved spoiling this boy and watching his reactions; him wearing the items you brought for him just gave you that extra dose of serotonin. when the two of you made it official, he was just so much more ecstatic with each gift he received from you. it wasn't even the gifts themselves that pleased him so much, it was the care you gave that really hit the mark for him. that burberry scarf he eyed for a few minutes? woke up to it on his lap. the prada bag he briefly mentioned he thought was fashionable? on the kitchen counter. you just paid so much attention to him, and he felt so loved.
you supported him in his ice skating career too, attending every competition he's been in and always making sure to watch over at least one of his daily practices a week. he had big ambitions and eventually wanted to compete in the olympics, which you had no doubts he would achieve.
gradually, you wanted to integrate him into your life too, though it was hard to explain to your parents the logistics behind taking a 'common ice skater' with you everywhere. you two managed to keep a low profile.
and by everywhere, you meant everywhere. you brought him to tennis and golf practices, he struggled with golf but had fun with tennis. and you brought him to basically every single gala and ball your family tree hosted. it was enjoyable at first, but introverts do what introverts do and he gradually voiced how he preferred quieter, more intimate meetings with you. in which you decided to only bring him to the important galas. (maybe every single one was a bit overkill) but he was so right because intimate stay-ins with him were so much better and more peaceful compared to your hectic everyday life. he was a very mindful and health-conscious person, so you often find yourself doing stretches and going to the gym with him. it was absolute zen. plus, there was the bonus of you slowly snaking your arms behind him, kissing his neck and lips as much as you want without worrying about public perception.
☆★☆
you can tell something was bothering him, with the way he fidgeted and dazed off in your shared hotel room. anyone in his position would he nervous, after all, he was competing for the olympics! through much hard-work from his side and endless support from yours, he qualified for the olympic team after winning nationals with flying colours. you knew he had it in him, you knew since the first day you met.
“hoon, you nervous?” you ask, coming up behind him to rub at his shoulders. he gives you a small smile before sighing. “a little.”
you pull him into a hug, your chest pressed towards his back. he relaxes slightly. “want to talk about it baby?” you stroke his stomach, trying to soothe him.
“it’s silly,” he gives you a half smile. you slap his thigh lightly “issh!”
“it’s not silly, tell me.” you pout, kissing his neck. he laughs as you lavish his neck with lovebites.
“i’m just worried that i’m going to lose.” he says in-between giggles. you temporarily stop your assault in his neck, lifting your head to look at him.
“you won’t lose baby, and even if you do, just being in the team is already an amazing feat. most people go their whole lives without even touching olympic level.”
he seemed a little reassured by this, but you could tell his mind was still swirling with other thoughts. you kiss his cheeks, waiting for him to open up about it himself.
“it’s just, if i lose, im wasting all your effort and money.”
you finally pause at this, giving him a look. “what? how am i wasting effort and money on you?”
he seemed a little nervous, gulping down his saliva. “i mean, you invested so much into me, the least i could do is win.” you were shocked, was he dense or stupid? maybe a little bit of both. you roll your eyes as you lift him in your arms. he lets out a startled gasp as you bring him to the bathroom. you face him towards the mirror, grasping at his chin so he looks directly into his eyes.
“do you see this? what a gorgeous, beautiful, godly man.” you whisper in his ear and you watch his cheeks blossom a scarlet red. your hands trail down to his chest, unbuttoning the top.
“wow, look at that. so pretty, so soft and perfect.” you knead his chest, flicking at his pink nipples before moving down, massaging his toned stomach. he was staring at the parts your hand were drifting to as you fondle him. you kiss the shell of his ear, making him shiver “hngh…”
your fingers trail down, you lick your lips at his delicious reactions. palming at his erection. “every part of you is so pretty. such nimble arms and thighs, no wonder you’re so good at ice skating. everything about you is just so lovable.”
he was trembling, glancing into your eyes in the mirror and you could tell he wanted you to continue. “don’t you get it already? you really think i brought all those gifts, paid all those lessons and sponsored you because it was an investment?” you whisper, he turns his face to meet with yours, taking your lips desperately.
“i love you.” he whispers breathily into the kiss, that was the first time any of you said that sentence. he freezes, anxiety filling his face.
“i love you too, hoon.” you french kiss him, your tongue darting out to lick at his bottom lip, he reciprocates gladly.
“i love you i love you i love you so so much.” he stammers, grinding his ass against your hardening cock. “i love you too baby, you have no idea how much i love you.” you grunt into his ear, sliding your dick out from your underwear. the both of you were barely clothed in the first place.
“hngh put it in already please,” he’s never been this vocal before, you felt your cock twitch just at the desperation in his voice. but you controlled yourself, he had a skating competition tomorrow after all.
“hoonie the olympics is tomorrow.” he whines and you chuckle fondly. spoiled brat.
“put your thighs together.” you give his ass a light slap, he listens and puts his thighs closely. you could see his dripping cock through the small gap. “good boy.” you praise and he rubs his thighs together.
not waiting any longer, you slip your hard cock between his thighs, groaning lowly at the sensation. god it felt so good, he clearly thinks so too because he immediately whimpers, pushing back at your dick. you let him adjust to the sensation before slowly thrusting against his thigh.
“angh... ugh… so good… love you… love you…” he whimpered, panting softly. you pull his head to the side to kiss him again, hand grasping at both of your cocks and he cries into your mouth. you thrust harder and faster, he reciprocates happily by clenching his thighs tighter. soon his stomach was squeezing and his pants became breathier.
“gonna come, can i come? please? please?” and who were you to resist your prince?
“come for me hoonie, come for me.”
his thighs stutter and he clenches his teeth as a strangled voice comes out. he came in spurts, long and thin. you wish you could taste his pretty semen as well but thats for another time. you slip your cock out from his thighs, jerking yourself off and coming all over his ass and back.
it was arousing and you could almost go again, but he needed rest so you tenderly kissed his back, cleaning him up.
“i’m going to win for you.” he says breathily while you were wiping him down, you look at him amused, chuckling.
“don’t do it for me, do it for yourself.”
“no, this seriously motivated me to win. i’m going to win the olympics and then we’re going to have the most mind-blowing sex ever.”
you guys share a look before laughing.
☆★☆
everyone could hear the thumping of their own hearts as they waited for the results to unveil. sunghoon grasps your hand and you give him a squeeze.
before you could process it, you were ecstatically cheering, turning to sunghoon. the man beside you was in genuine shock, staring at his high score as if it was an alien on earth. holy shit, he got the highest score and he’s in first place!!!
snghoon lunges for you, tumbling you out of your chair as he tightly hugs you. not like you cared about the people staring, because you shared the excitement. you hug him back just as tightly, stroking his back. you feel the crook of your neck and shoulder wet.
after a few seconds, you help him stand and he wipes his eyes with an embarrassed smile. you couldn’t stop grinning as he received his medal.
☆★☆
sunghoon was able to keep both of his promises that day. the moment you two arrived in the hotel, you had a very needy sunghoon clinging around you neck, drawing you into a deep kiss as you navigate around the room.
you manage to peel him off for a second, to undress him and yourself, stumbling into the shower. you adjust the water while sunghoon unrelentlessly grinds against your cock.
“hn, god please! ive been wanting this since yesterday, ive been so good, so good, please reward me” he whimpers quietly and you melt. you grasp his hips tightly, pulling his back flush against your chest and you grind down his ass. he groans, hands propped on the shower wall for support.
your finger plays with his rim and he whines, prodding the hole before inserting. you were careful, treating his body like porcelain as you coo into his ear. he was so desperate, willingly giving up his sweet voice for you to hear. you add another finger and he was now fully rutting against you, eyes closed as he fucked himself on your fingers. it was an endearing sight, but you pull out, slapping your cock on his ass.
“what do you want again?” you play innocent, chuckling at his offended expression. he groans, frustratedly pushing back at your cock.
“you know what i want! i want you inside me please!” he whines out and you laugh. you give him what he wants, slipping your cock into his tight hole, groaning as you feel his gummy walls enclose around you.
“you feel so good sunghoon, such a pretty boy.” you coo into his ear and he clenches his thighs tighter. you thrust into him, each one faster and harder than the previous one and he was in actual heaven. tongue lolling out as he groans with each motion, it didn’t take long until he was crying out a strangled coming.
you weren’t done with him yet though, you prop his flexible legs up, making him sink deeper into your cock as he chokes. before he could protest you start nailing into him, hitting his prostate so well and on point that he visibly crumbles, hands desperately grabbing at anything as his cock sputters out another load.
his eyes were wide as he watches his dick cry uncontrollably, while you adjust behind him, ready to piston into him all over again. oh boy was he in for a wild ride…
that’s how the night progressed, you plummeting his ass in the shower, and then at the bathroom counter, then you moved him to the hotel bed, forcing him to ride you until he couldn’t prop himself up anymore.
his body slumps over yours, exhausted and overstimulated, thighs trembling and nerves sputtering. but you still moved beneath him and he cries “can’t! can’t, hurts please it feels too good.”
you grin into his skin, jerking his cock a few times and he comes again. body limp. you pull out and the warm semen in his hole dribble out. just as you try to move to clean him up, his arms tightly wind around your waist.
“stay here.” it was a demand from your ice prince and you snicker.
“anything for the olympic winner.”
#fic ☆#ask ☆#anon ☆#sub sunghoon#sub!sunghoon#sub!enhypen#sunghoon hard hours#sunghoon hard thoughts#sunghoon x reader#sunghoon x y/n#enhypen hard headcanons#enhypen hard thoughts#sub enhypen#enhypen hard hours#sub!idol#sub idol#sunghoon x you#enhypen x reader#kpop x male reader
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Hiii angel 💓💓 you have to do more of sugar daddy rafe plss 🙏 how they meet?
nsfw
i feel like you were already a kook. a rich, spoiled one at that. then because of your behaviors towards other people (both pogues and kooks you didn’t like) your parents had really had enough. like to the point where they cut down your allowance, yet that still didn’t seem to work on you.
one day your father told you “you need to get a job. no more funds from us.” which completely broke you down. you had been so dependent on them you’re entire life, because now you were 19 about to turn 20 with no real experience of having a job. in all your years, you grew up so wealthy. there wasn’t a need to have one. but here you were, begging your dad to keep you in his good graces.
“eventually you’ll need to work. where do you think i got all my money from?” he reasons, and now it’s starting to click.
“where would i even work?” you’d ask, almost on the verge of tears.
“a friend of mine named ward needs a gardener. he pays pretty well too. just start from there.” he says. this really blew you. who did you look like being someone’s maid?
“you’re joking right?” you stared at him blankly.
“it’s that or nothing.” your father gets up and walks away. now you really could cry, but you were more angry than anything.
—
you’d spend days holding off on actually contacting the cameron’s, but when the allowance money started to run out after a major shopping spree, you were ultimately left with no choice.
you called ward and asked if he still needed a gardener, and he most definitely did since he gave you the job on the spot. “you can start tomorrow at 8, if you’d like.” he said. money is money.
“of course, see you then.” when you hung up, you let out a breath of air, fully accepting your place and status now. you were the entitled kook princess, now turning into someone working for the cameron’s.
when the next morning came, you introduced yourself to ward, rose and wheezie. rose had instructed you on what to do, and ward explained the payment plan which was good enough. sooner than later, you’d started working in their front yard planting all kinds of flowers.
that’s pretty much how it looked for weeks. on top of that, not many people knew, which was a good thing.
you’d show up at 8, rose would make you something if you were hungry, then you’d get to work. but one day, it seemed like the angels were on your side.
you were working on figuring out how to keep that damn rosemary alive when you heard a voice behind you. and it didn’t belong to ward.
“who are you?” the man said. you turned around to see who was asking, and it was no other than rafe cameron.
“why?” you questioned. rafe recognized you too. everyone knew who you were, and it was embarrassing enough that the son of the richest person on the island knew you were working for his family. y/n y/l/n was supposed to be immune to working.
he smirks. “i know you.”
there was no refraining from the eye roll that crept up. “yea i bet you do.”
“why are you working here? don’t you just get what you want?” you were surprised he knew all this about you, aware of how much older he was.
“my dad cut my allowance.” you explained while working on the rosemary again.
“ouch.” he said while walking inside, abruptly ending the conversation. this kind of pissed you off but you paid no mind. moments later, he came back out with a glass of water.
“here,” he hands it to you, “it’s scorching out here.”
“thanks,” you accepted it, and took a long sip. for the rest of the time you were working, the two of you made small talk. even though the age gap was there, you still found enough to talk about.
an easy few hours later with rafe talking to you, and occasionally helping, your shift was over. and now suddenly you were perched on the bathroom sink, sundress bunched up and panties pulled to the side. rafe was balls deep, hitting that good spot and ready to bust one at any moment.
his hand covered your mouth to keep your moans quiet, and had the door locked so not a single soul could interrupt.
“fuckk,” he groans. “best pussy i’ve felt in a while, i’ll tell you that.”
a few more thrusts and you were done. your head falling onto his shoulder and ragged breaths for air.
your release sent his off, him quickly pulling out then sending you to your knees.
he jerked himself a few times, “open.”
doing exactly what he said, your mouth opened and you had your tongue stuck out. he finally cums, aiming for your mouth but some ended right below your eye.
when he was done, he wiped the remains from your face with his thumb, and had you suck on it. you stood up from the floor, wobbly and really hoping that no one heard anything.
rafe gathers himself, “a tight cunt like that doesn’t need to be working.”
you let out a laugh. “well here i am.”
“nah, not with me.” he zips his shorts back up. “i’ll take real good care of you. no more gardening.”
and ever since then, you were back to being the spoiled princess you were destined to be.
#thank you for the request!#barbiiecams#sugardaddy!rafe#drew starkey#rafe cameron#outer banks#drew starkey blurb#drew starkey drabble#drew starkey fic#rafe cameron blurb#drew starkey fluff#drew starkey headcannon#drew starkey angst#drew starkey smut#rafe cameron drabble#rafe cameron headcanons#rafe cameron angst#rafe cameron fluff#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron smut
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