#trigger warning: discussion of sex work in fiction | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

paddockbunny · 11 months

Note

list A, #38, toto wolff?

The Arrangement

Summary: Toto and Susie have a rock solid relationship built around pure love, honesty and most importantly trust. So, what happens when you start working as Susie's assistant and a shocking revelation comes to light? Are you willing to be much more trusting and open than you ever thought possible? Rating: 18+. Pairing : Toto Wolff x Reader (+ a little bit of Susie) Word Count : 1,724 (part one of 2) Trigger Warnings : 18+, NSFW, adult material, adult language, discussion of open marriages, polyamory (I think), discussion around sex but nothing too heavy 💞Authors Note : This is a work of pure fiction and is intended to be taken as such. I never usually write about IRL WAG's but there is only a small hint about Susie in this and mainly focuses on Toto. *Please tell me if this comes across as super cheesy? Part 2 is better, promise. I couldn't work out how to get the line in.

Prompt : List A #38 : "Is there a reason you're in my bed?"

“Shit!” You sigh trying to change the ink on the printer but only making your fingers more stained from the cartridge you had just removed. You groaned as you tried to get the new one into place and hear a click to signify your trial had come to an end and you could tell your boss Susie to try hitting print again. “Come on….” You moaned as you desperately tried to get the damn click. You were new. One singular month under your belt as Susie’s assistant. And while she was lovely you didn’t want to disappoint her. You needed this job. Not for any financial reasons but because it got your parents off your back about wasting your business degree. Working for the Wolff’s (the most powerful couple in motorsport) would look good on your CV, that was for sure. You rattled the cartridge back and forth waiting for it to…*click* “YES!” You cry out gleefully as your task was done. Inky fingers were the product of your hard work. “Try it now!” You yell out of the stunning masculine office which you hadn’t quite taken in till now.

You were standing in Toto Wolff’s home office. Alone. It felt strange. Illegal almost. The room was undoubtably manly with its dark royal blue walls, sleek chrome finishings and black and white photography adoring the walls. It was unmistakably Toto (the trophies on the built in shelves really gave it away) even if you barely knew him. You were around almost constantly. 8am till 8pm were your official hours but you were here, in their home so often you became like a permanent feature along with their sons nanny and the housekeepers. Which was why it was a little odd you didn’t actually see more of the famous Toto Wolff. Actually, thinking about it you were sort of glad he worked so hard and was away so much. It would have been awkward with him around. Having a silly school girl crush on your employers husband couldn’t be a good thing could it? He wouldn’t ever stray (that much was very true) but it wouldn’t be good for your mind if you thought too much about what your life would look like if he did.

“Hey, is it working?” Susie appeared in the doorway smiling as usual. You glanced across at the desk with the printer on it and it was indeed working just perfectly. Only thing was, she had caught you staring at some of her husbands things. You had to try cover it up. “Sorry, I was just admiring some of these uh…keepsakes.” “Pretty cool huh?” She came fully into the room and eyed up some of the items herself before pointing a few out and giving you the backstory. “And this…this belonged to Niki. Niki Lauda.” She pointed at the red cap in a clear glass box. “Niki was a very close friend. He was a sort of mentor to Toto. He was Jack’s Godfather.” She explained and although you of course knew this (being a motorsport fan) you couldn’t help but find it touching she was so open to talk about something so personal with you. "He would have liked you. He had a thing for beautiful women." You felt your cheeks begin to blush at her words. You felt so at ease in her presence this news you would have been the type of a racing giant was nothing more than super flattering. So you when you found yourself turning away to stifle a yawn you couldn’t believe how bad it must have looked.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry!” She exclaimed as she looked at her watch after your rather obvious omission of tiredness. “It’s after eleven. You’ve been here since seven thirty this morning. I’m so sorry.” She kept apologising and although you felt like you were going to drop any minute you kept telling her you were fine. “Listen, why don’t you take a rest. Toto can drive you home when he gets back. I can’t believe I lost track of time like that.”

You were hesitant at first to accept her offer. It was a little strange to catch forty winks in someone else’s home. But she practically ushered you straight toward a bedroom and you felt your body relaxing at the sight of the luxurious looking cotton sheets on the big bed. “I can’t, I feel so bad…”

“Don’t. Honestly. Toto will drive you home when he gets back.” She smiled and slowly closed the door behind her. The room was illuminated only by the moonlight streaming in through the open window. The room was light coloured, you could tell that much. It had a vibe of an upmarket hotel and smelled absolutely incredible. It reminded you of something. A man’s cologne or something. It was woody, musky, but with an airy lightness you simply loved. You kicked off your plain white trainers and lay down on top of the bed as if it was a welcoming bear hug. You didn’t waste time looking around. Your body shivered out of tiredness so badly you would have dove head first into the big inviting bed if you could have, but instead you lay down on top of it carefully as not to disturb the sheets too much.

Sound asleep was what you were when you heard the faint clearing of a throat. You barely even stirred as the noise was made again. You were dreaming of being on a tropical island being served a blue cocktail by a cabana boy as he fanned you with one of those old fashioned fans you only ever saw in movies. Your eyes slowly adjusted as you “came too” and immediately wished you hadn’t woken from your slumber at all. Standing there, leaning over you like some big, dark shadow was the figure of Mr Wolff - and not like the one in the fairytale. You were just about to swear when he spoke first.

“Is there a reason you’re in my bed?” His accent was thick. His voice was low and rough. In different circumstances it would have made your stomach flip. Frantically you wracked your brain for a good reason as to how you came to be in his bed, of all places. You were tired seemed like the surest way to get you fired. But as you’re brain worked overtime suddenly you saw the expression on Toto’s face change as he took in the sight of you still lying on top of the covers. It dawns on you that he’s now smirking at you and you couldn’t put into words how nervous you had become. It was most certainly nerves down to who he was, in motorsport and business, but also because you found him so undeniably hot. There was something about him that you couldn’t help but find sort of irresistible - even though you were literally employed by this man’s wife and that was enough of the lusty talk about him to last a lifetime. Toto just had this presence and aura that commanded a space and right now it was commanding this (his) bedroom.

Then right in front of your eyes his features start to soften and he began to smirk at you at you. The action makes you nervous. “Please forgive me…” you rush to get up and be suddenly sits down beside you, so close it was as if he was holding you in place. You went to explain to him his wife had offered me a chance to lay down and rest after I had overworked but he silenced you. “You don’t need to explain or ask forgiveness.” His voice had lowered and was now so thick with a tone you couldn’t work out. The whole scene must would have looked completely bonkers and bizzare. It would have been even stranger at the fact you didn't even move. Toto took a deep inhale of breath and on the exhale said “fuck it”.

“You’ve worked for us for….a month now?” He asked and you couldn’t do anything but nervously nod. He was so close to you his body was touching your leg. You tried not to think about it as he continued; “I’m going to tell you something, it’s private and a part of the confidentiality clause we had you sign.” Oh God, what was he going to say? What were you going to have to pretend you had never heard? How would you cope if you were asked about this? He was so confident in his posture you deduced it couldn’t possibly be something bad, illegal or dangerous.

“My wife and I...” he paused and cast his eyes up and down your face as if he were trying to get a read on you before continuing “We have an open marriage.” OH FUCK! He gave you zero time to process again because he was already following it up with; “Do you know what that means?” Before you could stop yourself from getting whiplash. This was absolutely not what you thought Toto would have come out with when he was stood over you only moments ago. You snapped back to his question and although you sort of did know what that meant you still shook your head as a “no” which he seemed to delight in

“We get to fuck other people.” That was when you realised Toto’s hand had come to sitting on your thigh. You didn’t say or do anything. “She’s had a few drivers, none I would worry about, but me? I’ve not really indulge.” Your brain suddenly went completely and utterly blank, trying not to zone in on the word "indulge" as if fucking other women was like a tasty slice of chocolate cake. But your brain swirled as all you could think of was how warm his hand felt on your thigh (even through your smart but tight trousers). You were sure you weren’t reading this right and he actually meant he wanted you to help find him someone one appropriate for him to do, well, whatever he wanted with.

As you felt the temperature rise a few notches at the X-Rated confession (and revelation) that your employers were in an open relationship was continuing to blow your mind you began to wonder why he was suddenly telling you this all now. Why did you even need to know this in the first place? Besides you figured they were rock solid, as solid as they came in fact. Surely they weren’t “seeing other people”? But then you weren’t stupid, you knew about open relationships, usually that was totally based on love and trust not at all like they were in the break-up sphere.

“Mr Wolff, I don’t know if I’m reading this right…” you whipped back to your earlier stream of thought so fast it almost gave you whiplash considering you we’re all kinds of stressed now you were being pulled so quickly into their inner sanctum. But Toto was still smirking - somewhat arrogantly now - at you. In that moment, Toto’s eyes flickered down to your lips and back up. It was becoming more obvious to you as to his motives.

“How are you reading it?” His voice changed and was darker than before but the amusement still remained . “That I want to fuck you?” He asked. You weren’t quite so bold enough to answer him that yes, that was your assumption.

“Because I do." He said directly "I want to fuck you."

#toto wolff #toto wolff imagine #toto wolff imagines #toto wolff one shot #toto wolff fanfiction #toto wolff fanfic #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff x you #toto wolff x y/n #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 imagine #f1 imagines #f1 one shot #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n

746 notes · View notes

physalian · 3 months

Text

Writing Tone in Fiction (Or, Pacing your Story, Part 2)

See this post all about pacing and as the two go hand-in-hand. If you read that, I may repeat myself a little here. Tone, and how abruptly you change it, how radically you change it, and how you break it whether on purpose or on accident says a lot about your experience as a writer, and how well you planned out your plot.

**Trigger warning for mentions of mature themes**

What is Tone?

“Tone” is the maturity of the work, signaling whether or not your characters have to censor themselves for young readers. It’s also restricted by the genre, whether this is a comedy and what kind – slapstick or gross-out humor – or a scary movie about ghosts, but not graphic body horror. It sets expectations about the amount and degree of romance readers can expect, if the scene will fade to black before anything happens or if you’re in for a raunchy sex scene, or somewhere in the middle. It also helps audiences gauge whether or not characters can die in this universe, and how graphically if they do beyond Disney’s tried and true “villain falling ambiguously from a tall height” deaths.

OSP recently did a piece on Tone Armor, a device similar to but less obvious than Plot Armor where the established tone means that, no matter how dire the circumstances, your hero won’t actually die, the world won’t actually end, and a happily ever after is on the horizon. Red also discussed what happens when you break your established tone with the shocking death or mistreatment of a character, but more on that later.

How to Decide Your Tone

Depending on your genre and intended audience, content for younger readers demand quite a bit of censorship (though can get away with many, many things worse than death). In the US at least, movies go through the MPAA rating system to determine what’s permitted by the rating given – how many swear words, whether you can show blood, topless women, graphic assault, graphic violence, if and how characters can be killed or how gummy and resistant to damage their bodies are.

If you’re writing for children, you both have less freedom to write violent carnage, and more freedom to get really creative within the limits of your tone box. I can expect the kid protagonists of my fantasy adventure to murder countless monsters that dissolve into gold dust, not bloody carcasses. I can expect the villain to perhaps die from a stab wound, but probably not get decapitated, disemboweled, or drawn and quartered, at least, not ‘on screen’.

If you’re writing for adults, adults do still expect a warning for how graphic anything can be, whether that’s sex scenes, fight scenes, murders, assaults, bloody battles, garish injuries, dead pets, dead children, etc.

Unless you’re already planning to break your tone, you need to know fairly early on whereabouts you want to set those expectations. If none of the characters even allude to sex and you write in a graphic assault, your audience is going to be pissed, and horrified. If none of your characters even allude to sex, and you hint that one was assaulted off-screen, you will still upset your audience if you don’t give them time to prepare for the possibility.

You can soften the violence and graphic content you’ve previously established and few might complain about it not being gritty enough, but going the other direction puts you in a very precarious position. Choosing more mature themes will inevitably alienate younger readers, those with triggers, and those that just want to have a lighthearted good time. The trade off? You’ll invite readers with a work that’s exactly what they’re looking for.

Establishing a Tone

I’m writing this post today because I finally sat down to watch Game of Thrones. One can’t avoid spoilers for a series as massive as that, so I was prepared for the graphic violence, all the gratuitous sex, the infamous Red Wedding, murdered kids, horribly bloody battles, and the like. GoT, the TV adaptation at least as I can’t speak to the books, establishes exactly what to expect in the very first scene: Three people happen upon the site of a graphic mass murder, limbs and body parts strewn everywhere, kids among them, who come back to life as ice zombies to kill them.

That episode continues with a beheading, incest, more incest, attempted child murder via defenestration, a brother selling his little sister into marriage, rampant nudity, and… I’m sure I missed something.

**Spoiler Alert for Season 4**

What I was not at all prepared for was the graphic death of Oberyn Martell (Pedro Pascal). It’s quick, it’s violent, it’s graphic and gruesome and incredibly well-acted… it was also far more horrifying than the Red Wedding, at least to me. Murder is murder but the way this character went out almost had me quit watching right then and there. Google at your leisure.

It wasn’t necessarily outside the realm of possibility, but most everyone else died via stabbing, arrows, beheading, burning, falling, eaten by wolves, crushed, etc. This was deeply unsettling, particularly because it’s live action, not a cartoon like Invincible.

It did its job, and it’s the only moment to feature in nightmares and make me lose my appetite, so… well done? In the following Previouslies (correct me on the actual word) they don’t even show it, cutting around the actual moment because it’s just that horrible.

This was four seasons into an eight season show and nothing like it had happened before. In a tone already as dark and explicit as TV can get, poor Oberyn pushed it over the edge entirely. It broke the established tone.

Amazon’s The Boys treads the same very thin line, only these people have superpowers for a whole new level of deeply disturbed body horror.

So, when you’re establishing a tone in the realm of “less graphic than Game of Thrones but still terrible,” you can go one of two ways: Horrify your audience straight out of the gate, or slowly creep up to it with allusions and hints until they’re fully prepared for it when it hits.

If your characters have free reign of every swear in the dictionary, start with the “f*cks” and “sh*ts” as quickly as you can as part of their vocabulary, whether you intend to use the words sparingly or after every other word in their dialogue.

If you’re writing a multi-series work that intends to ramp up the rating as it goes, you don’t have to cold open with a murder, but establishing that characters do at least die in this world is a start. Establish that assault happens in the background, that killing happens, or animal cruelty. Your readers with triggers will thank you for it and read something else.

Unless you intend to shatter the tone and shock your audience with it later.

Breaking Tone via Killing Characters

The most effective tonal breakage I can think of that wasn’t even graphic, just dark and incredibly well done: Disney’s animated Mulan. The movie had been your standard Disney musical complete with grand animation for its sing-along song. Soldiers singing, dancing, laughing as they march off to war, all for a girl worth fighting—

The singing stops. The score stops. Their smiles drop. Cut to the scene before them that has murdered this Disney musical in cold blood and it’s a decimated battlefield, the snow-covered and burned bodies of their far better trained and more competent fellow soldiers, and the love interest’s father.

Mulan only briefly reprises one track in the climax, but otherwise, this happy-go-lucky sing-along has rudely and horrifyingly become a war movie. It’s still Disney, so it doesn’t get violent or graphic, but they shattered the tone in glorious fashion.

Breaking tone happens all the time, for minor events and major character deaths. It doesn’t become an issue of “you just alienated your audience” unless the tonal breakage is the aforementioned sudden graphic assault or other sensitive triggers.

Major character deaths are a whole separate monster to tackle and I’d like to, but for today’s purposes I’m talking about killing major characters when the possibility of any of our heroes dying was never established.

For anyone who never read Lord of the Rings and didn’t know the curse of anyone played by Sean Bean, losing Gandalf to another ambiguous high fall was one thing, but Boromir straight up dies in battle. Sure the story is surrounded by death and darkness but you expect heroes in a world like this to have some pretty hefty plot armor – and Boromir had so much room left to grow. In the grand scheme of the story, though, Boromir’s death was as far from shock value fodder as possible.

Sirius Black is another heartbreaking loss, but not entirely outside the realm of possibility – killing off Ron or Hermione would have been. Any mentor figure is automatically doomed with rare exception, especially ones in fatherly roles.

Bianca di Angelo is a different matter. She’s not the first death mentioned in Percy Jackson but she’s a brand new character and despite all the dangers the heroes have already been through and the warnings from the prophecy, actually killing her off for good broke the tone. Suddenly this war was real and there were lasting consequences.

Game of Thrones’ “Red Wedding” didn’t just shock audiences because a bunch of people died, it was which people that died. Robb Stark, eldest son and heir to Sean Bean (so of course he’s dead) and one of the siblings of the “hero” family had been leading a war effort to rescue and then avenge his father. He gets betrayed and murdered, along with his mother and a fair chunk of his army, caught by surprise at a wedding, because he broke an oath and married for love instead.

I knew of the scene and knew that Catelyn Stark was there just from the one time I’d seen the clip years ago, and as it got closer I worried it was Robb’s wedding, but I still wasn’t prepared for the death of the hero of the show. Jon’s off in the north doing his own thing and so is Danaerys. This was the bright-eyed usurper, the avenger, the never-lost-a-battle upstart. No author would ever kill that hero.

They’d established that anyone can die, similar to the Walking Dead in some ways, but this was a whole new level of boldness, killing off Robb. At the time of this post, I haven’t seen past season 4, but I know more deaths are coming.

Deciding to murder your hero, in any other story, would not go over well with your audience. Killing any major character is a decision that should be made with a deep understanding of the consequences or else you end up like Walking Dead after they killed Carl for shock value and never recovered their audience viewership.

—

It’s not just dead protagonists, it can be worldly tragedies, the heroes actually losing a battle, or the war, a uniquely horrifying monster or cryptid or villainous act. Or it can be a character beginning to contemplate self-harm and possibly attempting to end their own lives. It can be the reveal of an abusive relative, or an incestuous relationship. It can be mental health problems, sudden and un-curable disease and disability.

It can be less-dire things too, but I’m not much for writing comedy.

Tone, like pacing, doesn’t have to remain consistent throughout the entire story. If it’s a lighthearted comedy, let it stay a lighthearted comedy if you want to. You can change tone progressively, with hints and near-misses, or drop a bomb on your audience with a big reveal. What you do and how you implement it is entirely dependant on the story you’re writing.

Most audiences expect a book that isn’t written for elementary schoolers to mature over time and most genres come with set understandings. But hey, I hear Animorphs can get incredibly dark with a bunch of mature themes.

In general, killing a character just for shock value is rarely worth it in the long run. In general, writing in triggering subjects without warning to an audience that wasn’t prepared for it also isn’t worth it in the long run — save it for a different book.

If fanfiction authors leave author’s notes everywhere warning about the subject matter ahead, published authors can do the same, in my opinion. Content warnings should be a thing and it doesn’t have to spoil the surprise. Include it as a forward to your book, letting potential readers know that such and such work they’re considering spending real money on contains mentions of, or explicit depictions of, any and all mature and sensitive themes. You never know who’s out there picking up your book expecting a good time. Do right by them and give a little heads up and you might gain a fan you wouldn’t have otherwise.

#writing advice #writing resources #writing tips #writing tools

98 notes · View notes

nomercifulpercival · 2 years

Text

taking my tags from a different post and posting them because i do be having A Lot To Say

the thing about current discussions about censorship on ao3, and antis willfully or uncritically claiming that people who dont want censorship are just ‘pedophiles’, is that they are missing the whole goddamn point.

whatever you personally choose to read, if we allow censorship to take hold on ao3 eventually your preferred fic will be eroded.

to demonstrate i present,

Things Antis Have Claimed Are Problematic and Should Be Banned:

the omegaverse - either for fetishising trans people or introducing hetero dynamics into queer relationships

chidhood friends to lovers - for sexualising children's friendships or shipping 'sibling coded' characters

age gaps between adults - from age gaps of like 40 years to age gaps of like six years (looks hard at anti-sheiths)

furries/anthro - because ‘bestiality’

enemies to lovers - for 'romanticising abuse'

any exploration of unhealthy dynamics done in a way that isnt simply 'one person is the victim and escapes their abuser'.

mutually unhealthy relationships. power dynamics such as teacher/student or boss/employee that would be unhealthy or immoral irl.

vent fiction that explicitly describes the writer's trauma - they claim people should just go to therapy instead of processing their trauma through fiction and sharing it online. (The Reality of This: i go to therapy - my therapist encourages vent fiction - i post vent fiction - i get told to die - rinse and repeat)

noncon fics that are written as erotica - i really need to impress upon antis that some people have noncon kinks! it’s not even that rare, according to one study, 62% of women admitted to fantasizing about being forced to have sex. IRL they probably explore this via consensual non consent or simply by fantasizing, and in fiction you can read about eroticised non con, get your jollies and it hurts no one in real life.

The thing about banning ANY of these things is that everyone will have different opinions of what is 'moral' or 'ok to write about'. Everyone will have different boundaries and triggers and squicks. AO3 allows you to ACTIVELY AVOID things that squick you

(and before anyone says ‘I’ve seen these things untagged’ - the AO3 rules require works to either be tagged with the relevant warning (Underage/NonCon/Graphic Violence) or ‘Author chose not to use archive warnings’. you can report improperly tagged works; they are literally against AO3s rules)

so truly the best option to keep works you like protected on AO3 is to accept that people will be writing weird shit on the internet, but you actively do not have to see it. Because otherwise they WILL ban YOUR weird shit.

*points aggressively at FFNet*

#let he who reads fanfiction without sin throw the first stone #ao3 #needed this off my chest #proship #fandom #fandom wank #(does it reveal my age that i still think of this as wank and not discourse?)#archive of our own

2K notes · View notes

youn9racha · 2 years

Text

URMUSE.COM

pairing: sex worker!chan x afab client!reader

genre: smut

synopsis: your friends pity you for your lack of sex life and constant sexual frustration, so one of them offered a program where one could possibly make your fantasy a reality.

warning/disclaimer: chan is referred to as chris/christopher, mentions of sex work, "anonymous"/masked sex, piv, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap), whiny and shy sub!chan, insecure dom!reader, slight auralism/voice kink, oral sex, restraints, slight cum play, mentions of dacryphilia and cnc, edging, discussions of safe words (but not used), mentions of poly!minho and open relationships, labels (mistress/pup/good boy/etc.), praise, some cock slapping, felix being a flirt, reader goes by she/her, straight up porn with a little bit of a plot (but not really).

words: 5.5k

a/n: heavily inspired by that one thought i had and also @h0neydewmoon encouraged me with this filth so that’s that. i haven’t written straight up pwp in a bit, i didn’t really intend to make another chan smut (especially since most my work is chan related) but here we are once again. also, i'm sorry if there are some inaccuracies to anything when it comes to subjects of sex work. i tried my best to research, but if there's any inaccuracy, please respectfully call me out on it and i'll fix it up, but otherwise this is fictional so hope thats okay🙏🙏

taglist: @ethereallino, @h0neydewmoon, @lix-ables, @nightlychans

This is no way representative of the way Stray Kids act. They’re nothing but references of character, and in no shape or form is this how they act. And I am in no way romanticizing or glamorizing any toxic behavior exhibited, they’re just stories that is meant to be read. Readers discretion is advised.

The nightlife was soaring outside your apartment complex, you could almost hear the techno music blaring outside as the active night parties illuminates the futuristic city you live in. Skyscrapers project exciting ads and trailers mixing with the sounds of laughs and singing livened the city. It wasn’t like there was a holiday or anything of that sort, it was a regular weekend for everyone—it’s commonly known as the nights of the youngs as proclaimed by the party locals.

but you couldn’t be bothered to participate the night, unfortunately, as you sigh away your misery on Hyunjin’s thighs as you vent about your sex life, while your other friend, Minho, and Hyunjin just nod at your frustration as they listen attentively to you. You weren’t necessarily a prude or a virgin; you just happened to have bad luck when it comes to hooking up. It is ironic how you live in the city of parties yet have no game in the hooking up scene.

It wasn’t that you were against it, or afraid of people; you were merely scared of your fantasies and the judgments you would get. You never really had the safest concept in terms of what happens in the bedrooms, and you almost always happen to stay behind the rails to not scare away whoever your sex partner is. While you acknowledge that you don’t live in an era where expressing yourself was a sin, you still must be cautious about certain triggers one could have.

Minho and Hyunjin were very understanding and often try to let you know that there’s nothing with expressing yourself, but you were still very shy and maintained a shell tough to crack.

“How about we do it for you? I’m sure Hyunjin’s down for a threesome,” Minho once commented making you cringe at his statement and Hyunjin just widened his eyes at him shocked at the abrupt comment. You could never see yourself in that situation. Yes, the two men are good-looking and are—in your humble opinion—fuckable men for a lack of a better word, but you still can’t put yourself in friends with benefits situation with either.

And even if you didn’t care for that situation and the offer was up, it wasn’t like it’s going to do you any solid because Minho was in a committed relationship, and you weren’t about to be a homewrecker of a friend, meanwhile, Hyunjin was sort of “holding himself back” or whatever that meant. Either way, you wouldn’t take either in a heartbeat, no matter how desperate you may be; like how you are right now.

“(y/n), there is many fish in the sea who are willing to go through whatever kinks you’re into,” Minho said, speaking as if he was stating a common fact, while Hyunjin agrees as he twirls your hair, “yeah, you’re also really attractive, I feel like anyone would give you a pass,” Hyunjin adds.

You shook your head, “no, I can’t, I’m scared to make one freak out from my elaborate fantasies.”

“C’mon, I bet they’re not bad,” Hyunjin said, you got up and looked up at Hyunjin, “would you fuck someone to the point they’d start tearing up and telling you to stop but you still carry on either way because their helpless cries turn you on?”

Hyunjin just widened his eyes, attempting to process your questions as he stumbles and huffs out an answer.

“I would,” Minho affirms.

“You have a partner, Lino.” You grumbled, throwing your head back.

“So?” Minho crosses his arms, “we don’t mind having a plus one if you get my drift.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, you’ll find someone.” Hyunjin side-eyed Minho, before proceeding to comfort you. Minho could only knit his eyebrows at the two of you as he sits there uncertain before rolling his eyes, “alright fine, I actually have something that could help you two, but since you two—”

“Minho, no one’s interested in joining your open relationship,” Hyunjin argued back, while you face palmed yourself, knowing the headache that may come with the upcoming altercation that will ensue. Minho retorted back at Hyunjin and insisted that it wasn’t about his relationship, and this time he sounded more serious than previously.

“It’s this place called URMUSE. It’s where you basically fill out a form and you tell them what you like and then they book a room for you there to live out your fantasy with your desired ‘muse’. It’s like Disney world but for grown-ups.”

Hyunjin’s cringed-out expression deepened, thinking you’d react the same, but unbeknownst to him, you were slightly intrigued, hoping he’d carry further on with information. You never would have thought you’d resort to that level, but desperate calls call for desperate measures as one would say.

“Really, Minho? First off, never call a place like that ‘Disney world’ again. And second, you really think (y/n) would actually—”

“How do I get the reservation?” You interrupted Hyunjin, making the man astonished by your choice of interest.

Hyunjin knew you longer than Minho did, but to say you’d be down to go to a sex worker was a surprise to him, even Minho was slightly taken aback by your excitement—although he didn’t mind it. Hyunjin however was rather baffled by your abruption. It wasn’t that you were against the whole sex work thing, it was just not something you don’t about often, and you three knew this. But you were really desperate to let your demons, and what better way to take out your sexual frustration is on someone who’s an expert with these things?

“(y/n), are you serious?” Hyunjin asked, and you nodded at him, “yes, Hyunjin, I’m grown, I can make my decision.” With that, Hyunjin closed his open mouth, as if he wanted to say something but went against it before turning to his other friend.

“Now can you tell me more about the site?”

It had been a week since that encounter with Minho and Hyunjin and your mind is still at war on whether going to the site and getting a ‘muse’ was a good idea or not. While you were excited and up for it at first, you still drew yourself back as your self-doubts began acting up again. What if this place didn’t provide what you asked? What if it was a time and money waster and didn’t live up to your expectation? What if Minho is actually dragging you into a sex cult and you didn’t know?

The last question was farfetched, sure, but you wouldn’t know. You hate how you had to question everything and place yourself in a shell when it comes to sexual expression. You knew you weren’t going to get judged, but your mind constantly plays with your head with topics like this, by convincing you that you were a freak and a maniac for enjoying what you’re enjoying.

“Why would anyone like to get tied up or tying someone up? That’s some kidnapper shit,” your brain constantly teases you. But you knew you weren’t, you hear Minho’s experience with his partner—or partners—and Hyunjin’s past sexual experiences, and you couldn’t help but secretly get jealous of your friends for being carefree about their needs. Sure, they’re both men, and oftentimes nobody will bat an eyelash if a man expresses any sexual needs, but there is no time for commentary on this matter—you want to be railed or rail someone.

You sighed as you opened your computer and started to type away on your search engine, you muttered to yourself what you were typing and opened the first link that popped up.

“URMUSE—THE PLACE WHERE ALL YOUR FANTASIES COME TRUE!”

What an eerie welcome, you thought to yourself as you read the slogan. You scrolled away and inspected their whole site. You thought that the site was legit; it had easy-to-read sections, provides information about the muses and important guidelines, and the site seemed like it was like you were reserving for paradise rather than an organized brothel—it even carried reviews.

You seemed convinced enough to hover your mouse down to the “find your muse” option and clicked and the link opened to a form; just like how Minho described it. Minho knew about this site because he used to be an active member and was even offered to work there as their muse only for him to reject as he wasn’t interested, which adds to the authenticity of this place. Now you were staring at the form in front of you, waiting for it to be filled.

“This is more intimidating than college application… guess here goes nothing.” You sighed before typing away your information and your preferences.

After filling out the form, you received an email from the place in the most eerily warming with an exciting letter that was graphically designed from them which says;

Hey there, (y/n)

We’re so excited for your first time at URMUSE, we welcome you full of joy and excitement. Based on your application and the preference you have given to us, we have booked you a session with our popular muse, Christopher, to help you fulfill your fantasy. If you’re interested in changing your muse or would like to make a change, just contact us at xx-xxx-xxxx.

You practically stopped reading as you were not interested in any change, you have paid your price and the date was given from when you go and have your time there. You have told the news to both of your best friends, only for you to get mixed reactions.

Minho was ecstatic, he was glad that you took his advice, and followed through with what he said, hoping you have the time of your life, “yay! I can’t wait for the stories, oh and make sure you tip them well if they did a good job, they’ll highly appreciate it!”

Hyunjin, on the other hand, was apprehensive. It wasn’t that he was against you doing this, he was just unsure if this is the right way to do it. He is no angel; he himself did go to brothels similar to URMUSE but he just thought you’d be overwhelmed by the environment and was worried you were going to regret it, “I’m not telling you to not go, especially since you’ve paid, but I’m telling you to watch yourself…”

While responses were different, still you sensed their caring nature, especially since both were adamant about calling them if someone tried to hurt you or something, but either way, you reassured them and you appreciated their thoughtfulness.

Fast forward to the date, it was finally that time to meet up with your muse and hopefully not be disappointed or judged by him. From the time you got the email, you wanted to research this Christopher guy, you knew he was popular but you didn’t want to see his face as you didn’t want it to tamper with your fantasy that you may embark in. You asked Minho if he can do it for you without showing you what he looks like, and he gladly accepted to help.

While in a facetime call, you see Minho creating a bunch of facial expressions, mainly an impressed expression based on his smirk, his raised eyebrows, and the way he pushed out his bottom lips.

“What?” You asked, brows knitted as Minho chuckles at the screen he was seeing and shakes his head, “oh boy, (y/n), you’re one lucky bitch.”

“What?!” you dragged out as you repeated

“Well, you said you don’t want details, but from what I can see, your boy Christopher? He’s—he’s a good one,” Minho said, trying to make it as vague as he can, which made you regret asking him to do the research in front of you as now your curiosity was practically pushing you further on going against your plans.

However, thankfully you eased yourself with it and didn’t let temptation win you over, especially since the date wasn’t far from the email you have gotten. Now you were on your way to the place for your session. Minho and his partner suggested that you should wear lingerie, be minimal with the make-up, and most importantly have fun. They also mentioned that the place also offers safe names so make sure you mention it at some point. You just had to keep a lot of mental notes before going in there.

Your taxi was driving you there, but not exactly at the place, but rather somewhere close. Once again, you let your insecurity eat you up when it comes to sex, shaming yourself for going to such a place, and being scared to be judged. It was too late to back down anyway, so you just accepted it, but you still hoped the ride would be done and over with, so you wouldn’t have to look at the poor taxi man in the face.

Once arriving, you paid your driver, and you were out of the car. Once you were sure the driver was gone, you walked in the direction of the place until you found the sign that made you eye up at it. The red cursive logo sign made it seem like it was a nightclub rather than what you thought would be a kin to a love hotel, however you didn’t let it drive you away and walked in there. You walked in and you saw a beautiful, blonde boy standing behind the counter, he maintained the prettiest smile as well as had the most radiant aura you have ever seen on a boy, you weren’t sure whether to feel small and intimidated or thirst over him just right where you stand.

“Hi, welcome to URMUSE, this is Felix, how am I help you?” The pretty boy behind the counter, Felix, spoke. You thought his cute presence was very contradicting to the vulgar environment he is in, but you can’t really judge him as you don’t know him well enough to confirm.

“Uh, hi, um,” you stammered nervously, “I have an appoint—I mean a reservation with my muse—I mean Christopher! Under the name (y/n).” you mentally face palmed yourself for what you thought was being an idiot, but Felix seems to think otherwise as he chuckles lightly.

“This is your first time right?” He asked, with a smile, however, the warmth in his smile contradicts the eyes he had as he examined your nervous being before going back to the computer to check for your name.

“Uh, yeah, y’know, just trying out new things and expanding my horizons and stuff,” you nervously rambled, once again mentally slapping yourself for making a fool of yourself, which amuses Felix rather than turns him off. “You’re so cute, you know that?” he comments. Which made you blush at the sudden comment, unsure whether he was being genuine or not, but either way, it was a confidence booster, and you took it anyway.

“Ugh, what a shame,” Felix pouted, making you frown, “you do have an appointment with Chris, ugh, he’s so lucky, can’t help but be jealous.”

To say Felix’s comment made your heart drop would be an understatement, but you weren’t sure if it was him leaving you off guard by pretending that the reservation was not there, or him telling you that he wanted to be in Christopher’s place, either way, so far, you were glad you’ve spent your money on this.

“Oh well, how about you follow me right this way, yeah?” Felix raised his hand in the direction of the hallway. You only smiled back at him politely as you two walked into the bright red hallway that had wooden maroon doors on each side with numbers written on the side with red or green lights radiating out of the panel, presumably to indicate the availability of the rooms.

“Are the walls soundproof?” You randomly asked as you two continued to walk down the quiet hallway. Felix smirked as he turned his head to you, “would you like the walls to be soundproof?” his deep voice was sultry when the question escaped his lips, you couldn’t help but feel weak at the response. Christopher has some serious competition, and Felix hasn’t even done anything remotely sexual.

“Umm…”

“Here we are,” Felix announced as he stops his footsteps and you bump into him, making you apologize profusely to him. “Don’t worry, this is probably the only time I’ll be this close to you,” he softly spoke, as he held your face and dragged his finger across your jaw, making you gulp at the physical and eye contact.

Felix turned as he opens the door by pressing the keypad on the handle and takes your hand inside the room. The door opened to a room with an interesting yet organized interior design. The room was big for what it seemed; silk black bedsheets in a queen-sized bed, a dark auburn wall-to-ceiling closet, a soothing yet arousing shade of red painted on the wall along with simple yet aesthetically appealing accessories and paintings on the wall.

Felix held your shoulders to help you take off your coat and hung it up for you before he sat you down in the bed. He held up your face as a farewell before speaking, “it has been nice chatting with you, I wish I could have you for myself but I guess we can’t have what we want,” he smirks as he looks up and your face, “hopefully you’ll love it here, so I could see you again, but for now, I have to go. Have fun…”

“Chris, she’s all yours!” Felix looked up as he announces and he walks out of the room. You were now sitting at the bed, unsure of what to do right now, and just awaiting Christopher to come in.

“Hello?”

You jumped up as you looked around to find the source but you cannot find who it is, so you assumed it was just your voice playing around with you until you hear the voice again.

“Are you (y/n)? Can you hear me?”

The voice had a similar accent to that of Felix, while his voice wasn’t deep as his, it was still a pleasant voice. it had this gentle yet masculine voice that was soothing to listen to and you were in for it. But still, you couldn’t see the source of the voice, and confusion increased by the second.

“Y-yes, this is me, is this Christopher?” you called out still looking around the room.

You hear his soft laughter emanating in the room, making you knit your brows, “oh gosh, (y/n), you’re so cute, are you sure you want me to call you mistress?”

As soon as he mentioned mistress, everything started to connect the dot. You remembered when you filled out the form, you stated that you enjoyed the whole anonymity that comes with it along with wanting to try out to dominate someone who may seem physically virile and muscular, so you’d hope to see what they can offer, and so far you’re intrigued seeing how he has yet to reveal himself and is speaking into a microphone that blares beautifully in the room you’re staying in.

Your demeanor seemed to change, especially since Christopher didn’t seem bothered by your request, as you place your arms behind you and smirked, “Christopher, are you about to act up on me already?” You responded, now leveling yourself on his.

He laughs, gosh his laugh was too attractive you thought to yourself, “just wanted to make sure if I’m talking to the same mistress, and also…”

He paused his words and then you hear the door open from your right side and you looked at whoever walked in, and your jaw dropped, “You can call me, Chris or Chan… or baby, or pup, or whatever you want to call me,” he proceeded, you can make out that he was smiling as he was speaking.

Your eyes panned at the robbed yet evidently well-built masked man. The lower half of his face was covered by a balaclava, showcasing only his onyx brown eyes and his chestnut curly hair. Even though he hasn’t shown his full face, you can still clearly tell he was attractive just based on his eyes and his facial structure, which was simultaneously concealing and accentuating his cheekbones and jaw.

You admired him, as he walked up to you and got down on his knees, and got his large and veiny hands on your exposed legs, lightly gripping and massaging your thighs underneath your skirt, his fingers barely touching your core. Your breath hitched at the sensation, while Chris just eyes you up with glimmering puppy eyes.

“I’m all yours, mistress… please take me.”

It felt like it was more than an hour since you and Chris had interacted when in actuality it had been less than twenty minutes. You two briefly talked about rules and precautions, deciding to follow the traffic light system if anything were to happen to either of you, mainly you. After that discussion has ended your insecure, overthinking self has been completely replaced with a self-righteous, domme who has already in just panties and tied up a naked Chris, who was whimpering at the lack of touch from you after you stopped stroking his cock after he told you that he was close.

“Aw, what a good boy, being vocal to mistress,” you praised as you pushed his hair back, his whines were loud but slightly muffled by the mask on his lips. He nodded as he croaks, “anything for you,” his high-pitched whines were brought back up as you started to fist his cock but this time you got closer to his cock, the smirk on your face painted with villainy, “hey.”

Chris let out a closed whimper as he looks down on you, despite his hand being tied. You made eye contact with his eyes as you continued to move your hand, “you better keep your eyes on me, got it, pup?”

He nods through his sobs, and one thing led to another, your mouth was wrapped around his precum-slicked cock, making him let out a broken moan as the feeling of your mouth around him was so warm and so pleasant. His stomach sinks at the sensation as he cries about how good you feel, all the while he tries his best to keep eye contact with you.

“Oh my fucking go—mistress, your mouth feels so—ah, fuck,” his words were broken by his moans, to the point he accidentally broke eye contact when he threw back his head to moan out loud. He suddenly lost the warm feeling of your mouth and instead, he felt a sharp slap to his sensitive organ, making him yelp and wince, his hand gripped the rope, that was tied to his wrist, tightened.

“I told you to not lose contact,” you sternly spoke as you began pinching his thighs, making him jump and arch his back while crying out strings of apologies.

“I’m sorry, mistress, I’m sorry,” he sobs out, “please, just please, pup needs your mouth, please.”

You wanted to punish him but you found his pleadings so adorable, the way his eyes were getting glossy by your edging and the way you were pinching and slapping him. While you enjoyed the masked face and wanted him to keep it on, seeing how cute he sounds and how his eyes were mesmerizing to you, you can’t help but wanna pull down the balaclava and see his face fully.

“pup, is it okay if I took your mask down and ride your face?”

His skin reddened, and you could tell he was nervous and apprehensive, so you thought he didn’t want to and wanted to carry on with the mask. “It’s okay if you don’t—”

“No! No! it’s not that, I’m just… shy,” he revealed, and you couldn’t help but find him even more adorable than before. You’re unsure if he was acting or being genuine, but either way, his sex appeal grew to the sky in your opinion. You grabbed the lower part of his balaclava, him lifting his head to help you remove it from his head, and when his face was fully revealed, you couldn’t be even more enamored by his face even more. His lips were red and plump, his cheeks were speckled with freckles and red flushness, and his nose protruded out attractively.

“Wow,” you breathed out as you threw his mask away, making him sink down into the mattress of the bed and look away shyly. You pulled his face by his chin to make him look at you, “if I knew you had this face, I definitely would never have made the masked request… You are so pretty, Chris.”

Your compliment made Chris smile shyly and giggle, “thank you, mistress…”

You chuckled through your breath as you got off, making Chris wander your eyes silently pleading to get back on him only to see you remove your panties. You crawled back into Chris and placed your thighs between his head and looked back down at him, “Want to taste, mistress?”

He didn’t say anything aside from excitedly nodding at your question and licking his lips. You smirked at his excitement before slowly sliding yourself down until Chris began devouring you from below making you gasp at how active his tongue was. You were taken aback by the pleasant feeling of his tongue and the way it touched all the spots you wanted to touch, especially when your grinding away at his face. His nose would make contact with your clit, especially when he moves his head along with your hips, trying to catch every flavor of you.

You gripped his hair as you were moaning at the good feeling Chris was giving you, so much so, that you felt your lower belly heating up. “God, pup, you love making mistress feel good, right?” you sighed out your words before moaning.

Chris just moaned as a response along with tasting the nectar you’re giving him like he was thirsty for it. You threw your head back as your hip movements were becoming more sloppy and messy as you felt the heat bubbling up, and as much as you wanna come all over the pretty boy’s face, you decide against it, so you pulled his hair as you got off his face, making him chase for your juices before gasping for air and looking at you.

“You did so well for mistress… I think pup’s ready for me, is that right?” you asked as you were creating anticipation and Chris did a good job at pretending to be desperate, especially with the way he excitedly nodded and just chanted “yes, yes,” with a bunch of whines. You were so deep in, that you completely forgot that you were dealing with a professional, but you didn’t care, you want to relish in the whole experience no matter what way.

You gasped at the feeling of his cock stretching you, bringing you to utmost bliss. He whined at the feeling of your velvet and warming walls being filled and your hips moving around it. The movement was intense when it comes to the pace and depth of this session was getting, with you two praising each other based on your respective roles.

While this wasn’t the first Chris has ever been in the submissive role in his taboo career, he wasn’t really into most of the roleplays and positions he was given, but he had to do it as this was his job either way, but either way, he doesn’t seek submissive roles often. However, when your application came in and was offered to him, he was at first against it as he doesn’t want to do another submissive role, but for some reason, he had a change of heart and decided to do it—especially since you had paid extra more than asked for the hour, who would say no to that? Chris thought to himself.

He was glad that you failed his expectation, as the way of delivery, albeit a rocky start, was phenomenal in his opinion. You absolutely were one of the few doms and dommes he seemed to enjoy being with thus far, he was highly impressed by you if anything.

He looked up at you, heavy breathing as her movements began speeding up, his knuckles turning white with the way he’s pulling on the ropes, and her fingernails scratches on his defined pectorals. Your combined moans were echoing loudly in the room, had it not for Felix telling you that the walls were not soundproof, you would have brought your insecure self back. But even so, you wouldn’t have cared at the moment as you and Chris felt good about being around each other.

“oh, fuck! Chris—pup, I’m so fucking close,” you shuddered your words as the heat in your lower belly was getting overwhelming. You assume Chris was not far behind either due to the whine he just slipped out, so you encouraged him to come with her.

“You can come with, pup, it’s okay, you ready?”

Chris nodded before he mewled as you moved faster so you could reach high. And long after, you came around him, cursing out at how good you felt, but you sensed that Chris hasn’t orgasmed yet so you slipped yourself out and began stroking him instead. While your hands were incomparable, Chris couldn’t deny how good he felt, and with the pace you were going and the pressure you exerted, you wounded out milking him as he came all over his stomach and chest while sobbing and shaking at his orgasm, especially when you overstimulated him.

“Mmm—mistress,” his whines were so high-pitched as he teared up and hiccuped at how overpowering the extra strokes you gave him. His silent pleads to stop were answered as you saw how much he covered himself with his white cum and you couldn’t help just licking some of it off, while Chris was trying to catch his breath. He tasted salty but not too overpowering where it was gross, you couldn’t help but wonder if he has drunk enough pineapple or something, but either way, you couldn’t get enough.

However, you got to your senses and stopped licking him, as you looked at him wide-eyed. You couldn’t believe you just tired the poor tied-up man, you thought.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” you asked, concern laced as you tapped his shoulders, making him laugh as a response.

“I’m fine, don’t worry.” He responded back with a smile as he looked at the restraints, hoping you would untie him, which you instantly did. He groaned in glee once again as he freed his wrists out of the ropes, stretching them out.

You didn’t know why but you felt like apologizing only for him to shake his head, “there is nothing to be sorry for, after all my job was to help you fulfill your fantasy… which I hope I did.”

“Oh yeah you definitely did a good job, and I would definitely rate you a five star and tip you!”

Chris’s face lit up with a smile, “I’m so glad to hear that, I also had really fun, I don’t often do submissive roles, but I’m glad I got to do with it you.” His words seemed genuine and you didn’t know how to react so you ended up feeling flustered once again.

“Well, I tried…” You mumbled making both of you laugh.

After cleaning up and tipping, you two left outside the door, stating your farewells.

“Well, it’s been fun, I’m really glad you enjoyed your experience, you already know me, so don’t be shy to drop by to y’know… destress,” Chris cheerfully spoke with a smile. He was too charming and you couldn’t help but admire him once again, especially when he was back in his robe with his chest revealed. He extended his arms for an embrace, which took you by surprise, but you were far from uncomfortable. Despite the previous activities, he smelled oddly good, like musk for some reason, you couldn’t get away from it.

He pulled away from you, and he rubbed your arms with a smile before letting them go, “I’ll see you, yeah?”

You nodded back and there you two went your separate ways. You saw Felix still standing behind the counter, his eyes still on you, and he asked about your experience. You raved everything to him and told him that this won’t be the last time he’ll be seeing you for sure.

“Well, I’m glad you liked it here, and I wish to see you,” he says as he leans closer to your ears to whisper, “but ask for me next time, yeah?”

You couldn’t help but be stunned at his last phrase, while he leans back and smiles at you. “Hope we can see you again, (y/n).”

Yeah, definitely… You’ll see me here again… I have to call Minho and Hyunjin.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids fics #stray kids fanfic #stray kids oneshot #stray kids imagines #skz fanfic #skz fics #skz imagines #skz oneshots #bang chan smut #bang chan imagines #bang chan imagine #bang chan scenarios #bang chan fics #bang chan fanfic

1K notes · View notes

silentglassbreak · 3 months

Text

Anonymous

Noah Sebastian x OFC

Alright folks, I think I’m on the other side of this cold. Which unfortunately means I am back at work. Things are going to start getting more serious here, so bear with me.

Moving forward, each chapter will have its own warnings above the normal, so just keep an eye out. As always, thank you for reading. ☺️

Warnings: Alcohol abuse, overall abuse, mild violence (ie. bar fights), smut, swearing, and altogether just a lot of fuckery. **STRONG TRIGGER WARNING FOR SA** Please proceed w/ caution.

+It goes without saying. This is a work of fiction. My words are mine. Plagiarism is a crime.

Taglist: @flowery-mess

Part 8 - Limits

Three months is not a long time. Not long enough for me to drink in the relationship that now was encompassing the vast majority of my life. I still had my job, my meetings, my daily walks with Angel…but everything else was Noah.

Nights watching movies with him. Days going to his house and just existing while he sat in his studio making music. Standing backstage at random pop up shows they did. Morning showers. Evening cuddles. Very late night sex. Sex all the time? Noah had an incredible sex drive and I was along for the ride.

But today, this truly horrific day, was his last day before he left again on tour. It was panic day. And I couldn’t get out of work. He leaves in the morning for Houston, and is absolutely losing his mind with anxiety.

My phone was going to vibrate off of my desk, so I slipped it into the top drawer and turned my attention back to the clients in front of me.

“I’m so sorry about that, where were we?”

The young couple sat in the chairs in front of my desk, their expression cool and positive. They radiated happiness, love. Jared and Sarah Miller, newlyweds, and visibly elated to be buying their first home. Sarah’s belly sat heavy in her lap, thirty-six weeks into her pregnancy with their first baby.

Their house was closing next week, so we needed to discuss what all needed to be done prior and run their one last statement check.

“You can take that, if you need Mileena. We don’t mind waiting.” Sarah smiled at me warmly, and I felt a tug in my chest when I heard my phone vibrate again.

“Oh, it’s fi-“ Before I could finish, it stopped vibrating, only to begin again half a second later. “Uhm…”

I opened my drawer, looking down to see Noah’s face flashing once again.

“I’m so sorry, it’s my boyfriend. It may be an emergency if he’s calling this much.”

Jared stood up. “No worries! We can run to the car and get Sarah’s snacks, if you don’t mind we eat in here?”

I shook my head. “Not at all! I’ll only be a second.”

“Take your time.” Sarah chirped before they walked out of the office, the door latching behind them.

I slid the newest call open. “Why aren’t you answering?! Are you dying?!”

I had to pull the phone from my ear due to the sheer volume of his voice. “Noah, I’m at work. Not dying.”

“Oh.” His voice calmed down instantly. “Good, because I almost got worried.”

I snorted. “Almost? You’ve called me like, a hundred times!”

He chuckled. “It’s panic day?” He said defensively.

“Panic day or not, babe. I’m with clients.”

“Fuck! I’m sorry. I should’ve known.”

I glanced at my computer screen to a new Teams message.

Sam: Saw your clients left. Wanna get lunch?

I cringed.

Me: They’re coming back. And no, eating in.

I saw the indication he was typing pop up, but disappear a moment later with no new message.

“Listen, babe,” I brought my attention back to Noah. “How about I go to your place after work? I can grab food on the way?”

“I really should focus.”

I laughed. “Cause you’re doing such a great job.”

“You’re right.”

“I’ll see you about six. Love you.”

“Love you too, babe.”

And we ended the call right as Jared and Sarah walked back in.

I smiled widely and took a breath. “Crisis averted. Now, let’s get you guys this house.”

I sat cross-legged on Noah’s bed, pulling potstickers from the paper box in my hand. Noah was chewing on his food while his fingers clacked at his keyboard, sending last minute emails to his tour manager.

Rick and Morty played on the television, and I idly watched it while letting him have his space. ‘Just having you here makes me feel more calm’ is what he told me, so I’m just existing, letting him have his panic in peace.

Noah had gone to my house this afternoon and picked up Angel after we talked, bringing him back to his place so I didn’t have to stop home after work. I was almost convinced he loved that dog more than me. I’m okay with that.

Noah turned, chow mein noodle hanging out of his lips. I chuckled at the sight, and he turned his lips up in a goofy smile. He slurped the noodle in his mouth and licked his lips. As silly as he is, he’s still absolutely breathtaking.

His muscle shirt showed his arms that were slowly becoming more defined every time I really looked at them. Noah had been filling free time he had going to Muay Thai and Boxing classes, trying to keep off any unnecessary pounds he may put on from his sugar intake. The results were becoming…difficult to not appreciate.

“You done?”

He nodded, leaning back in his chair. “I think so. Nothing left to do but sleep.”

I nodded, satisfied. “Good.” I glanced at my watch, noticing it was already seven-thirty. The first forty-five minutes of me being here was spent trying to calm the anxiety and help him find his favorite jacket that somehow ended up in Jolly’s laundry hamper.

“We’ve got to head out in about an hour.”

His lips turned down in a frown. “Why?”

“I’ve got work in the morning, and you’re leaving at 4 in the morning. You need sleep.”

“Nuh-uh.”

I raised my eyebrow at him. “Noah, unless you have a show, you can barely stay conscious past 10PM. You still have to shower.”

He shrugged. “Don’t care.”

“Mkay, well I care. Because I also have to shower and decompress before bed.” I stood off the bed and piled the empty food containers into the bag they came in, walking it over to the garbage can.

“Take this out tonight, or it’ll be awful when you get back.”

He just stared at me, a look I couldn’t quite place on his face. It made me shift my weight under me, unsure of how to react.

“What? Do I have soy sauce on me?” I wiped at my face, but he just shook his head.

“No.” He then sighed heavily. “We’re going to be gone longer this time.”

My heart pulled. He was right. He’d be gone two and a half months this time, which shouldn’t be long, right? Three months went by so fast…

“I know. But, I’ll be at the show here in October. And you’ll be home a week after that, just in time for your birthday.”

He chewed his bottom lip. I walked over to him, stopping directly in front of his chair.

“Then we’ll spend the holidays together.” I wrapped my arms around his neck, his head leaning into my chest, his arms swallowing my waist. “Christmas, New Year, Thanksgiving.”

He would be going back on tour at the end of January, so we had to take what we could get.

“Can’t you just come with me?”

I chuckled. “I wish, baby.”

I pulled my arms back, gripping either side of his neck to bring his face up to mine, placing a soft kiss on his lips. His arms tightened around me and a soft moan hummed out of him.

“Now,” I pulled my face back and pushed him back into his chair. “sit there quietly, and let me give you your parting gift.”

I sunk down to my knees and watched while he lifted his brows at me, narrowing his eyes.

“Since when do I do what you tell me?” His tone was apprehensive.

I gazed up at him through my lashes, doing my best to look innocent while my hands unzipped his jeans.

“Since I have something you want.” I very dramatically licked my lips, leaving excess saliva on my bottom lip for effect.

He pursed his lips, and gave a curt nod of his head.

“Fair enough.”

I was wrong. I was so wrong. Two-and a half months was crawling. I would assume it felt that way since it had only been two weeks, but it felt like a year.

I had just hung up the phone, Noah having to head into sound check. My lunch break was close to over, so I was already sitting behind my desk, scrolling through emails while I waited for my next client to make their appointment.

My desk phone chimed, and I grabbed the receiver.

“Kline Home Lending, this is Mileena?”

“Are you not logged in to Teams?” Sam’s voice was sharp on the other end.

“I’m on lunch. I haven’t taken Do Not Disturb off yet.”

“Lex wants to see us. Didn’t say why. We need to go now.”

I straightened my back and checked the time. I only had twenty minutes until my next appointment. That didn’t matter, though. When Lex called, you went. He was the President of Kline, and he didn’t make appearances often.

I shot my client a quick text to wait for me in the lobby if I wasn’t back as I walked down the hallway behind Sam toward Lex’s office.

“What do you think he wants?”

Same didn’t turn to respond. “Don’t know. He just asked to see us two.”

What could he possibly need? I kept my nose down, sold my loans, and kept it pushing. I didn’t make waves. Sam, on the other hand…

“Ah! Thank you both for coming on short notice. I won’t keep you too long.”

Sam and I each took a seat in front of Lex’s desk. Our boss, a tall, older man with white hair and his shirt unbuttoned the top two buttons, stood up and rounded the desk, leaning against it.

“I’m certain you don’t know why I’ve brought you here.” We both just nodded. “Right, well I’ll get straight to it.”

He went back to his chair, sitting down and waking his computer. “I assume you’re both familiar with Shamrock Lending?”

“Aren’t they the company that just declared bankruptcy?” I furrowed my brow, my question making him nod.

“Nearly. They’ve backed out of that.” Sam and I looked at each other inquisitively. “We’re absorbing them, including their employees and client base.”

“Why?” Sam sounded unamused.

“Shamrock maintained a prestigious client-base and had great word of mouth. The pandemic killed the business, and with them having been such a small company to begin with, it didn’t cost us much. And now we can retain their clientele, including their celebrity accounts.” He had his chin resting in his hands. “They sold Kelly Clarkson a house last year.”

Sam snorted. “So, what does that have to do with us?”

I had to forcibly not roll my eyes at his disrespectful attitude.

Lex looked intrigued, staring directly at Sam.

“I’m glad you asked, Samuel.” The sound of his full name made Sam visibly straighten. “We need to do something to boost morale for their employees. Shamrock was a family-owned company so most of their staff are…less than thrilled at coming over to Kline.”

“I could understand that.” I empathized.

“Exactly. So we are going to arrange for a company event, something to lighten the spirits. Eating, drinking, and overall merriment.” He pointed at us. “Oh, and live music! That always gets people excited.”

He stood again. “I need you both to organize it. You’re my top performers, so I trust you both to be able to arrange something within the next week or so.”

My eyes widened. We had to what?!

“With all due respect sir, but when you say organize?”

“Find a venue, get catering, hire a band, all that jazz.”

“My family has an estate on a vineyard in Escondido. Perfect for this.” Sam was now smiling confidently. Kiss ass.

Lex snapped. “Wonderful! We need this ready happen by the end of September. The merge is effective as of October 1st.”

I’m so fucked.

The following seven days had been a blur. A long, exhausting, frustrating blur. I had to reschedule so many appointments so Sam and I could work on the event.

Venue was no issue, but we needed catering, entertainment, staff, decorations, which is what Sam and I were currently arguing over.

The amount of arguing we had done over the last week had drained everything out of me. Spending this much time with him was absolutely ungodly. He was so difficult to tolerate, his bravado and over enthusiastic flirting got so far under my skin I could feel it in my bones.

“We need a theme!”

“It’s not junior prom, Sam! We don’t need casino night!”

He scoffed, pacing over the floor in my office while I sat, my fingertips rubbing my temples.

“So it’s just a ‘Hey we get you hate us, but get drunk and have salmon’ party?!’

We were interrupted by the door opening, Chrissy, the janitor, coming to clean my office.

“Oh! I’m sorry. I thought you guys were gone.” She backed out and closed the door.

“Jesus Christ, what time is it?” I checked my watch. “Ugh, it’s already seven. I’ve got to go.”

“No, no, we need to finish this. The event is in three days.” He pulled his phone out. “I’m ordering some pizza.”

I stood up in protest. “As fun as that sounds, I’ve got to go walk my dog. Or he’ll piss in the house.”

He locked his phone and gave me a disgusting grin. “No worries, we can just finish at your place.”

My face must have mimicked my disdain because he only smiled wider. I groaned and sat back down.

“Fine. Let’s just finish it.”

I finally swung my front door open at 9PM, exhaustion and agitation fueling me the entire ride home. Angel met me at the door, eyes big, obviously concerned for my whereabouts. He's never left alone quite this long, more so these last few months with Noah picking him up nearly every day.

"Hey baby." He barked in response while I kicked my heels off. "I'm so sorry I was gone so long."

He ran to the back door in response. I dropped my bag right there on the floor, slipping my slides on and striding to let Angel out.

I stepped outside with him, watching as he disappeared near the trees in the corner of the yard, undoubtedly relieving himself. I stayed on the wooden porch, flopping down into the wooden chair at the table. I slipped a single cigarette out of the pack next to the ashtray and lit the end with a match. I didn't indulge in my nicotine habit often, only in times of severe stress. I bought a pack the day I learned of the event and had smoked one each night after work.

I hadn't told Noah that.

This reminded me that I hadn't heard from him all day. I slipped my phone out of my pocket, taking a long drag from my smoke.

I pressed call as soon as I found his name in my recent list, noticing our last phone call was yesterday afternoon. We hadn't talked hardly at all since Sunday, when the shows became more frequent and my work started taking up all my damn time. Our nightly calls had been skipped a few times now, and we mostly communicated over text. Until now, I hadn't noticed how badly I missed him until I saw his contact photo show up when the phone rang; a picture of him sleeping, Angel stretched out over his stomach, snoozing comfortably on my bed.

I put the phone on speaker and set it on the table, leaning back in my chair.

"Hello?" His voice that came through was loud. There was a ton of background noise and voices. There was also some kind of music. Music I didn't recognize - heavy bass drums, some kind of high-pitched synth, with rhythmic reverb. Club music?

"Hey babe. What're you doing?" I could hear shuffling on the other end.

"What?" He couldn't hear me. "Hang on, babe. One sec." The phone then went completely silent, evidently muted.

After a few moments, I could hear sound again, but it was much quieter. "Hey babe, I'm sorry. I couldn't hear shit in there."

"What are you doing?" My voice was sharp, which I wasn't sure if it was due to me being wildly suspicious all of a sudden, or the frustration bleeding over from work.

"Oh, uh, after the show the guys wanted to stop off at this place on our way back to the hotel." His voice sounded intentionally nonchalant.

"What kind of place?"

He was quiet. Too fucking quiet.

"Babe, don't freak out." He sighed heavily. "It's a bar, and look-"

"You're at a fucking bar?!" I stood up, dropping my cigarette into the ashtray.

"Babe, please don't yell at me." I squeezed my eyes shut and pinched the bridge of my nose, forcibly evening out my voice.

"Noah, why the hell are you at a bar?" I said through gritted teeth.

"It's one of the guys' in ERRA's birthday tonight. We're just here to celebrate. I'm going to be fine." He was annoyed, I could hear it. I was 'sponsor'-ing him, but I didn't fucking care.

"Please don't drink, Noah." He groaned.

"I won't, Leena." His voice was slightly venomous. This bothered me. How could he not understand why I was upset by this? It was a valid fucking reason to be upset. He was right on top of earning his 6-month chip.

"Good. Because I swear to God, I will snatch those chips away from you so fucking fast."

He didn't even breathe. "Nick is here. He'll keep me straight."

"He's not drinking?"

"No."

"Okay." I sat back down.

"I'll call you when I get back to the hotel and after I shower."

"Okay." I picked my cigarette back up. "I love you."

"Love you too." Click. My heart tugged. It felt wrong.

When he finally called me, I was already half asleep. I had showered, finished getting ready for bed, and began fading while watching Supernatural. It was typically unheard of for me to pass out so early, but I was positively exhausted.

My phone began singing next to my face, and I moaned in defeat. I just wanted to be unconscious.

"Hey." My voice was thick with sleep.

"Hey, were you sleeping?" His voice sounded pretty sleepy too. It was past his bedtime.

"I was, but I'm fine." I sat up in bed. I ran a hand over Angel, who was now sound asleep in Noah's spot on my bed.

"Mmm. How was your day?"

I leaned back on my pillows, yawning. "It was long. Had to stay late again."

"With Sam?"

This made me snap to attention. The bite in his tone startled me. "Yeah, unfortunately."

"Hmm." He was making a lot of humming noises tonight. "Been spending a lot of time with him, yeah?"

You're fucking kidding. Noah was not getting jealous...of Shithead Sam?!

"Not voluntarily. We just had to get this event worked out."

"And did you?" He was still so serious. Nothing like what I was used to with Noah.

"Yes." My words were slow, still in disbelief at his attitude. "The event is on Saturday over in the valley. I'll be driving down there Saturday morning to make sure it gets set up."

"Well, I'm sure he'll meet you there."

I had about enough.

"Noah, what's your problem?" I was serious now, over whatever bullshit game it was he was playing.

"I don't have one." He paused. "Do you?"

Is he instigating an argument? "I didn't think so, but you're acting weird." I sighed. "I don't like it."

I heard him breathe, a sigh, maybe? "I'm sorry."

I didn't respond.

"I don't know, I just don't like that guy."

I sat up, pausing the television. "I know you don't. Neither do I. But why be rude to me over it?"

"Well, you spending so much time with him bothers me."

"...and?" I furrowed my brow, bewildered. "I can't help that we got put on this project together."

He snickered. "I mean..." He trailed off.

"What?" I dared him.

"You could have said no."

My jaw dropped. Was he for fucking real? "How do you figure? The President of the company I work for tells me to organize an event, and I just...what? Decline?"

"Pretty much."

I shook my head, absolutely flabbergasted. "Are you fucking joking?" My voice was raised.

"I asked you not to yell at me."

I swung my legs over the bed and began pacing. "Well, that's hard to do when you're acting like this."

"Like what?" His voice was so even, so calm. It was getting under my skin.

"Like a jealous boyfriend!"

He was silent for a minute. "Am I not?"

"Oh my fucking God, Noah! You have nothing to be jealous about!" I was now laughing, but not because it was funny, but because it was so ridiculous. "The guy is fucking putrid!"

"So I've heard." That evenness in his tone was going to kill me, or get him killed if I get my hands on him. I knew that bullshit. It was manipulative, which up until this point, I didn't think Noah was. He had never acted like this before.

"Noah, you don't fucking get it. He's the opposite of attractive. He reminds me of my ex." I had never admitted that before, to him or myself. I didn't think about him often.

"Right, yeah. The ex-boyfriend you never want to talk about. Got it." There was a slight inflection in his voice. Good. At least I know he isn't a robot.

He was just a fucking asshole.

My voice was calm now, still as standing fucking water. "That's correct."

"Leaves me with lots of questions, Mileena."

Who the fuck was this douchebag on the phone with me? What piece of garbage was I talking to? It wasn't Noah. Not my Noah.

"I'm hanging up." My hand was shaking now.

"Sure, yeah, ignore the problem." He was getting worked up. I couldn't tell if that was better or worse.

"No, I'm just not letting this go any further." I took a breath to keep voice even. "You should get some rest."

"No, c'mon, let's talk about it! You always want to know about me and my fucking skeletons in the closet! Where's yours? What's the big fucking secret? Why do I have to pull fucking teeth to get you to fucking talk about your ex? Or your drinking? Or anything fucking personal?!" He was full-blown screaming now, and I was frozen solid.

He wasn't wrong. I always avoided talking about Jeremy, at all God damn costs. He enabled my drinking, he set back my sobriety, and that was the mild stuff.

"Noah...please stop." My voice was cracking now.

"Whatever. So much for a trusting fucking relationship."

That was it. That broke the dam. That sent me spiraling.

"Are you fucking KIDDING me?! You call me, start a fucking fight, and then have the audacity to say I can't be trusted you fucking bastard?! Why? Because I don't want to talk about the asshole that drove me to drink because he was abusing me so badly?! Who slapped me around so much that only the alcohol made it bearable?! Back when I tried to kill myself, couldn't because I was so God damn drunk, and ended up going back to him because he convinced me no one else would ever love me?!"

I couldn't stop. He flipped the switch and you can't just undo that.

"Fuck you, Noah! Fuck you and your bullshit jealousy and trust issues!" Tears were streaming down my face, blurring my vision. Somewhere, I felt Angel's nose pressing into the side of my leg. "Now go the fuck to sleep before I tell you to go to hell instead!"

I ended the call, before he could respond. My shaky hands frantically turned my phone off before I could receive a text or a call back.

I had put my phone on vibrate all day Friday, spending the majority of the day in my bed sulking. I didn't want to talk to anyone; Laura, my Dad, most importantly, Noah. Anytime I thought about it, I started crying. I laid in bed, only getting up to let Angel out and get snacks from the kitchen. I laid in bed, watching comedy movies to try and relieve my mind.

It wasn't until I woke up Saturday morning that I finally read all of the missed texts.

The night of the fight:

Noah: Leena I'm such a fcking asshole. I'm sorry. Pleese call me back.

Noah: Babe I don't even know what got into m please.

Noah: Yourr phone is going straigt to voicemail. I guess you turned it off. I'm going to sleep now. I love you. Call me please?

Friday morning:

Noah: Is your phone back on?

Noah: Guess not.

Noah: Leena, please call me. I feel sick thinking about how dumb I was being. I promise I will never do that again. I swear. Please just respond to me.

Nick: Leena, Noah won't stop asking me to text you. Please call him.

Noah: I'm about to cancel the show tonight and fly home. Please Leena.

Noah: Nick said I can't cancel the show. Too short notice. Please call me. I need to hear your voice.

Friday evening:

Noah: Look, I've tried really hard to be patient but I'm starting to freak out. Babe, please. I was stupid. I will never ever ever ever ever ever ever ever do anything like that again. I have no idea what got into me.

Noah: I'm going to quit texting now. I'm sorry. I can't tell you how sorry. Call me when you're ready. I love you so much, more than you'll ever know Leena. Always.

I sighed hard. I wasn't angry anymore, mostly just hurt. I really wanted Noah to be different, but after the way he was talking, it was hard to believe. Nothing made sense. In five months, he had not spoken like that to me at all. He was always so laid back, even about things that bothered him.

Something was wrong. Something was different.

Unfortunately, I didn't have time to ponder it, as I had to get ready to drive to Escondido and get this hellscape of a day over with.

I decided to send him a response, but not give too much.

Me: I love you too. We'll talk tonight. Have a good show.

All things considered, the vineyard was absolutely stunning. The event was exactly how we planned, music elegant but still upbeat. The food was high-class, Kline sparing no expense. People were swaying and mingling, their drinks from the open bar settling nicely into their systems.

I was stood on a hill just out of sight of the happenings down by the massive estate home, overlooking the winery. Vines upon vines of grapes grew, causing such an incredible landscape while the sun began to set over the hills. It soothed the ache in my soul.

I heard footsteps approaching behind me, and gauging the weight of them, I rolled my eyes, knowing my moment was spoiled.

"Too good for the party?" I sighed. Sam's voice was the same as always, condescending and arrogant.

I turned, my long, olive green dress twisting at the skirt. "Nope, just taking a breather."

"Is it hard? Being around people drinking?" For once, he didn't sound like he was being judgmental, and it caught me off guard.

I shook my head lightly. "No. Not really anymore."

He nodded, standing next to me with his hands in his pockets.

"Hell of a view."

I shrugged. "It is."

He nudged my shoulder, gesturing over to a stable to his left. "Want to go see the horses?"

I smirked. "I'm okay, thank you."

He narrowed his eyes at me playfully. "C'mon, girl. Everyone loves horses!"

I chuckled. I contemplated this for a moment. I do love horses, having ridden many when I was younger.

Sam began stalking toward the barn, waving me along. "Just for a minute. You'll love them!"

I rolled my eyes, but still, I stomped after him, my heels nearly sinking into the grass beneath me.

He pulled the door open, the familiar smell of hay and feed hitting me in the nostrils. It was a comforting smell, reminding me of the horses my Dad helped tend when I was a little girl.

He walked into one of the stalls. "This one," he pulled on a rein, a stunning black horse peering out of the stall. I was drawn, walking up to her and smiling. "is mine. Her name is Onyx."

Her large nose pressed into my hand. I ran a hand up her face, reveling in the feel of her silky fur.

"She's amazing." I was in awe.

"Yeah, she's a good girl. Rides like a champ." I nodded.

"I'll bet she does." I backed away from her, peering over at Sam.

"You want to see another?" I nodded, a soft smile on my face.

He waved me down the stable, opening a stall at the end. "Come on."

I didn't see a horse, but I stepped in front of the door, confused. Sam was gone, and the stall was empty. I took a step forward just beyond the door, puzzled.

"Sam?"

It was at that exact second, a hand clapped over my mouth from behind, and a large, thick arm came to snake around me around the waist, holding my arms down to my sides and pulling me in close.

Sam had me pinned, his body pressed against my back, as I began writhing and struggling beneath him. Oh no. No, no, no, no.

I struggled as hard as I could, working my arms around in an attempt to get free. I felt his breath on the side of my face, his voice low and hushed.

"Shh, hang on there, girl. Wouldn't want anyone to know we're in here." I screamed against his hand, forcing him to clamp down harder, giving the feeling that my jaw may break.

Please, fucking, please, no.

"You've been playing this 'hard to get' bullshit for so long. It was about time we finally made it happen, huh?"

His hand over my mouth slid down to my neck, squeezing so tight that my vision began turning fuzzy.

I choked hard, trying like hell to get words out. "S-Sam, please, d-don't."

He had turned us around, pushing me against the wall of the stable. His hand that wasn't holding my throat was roaming up my skirt, his giant palm under my dress and tugging at my underwear. I thrashed again, trying like hell to get an inch so I could slip out of his grasp. It was futile. He had me, I was trapped.

I felt his fingers slipping into the hem of my panties, sneaking underneath. His hands violated me, making hot tears pour out of my eyes. I squeezed them shut, trying to just focus on having enough air to stay conscious. If I pass out, it's over.

I ignored his hands on me, and focused. His feet. His feet were the only shot I had.

I shifted my weight onto my other leg, realizing his was immediately behind mine, using both legs to keep mine spread.

I lifted my foot, and with as much force as I could muster, I jammed my heel into top of his foot, causing him to jump back, his hands releasing me at once. Without hesitation, once my arms were free, I reached my elbow back, connecting it with his face. I felt something crunch beneath my arm, but I didn't care.

As soon as he was no longer on top of me, I ran. I booked straight out of the barn, my vision slowly returning.

I was running back toward the party, up the hill. That's when I stopped. My dress was ripped on the strap, my hair was tangled up, and my makeup had to be running down my face. I was a mess. I looked insane.

I had to get the hell out.

I began sprinting to the parking lot, passing several people on my way but not stopping. I ran to my car that, thankfully, I had left unlocked, keys in the visor. I turned the engine over and tore out of the parking lot.

I didn't care that I blew past multiple stop signs. I pulled onto the interstate and drove. I drove until I couldn't see the winery behind me. Until I could barely see at all because my eyes were watering so badly. My breathing was so sporadic. My hands were screaming with how tight I had been gripping the steering wheel.

I finally snapped out of my state, realizing I needed to stop.

I pulled off on the next exit, finding a rest stop just off the highway and pulled into the parking lot. I sat there, staring out of the windshield, tears streaming, trying to calm my breathing.

It took me a moment to realize I had stopped, and for my brain to begin functioning again.

I picked up my phone, opening it and ignoring texts and missed calls and going straight to my contacts.

I pressed 'Call' and waited for the line to pick up.

"Hey babes, what's up?" Laura's voice rang through the line.

"I need help."

#noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens #fanfic

57 notes · View notes

chuplayswithfire · 7 months

Text

Nuance is something that can be soooo hard for online spaces to hold onto. Hell, offline spaces too, for that matter. Today I'm thinking about kink and the concept of kinkshaming, when I think about nuance: that people should be allowed to enjoy and engage with kink, especially in fictional and fandom spaces where even bad kink etiquette can't actually harm anyone should be a given. Personally, as long as someone is tagging correctly and creating with self awareness, anything goes in a fictional space, you do you, your content deserves to exist online. I have personally created a variety of kinky works, both publicly available and not, and would really not have a leg to stand on trying to declare otherwise. In a time where people are cracking down heavily on kink and trying to decry it as deviance that shouldn't exist, being kink positive can be a very important, good thing.

At the same time though, the people have squicks, and when it comes to kink and a good culture towards sex in general, people have to be allowed to have squicks. If anyone's hearing the term for the first time, a squick is essentially a concept that just grosses you right out, you do not want to see it, you do not want to learn more, maybe it even distresses you to see it, but not to the extent that you would consider ot triggering content. A couple of common tend to bodily excrement: piss and shit, alongside guro (extensive bodily mutilation combined with sexual imagery). A squick doesn't have to be extreme, it doesn't have to be unusual, it's just something that grosses an individual out, and they don't want to see it. (And because this is tumblr and it must be said: no, racism is not a squick.)

Sometimes, we lean so heavily into the negative that we refuse to allow positivity. Sometimes, we get so into positivity, that we refuse to acknowledge negatives. People are allowed to talk about their squicks. If people see something that grosses them out, they don't have to shut up about it just because it's someone else's kink. Kinkshaming, the idea that someone would go up to someone else and tell them they're gross for their kink, is something people shouldn't do in general. But expressing disgust and distaste for a kink in general isn't kinkshaming - that's just talking about your squick.

Your Kink Is Not My Kink And That's Okay is about not hating on other people or demanding their works not exist because you hate the kink, not pretending that you find every kink, fetish, or sexual concept totally wonderful and would never react with disgust towards one. This idea in fandom that if you don't like something you should never say anything publicly because what if someone does like that thing, and is upset that you publicly don't like that thing, is ridiculous, and it has been for a while. Negative emotions have a place in fandom, especially in regard to sexual content. You shouldn't harass people who share a kink (especially when their content is tagged this is why everyone should read the tags) - but you also shouldn't go around saying people aren't allowed to use their own online space to process their disgust.

I've been seeing a lot of people lately saying anyone discussing how much they dislike a kink concept is just a kinkshamer, an anti, the purity police, and it's getting beyond ridiculous. We have the right to engage in kink, to write about kink, to make kinky art, create audio for it, and to in general delight in all kinds of kinky works. We also have the responsibility to make sure we're tagging correctly. Others have the right to dislike kink, including our own kinks, and to talk about how much they dislike those kinks. They have the responsibility to make sure they're curating correctly, that they're reading the tags and warnings on a work, and that they work out their negative responses in their own space.

Multiple things can be true: kink is a great way to explore sexuality and desire and a wide range of topics. people deserve to share their interest in kink without harassment or being belittled. one person's joy can be another person's squick. people deserve to share their squick without harassment or being belittled.

#been seeing some annoying kink discourse for a WHILE #the fact that purity police are always trying to go after kink has made some people have this #calcified response of if you don't react to every kink with interest or neutral respect then you're kinkshaming and an anti #if we want to bring back the useage of terms like squick you have to accept that people will also openly talk about their squicks #and in much less than positive terms #and that's fine!#fandom dicosurse #Even if actually this goes beyond fandom because I definitely see some people being annoying like this in real life too #the number of people I have known who are snide and dismissive towards anyone who's having what they see as vanilla sex #the number of people I have known react with visceral disgust if someone's having anything but so called vanilla sex #We have to move away from this idea that you can only talk about things in neutral or positive tones #being negative about something is perfectly fine as long as you are respectful towards others

82 notes · View notes

mindibindi · 8 months

Text

⭐(Re)Visit a Classic XF Fic [7/7]⭐

So, as part of The X files 30th anniversary celebrations, I took it upon myself to highlight some of the AMAZING authors I first read in this fandom. They were a HUGE part of my experience of watching the show during it's original run. For shippers, the original run was a marathon in faith, frustration and endurance. We were judged, dismissed, ridiculed and gaslit throughout. But in fandom, we found solidarity, and in fanfic, we found solace. (AND we won in the end, so THERE).

As a retired author, I also have a vested interest in pleading the case of older writers. Fanfic archives are libraries, not social media sites. Don't just read whatever comes up most recently in your feed. Search. Discover. Explore. Experiment. Yes, there are some differences in older fanfic culture that are evident in these seven recs. Characters may be understood differently in their original context, narrative style may also differ (more 1st/2nd person address that even addresses the reader directly), there may also be less clear trigger warnings and fewer opportunities for feedback/community. I know we all love AO3 and are grateful for its good works. But don't forget that there are other avenues through which to explore fanfiction.

For this final rec, I want to return to the first author I rec-ed. I urge you to check out her other works. The characters are sometimes a little overwrought or OOC but even when they are, her stuff is tremendously messy, sexy and fun. Here Mulder and Scully are perfectly in character in a rather rauchy scenario. (If you're a babyphile and you don't know the politics at play then ask an auntyphile to fill you in). I will post links below for all the classic authors I have rec-ed, along with a few archives you may want to check out.

Rec #7:

MSR, obligatory stakeout fic

Prompted by current events, Mulder and Scully discuss oral sex

Some knowledge of the Bill Clinton/Monica Lewinsky scandal required

READ MORE BY:

Rachel Anton (inc lots of Krycek content)

Beduini

Suzanne Schramm

Shalimar

Terma99

Narida Law

The search engine is not great but Gossamer IS still up and running:

X-Libris is a current archive that is doing a great job of recovering older works. You can suggest fics to be added to the site or even ask for a long lost fic to be tracked down!!

Smaller archives but also still up and running is Whispers of X and XFSM, both of which are good for different pairings, threesomes and a bit of kink, if that's your jam.

In particular, if you're into BDSM then you may want to check out Kristel St Johns "Aphrodisia" which does a beautiful job of putting Mulder and Scully in a v different, intense kind of physical relationship . The novel is unfinished but definitely still worth a read.

#txf #the x files #xf30th #fanfic #fanfiction #xf fanfic #xf fandom #ff recs #msr #mulder x scully #dana scully #fox mulder #sculder #scully x mulder #sorry other pairings didn't really get a look in here

128 notes · View notes

mxjackparker · 2 months

Text

An article from a sex worker (both porn and selling sex in-person) about the sex work themes in Hazbin Hotel and the handling of Angel Dust as a character. If you've ever had criticism about the depiction of Angel Dust, or you've ever dismissed it, I think this is worth a read.

I get deep into the discourse here. Trigger warnings are included at the start of the article, relating to discussion of SA and "non-con" kink scenes within Hazbin Hotel itself.

Regardless of your thoughts on a fictional character from a cartoon, actual sex workers are frequently the victims of real assault and criminalization and censorship, and for too many people their only references for our needs and experiences are the characters they see in the media they consume. I hope that controversy around Angel Dust prompts at least some people to learn about the cause for the full decriminalization of sex work.

#Angel Dust #hazbin hotel #vivziepop #sexwork #anti swerf #sex work is work #representation #loser baby #angelhusk

53 notes · View notes

casuallyimagining · 2 years

Text

Home (25)

Hybrid Min Yoongi x Female Reader; Platonic OT7 x Female Reader; Namseok; Jinkook

Summary: After helping Yoongi get away from his abusive former owner, you’re left to focus on your relationship and how it progresses. That is, until you find six other hybrids who need your help, and their former owner decides he’s going to make your life hell. Genre: hurt/comfort, angst, fluff Word Count: 3,293 Rating: M Warnings (updated per chapater): stalking, wild animal attack, major character injury, blood, implied homophobia, slight internalized homophobia, starvation, hospitalization, discussion of sexual assault, discussion of physical assault, discussion of controlling behavior, heavy petting, marking, slightly toxic relationship, spiraling thoughts, fictional discrimination, discussion of sex work

Major thanks to @eatjeanjin for beta-ing this and for listening to me complain almost constantly. You’ve been nothing but helpful and sweet, and I’m so grateful for your opinions and assistance.

banners by @mintkims

Sequel to Fix You. Read it first.

Previous | Masterlist | Next (SFW) | Next (NSFW)

The morning of the home inspection, you woke up early. Like, way early. And for a moment, you thought it was just because you were nervous. It was a big day, and you could feel the anxiety niggling at the back of your mind. But then, you realized that you were cold, and when you heard the whimper, things started to make sense. Yoongi’s tail thrashed in his sleep, hitting you repeatedly. He whimpered again, curling in on himself.

You frowned. He hadn’t had a nightmare in a while, and normally, his bad dreams had triggers. Was he that worried about the home inspection?

You whispered his name, reaching out and gently rubbing his arm. “Yoongi? Wake up, baby.” Your fingers dragged lightly up the bare skin of his arm to his shoulder. “You're having a bad dream.”

He jumped, flying into a sitting position and letting out a sharp hiss. His tail was puffed up impossibly large. He sighed, briefly toying with the edge of the bedsheet before turning and dangling his legs off the side of the mattress.

You scooted closer, but not close enough to touch him, unsure of the state he was in. There were still times--especially when he dreamt of his abuse at the hands of Seungri’s “friends”--where your presence made things worse for him. So you waited, looking for some cue as to what to do next.

After what felt like an hour, his tail fluttered across the mattress, seeking out your wrist. It was still fluffed out, but it wrapped loosely around your arm--the signal you needed to reach out. Your hand met his back, rubbing gently across his shoulder blades. You could feel the tension in his muscles under his shirt.

“You okay?” you asked softly.

His ears pressed into his hair and he sighed heavily. At first, you didn’t think he was going to answer you. He reached back, groping for his basketball blanket, and pulled it into his lap, rubbing the plush fabric between his fingers. But then he took a deep breath. “I don’t know.” His voice was hoarse, and he sounded scared and vulnerable.

You moved so that you were sitting beside him, allowing him to curl into your side and nuzzle into your neck. “What’s the matter, kitty?” You held him, rubbing his back. “You worried about the home inspection?”

“Little bit,” he admitted, his nose brushing against the bit of skin under your ear. You could feel him inhale deeply and deliberately as he attempted to ground himself. “But I… I don’t know. Other stuff, too, I guess.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

He hummed, and after a second, he let go of you, leaning to open the drawer of his nightstand. He handed you a folded envelope, and for a second, you thought maybe he had written you another letter. You opened it, surprised to see that it wasn’t from Yoongi.

The handwriting was sloppy and looked almost like a bad Halloween font. But it was less the quality of the writing and more what it said that made you grit your teeth.

‘You’ll never get away from me. I’ll never leave you alone.’

“What’s this?” You flipped the letter over. It wasn’t signed, and there was no return address on the envelope.

“It was in the mail,” Yoongi said softly. “It was addressed to me.” Sure enough, it was his name above your address. Yoongi getting mail was uncommon, but not unheard of. There were plenty of hybrid-focused companies attempting to sell him things. “I think it’s from Seungri.”

You pulled him close, pressing a kiss to his temple. “I won’t let him touch you,” you told him firmly.

“But the house inspection-”

“Doesn’t matter. He won’t get to you. Any of you.” You ran your hand through his hair, scratching gently at his scalp.

After a while, Yoongi relaxed enough to lay back down. He curled into your side, one of his legs hooked over yours. He fell asleep lazily scenting you, his lips pressed against your neck. With one hand, you moved his head into a more comfortable position, knowing that if he slept with his head at such an awkward angle, he would be in pain when he woke up again.

You laid there in silence, staring at the ceiling, dragging your fingers gingerly up and down Yoongi’s arm. The home inspector would be arriving in eight hours. Then you would find out if you could protect the hybrids--if you could protect Yoongi--from Seungri. You hoped you hadn’t lied to him.

That day, Yoongi was on edge, and you were exhausted. You hadn’t been able to fall back to sleep after Yoongi’s nightmare, partially due to the fact that he had slept fitfully. You suspected that his brain was still working against him, making him focus on all the ways the day could go wrong.

He looked ill sitting on the couch with you as you waited for the inspector, so much so that you thought he might accidentally shift. But he kept himself together, his body tucked tightly into your side, legs tangled with yours. You held him. What else could you do? He was scared, and he wasn’t feeling well, and he needed you to be there for him. So you pushed your nerves aside and did your best to soothe him.

When the knock came at the door, you attempted to stand, but Yoongi’s arms tightened around you, keeping you in place. “Baby, you gotta let me up,” you said softly, hearing the door to Namjoon and Hobi’s room open. Jungkook came running out of your office.

Yoongi hummed, nuzzling into your shoulder. But then his arms dropped to his lap, and you stood. Namjoon and Jungkook followed you to the door, their ears standing at attention. Jungkook’s tail gave a tentative wag. “Is that the inspector?”

“I would love to find out.” You playfully nudged him out of the way so you could open the door.

Sure enough, the inspector stood on the other side. He was large--both in height and build--but his black suit was tailored perfectly to fit. He was bald, his dark skin polished so thoroughly on the top of his head that it glinted in the sunlight almost cartoonishly. Dark sunglasses hid his eyes, but you could tell he was staring at you, sizing you up. He wasn’t even in the door yet and the inspection had already begun.

He held out his hand for you to shake, and you could see the tattoos on his knuckles, but couldn’t quite make them out. “I’m with the Department of Hybrid Affairs,” he said simply, his hand dwarfing yours. His handshake was firm, but there was a gentleness to it, and suddenly, you were less worried that he was going to Hulk Smash you into the next county.

The man reached into his suit jacket as you stepped aside, handing you his business card as he entered the apartment.

Colby Bubblé, Social Worker, Department of Hybrid Affairs

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Jungkook taking a step backwards and Namjoon stepping forward, subtly pushing the pup behind him. The hulking social worker didn’t remove his sunglasses, but you had a feeling he was watching everything.

“I’d like to speak with you first,” he said, looking at you.

Jungkook whimpered from behind Namjoon, his hand fisting in Namjoon’s emerald sweater.

“It’s okay, pup. Why don’t you go hang out with Yoongi? He’s not feeling well,” you said softly, offering him a smile. “We’ll come get you when we’re done talking.”

Jungkook sighed, but he nodded. “Okay, noona.” He tugged on Namjoon’s sweater, and the wolf gave you a small nod before letting himself be led into the living room.

You motioned for Mr. Bubblé to follow you back the hall to your office. Jimin skittered out when you entered, squeezing your hand as he passed. His nails were still pastel orange. You sat at your desk, offering Mr. Bubblé the wingbacked chair. He settled in rigidly, his hands folded on the tablet in his lap. The stylus in his hand looked practically puny. Though you couldn’t see them, you could feel his eyes on you.

“What do you do for a living?” His voice was gruff as he looked around at your office.

“I’m a freelance designer. I do logos, booklets, posters, menus, signs…” You paused, absently scratching your arm as you thought. “Oh, websites, too, I guess.”

Mr. Bubblé hummed, but you couldn’t tell what emotion was behind it. “And you work from home?” You nodded. “We were told that you recently took out a loan for quite a large sum of money.”

Again, you nodded. “I recently bought a house.”

“Your financial situation is secure enough for a mortgage?”

“Foreseeably, yes. And the hybrids are helping.” You played with the stylus for your iPad.

You could see his eyebrows raise behind his glasses. “They have jobs?”

“Well, yeah.” You shrugged. “I love having them here, and I’m more than happy to help them out however they need, but I can’t afford for them not to help me out, too.”

Mr. Bubblé nodded and hummed, and suddenly, you were struck with the idea that maybe that wasn’t the right thing to say. “Why do you have so many hybrids?” he asked finally, after a moment of silence.

“Well, they aren’t mine,” you clarified nervously. “I don’t own them.”

“Why do they live here, then?”

“Well, it started with Yoongi…” You recounted for him the past three years of your life. From saving Yoongi from your parents’ horrible neighbor three years ago and the fight for his emancipation, to finding Namjoon and Hobi in the woods back in May, to Jungkook and Taehyung, to finding Jimin in the alley two months before. “You would have to ask them precisely why they’re staying here,” you told him softly. “But I would like to think it’s because they feel safe and loved.”

He leaned forward. “You care about them?”

“I do.” You nodded resolutely.

For the third time, he hummed. “This new house you’ve purchased…”

“Oh, do you want to see the contractor’s renderings?” You were already unlocking your iPad. “The city just approved the layout changes yesterday.”

You flipped the tablet so that he could see. It would need a lot of work and care, but you loved this house. You’d haggled with the seller, demanded a fairer price for the fixer upper, and they had agreed. You’d drained what was left of your savings to put a down payment on the house, and, after talking to the contractor, committed to a loan for the rest of the cost and the renovations.

The house was large, larger than any apartment you could have ever hoped for. There were four bedrooms, a bathroom on each floor, and, thanks to the creativity of your contractor, the whole third floor--currently storage and a small playroom--would become your bedroom and office. The backyard was large, and would be a great space for Jungkook and the others to let off steam. The best part was that the sturdy fence would make it nice and private, so everyone could feel comfortable shifting if they wanted to.

Watching Mr. Bubblé swipe through the blueprints and contractor’s documents, though, your stomach started to sink. What if it wasn’t enough? What if, after everything--all the sleepless nights and the planning and the headache and heartache--they determined that it still wasn’t enough and you weren’t fit to care for the pack any more?

You swallowed thickly, taking your iPad back from the social worker when he handed it to you. “I’d like to talk to the hybrids now,” he said simply. You nodded, silently leading him back out to the living room.

“I’ll be outside,” you said after introducing Namjoon, Yoongi, and Jungkook to Mr. Bubblé. You had no idea where Taehyung and Jimin had gotten to, but you suspected Namjoon could handle it if the social worker wanted to speak to them.

You avoided their eyes as you walked into the entryway and stepped outside, finally allowing yourself to collapse to the concrete of your stoop.

You leaned heavily against the railing, resting your head against the cool stone. You felt sick. Living with six hybrids was chaotic. And, of course, they all still had their own traumas and problems that they were dealing with in their own ways. But holy shit, you loved your little pack. If they were taken from you, not only would you be bored, but you would be lonely.

And then there was Yoongi. You had told Seokjin that Hybrid Services could take Yoongi, too, but truthfully, you didn’t know. You swallowed down the lump in your throat. They couldn’t take him away from you, could they? They couldn’t just destroy the past three years of your life. Everything you’d done, everything you’d worked toward, had been done with Yoongi in mind. When you thought of yourself in 10 years, 20 years, 50 years, Yoongi was there with you. When you thought of happiness, it was his goofy, gummy smile in your mind. You were in deep with him, and you knew it. But Jesus, you didn’t care a bit.

You weren’t sure how long you were sitting out on the stoop, lost in your spiraling thoughts. But a crash from inside the house startled you back to reality, and the sound of glass breaking had you on your feet. You pushed open the door, poking your head into the kitchen, pretty sure that was where the sound had come from. Jimin stood behind the island, a terrified look on his face.

“What happened?” you asked gently, approaching him to see what was going on. Shattered glass was scattered everywhere on the floor in front of him. He must have dropped a cup in an attempt to get a drink. “Are you okay?”

Jimin nodded, but you could see the pain on his face. He stared down at the glass on the floor.

“Hop over the counter,” you told him, helping him spin around once he was sitting on the island. “You sure you didn’t step on any of it?” You bent down slightly, checking his socked feet for tiny slivers of glass. Satisfied, you inspected his hands to make sure he hadn’t been cut.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was a little hoarse, and when you looked up at him, his eyes didn’t meet yours.

“We have like 12 other cups. No harm done.” You patted his arm, helping him to hop off the island.

Jimin shook his head again. “Everything had to be perfect and I ruined it.”

“You haven’t ruined anything, Chim.”

“The inspector’s gonna think bad things about us now.” You could see the tears well in his eyes. He was being a little over dramatic, but you knew it was just because he was nervous. He’d been dreading the inspection almost more than you had been. “It’s all my fault.”

“The inspector isn’t going to think badly of us because of an accident,” you said softly, tugging him to you. His arms wrapped around you tightly. “You haven’t ruined anything.”

The dam broke then, and you could feel the shoulder of your shirt dampening. Jimin cried silently, quiet sobs wracking his lithe form. You continued to hold him, even when Yoongi entered the kitchen with a broom to clean up the glass. He raised an eye as he passed, his tail brushing against Jimin’s back.

“Broken glass is nothing to cry over, Jimin,” Yoongi said softly, stooping to sweep up the glass. “I broke her coffee pot the first day she found out I wasn’t a cat.”

You sighed at the memory. Yoongi had been so scared back then. And he had ruined the hoodie he had stolen from you, but you’d never told him. It had been an accident. Coffee carafes and hoodies could be replaced.

Gently, you rubbed Jimin’s back. “Honestly, Chim, it’s okay. If the inspector fails us because you broke a cup, he can go fuck himself.” Someone--you assumed Mr. Bubblé--cleared their throat behind you. Internally, you groaned, but you doubled down. “And I don’t care if he heard me say that. It’s more important that you’re okay.”

“I think I’ve seen enough,” Mr. Bubblé announced from the entryway.

You spun around, one arm still holding Jimin close, to look at the social worker. He looked so massive in the doorway to your kitchen, it was almost comical. Yoongi appeared on your other side, his hand finding yours as his tail wrapped loosely around your waist. Mr. Bubblé observed with a blank face. You had no idea what he was about to say.

“It’s policy that we don’t allow hybrid hoarding situations. As a rule of thumb, you should have one room for every two hybrids you have living with you.” Mr. Bubblé took off his glasses, pulling a cloth out from his suit jacket to clean them.

Jimin let out a small whimper and buried his face in your shoulder. Beside you, Yoongi tensed, and you could feel the fur on his tail puffing up. You squeezed his hand tightly, not letting go.

“But I think there should be an exception to almost every rule.” Mr. Bubblé’s dark eyes met yours. “It’s clear to me that you care about these hybrids, and that they care about each other and you. We do our best not to break up packs.” He slipped his sunglasses back on. “It will be my official recommendation that everyone is allowed to stay, provided you move into that house as soon as you are physically able. We will then re-do the inspection to make sure things are up to our standards.”

“So… we can stay?” Jungkook’s hopeful voice piped up from the living room. You heard Namjoon shush him.

“You can stay,” Mr. Bubblé confirmed.

Jungkook cheered, a happy half-howl that resonated throughout the apartment. Hobi clapped furiously, and though you couldn’t see him, you could imagine the wide smile brightening his face.

“We’ll be in touch.” Mr. Bubblé nodded, opening the door and stepping out into the mid-November chill.

As soon as the door was closed, Taehyung and Jungkook were racing into the kitchen, arms outstretched. They ran into you full-force, using you, Jimin, and Yoongi to stop themselves. They both wrapped you in a hug, and you could feel Jungkook’s body shake as he cried. Jimin buried himself further into your side, and though he was quiet, you could tell that he was hiding tears. Namjoon and Hobi appeared, joining the group hug easily. Namjoon’s hand rested against the top of your head, patting your hair lightly. Hobi tucked into the wolf hybrid’s side, wrapping one arm around Namjoon and the other around Jimin.

Yoongi pressed close, his hand moving from gripping your own to resting easily against your hip. His lips pressed into your hair and lingered there, nuzzling into you when he pulled away slightly. You sighed, feeling Yoongi’s arm tighten around you. “You did it,” he whispered into your hair.

It took a moment for it to sink in. You leaned into him as much as you could with everyone around you, the relief slowly starting to wash over you. You’d done it. Everyone was safe. No one was getting taken away. And in a few months, you’d have a new home with enough space for everyone.

A gentle purr started to rumble in Yoongi’s chest, and you realized in that moment that you were happy. With your pack, with your relationship, with how everything turned out. Things could get more difficult over the next few months, but honestly, you didn’t care. It didn’t matter.

You would get through it. Together.

Previous | Masterlist | Next (SFW) | Next (NSFW)

As always, your feedback is appreciated. Please feel free to pop into my ask box with questions or comments about the series!

Tag list: @softbbyg0rl, @eddievoid, @horanghae18, @rosquilleta, @madjanmil, @namecannotbblank, @http-himawari, @halesandy, @lostatthebarns, @cuteipat, @agustneeds, @overtherainbow35, @xjordynary, @seolaquotes, @huearmy, @staerryminimini, @chimchoomi @zae007live, @ghostkat23, @forvever-ddaeng, @blaaiissee, @childfmoonn, @nightseob, @justaweird0, @pro-in-stupidity, @kisskissshutmydoor, @borahae-reads, @effielumiere @ohmydarlin-g, @alngelias, @elenaramos1, @kamen-tenshi, @narcissism-iskey, @readingfavorites, @devilsadvcte, @tinyoonsblog, @reallysparklychaos, , @lovelgirl22, @veronawrites, @jinscharms, @jaiuneamesolitaiire, @skinnybonsai, @youngbloodslut, @glitterypersonyouth, @janeelizabeth1216, @xthefuckerysquaredx

#yoongi #yoongi x reader #min yoongi #min yoongi x reader #hybrid yoongi #hybrid yoongi x reader #hybrid min yoongi #hybrid min yoongi x reader #hybrid bts #hybrid bts x reader #bts hybrid au #yoongi hybrid au #yoongi hybrid #yoongi hybrid x reader

424 notes · View notes

paddockbunny · 1 year

Text

It wasn’t supposed to be like this - Part 3

Summary : You were married. You were supposed to be happily married to the man of your dreams and YET, you just cannot seem to quit Daniel f*cking Ricciardo, no matter how hard you seemed to try. Rating : 18+ Pairing : Daniel Ricciardo x Reader Word Count : 1,104 Trigger Warnings : cheating trope!!!! Discussion about sex and language warning. Authors Note : just a quick note to say the Nico in this story is Rosberg (and this is a work of complete fiction and does not reflect Nico irl at all)

You glanced at your wrist and the pompously ludicrously expensive watch that sat upon it. 2:10am. You had gone for “dinner” at eight pm and the drive home was another 20 minutes so you wouldn’t arrive back until half past. As you walked toward your car in the underground car park the clicking of your heels on the concrete mimicked the pounding of your heart in your chest. You promised Nico you would be home around twelve - one at the latest - so he would cause an argument the second you walked through the door. It was your fault. You forgot to set an alarm on your phone signalling it was time to get up and leave. And Daniel would never have told you your time was up with him and to go back to your husband. He would gladly have kept you there all night, all weekend, forever.

“Shit!” With your mind being on Daniel you were distracted enough that you dropped your keys. You watched as Daniel lowered down and picked them up for you. Always the gentleman. “Are you ok?” He asked, earnestly. He hated sending you back home now he knew the vicious temper your husband had on him - the temper Daniel couldn’t do anything about due to the risk it posed to his career if he did. You nodded and his hands went straight to your waist. They practically engulfed it (Nico’s could never) and made you look at him. “You don’t have to go back to him.” His eyes seemed to be begging you, pleading with you, not to go. Your hand gently placed itself upon his cheek and with your voice nowhere above a whisper you said; “Of course, I do.” The conversation about the future you envisioned with Daniel came up frequently. He liked making plans for it. He liked saying “when we” and “we will” a lot. He spoke about places the pair of you would travel too - places back home in Aus he wanted to show you - people he wanted to introduce you too, where you would settle down together and on one occasion what the pair of you would name your kids. He was building a future with you. In his head. But as soon as you rode the elevator down to basement parking you snapped back hard into reality. “You know where I stand. You know I’ve got you.” He was referring to the fact you said you always felt like leaving Nico would be like falling off a cliff into shark infested waters. Daniel leaned in and kissed you. It wasn’t feverish and desperate like upstairs in his apartment. It was tender, loving, romantic just like the man you knew he could be for you. As his bottom lip repositioned and he gripped a tiny bit harder on your waist you pressed the button to unlock the car which your husband bought you for your birthday - “but it’s electric, you need to have electric, baby. I won’t let you drive anything else” still echoed around in your head whenever you thought of the car. Daniel’s forehead pressed against yours and the sound of the lock told him it was time to give you up.

Slipping from his grip you yanked open the car door almost immediately. You had to keep your mind on the task of just getting in the car and driving home. Thought of staying would cloud your judgment and it would become completely unbearable to contemplate driving away. Daniel shut your door for you. He knew that if this was hurting him it was hurting you a lot more. You glanced up at him just as he pressed his palm to the drivers window and you almost did it. You almost stopped what you were doing and fled the car right then and there but you couldn’t, it wasn’t the right time yet. You pressed your own hand against the cold glass on top of his. Separate but together, mimicking your relationship.

You opened the door to the apartment. The lights were all off and you couldn’t help but allow your self to take the small win and smile. Nico was in bed. He had a thing with Rosberg Racing the next day and would be flying out first thing. It really couldn’t have worked out better really. You didn’t have to pack for him as you had been at dinner with Aniela, your best friend. Whom, by now had become your go to cover story as she wanted you out of your marriage possibly more than you did yourself. She hated how Nico “bought” you and felt like he owned every last part of you because of it. You slipped your feet out of your heels and headed toward the kitchen. You hadn’t eaten since lunchtime. You couldn’t eat before going to Daniel’s or Nico would know something was off about your dinner excuse. You didn’t want to eat at Daniel’s because well, the pair of you were far too busy to do something so mundane as eat. You opened the fridge and pulled out your favourite cheese. You’d have a little on some of those fancy crackers you smuggled back in your case from Harrods in London.

As you turned, ready to put the cheese out on the island to cut, the light in the living room adjacent suddenly switched on giving you the fright of your life. You nearly jumped out of your skin as suddenly across the room, sitting in the armchair in front of the floor to ceiling windows, Nico came into view. He was sat in his blue luxury cotton pyjama pants and nothing else. His Monaco glow looking even darker in the soft glowing side light. “I thought you were in bed.” Your voice was shaky. You were struggling to keep control of it. He was staring at you. Eyes burning your flesh. They were completely unwavering. Relentless. “Do you want some…” you distracted yourself buy opening a drawer and pulling out a cheese knife to slice into the item you had placed down before you. “Where have you been?” The tone of his voice was calm. It wasn’t anything at all like the way he spoke to you when you got home late. It didn’t sound reprimanding or threatening. It didn’t sound angry or upset. It was monotone and flat. It struck you straight to your core because it was different, new and utterly strange. “You know what Aniela is like…she’s talk, talk, talk”

“You can insult our marriage but do not insult my intelligence.” He arose from the seat at the same time as the words flowed easily from his mouth. This time they were laced with something. Venom. You slowly dropped the knife and trailed your eyes back to meet his. “I don’t know what your…” You felt your blood run cold. The saying had always sounded stupid before but now, as you felt the effects of your husbands words turning you to ice you understood them completely.

He knew. You knew he knew.

Slowly, Nico walked across the vast room. He closed the gap without even glancing away. Holding your stare as if he was willing you to out yourself first. You swallowed when he reached the other side of the island. The blood whooshing around your ears was making you lightheaded and you were acutely aware of how fast your heart was racing inside your chest. Just as slow as he walked across the room he raised his hand. Clutched in it was his phone which he went on to set down on the marble countertop and push across toward you. “Look at it.” His eyes still burning into yours. You didn’t want too. You didn’t want to see whatever was on the illuminated screen but you couldn’t stand this stand off any longer. Hurriedly, you rushed to grab the phone. You simply held it and he made a gesture to “go ahead.”

It was a photo of the parking garage. Of you. Of Daniel. Of him kissing you underneath the florescent glow of the overhead lighting. It was unmistakably you and it was unmistakably him. It had clearly been taken by someone sitting in a car parked directly in front of yours like they knew you were there, at Daniel’s, lying in wait. Then it twigged. “You me followed?” “Daniel Ricciardo?” His voice changed. The tone he usually used was back. Anger. “Daniel fucking Ricciardo?”

260 notes · View notes