#You can act like you’re unaffected and in control but you wear your heart on your sleeve and it’s bleeding

[bakaramia]

Vox no matter what the ppl on twitter do to you you will always be the overcompensating insecure tsundere baby I saw and fell in love with the first time I watched Hazbin.

[fairyhee]

Chocolate eclairs (pt.2)

{Part 1}

🍫 optional bias x reader

🍫 ~5.6k words

🍫 smut, enemies to lovers, slight dom/sub themes, praise kink, some dirty talk, oral (both receiving), face sitting (whew), reader has a thing for hands

(I might have dragged everything out for too long? I’m not sure, you tell me, but I just love thinking about all the details so I went with it. Also while I was writing, at some point I lost half of it and had to re-write it because the damn app didn’t save my changes to the draft 🙃 anyways thank you for reading!)

So far, nothing was going as planned today, but somehow you didn’t mind it anymore. At first you were extremely annoyed to say the least, but you slowly started to think having a tall and ridiculously handsome guy follow you around wasn’t so bad after all. Even though he was purposely being irritating, as always, just to get reactions out of you, it was worth enduring for the random flirty remarks he spat out every once in a while. Was he always like this? Did you only realize it now because you were too busy thinking how obnoxiously confident he was, or did he really also dislike you before? You were quite confused, but you at least thought you should enjoy the moment.

After buying those damn chocolate eclairs that you had been craving for a week, and after he insisted to pay, all while poking fun at how you were gonna die at a young age from how much sugar you consume, your next stop would have been the lingerie store. Except now you had him coming along with you, so you weren’t very sure what you should do. To buy some time, you pretended to look at all the stereotypically “romantic” objects that people usually gifted each other on Valentine’s day. Just for fun, you weren’t planning on hinting at anything, but you just wanted to see what he’d be like. Not to mention window shopping was one of your favorite activities when you had nothing else better to do. He, on the other hand, had his mind fixed on one thing solely.

“Y/n, aren’t we eating those eclairs? You didn’t want them just to carry them around, did you?” he asked with a pout.

“Excuse me, since when is there a ‘we’? They’re my eclairs, and I’m saving them for later. I told you I have plans, were you even listening to me?”

“You have plans, right. Well you should be careful then, that boyfriend you have plans with might get jealous if he sees you walking around with a guy like me. I honestly wouldn’t blame him if he felt threatened, after all, you just let the most handsome dude around here buy you coffee and sweets...oh wait, I forgot. You actually don’t have a boyfriend, do you now?” he said in a sarcastic tone. 

“It’s extremely funny that you think I need a man in order to have plans on Valentine’s day. I can very well take care of myself, thank you very much.”

“You can take care of yourself in what way exactly? Because if it’s what I’m thinking of, I bet I can do it better.”

“Thank you for your concern, h/n, but if you think you can buy your way into my pants with some sweets, then you have a very low and unrealistic expectation of me. If you want to impress me, try harder.”

“Oh don’t worry, this is far from my best shot. You just look so hot when you’re mad at me, I can’t stop myself.” he said with a sheepish laugh.

You blushed slightly, both at his words and from seeing him grinning so cutely. He had no business looking all cute like that after he had just literally suggested you sleep with him. How could he switch from being so cocky to getting shy for you in just a matter of seconds? You couldn’t help but wonder what he’d actually be like in bed. Especially since he had just showed a new side of him, a particular image of him being submissive to you was stuck on your brain. You could feel your face heating up, and you hoped he didn’t notice how red your cheeks had probably become.

Brushing it off, you entered a random toy store, feigning interest in some plushies. As you were admiring the various teddy bears that came in all shapes and colors, you noticed he had been surprisingly silent since your last exchange. You threw a glance at him and he seemed to have found some games he was interested in, as he had his eyebrows furrowed, trying to read the instructions on the back of some boxes. Perfect, you thought to yourself, now that he’s distracted, you could think of a plan. What the hell were you gonna do about the lingerie? You didn’t want to give up on buying it, you had wanted it for a long time and now was the perfect occasion. Did you want to go with him? Would he want to even enter the store with you? Would he become flustered and make things awkward? Would it be weird if you suddenly told him to leave you alone for a couple of minutes and meet you later? Or should you just end your meeting right there? You weren’t even sure how you wanted to spend the rest of the day anymore, but you for sure didn’t intend to abandon your plans completely for this man that barged into your solo Valentine’s day like that, despite the fact that you were starting to get interested in him.

While you were definitely overthinking the situation, h/n had long finished browsing the board games section. Suddenly, you felt someone’s hot breath near the side of your neck. 

“Y/n. You’ve been staring at that teddy bear for 3 minutes now. Did you not have any as a child, or do you want me to buy it for you that bad? You could just ask, you know.” 

Startled by the proximity of his voice, you turned your head to him and took a few steps away. “Wow, you sure have a talent for being rude. You’re still annoying even when you’re trying to hit on me.” you said trying to seem unaffected. However, you would lie if you said that feeling his breath on your skin didn’t send shivers down your spine. 

He chuckled at your reaction and slid his hands into the pockets of his jeans. 

“So? Do you want it or not?”

“With that sort of attitude, I shouldn’t even answer. So what if I wanted it, what would you do? There’s nothing between us, so why would you buy it for me?” you taunted. You knew he was trying to make you soften up, but you weren’t falling for it just yet.

“Who said I’d buy it for you? If I did and you ended up sleeping with a stuffed toy every night, that would just be unfair.” he pouted. Why was he acting this cute now? This man was so confusing.

“What the hell does that even mean?”

“I don’t wanna be jealous of a teddy bear. I’d rather you would sleep with me instead.”

You stared at his triumphant smile for a few seconds, at a loss for words. He looked like he just made the best pick-up line ever. It was so bad, yet you wanted to accept his wish and take him home. What was wrong with you? 

“You’re absolutely obnoxious, did you know that? Wipe that smirk off your face, you look like an idiot.”

He laughed. “But somehow you’re still putting up with me. I’d say you’re doing a great job enduring me. Unless...you’re actually enjoying my company, which I suspect you do.”

“Yeah, whatever. Come on, I have one more thing to get before I can finally go home and get rid of you.”

You had made up your mind. You weren’t letting any man interfere with your plans.

Walking in the most confident way possible, you entered the lingerie store. You didn’t even spare him a glance as you looked through the pieces, searching for something that would match your taste. You were dying to know what his reaction was, what he was thinking, but you weren’t giving in. Suddenly, you had an idea. Acting like what you were doing was the most normal thing, you picked out two options, pretending you couldn’t decide between them. One was a black see-through set adorned with velvet hearts, while the other was made out of red lace and a bunch of straps that looked like a harness. Either way, both were made more to reveal rather than cover you up. Holding one in each hand, you turned to look at him with an unfazed expression plastered on your face.

“Make yourself useful for once and help me decide. Which one do I get?”

Seeing the way he was looking at you made a flush of heat spread across your face. His eyes were dark and he looked like he would have devoured you right then and there. You didn’t know what you expected, but this look was definitely not it.

He took a few seconds to respond, during which his gaze on you only seemed to intensify. He almost looked angry, clenching his jaw and eyeing you so strongly.

“You’d look great in both, but I’d take the red one.”

Hearing his choice, you immediately hung it back on the rack and took your other option to the cash register. 

You heard him scoff behind you. “Why bother asking me if you were gonna pick that one anyway?”. He was smiling, but it was clear that he was trying to control his frustration. 

You gave him the sweetest smile in the world. “I liked both equally and couldn’t decide, so I’m getting the one you like less. Since you’re never gonna see me wearing it anyway.”

“You drive me insane. That makes absolutely no sense.”

“Really? But you’re the one that’s been following me around all day. Now you’re angry with me, how come?” you said innocently.

He smirked and took a few steps until he was so close, you could feel his hot breath on your face, but you didn’t back away and maintained his gaze. His scent was intoxicating, and you were trying your best to not show how into him you were already.

“If you want to make me angry, you’ll have to try harder, babygirl.” you clenched your thighs hearing that word escape his lips. “I like your teasing a little too much, actually. But making me imagine you wearing all these pretty things only to point out that I can’t have you the way I want? I have to admit, that was pretty mean.”

“Are you challenging me? Then I guess I need to step up my game to really get back at you.”

“Alright then, let’s make a deal. If you fail to make me angry by tonight, you have to go on a date with me. What do you say?”

You couldn’t stop the smirk forming on the corner of your lips. “Deal. You know, now I kinda understand why you keep bothering me. It’s actually fun trying to get you annoyed.” This time you weren’t lying.

He smiled back at you. “Glad we’re on the same page about one thing at least. So, any other torturous shopping that we need to do today? An adult store, maybe, since you said you like to take care of things yourself?”

“Nice try. I actually have a table reserved for later today, so I’m gonna have to go home and get ready. I wanted to go alone and have some me-time, but since I don’t plan on losing that challenge, I guess now you gotta come with me.”

He stopped in his tracks. “Wait a second,”he said and put the back of his palm on your forehead as if checking for a fever, “now it sounds like you’re the one asking me out. What happened? Are you okay?” he asked in an overly dramatic way. Oh great, now he was back to being the town circus. 

“It’s not a date, silly. Hopefully, it’s gonna be the worst dinner of your life, so I won’t have to see your face ever again.”

“You do know that I could just not show up and make you lose the bet, right?”

“If you do that, you won’t get my number. So no way to receive your prize.” Besides, you thought to yourself, wasn’t tonight already a date in itself? There was no way he would skip on that, or at least so you hoped. “See you at 6.” you said as you walked away, leaving him behind. 

By now your only desire was to get him totally whipped for you. He might have seen through your intentions already, but you couldn’t care less. The fights and arguments that were real in the beginning had now become an act, some sort of game to see which one of you would give in first. And you weren’t backing down until you had him completely wrapped around your finger. This year’s V-day turned out to be a lot more fun than you initially thought. 

After getting home, you took your sweet time showering and making yourself as pretty as possible. Having drenched yourself in perfume and strawberry scented body lotion, you put on the new lingerie and a red dress that complimented your figure. You did some minimal, but flattering make-up and took a good look in the mirror. You looked good enough to eat. Exactly what you wanted.

By the time you arrived at the restaurant, he was already waiting for you, and you realized he had probably tried just as hard as you to look hot. And he had definitely done a great job. His hair was pushed back and the suit jacket he was wearing highlighted his broad shoulders and tall figure. You wanted him to push you against a wall right then and there.

“Are you sure you’re not made out of sugar? You look so good, I’m afraid that if I touch you, you’d melt under my fingers.”

“You wish. I don’t even get a hi, you start our conversation with a lame pick-up line? This evening is going to be even more boring than I thought.” you said rolling your eyes.

“It’s good to see you again too. Come on, let’s order quickly, I’m starving.” he said as he was already looking through the menu.

After this first exchange, the rest of the dinner actually went on pretty normally. Without realizing, you had gotten comfortable with each other and stopped arguing altogether. Now you were just chatting about whatever came to mind, enjoying your meals and each other’s company. However, you did notice his eyes lingering a little too long on your exposed neck and chest, which you did your best to bring forward as much as you could when you moved around. You were hyper aware of his gaze on every move you made and you loved the attention he was giving you. You felt like you were the only woman in the room for him, the only one that deserved his attention. You suddenly remembered you were supposed to get him angry, but you weren’t sure you didn’t want a second date after all. However, you felt the need to say something about it.

“Look at all these couples enjoying their romantic dinner, and then there’s us. Here for the sole purpose of annoying each other.”

“If that was the purpose, I’d call this an epic fail.” he said with a smile and took a sip of his gin tonic,”So you still don’t want to admit that this is, in fact, a date?”

“Why would it be one, when we haven’t done anything out of the ordinary? We are just two people eating out together.”

“Good thing the evening isn’t over, then. Great choice of restaurant, by the way. But even though the food was amazing, I’d still prefer eating you out.” 

His bluntness caught you off guard, and you let the glass you were previously holding down on the table with a little more force than intended. From the impact, your drink splashed everywhere, including on yourself.

You moved a bit of the fabric of your dress away so you could wipe the martini drops that had just spilled on your chest, which uncovered the strap and the top part of your bra for a few seconds. You didn’t think much of it, but heard him swallow loudly. When you raised your eyes back to meet his, he was looking at you like he wanted to undress you with his eyes.

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Did what on purpose?” you asked confused.

“Don’t act so innocent, you know exactly what I’m saying.”

“No idea what you’re talking about. Anyway, care for dessert? You need some sugar in your system, you seem to be turning grim again.”

“If by dessert you mean you, then I’ll gladly accept. You have enough sugar to keep me up for a long time.” he said with a smirk.

“Oh god, can you cut the disgusting jokes out? You make me sick.” 

“You’ll be even more disappointed to find out they’re not jokes. By the way,” he leaned over the table so he could bring his face a little closer to yours, “we’ve almost finished our drinks and you still haven’t made me angry. Time is ticking.” 

You fell silent for a couple of seconds, and played with your necklace while deep in thought. You were done playing this game. You wanted him, and you wanted him tonight. You wanted to blame it on the alcohol, but ever since you stepped foot in that place all you had been imagining were his veiny hands all over your body, how pretty his long fingers were and how much you wanted them inside you. He hadn’t even touched you once, but your panties were feeling damp already just by staring at his hands or seeing him clenching his jaw. You hadn’t noticed that your fidgeting with your necklace had caught his attention and he was now practically staring at your boobs without any hint of shame in his eyes. Your chest was heaving up and down as his eyes set your skin ablaze and your thoughts ran wild. Of course his gaze didn’t miss your heavy breathing. His fist was clenched on his glass and the veins on his arm protruded even more than usual. Your brain was so intoxicated with him that it completely forgot how to form sentences, leaving him without a reply. He leaned closer to you over the table and all but whispered.

“Just say the words, and I’ll give you whatever you want. All you have to do is say it.”

You hesitated, questioning whether you should swallow your pride or not. You stared into his deep brown eyes, glistening with lust, and admired his plump, slightly parted lips, silently pleading for you to stop this stupid game and finally admit what you’re feeling for each other. He was done playing, and so were you.

“It’s finally time for those eclairs.” 

A knowing smile spread on his face, as if he had just won the lottery.

The ride to your place was awfully silent. You felt like you could cut the tension in the atmosphere with a knife. Sitting near him in the back of the cab and just feeling his presence so close to you kept your skin burning up during the entire ride. He still hadn't touched you in the slightest, not even on your hand, and at this point you thought it was intentional just so you'd become desperate for him. It was working. It felt like the drive was taking ages, so you decided to have some fun and tease him a little.

You slowly slid your hand over your legs, starting from your knees and going up towards the hem of your dress, pulling it up ever so slightly. He noticed your movements instantly, and his eyes snapped to you. Now that you were assured he was watching, your hand traveled further under your dress, carefully so it doesn't reveal too much, and started running your own fingers across your damp panties.

His eyes widened, and you saw his adam's apple move when he swallowed a lump in his throat. "What do you think you're doing?" he whispered.

"What does it look like to you? I am an independent woman. Since you have not laid a hand on me all day, I'm doing it myself."

"You're an impatient one, aren't you?" you maintained his gaze but didn't stop your actions, slipping a finger underneath your underwear and whimpering ever so quietly, enough for only him to hear. You were determined to bring him down.

Like you had just pressed a button, his body reacted to your sounds faster than expected. The vein on his hand twitched as he quickly grabbed your wrist and held it in place.

"If you don't stop that, I’ll make sure you have trouble walking tomorrow." his words sent a shiver down your spine. With that, he firmly pulled your hand away and intertwined his fingers with yours, as if preventing you from causing more trouble. You decided to obey him, for now.

After a couple of minutes, you were arriving at your place. He followed you silently into the building and into the small elevator, where you were met with another crisis. He looked like he tried really hard to restrain himself as he leaned with his back and head against the mirror. He was looking at you through furrowed brows and hooded eyes, and you wondered why did he put himself through this struggle, when he could’ve had you right then and there. Pretending to check your mascara in the mirror behind him, you placed one hand on his chest and leaned over him, your face dangerously close to his neck, making sure your exposed cleavage pressed against him in the process. You didn’t care how obvious it was, he was clearly enjoying it. He did nothing but watch you, but his sigh and accelerating breath rate were giving him away. As soon as you reached your level, you instantly shot out of the elevator and got to your door in record time. 

The moment you set foot into the apartment and closer the door behind you, any control that you had before, just vanished into thin air. 

“Fucking finally”. He wasted no time in pressing you against the wall, both hands holding the sides of your face while he kissed you with all the pent up frustration from that day. You could feel his whole body onto you and yet you wanted more, your hands grabbing fistfuls of his shirt and tugging at it in an attempt to bring him even closer. His lips were soft but aggressive at the same time, the kiss neither too intense nor too slow, earning chills all over your spine the first time his warm tongue entered your mouth. It was still not enough, so you took over and laced your fingers at the back of his head, pulling on his hair while pushing yourself into him. His hands started traveling down your body, gripping your waist and hips with force as he pulled you even closer, making you feel his erection against you in the process. 

Out of breath, you broke the kiss to take a good look at him in this state. He was looking at you through glossy, hooded eyes, with his plump lips parted and glistening from the intensity of your kiss. He looked so hot, you realized you might not make it to the bedroom. 

Closing in the distance once again, his hands went to squeeze your ass through your dress as he started placing wet kisses down the side of your neck, painfully slowly, sending shivers all over your spine. You lifted a leg up to snake around his own, as if to invite his hands to stop wasting time and get under your skirt already.

“You’re surprisingly gentle for someone who’s been trying to get into my pants all day.” you felt him squeeze your ass harder, and he suddenly bit the soft skin under your ear and sucked on it, earning a gasp from you.

He didn’t reply, but instead slid his hand up your thigh and ran his fingers over your soaking panties.

“And you’re surprisingly wet for someone who supposedly hates me.” he teasingly rubbed the tip of his finger on your clothed clit, making you whine in response. It was almost as if the fabric wasn’t there at all, given how thin it was in the first place. “What did you buy this pretty underwear for, just to ruin it later?”

“Since when do you care about my lingerie?”

“I thought you wanted me to, since you brought me with you to that store and even asked for my opinion.” He pushed your panties to the side and properly coated his fingers with your juices. “You were such a dirty little slut for doing that to me.” his words shot straight to your core.

“Me, dirty? That little head of yours has a lot of issues. It’s your own fault for liking me in the first place.” you teased.

Hearing that, he pushed two fingers into your hole and you moaned. “You can talk shit all you want, but your body can’t lie about how much you want me, princess.” He pulled his hand away from your core, and took his own fingers, now coated with your essence, into his mouth, licking them clean. “Now be a good girl and take this dress off for me.” he said, pulling away from you. 

Not wanting to torture yourself any longer, you obeyed him, getting rid of your dress as quickly as possible. As he finally fully saw you in the pretty underwear, he eyed you from head to toe, as if he was looking at his prey, swallowing loudly. “Y/n, you’re so fucking gorgeous.” 

You pushed him back and led him to the couch, making him sit down. You quickly straddled his lap, making sure your boobs were right in his face as you grabbed the hair at the back of his head and brought your mouth to his ear, licking a stripe up from the side of his neck, reaching his earlobe. He shivered under you, and you started unbuttoning his shirt, while both his hands stroked over your boobs, touching your nipples and lightly pinching and twisting them over the thin material of the bra. The sensation was spreading into your entire body, making you moan right into his ear. You nibbled onto his earlobe, and he sighed loudly, grabbing your ass and pulling you on top of his dick, grinding into you. Your fingers ran over his now exposed chest and down to his belt, trying to get it undone. He grabbed your hands and undid it himself, and you stood up so he could get rid of his pants. 

Instead of sitting back on his lap, you dropped to your knees in between his legs and pulled his underwear down. His cock looked so red and hard, it seemed almost painful, and made your mouth water. You wanted to torture him some more though, so you stuck your tongue out and slowly ran it up from the base to his swollen tip, all while looking directly into his eyes. His eyebrows were furrowed and he was biting his lower lip so hard, as if to keep him from making any sound. You were going to change that. You swirled your tongue around the tip, collecting the drops of precum, before taking him whole into your mouth. As you started bobbing your head, you made sure to take a little more of him each time, pushing your own limit gradually, looking up at him from time to time. “Fuck, you look so pretty like this. You’re taking me so well.” he said, trying to keep himself from forming any other sounds, and you wondered why wasn’t he letting go already. You wanted to make him a moaning mess. One of your free hands started playing with his balls, as you ran your nails across his thigh with the other one. Going a little deeper, his cock hit the back of your throat, and you paused for a second, swallowing around him, which earned a long, breathy moan from him. There, that was your reward. You continued taking him as deep as you could, looking up at him with wide eyes. This was his breaking point, as he couldn’t control his sounds anymore, his mouth was agape, letting out small grunts and whimpers now and then, and you felt his hips struggling to keep still. As the ache in your pussy was getting unbearable because of your actions, your own hand came to play with your clit to get some sort of release, moaning around his cock. 

He didn’t miss this, as suddenly, his hand flew to your hair and he held you still. “Don’t you dare touch yourself. Get up” he said in a demanding voice. He followed you up himself, and completely slid his shirt and underwear off of him, then laid down on the carpet. “I want you to sit on my face. Let me have my dessert and enjoy you like you deserve.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. After discarding your panties, you placed your knees on either side of his head and carefully lowered your cunt closer to him, but he grabbed your ass and aggressively pulled you onto his mouth, making you gasp and grip the couch beside you for support. The feeling of his wet and warm tongue against you was making your thighs weak. He started by licking a long stripe across your folds, then alternated between sucking at your clit, drawing patterns with his tongue across your sensitive spot at different paces and intensities. Your sounds and whimpers were a mess, and you could feel your orgasm building with each second. He was eating you out like a starved man, face buried completely under your pussy, and the view was only contributing to your arousal. One of his hands snaked up to your nipple and started playing with it, adding to the sensation. When he suddenly applied more pressure to a certain angle, you thought you were gonna lose your mind. “Fuck, h/n, right there, please, don’t stop” was what you wanted to say, but you weren’t sure your words came out coherently. Either way, he got the message, and a few seconds later, you were coming undone on his tongue, letting out a few high-pitched moans as he helped you ride out your high.

After regaining composure, you stood up to let him breathe. His lips and chin were glistening from your juices, and he wiped them off with the back of his hand. “That was delicious. You’re a fucking goddess, did you know that?” he said as he stood himself up, grabbed your face and kissed you with force.

“Just fuck me already.”

“You don’t need to tell me twice.” he said as he pushed you against your table, having you lie down on it. He quickly grabbed a condom from his jeans and rolled it on his still painfully hard cock. Grabbing your legs and holding them on each side of him, he rubbed the tip of his member over your clit a few times before fully pushing it into your tight hole, swearing in the process. He wasted no time before moving, slowly at first to let you adjust, then suddenly slammed his hips into you with force, earning a loud moan from you. “Fuck, do that again, please” you said, already feeling your second orgasm starting to build up. He thrusted into you harder and deeper, filling the room with your sounds everytime his skin met yours. The way he filled you up was absolutely delicious, clouding your vision and making you lose yourself in your pleasure as he was hitting all the right spots inside you. 

“Ever since your brought me into that store, all I could think of was fucking you in your pretty lingerie, imagining how your boobs would bounce up and down while I pound into you like this.” you took his hand and brought it to your lips, silently asking him to let you suck onto his fingers. “You don’t know how much of a torture that wa- fuck” you took his long and pretty fingers into your mouth and swirled your tongue around them, mimicking the way you sucked him off earlier and watching him lose his ability to speak as his mouth hung open. “H/n, harder, don’t stop, I’m going to come.” you said in a desperate attempt to get him to shut up and concentrate. Motivated by your words, he increased his pace, and after a few more hard and sloppy thrusts, you reached your second orgasm, soon followed by his own. His whole body twitched as he came down from his high, both of you panting, and exhausted.

Pulling out of you, he quickly discarded the condom and took you into his arms to place both you and him comfortably on the couch.

“That was fucking hot” he said, still holding you in his arms while you were catching your breaths. 

“Yeah. I think I might hate you a little less after this.” you said and you both laughed.

After coming back to your senses, you got up and went straight to the kitchen. A few seconds later, you came back holding the box he bought you from the french bakery, handing him an eclair.

“I knew why I saved those chocolate eclairs for later. They taste better after you’ve been craving them all day, don’t you think?”

He just smiled in response. “You might be right. By the way, I won. It seems like you’ll be drinking ice americanos again, after all.”

[jincherie]

kiss it better | jjk

~ COMMISSION FOR @cinnaminsvga​​ ~

✩ — pairing: jungkook x reader ✩ — genre: college/uni au, smut, cheerleader!jk, pining, borderline crack ✩ — words: 11.7k ✩ — rating: 18+ ✩ — warnings: koo takes a tumble, explicit sexual content; clothed sex, unprotected sex (not recommended), creampie, handjobs,light subby!jk, hand-holding during sex (potent), whining, thigh-riding, vaginal sex, minor hair pulling, public sex (sort of), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, light dirty talk ✩ — notes: out later than intended and a bit longer than intended !! whoops!!! i won’t/don’t charge if i go over the commissioned amount becayse that’s my bad!! but yeah. its been a hot second since i last wrote smut!! also none of my friends were awake to proofread this so….. apologies if it’s shit and has typos! its 2am! pls enjoy and lmk whast u think!!

When one goes to Kim Seokjin for advice, it’s almost guaranteed to never end well. This is something Jungkook learns quickly when he mistakenly follows treasured advice to ‘be smart’ and ‘use his assets’. He just did what he was told! Of course, the execution was a bit poor… and embarrassing. But hey, if rocking up to cheer practice in a skirt doesn’t woo your crush, what will?

masterlist | — posted; 01.03.2020

TUESDAY, SEMESTER 2 WEEK FOUR

It’s a beautiful day, the sun has just come to peak out from behind the clouds that had earlier obscured its climb from the horizon, and the grass of the Biological Sciences Library courtyard glistens with raindrops left over from the brief shower that prefaced the sun’s belated appearance. Students are finally beginning to emerge from the safety of the undercover walkways and overhangs, venturing boldly to shortcut over the grass. University life resumes, and everything falls back into its place, all as usual.

“Yah, is that Jungkook? Wait what is he—”

Well, everything except for one thing.

A red and black-clad figure slams to a stop right where two students are sitting and minding their own business outside the café attached to the back of the library—there’s no time to say hello. The table rocks dangerously on its beaten, metal leg, the impact of Jungkook’s beeline almost sending it straight to the ground if the two others weren’t already seated there to catch it.

“OW!” Jimin is never one to be quiet in his complaints, all too happy to holler his outrage at the top of his lungs. As his oldest hyung would say, no attention is bad attention. “Hey you almost jammed my fingers!”

Startled as Taehyung might have been, his focus is quickly shifted to other things. His wide eyes scan Jungkook’s panting form, taking in the clothes clinging to him like a second skin and the beet red colour of his face and ears. It’s not hard to put two and two together, but what comes out of his mouth isn’t exactly the most pressing thing he wants to ask, “Jungkook, why are you wearing the female cheer leading uniform I gave you?”

There’s a somewhat crazed look that makes itself known in the youngest’s eyes. “AHA!” he throws a finger in Taehyungs face, accusing. “So you ADMIT it’s a female uniform! Taehyung, you ass, how could you!”

Taehyung’s face is a question mark and Jimin squints, confused and still huffy about nearly losing his fingers and his triple-shot iced caramel latte that he may or may not have charmed the barista into gifting him for free. He wants to know what is going on and he wants to know NOW, damn it!

“What are you on about?” he asks, wrinkling his nose as he takes his drink into hand to prevent any future risk of spillage. “Why do you look like that time you ran the half-marathon on a dare?”

Jungkook glares at him, but it’s about as effective as it would be coming from a puppy. “Be quiet and sip your drink,” he says boldly, still attempting to get his breathing under control. Jimin considers throwing a retort back but ultimately decides against, it, shrugging and doing just that. He doesn’t want it getting warm, after all.  

“Uh, yeah,” Taehyung says, sounding like he is a split second away from tacking on ‘duh’ at the end. “You asked me for a cheerleading uniform? I thought you knew some chick that needed a spare, I didn’t know you wanted one to wear.”

At Jungkook’s dumbfounded expression, Taehyung takes the liberty of continuing. “I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with it? You look surprisingly hot in a skirt, your ass looks fine as hell. But you seem kind of angry so IN MY DEFENSE, how was I supposed to know? That you wanted a male uniform? You never specified so—”

While each word that came out of Taehyung’s mouth just seemed to rile him up more, a different look passes over Jungkook’s features at that comment. “Wait, my ass looks good?” He straightens, attempting to peer over his own shoulder to catch a glimpse. “I wonder if she… No!”

He shakes his head suddenly to clear those thoughts and get back on track, whipping that same accusing finger in Taehyung’s face once more and levelling him with a renewed glare. 

“Because of you, I just had the most humiliating experience of my life, and it was all in front of you-know-who!” His voice starts strong, but as he continues it shrinks to more of an angry whisper, his brows scrunched in a clear display of his displeasure. “I literally am about to commit seppuku.”

“Weeb,” Jimin utters at the same time as Taehyung asks, “y/n?” Jimin’s head whips up at the keyword. 

Jungkook’s fight has all but left him at this point, and he pulls out one of the metal chairs to slump in it, defeatedly. His ears are turning crimson again as he recalls the events that had traumatised him so, and he slams his head to the table with a groan, muttering to himself in a voice that sounds dangerously like a sob.

“—stupid, was so stupid of me. I never should have asked Seokjin-hyung for advice. For actually listening I deserve nothing short of death. I’m so embarrassed I’m gonna throw myself into the lake.”

“Don’t throw yourself in there, think of the fishes—” Taehyung says at the same time as Jimin squawks, “WHAT?! You got advice from Seokjin?! He knows who your crush is? Oh my god, you’re more stupid than I thought…”

It’s all Jungkook can do to simply rest his head on the grubby-feeling table, eyes unfocused as he stares into the distance and regrets almost every single decision he has made in his waking life. 

FOUR DAYS EARLIER

“My roommate,” Seokjin says, in between gratuitous sips of his monstrously sugary drink. “I think I’m almost about to get him to crack.”

“I feel bad for him,” you say, not looking up from your laptop despite the urge to gorge on your own drink. You made a goal not to look like a goblin when you woke up this morning and sipping your drink at a reasonable pace is a good start. “Being stuck in close quarters with you all the time. No doubt he needs therapy by now.”

As expected, Seokjin ignores you. You wonder if this is how he has managed not to get usurped as leader of the Contemporary Poetry Performance Club.

(To condense a very long story— he didn’t take being kicked out of the Drama Club very well. That’s on him though, he probably shouldn’t have called the Club Leader a tasteless fool for ordering a salad with his Happy Meal instead of nuggets. But, you digress.)

“I think I’m getting close these days,” the male muses, not-so-subtly making a reach for the McDonalds apple pie you have resting on the table next to your laptop. You smack his hand away without so much as a blink, more than used to having to defend any and all food from his wandering hands by this point. He continues, unaffected by the rebuttal, “Like, really close. It’s not long before my unrelenting bastardous antics wear him down and he finally breaks, spilling all his deepest secrets and confessing his long-time crush on me, thus allowing me to bring this act of friends-to-lovers pining to a close and get to the steamy stuff. “

At his spiel, you finally look at him, sporting a concerned and confused expression, if not somewhat intrigued. “… Are you talking about Jungkook?”

Seokjin chokes on the long sip he’d begun to drag up the straw, indignance making his voice rise. “NO, dumbass, I’m talking about Namjoon! Although…” He pauses only to bring a finger to stroke his chin, like a villain straight from an episode of Lazy Town, “You know, I never thought I’d be one for that harem shit, but now I think about it…”

“Gross,” you groan, wrinkling your nose. Seokjin releases a villainous cackle and you have no choice but to raise your fist in promise. He gets the message and quietens down immediately.

“No, but speaking of that little twerp,” Seokjin quickly starts up again, placing his drink down on the table. You feel an ounce of regret, knowing that means he’s about to talk for a longer time than you’re ready for. “I’m close to breaking him too.”

“He told you who his crush is?” you ask, brows raising in shock. Seokjin lets out a great sigh like the weight of the world is on his shoulders, making you snort.

“No,” he grumbles, before brightening straight after. “But! I’m getting close. He came to me for advice this morning.”

At his words, you’ve now completely abandoned whatever you were doing on your laptop and are looking at him in disbelief. “You’re lying.”

“Am not!” Seokjin denies, huffy. “He did! He wanted help making his crush fall in love with him, and so of course he came to me, Kim Seokjin, master of the heart and modern-day cupid.”

You pin him with a deadpan look. “Namjoon was out, wasn’t he.”

Seokjin’s glare is all the answer you need. He continues like you hadn’t even spoken in the first place.

“And since he so wisely came to me, of all people, and put his love life in my wise, gentle hands, I gave him the best advice anyone could possibly get.” The way his chest has swelled with pride and he’s looking all-too-pleased with himself doesn’t fill you with a good feeling. “I told him to play it smart, and use his assets.”

At first, you’re confused. “What, like… his cuteness? His endearing personality?”

“NO, dumbass, his assets! His ass! His thighs! His itty-bitty waist!” You think you hear him muttering something like ‘that lucky bitch’ under his breath, but can’t be sure. “Also, don’t think I missed you calling him cute, y/n. I’m filing that shit away for later.”

“I’ll kill you,” you inform him, but the threat has long since lost its impact. He rolls his eyes.

“Shut up, we both already know exactly how 'peggable’ you think he is.” He takes a haughty sip of his drink like he knows he’s right, and you hate that he is. “It’s not the most incriminating thing I have on you.”

You make the strategic decision not to say anything and dig your hole deeper, and Seokjin seems pleased at your silent admit of defeat.

“Anyway,” he says again, smacking the cream on top of his drink down into the liquid with a spoon. There is some fallout, but that’s never stopped him before. “Kid’s dumb as shit but pure of heart. I’m interested to see whether he will actually take my advice.”

“He won’t for sure,” you scoff, returning to your laptop at last. “Anyone who takes your advice is guaranteed to have an empty head and quarter of a brain cell to their name. Jungkook is smarter than that.”

As expected, Seokjin squawks in outrage, and it harmonises with the ambience of dead silence in your corner of the library. He doesn’t let the topic rest for the remainder of the day.    

WEDNESDAY, WEEK FIVE

You think that the day Jungkook first rocked up to cheer practice at the gym a week ago at the same time you were coaching the women’s basketball team, is one firmly burned into your memory for the rest of your life. And, honest to god, you wouldn’t have it any other way.  

Because the boy, in all his slim-waisted, sculpted-ass-and-thighs glory, had rocked up in a cheerleading crop top and skirt.

You have absolutely no idea why he decided to wear that to his first session after joining, but you do know that while the sight of him usually makes you drool, the sight of him in that made your brain cease all higher functioning and you, in essence, became a dog. You almost barked when you saw him, for real.

Even from across the room though, you’d quickly been able to gather that he hadn’t worn it on purpose (somehow), as his face flushed bright crimson and he quickly began to look like he wanted to neck himself in the middle of the gym. Yoongi, another bastard friend of yours who through a series of unfortunate events and regrettable decisions (for him) had become the cheer captain, had been insulted that Jungkook had shown up like that and “hadn’t taken cheer seriously”, and so had given him a punishment. Yoongi said that if he wanted to rock up in a skirt so badly, then for every coming practice he had to wear a skirt again.

Had you not been busy drooling you probably would have felt bad for Jungkook, as you did later when Yoongi filled you in. As it were, in the moment you’d nearly copped a basketball to the face for being so distracted. Regrettably, you’d had to turn away from Jungkook and back to your actual duties: coaching. 

Although with Yoongi being out for your blood, you have had plenty of opportunities in the past week to ogle to your heart’s desire. A real shameful amount, if you’re being honest with yourself.

“Bora!” you call, watching the girl in question halt across the gym. “Fix your footwork or I’m gonna smack you!”

The girl rolls her eyes and turns away, flicking a ponytail of dark hair over her shoulder as she does so, but listens to what you say. The familiar squeak of rubber on gym flooring fills the air as she starts the drill anew. She has a tendency to get lazy and sloppy in her movements if you don’t ride her ass, and she knows it as much as you do.

“How did you even managed to get the coaching position?” Seulgi asks from next to you, her response almost cut off by a loud racket from the cheer side of the gym. It takes all of your willpower not to fall into the trap and look over. “I feel like people like you shouldn’t be in positions of power.”

You don’t even bother arguing with her since she’s technically right and you agree. “Sheer dumb luck,” you tell her, risking a glance to the side if only to give Yoongi the stink eye. “Actually, if you really wanna know, I only went for it because Yoongi wanted it and he did something that really soured my yoghurt and pissed me off. So I applied out of spite. I probably shouldn’t have gotten the job though.”

“Huh,” Seulgi voices, eyes unfocused. “Well you’re not too bad for a fake. The team has actually been improving since you took over.”

“That’s probably because you guys went through coaches so fast for a while that for like, six months you didn’t really have one.”

“Touché.”

The only reason the girl is on the sidelines in the first place is because she’d looked over at the wrong time and caught it just as Jungkook started one of the tumbling routines, getting it almost perfect on the first go and in the process flashing his pert ass to the air and any sorry beholders. He might have been wearing bike shorts under the punishment skirt he was modelling, and he might have traded the crop top for a singlet of reasonable length, but it was still a dangerous, nay lethal sight. You’d looked over at the same time so you knew why and how Seulgi managed to tumble and trip so terribly mid-drill. She rolled her ankle so bad that as she sits next to you right now with ice on it, it looks like there’s an entire boiled egg beneath the surface of her skin. It’s kind of gross but also kind of hard to look away from. 

Back to the topic at hand, there is just something about the sheer athleticism and heaven-blessed ease with which Jungkook backflips and cartwheels across the mat that turns you into a brainless slab of goo. You’re unsurprised that Seulgi got distracted and ended up hurting herself as a result of it.

The afternoon flies by and before you know it, it’s dark outside, and you’ve finished riding the collective women’s basketball team’s ass for the day. As they disperse and leave the gym at a leisurely pace, you collect Seulgi and help her towards the gym locker room to get some fresh ice for her ankle before she journeys to visit the university nurse. 

The cheer squad has just about finished up their own practice, and one by one they begin to filter out of the gym. Yoongi waddles over to where you stand by the door, eyeing Seulgi with a knowing look.

“Got distracted at the wrong time, huh?” He asks, very much already knowing the answer. You give him a dirty look while Seulgi goes bright pink.

Yoongi adjusts the collar of his university sports jacket, puffing his chest out. “That’s our golden boy for ya,” he brags, sounding very much like one of the aunties and old women you find gossiping on the street near the markets. “He was born for cheer. It’s like he’s been tumbling since the day he was born. Probably even came out doing a backflip.”

You want to tell him to stop pulling shit out of his ass, but you can’t bring yourself to say anything when you agree so wholeheartedly. You’re saved from having to summon a response when in the next second, Yoongi gets the urge to turn and catches Jungkook red-handed on his way out of the gym. He seems in a hurry, moving almost like he’s trying to sneak out unnoticed, but halts at the unmistakable sound of Yoongi’s holler when it breaches the air.

“Ah there he is— Jungkook-ah!” Even while calling out, Yoongi somehow still has an indolent, lazy drawl. “Good job today! Also, proud of you for committing to your punishment. Keep it up!”

The poor raven-haired boy had already looked somewhat mortified at being singled out amongst the students exiting the gym, but now as Yoongi finishes speaking and his big doe eyes flick to the side and take in you and Seulgi listening in, his face very suddenly and violently erupts into a blush.

“Th-thanks,” he squeaks, nodding, the tips of his ears darkening to match his face. His eyes are flicking from you to Yoongi in such a way he almost reminds you of a scared rodent. When it becomes clear he has nothing more to say, he turns on his heel and flees in the direction of the locker room. For his sake, you don’t ogle him as he goes. There’s a time and a place, and he seems so embarrassed that you’d feel bad for checking him out right now. 

“… He’s so cute,” Yoongi remarks a few seconds after Jungkook disappears out the door, gaze still trained in the direction he’d left. “No wonder I always look over and see you drooling, y/n.”

You agree with the first part, but honestly… you could have done without that second comment. You give him the stink eye to let him know just that, before tapping Seulgi and readjusting your grip in preparation to walk once more.

“If you’re immune, Min, you’re not human,” Seulgi says, cheeky glint in her eye. Your heart warms—you can always count on her to defend you in the face of life’s meanies.

SATURDAY, WEEK 5

It’s not often you find yourself making the long, arduous trek down the street to the apartment building where Seokjin et al. live, but it does happen on the occasion. If possible, you like to make the journey in the morning or the afternoon, because there is little to no cover on the path that takes you there and the only thing you like less than being in the sun when you don’t have to is sweating.

Still, you make the trek today, even though it’s technically past the point in the morning where you would refuse. The heat starts to come anywhere from 8 to 9 o’clock, even earlier on the stinkier days. Call you lazy, but you stick by your own rules because they work and reduce your suffering considerably. 

Namjoon is one of your project partners in a random elective the two of you chose, and he was meant to give you a part of the assignment he’d been working on yesterday but, of course, forgot it. And then again today, when he was meant to drop it off on his way to work, he forgot it once more. So here you are, walking to his stupid apartment and preparing to break in because it’s due next week and you need his part to finish yours, damn it. 

Thankfully, air conditioning greets you the second you step inside the building and cools down whatever heat has managed to cling to your form from outside. Luck is on your side—no sweat today, babey! In a slightly better mood now that you’re out of the sun, you follow the path your legs have committed to memory to Namjoon’s apartment. 

Normally you’d rely on someone being home to let you in so you can ransack Namjoon’s room, but in his apologetic text he’d informed you that everyone is out and so with a great, big sigh you’d resigned yourself and dug the lockpicking set you received one Christmas out from under your bed. It’s heavy in your back pocket now as you walk down the hallway of the floor their apartment is on, already feeling like you’ve committed a crime. Before you can even throw yourself into thoughts of which tool would work best on their front door, you catch sight of something you most definitely weren’t expecting. 

There’s someone else in front of the apartment door, jiggling the doorknob and attempting to work it. You don’t know if they realise its locked and are trying their luck anyway, or whether they’ve yet to figure it out, but while their back is turned to you they have provided you with an excellent view.

Broad shoulders with tan skin peaking out from below a muscle singlet and glistening with sweat where their body catches the light. Dark curls are plastered to the back of their neck, arms out and a tattoo sleeve on one leading your gaze down its length. He’s very athletic, you gather of the stranger immediately, and you’re almost drooling at the way his bicep shifts and tenses as he tries the doorknob once more. Your gaze finally frees itself and scans over the rest of him; defined back, tiny waist, nice butt, thick thighs—

Wait. You know that waist. The sight of it bared by a skimpy cheerleading outfit is one you’ve committed to memory.

“Jungkook?” you say, feeling your stomach dip in excitement. Does it always do that when you see him? You can’t remember.

At the sound of your voice and how close it is, the male jumps in fright and lets out a noise eerily close to a squeak. He spins, slamming his back against the door and smacking a hand over his heart.

“Oh my god,” he breathes, eyes closing and head falling back against the door with a thud. The sight is borderline sinful when combined with his damp hair and sweaty form, and your thoughts threaten to take a dangerous route before you reign them in. You smack your libido back in place— down, girl! “y/n, you scared the living shit out of me.”

A moment passes before his eyes snap open and the breath leaves him in a whoosh, and he’s looking at you like a cornered rabbit, cheeks already warming in his fluster. “W-wait, y/n? What… What are you doing here?”

Cute. If you could, you think you’d pack him up and put him in your pocket.  

You ignore his question only for the sake of asking him your own—much less incriminating as a choice. “Are you trying to break into your own apartment, Mister Jungkook?”

Instantly, as you’d almost come to expect at this point, his cheeks flush cutely. 

“Wh- I, uh…” he swallows and clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “No! Kind of? I went for a jog earlier and Namjoon-hyung kind of… uh… he locked me out.”

As he speaks, you’re reminded of how much you actually like his voice. It’s smooth, melodious; even when its shaking slightly from nerves. Why is he nervous? The longer you stand in his presence the more curious you become. You kind of want to tease him a little.

You hum, a smile curling the corners of your lips and one of your brows raising.  “Ah, so he’s scorned both of us, I see. But fear not, little gumdrop!”

He’s staring at you in something akin to flustered bewilderment as you reach behind you and pull out your lockpicking kit, brandishing it like a trophy. “I have the solution!”

“…” He’s stunned into silence, it seems, but you don’t mind. The look on his face right now is super cute—you kind of want to pinch his cheeks. Okay, damn it, you can’t help it—you pinch his cheek and make a short cooing noise as you step past, preparing to help him break into his apartment. At least this way it feels less like a crime and more like a service.

(You sneak a sly look back at Jungkook as you pass him, and your heart squeezes at the sight of his cheeks flushing pink from your teasing action, eyes wide as they follow your form. This boy is gonna kill you one day.)

Usually you have a bit of trouble picking locks (you don’t do it often) but you crack this one surprisingly fast, and before you know it the door is swinging open and you’re letting out a noise of glee.

“Excellent!” you announce, before darting right in to search for what you came for. Namjoon left it conveniently on the dining table, so you dash over and grab the folder and USB before turning around to be on your merry way. 

When you return to the door, Jungkook is still standing there, tattooed hand pressed to the cheek you’d pinched – which are bright red, by the way— and his eyes somewhat dazed.

“See you at practice later, Jungkook!” you say, waving the folder to accentuate the farewell. “Don’t forget the punishment skirt! You look too good in it, it would be a crime to forget it.”

Once you’re done speaking, you turn back the way you’re walking, missing the facial expression that accompanies his flustered sputtering of a goodbye. Your stomach still flips in excitement as you retreat, a skip in your step, and you can’t help but think it wouldn’t be a bad thing if you ended up seeing more of Jungkook outside of practice.

WEDNESDAY, WEEK 6

You’re sitting in the campus sushi place, escaping the midday heat and grabbing something to eat, minding your own business. It is, though, a nice day and you don’t mind sitting back and just admiring it. This changes when a figure suddenly comes bolting towards you from a distance and nearly bowls you and the contents of your sushi container over.

“SEOKJIN!” you exclaim, barely having saved your food from a sudden and unfortunate meet & greet with the floor. You give him a glare strong enough to kill. “What the hell! My karaage chicken!!! Dude you KNOW they only make a certain amount of these per day, you almost made me drop it and I hadn’t even taken a bit yet! Honestly! You—”

“Shut! Shut up!” Seokjin grips you by the shoulders, giving you a shake; it makes your eyes lock-on to his flushed face, his breath coming in pants from his exertion. “Shut up I have something to say and it’s important!”

“Stop shaking me!” you cry, wriggling out of his grip and leaning as far back into your chair as you can to get away from this nutcase. “And what?! You finally slipped up and Namjoon found all the secret letters you write for him when you’re horny?!”

“No, better!” Seokjin makes like he’s going to grab your shoulders again and you smack his hands away. He continues, eyes alight with something akin to glee that makes him look just a little bit crazy. “I finally did it! I found out who that twerp’s crush is! You won’t beli—”

“What?!” you sputter, your gut churning for some reason. Is the sushi you ate off? “He told you? No way he would be stupid enough to tell you—”

“Hey!” the male cries, indignant. “I resent that! Also no, he didn’t technically tell me, but I have people on the inside…”

It takes a moment for you to scan through people in your head before it clicks. You gasp. “You bullied it out of his friends?! Seokjin! Taehyung and Jimin don’t deserve that!”

“I didn’t bully them! They told me of their own accord!” He points a finger at you in retribution. “Albeit, it was by accident, but I digress.”

You’re shaking your head, returning to your sushi and ignoring the odd sensations in your gut. “This is blood information, man. I don’t know if I can sit and be accomplice to—”

“It’s you!” Seokjin blurts, sticking his pink-haired head right in your face. “The twerp has a crush on you! Finally, at least one of my shipping dreams is coming true!”

You’re so shocked by the information literally thrown in your face that you honest to god almost drop your sushi, again. You stare at the male, mouth open, as you flounder to get some order back in your thoughts.

The first thing you think to say is—“What? No way. Your info is dodgy, man.”

“Look, I know you’re sensitive so I try not to say this often, but are you dumb, y/n?” Seokjin stands back now, hand on his hip.  The look he’s giving you isn’t impressed. “It makes so much sense! Why else would he sign up to cheerleading in a skirt to use his assets if it wasn’t on at the same time as whatever his crush does? Honestly, I should have seen it sooner—the way he goes bright pink every time he sees you and his eyes sparkle like an anime girl every time we mention you. I just thought he was scared of girls or had pinkeye or somethin’.”

You kind of want to smack him, but the rest of you is busy attempting to process all the information unloaded on you. Your stomach gives a giddy flip, and you decide it can only mean one thing in the wake of finding out that Jungkook’s mysterious crush is you.

Maybe, just maybe, you like him too.

…

You’re gonna pursue him. 

THURSDAY, WEEK 7

It seems that Jungkook has heard that his crush on you has been leaked, because you’ve been trying to track him down and confirm it ever since last week and he’s been avoiding you like the plague. You think you see him kicking up dust as he retreats as fast as his legs will take him around hallway corners when he sees you at the other end, you catch glimpses of him across courtyards as he spins and flees in the opposite directions. A part of you wonders whether its because he does indeed have a crush on you and is embarrassed that you know, of whether it’s because he doesn’t have a crush on you and is embarrassed that you might think he does. 

Well, you can’t know until you talk to him and it seems like you won’t be able to talk to him unless you ambush him in the men’s toilets or something. Which, by the way, isn’t something you’re going to do because even though your friends might be crazy, you’re most definitely not. 

It was even to the point that Jungkook missed the first two practices after you found out, and you have no doubt that he would have avoided you by missing even more had Yoongi not threatened him with adding a crop top to his punishment attire should he miss another practice. He’d showed up for the next one but every time he came within five metres of you he blushed and kept his eyes to the ground, fleeing as soon as he can. 

It’s a little bit frustrating, and he’s still cute when he acts all shy, but you really wish you could track him down just so you know whether its true or not.

Perhaps, with time, he’ll grow a little less skittish and let you get close enough to start a conversation. You just have to hold out hope that a moment will come that will allow you to start bridging things back together with the two of you.

FRIDAY, WEEK 7

That moment comes sooner than you expect when, just the next day, you round a corner alongside Seulgi, having just come from the women’s locker rooms, and walk straight into someone. It’s like walking into a brick wall and kind of hurts. You stumble and let out a sound in pained surprise, but manage to stay on your feet for the most part— the joy at that moment of success passes quickly when you become aware of the cool feeling seeping down your thigh and stomach.

Before even looking to see who you walked into, your gaze is directed down to see what was spilt on you— it’s light pink, and the sugary sweet scent that brushes your nose and sticky sensation that begins to make itself known on your skin are something you recognise instantly.

Strawberry milk.

You look up in something akin to horror, but the expression all but falls from your face when you see who the culprit is.

Jungkook stands there looking very much like a deer caught in headlights, drink carton crumpled and empty in his hand now that its contents are all over your front. As you gaze at him you watch the tip of his ears turn bright red, eyes wide and so unguarded you swear you can see the thoughts whipping through his mind beyond them. You also see the instant regret and mortification that washes over his boyish features as he realises what has just happened and who he has spilt his drink on.

“y-y/n—” he stutters, voice caught in his throat. Whatever he was planning on saying is quickly overpowered by an obnoxious voice from his side.

You hadn’t even noticed Yoongi was walking alongside Jungkook until you hear him speak, “Wow, you know what you were coming around that corner so hard and fast that this is on you, y/n.”

When Yoongi first started talking, Jungkook had seemed relieved, but now a sense of panic has taken over his features. 

“N-no! I am so sorry! This was my fault, I shouldn’t have had it open when I couldn’t even drink it yet. I just really like strawberry milk, and…” He’s so endearingly remorseful as he speaks, big puppy eyes looking apologetically into your own like he’s searching for any hint of forgiveness there to spare.

For a moment you’re absolutely blindsided by the way he just made your heart squeeze in your chest with how damn cute he is, but you recover just in time to catch it as the shocked expression on Yoongi’s face melds into something devious and fitting for his bastardly title.

“Right, he’s right, totally our bad,” Yoongi says, doing a complete 180 and bewildering both you and Seulgi beside you. “Wow, look at your pants, totally soaked through man. Here, come with me— it’s only fair we help grab you something to change into.”

“What—” you don’t get to finish before the cat-faced bastard grabs you by the arm and begins dragging you down the hall in the direction you came from. Seulgi and Jungkook remain in place, stunned by the turn in events. 

“Jungkook, head to practice and get them started! I want some pyramid practice, and then some tumbling from you and the others. Chop chop!” — is all Yoongi throws over his shoulder in dismissal, dragging you where you now realise is one of the other locker rooms. You gape at him as he walks straight up to the one that has been locked for months and opens it with a key.

Catching your expression, he shrugs. “Sometimes you just need a place of your own to hoard things.”

You don’t understand what he’s talking about until you step in and see a table in the corner near the doorway piled high with first aid supplies, twiggy sticks and energy drinks. Your bewildered subsequent scan of the room for more treasured objects is cut short when a lump of clothing smacks you in the face.

You just barely manage to fumble it into your grasp, unable to swallow your groan when you see what it is from the pattern alone.

“It’s the only thing spare,” Yoongi says, radiating true goblin energy. You don’t trust him as far as you can throw him right now but you don’t know where to look to disprove him. “Try not to get my cheerleaders too worked up.”

You have an inkling as to why he’s done this from his words, but can’t confirm it right now. You huff, moving off to one of the stalls. 

“If people get flashed, that’s on you.”

Ten minutes later sees you back in the open gymnasium with cool air brushing your legs that usually only get to see the light of day through rips in your jeans. You set your team to their tasks and drills already, so now you’re left alone with your thoughts. You know for sure now why Yoongi made you change into the cheerleading skirt.

Because ever since you walked out in it and nearly made him fall flat on his face in shock, Jungkook hasn’t been able to keep the blush off his cheeks or his eyes away from you for more than a few minutes at a time. You feel slightly empowered, contrary to how you thought the dangerously short piece of clothing was going to make you feel. 

You have a nice body, you’re comfortable admitting it, and the way that your unplanned flaunting of it seems to be affecting Jungkook… well it’s a nice stroke of the ego, you won’t lie, but it also makes your stomach flip giddily. God, you want him. You’ve always thought he was cute but ever since he joined cheer and rocked up in that skirt like a sweet, hot fool, it was over for you. He’s so… ugh.

Trucking through the practice of your team is, for once, a struggle. It’s so hard not to look over every few seconds to catch Jungkook when you can feel his gaze on you, and you know that once you give in you won’t be able to help being distracted afterwards. It’s a miracle you get through to the end of it while remaining sane. 

As your practice wraps up for the day, you allow yourself a glimpse to the side at last. What you see is a sweaty, panting Jungkook, the muscles of his arms straining as he holds up a brunette you vaguely recall as Tzuyu above his head. Wow, you’re actually a little startled at how much arousal just washed through you— is this normal? Maybe you’re more whipped than you thought. You don’t know.

What you do know, however, is that you want that boy, and right now especially you want to mess with him. Call it a con of being around such bastardous friends all the time, but you’re really feeling the urge. You barely manage to hold yourself back, marvelling at the animal he seems to reduce you to with just a flex of his bicep.

The practice for your basketball team finishes before cheerleading; Yoongi is a ruthless coach and relentless when it comes to formations and perfecting routines. More often than not their practices end long after yours. As your girls begin to filter out of the gymnasium, the cheer squad are still going. You make to follow after, but your name is called from the other side of the gym by a voice you recognise but know instantly shouldn’t be here. 

“y/n! Come here! Don’t ignore me!” Seokjin is the fiend in question, hollering at such an unmistakable frequency that you couldn’t ignore it if you tried. It’s like he’s followed in the footsteps of cats and has pinpointed the exact frequency that a baby’s cry is at, and is now using it to his advantage. You turn, wary, and see him waving like a dumbass. “Come here! Don’t make me pspspsps!”

Now annoyed, you stomp over if only so you can get within beating range. As soon as you reach a few feet away he ducks behind Yoongi though, so you don’t get to follow through on your caveman instincts to beat him over the head with a rock.

“What?” you ask, giving him a stinky look. “Are you like, stalking me or something? Why are you so obsessed with me?”

You can tell he wants to laugh, but his instinct to rile you up overpowers the humour of what you said. “You think you’re worth stalking? I don’t need to stalk you to know that your day consists almost entirely of eating, shitting, and staring at a certain ass.”

Well, he has you there. You shrug, “I’m a simple girl.”

Seokjin is momentarily bewildered that you didn’t rise to his bait and Yoongi chokes on his laughter beside you, the sound coming out squeaky. You’re glad someone is laughing, it makes your dick hard when people find you funny. Again, you’re a simple girl.

“Nice outfit, by the way,” Seokjin says. Apparently it doesn’t take him long to recover, and he’s already shifted topics. 

Yoongi, who had broken away to guide his team for a moment, chimes back in at the taller male’s comment. “It’s all apart of the keikaku, man. Everything is going perfectly. My golden boy is almost too fun to torment. I’ve tasted power and now I don’t know how to stop.”

“Who?” Seokjin asks, more out of habit than anything, before looking over to Yoongi’s minions and letting out a sound of realisation. “Ahh… Mister Jungkook.”

You swear you see the male in question, who is waiting his turn to begin the tumbling routine Yoongi has changed them onto, stiffen. You’re not sure whether it is a trick of the light or not, though, because in the next second he’s shuffling forward to second in line, juggling his weight from foot to foot with restless energy. His eyes are trained on his teammates flipping across the matts. 

“So you know too? y/n, you big-mouthed whore!” Seokjin exclaims, pinning you with an exaggerated look of scandal. Jungkook trips slightly in his step as he moves to the front of the line, barely a few metres away.

You don’t bother defending yourself, since Yoongi speaks before you can anyway. “That y/n likes Jungkook and has wanted to peg his cute ass since forever? Yeah, I know.”

The timing of Yoongi’s response is truly unfortunate. As he started speaking, Jungkook began his run up— and it seems that whatever snippet he heard as he started were enough to throw him off completely. He goes into the front flip kind of wonky, and you have a feeling of dread creep up as you watch him.

He doesn’t do the mid-air turns he is meant to, and instead goes to land after just one flip— the timing is off, though, and your breath hisses through your teeth and you physically cringe as you watch his ankle roll upon landing. 

“Ah SHIT!” he yelps, quickly dropping to the mat and removing pressure from his foot. You feel frozen as you watch, a large number of his teammates running over and asking him if he’s okay.

“Oh feck,” Yoongi says, checking his watch as he mutters to himself. “Shit. Okay we need to practice and only have the gym for another forty-five minutes, but he needs that looked at asap. Who…”

Barely a split-second passes before he’s looking right at you imploringly, with an inappropriately devious glint in the back of his eyes. 

“y/n, you’re free and you have first aid training right? Can you take him to get that wrapped and iced up?” He’s not even done asking you before he’s pushing you in the direction of the male currently curled on the floor. “That room should still be open— I forgot to lock it earlier.”

“Wait, I actually have—” you’re about to let him know about the mountain of schoolwork you have to catch up on, but of course he’s not having any of it. He’s already barking at his squad.

“Okay, everyone, back off and back to tumbling! y/n here will take care of our golden boy, we have the gym for the next forty-five minutes and we’re gonna make the most of it, damn it!”

Yoongi abandons you at Jungkook’s side, and at his command the rest of the cheerleader begrudgingly disperse— you think you catch a few of the female ones giving you the stink eye at their lost opportunity, and you know it shouldn’t stroke your ego but still it does. 

“I guess this is how the Kookie crumbled, huh,” you say, embarrassed that he could have heard all of what Yoongi said and attempting to cope using the classic— humour. 

Jungkook, who had turned his wide eyes and red face to you the second you started talking, now seems to be blushing harder. Evidently, for a number of reasons, he is mortified. It’s like he’s trying to hide behind the long curls that have fallen into his face. Needless to say, it’s not successful, and now both of you are embarrassed. One of you needs to take the lead.

But right now neither of you are wearing the pants.

“Alright, let’s get that looked at,” you say, wincing as you look at his ankle already beginning to swell. “Arms up.”

He obeys instantly and without question, and you’re torn between the primal powers within you wanting to both cuddle him and to drop your panties then and there. 

Getting Jungkook to a standing position while he can only use one leg is harder than you could have imagined, but you know that there’s no way you would have been able to lift him had he not helped you carry his weight. Once he’s upright and his arm is around your shoulder (still panting slightly and glistening with sweat, as you’re trying not to think about) you begin the arduous journey to the locker room Yoongi showed you earlier. 

Jungkook doesn’t really say anything during the trip there, and neither do you— except he has an excuse, considering he’s probably in a fair bit of pain right now. You don’t have an excuse, except that you’re trying desperately not to think about how you can feel each hard line of his body against you right now. It’s a whole-brain engaging kind of activity.

Thankfully, the room is unlocked as Yoongi said, and you grab a towel to lay across one of the cleaner looking benches on the far side of the room— just because its cleaner than the others doesn’t mean it’s clean, per se. You smile when you see Jungkook’s thankful expression.

“Right,” you say, staying in front of where he’s sitting for a moment as you shake your arms out; the boy really is just all muscle, honestly. “Pop your ankle up on the bench, and I’ll grab some ice and stuff to wrap it.”

Jungkook nods, obeying wordlessly. His cheeks still are tainted the slightest pink, and he’s making a point to avoid meeting your gaze. Fighting a smile, you move to Yoongi’s stash and grab what you need, spotting some high-end painkillers and immediately adding them to the pile in your arms.

When you return to his side, you seat yourself on the bench beside his leg— thankfully, they’re wide enough that neither your butt nor Jungkook’s leg has to be sacrificed for the fit. You go through the motions with him, poking and prodding and bending to assess the damage; it’s just a bad sprain, but damn if each watery look he gets at the pain doesn’t make you want to coddle him to death. 

Surprisingly, he’s still silent as you go about icing and wrapping his ankle. You contemplated filling the silence but you’re not good at chit chat or small talk, so refrain and settle for humming softly instead. Considering the rollercoaster of feelings he’s spun you through today, you’re almost disappointed that a wrap on his ankle is all that’s going to come of this. 

Which is stupid, of course. You know. You digress.

You’re still somewhat disappointed as you finish up, popping the excess bandage back in its container. “Okay! You’ll need to…”

You make the mistake of meeting his gaze, and for once he doesn’t shy away from it— there’s something about them, the endless chocolate depths and the doe-eyed look, that completely disarms you for a moment. Blinking, it takes all your might to stop yourself from studying as you continue. “Ahem, uh… you’ll need to keep it elevated, when possible. Compressing it is ideal. Also, for swelling, ice it for 20-30 minutes every 2-3 hours for the first day or so…”

He blinks up at you, and you smile. “Any questions?”

Something intriguing crosses his gaze and he bites his lip, flushing slightly. Oh, he is doing a number on your willpower. You need to get out of here.

“Yeah, uh…” He clears his throat, continuing straight away. You watch even more colour rush to his cheeks, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously. “About earlier… when I stacked it… Was what Yoongi said true?”

Well. You were not… expecting that. For a moment you’re stunned into silence, self control hanging by a thread. “What… Yoongi said?”

Jungkook gives you a look like he can’t believe you’re making him say it. “That you, um…”

Humiliated but deciding to face it head on, you ask him with your own cheeks heating, “Are you asking about the pegging or the, uh… the liking you part?”

To your surprise, Jungkook chokes and stiffens in place, eyes shooting wide and face and ears going beet red. “I, um… I only heard the liking part…”

OH. Well. You kind of want to die, but… at least now he knows?

 …You’re gonna throw yourself off a bridge.

He must mistake the cause of your silence for something else, because he seems to panic. “B-because, um, I know you know how I feel, and it’s okay if you don’t um— I was just wondering—”

In the midst of his spiel, you take a seat on the bench, closer to him than you were last time. It only makes him grow more flustered before you press a finger to his lips to shush him. He gets the message and falls silent instantly, making your heart skip a beat at his ready obedience. God, are you an animal?! Really?!

“I was trying to track you down to confirm it, you know,” you say, shoving your embarrassment into a box in the far reaches of your mind. Time to swallow your pride.  “But you kept avoiding me.”

Jungkook’s eyes are still wide. “Oh… sorry.”

You smile at his soft, uttered apology. Testingly, tentatively, you shift your hand and rest it on his hip. His whole body stiffens once more, but its more in surprise than discomfort. “What would you do if it was true, hm?”

Like a deer caught in headlights, he’s momentarily speechless. When your thumb rubs against the hard line of his hip bone, drawing a shudder, he jerks back into motion.

“Oh my god, you—” he’s dazed before he narrows his eyes at you, voice dropping to a whisper that’s somewhat tinged with hurt. “Are you teasing me?”

You manage to hold back the laugh but can’t help the smile that rises at his words. “I always get the urge to tease you, Jungkook, but it’s not to be cruel.” You lean forward, holding his gaze. “I probably never grew out of that kindergarten stage.”

It takes a second for what you said to sink in. The way that hope enters his eyes is so cute that you’re humiliated at the urge to squeal that rises. “So, you…”

It’s embarrassing to say the words out loud, especially considering the filth running through your mind right now, and you can’t quite bring yourself to. Teasingly, you bring your other hand to his thigh, brushing the edge of the skirt with your thumb and enjoying the way he shivers. “It’s embarrassing to say out loud, so if you want to hear it, you’re gonna have to work for it.” 

The soft, excited gasp he lets out emboldens you to carry out your next action— you move the hand on his hip, brushing your fingertips up the side of his slim waist before bringing them back down to rest over his crotch. 

To your complete and utter surprise, there is already some firmness there that greets you. At your curious gaze, he flushes pink.

“It’s the skirt,” he confesses, averting his gaze to your lap for the briefest second. “You look really good in it…”

Not that your ego needs more stroking, but you’re happy to let it happen anyway. You hum, beginning to move your hand— he stifles a gasp.

“I know,” you say, grinning. It’s ridiculous how your stomach flips, arousal beginning to trickle into your abdomen and ache in the apex of your thighs. “I could feel you looking at me. I caught you a few times, too.”

He’s embarrassed, you can tell, but the current situation doesn’t leave much room for dignity as it is anyway. Still, you can’t help but tease him some more, voice soft as you rub over his growing bulge and lean closer. “Do you always look at me, Jungkook?”

He squirms, a gasp slipping out before he attempts to send you a glare. “This is embarrassing,” he whines. You raise a brow, increasing the pressure of your hand, and he is quick to amend his response in a whisper, “…Yes.”

“And what do you imagine, when you look at me?” you ask, unable to deny the thrill running through your veins and lighting heat in your abdomen. You pause your ministrations only to move your hand to the top of his skirt and slip beneath the material. This time a moan slips out before he can stop it. “Is it things like this?”

He lets his head fall back against the wall, looking at you through hazy, lidded eyes. “Yes,” he admits, and for how readily he supplied the answer you reward him by slipping your hand beneath the rest of the layers over his hips and wrapping your fingers around his hardening length.

He whines— actually whines— and rolls his hips into your hand, thick thigh tensing beneath the grip of your other hand. The resulting wash of arousal that floods over you is so sudden it almost makes you dizzy.

“Oh, you’re a good boy,” you mutter it without much thought, but surprise filters through you when you feel his length twitch and flush with heat in your hold at the words. Ah— he likes a bit of praise, does he? You slide your free hand up his thigh, working the waistband of his skirt and bike shorts down until they rest just past the beginning of his thighs. It’s like you’re looking at a work of art, you marvel slightly— the curls that begin to trail down a little below his belly button, the sculpted line of his hip bones and the hints of his abs that show as his body tenses. You’re just one woman.

“Does it feel as good as you imagined, Jungkook?” you aimed to speak louder but it comes out sort of breathy. You trail your fingers down the tan skin of his abdomen before gripping the material of his bottoms and using the moment to free his length.

If you didn’t have such a firm grip on it, you know it would have sprung back against his stomach— you try not to let your surprise show, either, because you could feel that he was packing, but seeing it is another thing and your stomach flips in giddy anticipation. Jungkook’s chest heaves as his breath quickens, eyes boring into you and hands bunching in the material of the punishment skirt. You stroke your hand along his length, pressing your thumb along the underside and relishing in the shudder it elicits.

“y/n,” he whines softly, face flushing as his cock twitches in your hold. Whether he’s forgotten you even asked a question or simply is too overwhelmed to answer right now, you don’t know. 

As for how you’re doing— you’re so turned on right now that in all honesty you don’t know what to do with yourself. A solution comes to mind quickly and you don’t have the usual self control you do to stop yourself. 

Mindful of his injured leg, you rise, keeping your grip on him as you do so. His lidded gaze follows you, soft gasps escaping him all the while.

“Give me your leg,” you instruct, relishing how quickly he listens. Presented with his thigh, you swing one of your legs over the other side of the bench and rest on it so that as little weight as possible is on his bad leg, your knees brushing his hips. As soon as you’re lowered, you can’t help but gasp and roll your hips— the only thing separating you and the smooth skin and hard muscle of his thigh is the thin layer of your damp panties, and the stimulation on your clit makes your entire core throb in arousal.

Apparently this is also one of the things he’s imagined, because Jungkook lets out a low, gasping moan and rolls his hips up into your hand— which, of course, makes his thigh muscles tense and shift, rubbing oh so nicely against your clit. You almost fall off from the jolt of pleasure that shoots up your spine, free hand shooting to grab his bicep, “Ah, Jungkook!”

He apparently has the sense of mind to support you by using the arm in your hold to reach and grip your hip. Generous amounts of precum have started to bead at his tip, and you drag your hand up his girth, collecting it on your thumb and smearing it down his length for lubrication. It elicits a whine, another roll of his hips, and like that you settle into a rhythm of sorts.

“y/n.” Each gasp and moan he lets out have to be specially designed to ruin you, you decide. He seeks your gaze with hazy, lust-ridden eyes. “Please kiss me.”

It’s a brazen request coming from him of all people, and you’re all too happy to oblige. You lean forward, the rock of your hips making you shudder, and connect his lips with your own— he’d sought your kiss as you did so, craning his neck forward and awaiting your lips. It’s a heated kiss from the beginning, given the situation— you don’t fight for dominance so much as assume it from the start. Each press of your tongue, graze of your teeth, has a new sound tumbling from his throat and into your mouth. It makes your heart race even harder than it already was.

It doesn’t take long for tension to begin to build in your abdomen, and you know if you’re already feeling it then he must be even closer. Not wanting this to end just yet, you force yourself to slow your hand down, breaking the kiss and shifting to press your mouth to his neck.

“Wh-what—” he gasps, shuddering as your thumb plays with his slit, rhythm slowed to a stop. Both of you are panting, almost, and you suckle a mark into the junction of his neck before pulling back with a grin.

“Surely that isn’t all you’ve imagined, Jungkook.” You lean forward, pressing a brief kiss to his mouth before pulling back— the way he chases your lips makes your heart squeeze. “What now? Be a good boy, tell me.”

Far from being embarrassed at this point and all but a slave to the haze of lust in the air, Jungkook’s breath hitches and he responds, somewhat tentative if anything, “… ride me.”

“Good boy,” you breathe, offering him a proud smile. He preens beneath your fond look.

You shift, and you think that he must have expected you to stand up fully and remove your clothes, or at least your bottoms, but to his surprise you simply shuffle up and reach beneath your skirt, slipping your panties aside and aligning his member with your entrance. You’re so turned on that you’ve soaked through your underwear, and you know you’ve smeared enough precum along his length that lubrication will be no problem. So you simply lower yourself down until his head parts your lips and begins to sink into you.

At the sheer size of him even as just the tip enters your cunt, you have to halt, gasping, “Fuck!”

If he wanted to respond, you don’t really give him time to; as soon as you get your bearings you continue sinking down onto him. There is a slight burn, of course, but you’re so turned on that it fades quicker than you can register. The sensation of him, the throb, his girth and the way he splits your walls, stretching you more and more as you seat yourself on him— it’s indescribable, and all you can offer is that it feels so good you swear tears are gonna prick at your eyes. From the look on his face, brows scrunched and mouth parted as a long, low groan slips out, you know it must feel just as good for him.

When the back of your thighs press against the top of his his and he’s fully sheathed in you, you feel like you’re about to lose your mind— this position has him so deep in your pussy that with each miniscule shift the tip of his cock presses against a spot that sends delicious jolts of pleasure up your spine. Honestly, if you weren’t so intent on seeing this through, you think you could cum from that sensation alone. 

Even as you’re in a mess of pleasure and a haze of desire, you can’t help but tease him some more. You clench your insides, rolling your hips— the sharp, lilting moan he lets out makes your stomach flip. “What now, baby boy?”

You hold his hips down with your hand, feeling them twitch with the urge to rock up into you. A long, drawn groan escapes him. “Do you want to see me? More of me? Or do you want to feel me?”

You take his hand into your hold and guide it up to your chest, slipping it beneath your shirt and bra to cup your breast. His breath hitches, lashes fluttering against his cheekbones as he blinks and attempts to clear the haze from his vision. You relish in the control you have over him until his thumb brushes your nipple and he pinches it, tweaking it instinctively. A moan tears from you, the shock of pleasure that results making you clench around him again; his free hand scrambles for purchase against your thigh, fingers digging in as pleasure washes over him in turn.

Your breath is coming a little faster now. Leaving his hand at your chest, you move it to drag up his neck before threading your fingers in the damp curls at the back of his neck. Finding a firm grip, you tug his head back ever so lightly— it elicits a new moan that you haven’t heard yet, and you really begin to think this boy will be your undoing. 

“What do you want?” you ask again, rolling your hips once more. It isn’t fair of you, you know, since you can hardly think yourself from the sensations. “You want me to move, baby boy?”

He nods, attempting to speak through the moan caught in his throat. “Please… fuck me, y/n.”

Well, who are you to say no to that?

Happy to oblige, you engage your thighs and begin to rise— the sensation of him dragging against your walls makes both of you gasp, and you almost falter in your movements from the feeling alone. Gathering your wits as best as you can, you continue your movements, successfully rising and then seating yourself once more. Unable to withhold much longer, you roll your hips and begin to set the two of you into a rhythm.

You stopped paying heed to the noises escaping you a while ago, but you don’t doubt that the sinful sounds tumbling from Jungkook’s mouth as you ride him are a large contributor to the way the tension in your abdomen quickly begins to knot and bundle once more.

Even with as heavenly as it feels, it’s hard to keep up momentum when your thighs begin to burn. Thankfully, Jungkook has more than enough stamina in his thigh muscles for the both of you, and when he senses your fatigue, he brings his grip to your hips to hold them in place before rocking his own up and beginning to fuck up into you.

Needless to say, the pace he sets is much faster and much harder than the one you had. Swears tumble softly from your mouth at the change in intensity of pleasure as it shoots through you, orgasm already approaching much faster than anticipated. Your hands come to grip his on your hips with a cry of his name, knees turning to jelly. 

Movement against your hand surprises you, but not as much as the sensation of Jungkook’s hand shifting to thread his fingers with yours. You honestly feel your heart burst, and as he fucks up into you that bit harder you can’t help the way you clutch his hand like a lifeline, the sweet moment quick to pass but most definitely not forgotten. 

“G-gonna cum,” you gasp, eyes closing and allowing the slap of skin and Jungkook’s gasping moans to overtake your senses. You don’t forget to indulge him in some praise. “Such a g-good boy, making me feel so g-good.”

He whines at your words, and right as your pleasure approaches its peak you feel his hips stutter and slam up into yours harder than all the times before. The stimulation of that spot deep inside of you is all that’s needed to push you into the throes of your orgasm, and it washes over you more intensely than you’ve ever felt before as you clench and tense with a cry of his name.

Distantly, you feel his own grip on you tighten, and his hips still as they’re pressed against yours. Warmth floods your core, cock throbbing as he empties inside you, and you swear you hear the softest of confessions uttered to the air as he joins you in your high.

He comes down before you do, although you’re not far behind him, and for a moment you sit in place, panting and attempting to come back to your senses. He’s softened inside you slightly, but when you shift and clench on instinct as you do so, feeling cum slide down your thighs, he twitches  and throbs inside you.

Taken aback, your gaze whips to him and now that his shame has returned to him, he has the decency to blush. Well, apparently Jeon Jungkook’s stamina really is no joke. Maybe he really was born to be an athlete.

“Greedy. You want more?” There’s a teasing lilt to your voice, and a thrilling mix of fear and excitement dances in his eyes.

“y/n—” he rasps, desperate. You slide off of him, making both of you groan, but return to your previous position on his thigh. He moans as he feels his own cum leak out of you and onto his skin. When your hand comes to wrap around his slick member, he jolts and whines.

“You wanna tell me what you said just before?” you ask, beginning to twist your wrist and stroke his cock ever so slowly. He shakes his head, whether at your question or the overstimulation, you’re not sure— you know it’s probably a bit of both though, considering he twitches in your hold.

“‘S embarrassing,” he murmurs, back arching as you increase your pace just a little. “Ah, y/n!”

“I see. You know, I think I can get you to cum again,” you say, changing tactics. 

Jungkook shakes his head, strands of his raven hair plastered to his forehead in sweat. “I can’t—”

“You should tell me,” you say, teasing lilt to your tone. He whines, rocking his hips into and then away from the sensations. 

When he shakes his head again, letting it fall back against the wall and baring the column of his throat to you, you jump on his acceptance of the situation. You pick up speed, rolling your wrist and moving in tune with the shifting of his body. It doesn’t take very long before his oversensitivity throws him into another orgasm, stronger than the last but dryer. The few beads of cum that escape seem ever so tantalising as they roll down his length, drawing your gaze.

“You gonna tell me now?” you ask, already knowing the answer. Jungkook slumps against the wall, breathing heavy and sweat glistening on his golden skin. He looks at you through heavily lidded eyes.

“It’s still embarrassing,” he whines, breathy in his exertion.

Right, well. You know what he said, but you want to hear him say it with his own mouth once more and you’ll stay here all night to make that happen if you need to.

Of course, it’s not until a while and another heated moment or two later that Jungkook realises this and gives in.

His confession is so much sweeter on your ears the second time, and of course, as promised, you reward him with your own. It’s worth it for the way it makes his eyes shine, you think. 

Jeon Jungkook really has you well and truly whipped. 

a/n: thank u for reading and i hope u liked it! im super excited to have completed my first commission and would really appreciate it if u let me know what u think by sending me an ask and liking & rbing this with ur thoughts!! i read & appreciate everything!! thank u !! love u !! peace out !! :D

[heavenbarnes]

I’m a rude bitch, what are you made of?

Naomi Lapaglia (Wolf of Wall Street) x Female Reader

Warnings/Contains: swearing, canon-typical arguing, unhealthy husband-wife relationship, cheating, top!naomi and bottom!reader, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, dirty talk, inappropriate relationship with employers, unsolicited flirting, flashing, implied exhibitionism

Word Count: 3,225

so what if you were the belfort’s house keeper? and what if you had this nasty crush on naomi? and what if she knew?

“Find what you’re looking for up her skirt, Jordan?” The sharp cut of that Brooklyn accent was quick to hit you.

It was quick to hit her husband too, judging by the deep sigh he let out from behind you. You straightened up, grabbing the remaining dishes from the table with one hand, the other tugging the hem of your dress down.

“Don’t fix yourself like it’s your fault, darling,” There was an almost melody to her voice. “Seems someone never learnt his fucking lesson.”

With that, it all kicked off. You walked towards the kitchen with your stack of dishes and cheeks burning hot, as your employers quite literally screamed at one another. Another morning in paradise.

Working for the Belfort’s, for the most part was a dream, you cleaned an exquisite house and looked after one very low maintenance baby. For that, they paid you generously and even took you on their family vacations. 

All you had to put up with was the incessant screaming and Mr. Belfort trying to sneak a look and a feel, all worth it for the luxury you got to be a part of.

You zoned back into the fight as you walked back over to wipe down the table, still without uttering a word during all the commotion. This was like a morning ritual, as normal as a coffee and codeine, they weren’t awake till they’d screamed bloody-murderer at one another.

“For the last time, my love! I wasn’t looking up her fucking skirt!” Jordan gestured towards you frantically, stepping around behind you.

He was about to make another point, and as he opened his mouth to do so, his hands also came to grip your upper arms. You saw something change within Mrs. Belfort’s eyes and you even braced for impact.

“You get your hands off of her or I swear to God, Jordan!” She slammed her coffee cup down, the dark liquid rising up the side of the cup like an impending tsunami.

Mr. Belfort was quick to drop his hands, stepping back from you and watching his wife round the table until she was in front of you both. You felt caught in the middle, figuratively and literally thanks to the way they’d sandwiched you between them.

“You better watch yourself, motherfucker,” Her accent seemed to thicken as her voiced dropped an octave. “Before I bend this one over the table and make you watch the things I can do to her.”

You felt your body run red hot, the image of her living up to her threat moving clear through your mind. Without being able to stop yourself, your knees buckled slightly, most certainly not going unnoticed by Naomi. Her gaze drifted to you, where you were staring straight ahead and doing your best to seem unaffected by her words.

She saw right through you.

In kindness on her part, she didn’t mention it. Rather she dismissed you to carry on with your other morning duties, but didn’t ignore the way you shuffled off with your legs nearly clamped together. You hurried from room to room, collecting the hampers of dirty laundry so you could hide in the wash-house and out of trouble.

Shutting the door and leaning your back against the tiles, you were thankful it was able to cool you down a bit. It was in that moment you realized just how fucked you were, like a Duchess should, she had you royally fucked.

From the moment you started working for them, you knew you were going to have the hardest time keeping your thoughts about Naomi contained. Just the way that she walked with that air of importance was enough to have your thighs tensing.

It was obvious she knew what she was doing to you, that smirk that would prick up at the corner of her mouth every time she saw your eyes widen or your head drop. She took great delight at watching you squirm for her.

You’d nearly lost at all one night at dinner when you felt the patent leather toe of a stiletto dragging up the inside of your leg. The grip around your fork got so tight, you had little marks along your fingers for hours.

Naomi, on the other hand, dropped her fork right up the table and shook her head in faux-annoyance.

“I’m such a klutz, would you mind being a good girl and grabbing that for me?”

You swallowed harshly but nodded your head nonetheless, pushing back your chair and climbing under the table to retrieve the fork. Finding it quickly, you lifted your head to come back up but were stopped in your tracks by a single sight.

Naomi slowly parted her thighs, revealing to you that she had forgone underwear for her evening meal, and was most certainly baring her most intimate parts to you.

You thought you’d choke on your tongue, scrambling back towards your seat as you came up for air. She had a knowing smirk painted across her face as you extended it towards her with a shaking hand.

“You alright?” Jordan asked, giving you a worried glance. “You’ve barely said a word and now you look like you’ve had a fright?”

Mrs. Belfort hummed in agreement with her husband, bringing her napkin up to dab at her mouth.

“Yeah, what’s the matter?” She cooed, eyes holding yours still. “Pussy got your tongue?”

Rifling through the washing baskets, you sorted them out for laundering, anything to take your mind away from what you knew you shouldn’t be doing. Not only was she your boss, she was married, and married to an incredibly powerful man at that. 

You knew in your heart that if you’d let him, he’d be just as unfaithful to her with you, as she would with roles reversed. But you just knew it’d create more trouble than good, even if that good was a long-legged blonde with a mouth on her that drove you doggone wild.

Just as the act of loading a washing machine was doing it’s trick, your fingers hooked around one garment that you really didn’t need to stumble across. You drew your hand back to find a red lacy pair of panties draped over the tip of your finger. It nearly had you light headed at the start.

Drawing them closer towards you, gingerly you looked over your shoulder just to confirm that you were alone in the laundry. Your heart was nearly beating out of your chest in fear of being caught, but this was just something you couldn’t stop.

Bringing the seat of her knickers to your face, you took in a deep breath and were immediately overwhelmed with the scent of her cunt. She smelt just as heavenly as you’d imagined she would, those nights after her husband drove you home and you’d raced inside to finger yourself to the thought of his wife.

It was all so bad, so wrong and so impure, nothing of what you were doing was close to being right. But when it came to Naomi, you were about ready to risk it all just for the sake of having one little chance with her. All it took was that one change, after that all bets were off. That change came in the form of her calling your name.

To say it startled you was an understatement, you were lucky you didn’t scream. Dropping the panties immediately back into the basket, you followed the sound right up the stairs and into Mr. and Mrs. Belfort’s bedroom, where Naomi sat waiting for you.

She was still in her robe, the one she wore to breakfast and the one you knew hid from your view the very skimpy lingerie she was wearing beneath it. Just knowing it was so close but still out of your reach had your mouth beginning to salavate.

Extended one finger towards you, she began to beckon you over. “Can you come here please?”

Never wanting to disappoint, you moved your feet towards her and subsequently towards her bed. Nothing sweet and right could come from being alone in her bedroom, with her wearing the bare minimum in front of you. You knew you had self control, but that much? That was asking for a miracle.

As you got closer, she stood up slowly, fingers moving to the tie on her robe. Suddenly it seemed as if time had slowed down for a moment, you could see her undoing the ribbon on her hip but there was nothing you could, or wanted, to do to stop her.

The silk of her robe slid off her shoulders and pooled on the carpet before you, leaving her in nothing more than a very thin set of bra and panties. You could see the way her nipples poked against the fabric, where the underwear had began to draw up on her hips. 

You wouldn’t be leaving this room with pride.

Reaching out, her fingers wrapped around your elbow and pulled you in until you were flush against her. The heat radiating off of her was intoxicating, you were enveloped in the very essence of her, it was soaking into your clothes and staying on the air.

“You need to tell me, baby,” Her voice wrapped you up, binding you to her. “Are you going to let me have my fun with you?”

Quick to please, your doe eyes rose to her gaze and silently apologized for something you’d never done.

“B-before with Mr. Belfort, I’m sorry but I assure you there is nothing there.”

Naomi cut off your stuttering attempts at explaining yourself with a curt laugh, free hand coming and stroking at the edge of your face. Soft skin and long fingers leaving shivers in their wake.

“Honey, forget about making my husband pay for before,” The soothing lilt to her voice was once again doing its best to weaken you at the knees. “This is just my own little treat.”

Your mouth dried up, tongue suddenly too big for the space and your lips dropped open in a pathetic whimper. As much as the embarrassment was hot on your heels, you could tell from her expression that this was doing nothing but pleasing Mrs. Belfort.

“Let me hear you say it.” She cooed, lips coming up to the shell of your ear.

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, you can fuck me, Mrs. Belfort.”

She released a theatrical gasp before closing her the edge of her teeth around your earlobe, pulling down gently. Her lips trailed down the length of your neck, the softest kisses being left behind in her wake.

“You’ve got a dirty mouth on you, girl,” She sighed into your skin. “We better put it to good use.”

Bringing her hands to the bottom of your dress, she was taking full control as she drew it up and over your head. Her fingers immediately went for your undergarments, stripping you down to you were completely exposed in front of her.

Stepping behind you, her hands ran across your body and left no inch of you untouched by her. You had an idea of what she was intending, it wasn’t an accident that this felt entirely like she was claiming you.

“You’re so beautiful, I don’t blame my husband for the way he looks at you.” 

Her nose nudged against the back of your neck, hands running up to roll your breasts around her palms. Fingers tweaking at your nipples, you relaxed back against her and allowed the feeling of pleasure to take over.

“If only he knew that he wasn’t the one you were ready to risk it all for, hmm?”

You choked back a moan that was so desperately clawing its way out of your throat, especially with the way her hands were running down your stomach and getting dangerously close to where you needed her. She hovered above your mound, so close but not quite yet.

“Tell me, who is it that you want to fuck you?”

Along with another moan, you swallowed down your pride, hand shooting back and gripping the soft skin of her thigh.

“You, Naomi, I want you to fuck me and not Jordan.”

A delicious giggle flew around your ears, searing itself into your brain for safe keeping. It didn’t matter what noise she was making, it was set to drive you fucking wild. This moment was no exception to the rule, it wrote the damn rule.

Her hand came down against your mound, fingers slipping between your thighs as she cupped your heat. The feeling of her palm pressed against your aching clit drew an unabashed moan from deep within your chest, only spurring her on to rub it in the smallest circles.

She drew back from you just as quick as she touched you. Too overwhelmed to move, you listened to the sounds of her stripping the rest of her clothes, coming to sit before you on the bed. Naomi shuffled back, hands out behind her to keep her propped up.

“Before I give you what you want, I think you need to earn it.” With her words, she slowly spread her thighs until her cunt was once again on display to you.

Instinctively you dropped to your knees, moving towards the edge of the bed until she was only moments from you. Her hand came out to gently rub across the top of your head, coming around the back and pulling you even further into the meeting of her thighs.

Naomi pressed your face right to her dripping heat, your tongue coming out to catch her clit as she did. She tasted like bliss, like she was laced with gold flakes, this would be a taste you never tired from.

A long groan left her lips, head tipping back as you moved your mouth deftly against her pussy. She held you there, reminding you of the control she had over you as her hips started to roll against your face.

You brought your hands to wrap around her thighs, getting as close as you could. The messy sounds and sight of you must’ve been incredible, the way you hungrily lapped at her cunt and buried your face even further into her.

A symphony of moans serenaded the room, her toes curling against the bed as your lips wrapped around your clit. Had she known her little house-keeper was going to be this fucking good with her mouth, she would’ve had you on these silk sheets months ago.

Naomi’s elbow buckled under the pressure of your mouth, combined with the quiet moans that were reverberating against her. She gripped tighter onto you, pulling you in close as she was essentially riding your face.

Letting her do whatever she wanted, you moved your tongue quicker and fell in love with the way she cried your name in pleasure. It’d never sound the same coming from her, not now you know the way it sounds when you’ve got her pussy on your mouth.

Gripping hard onto you, you felt the rush of wetness as Naomi unraveled on your tongue, one leg coming to wrap around your shoulder as she did so. You remained in that same place, destined to do as you were told whilst you took her through her high.

When the sensitivity became too much, she drew you back before pulling you up towards her. Laying against her, you felt her lips connect with yours as she kissed her taste from your mouth. Moaning against your lips, you snaked your hands around her waist in an attempt to cover any inch of her skin you could.

Feeling one of her hands moving against you, it became very clear to you that she was on a direct path to where you were quite literally dripping for her. Naomi ran her fingers along your slit, dipping in to rub against your clit before coming to rest at your entrance.

With her tongue finding purchase in your mouth, she slipped two fingers inside of you and quickly curled them up. You couldn’t help but squeal into her mouth, gripping onto her sides as her fingers began to move with you.

Clenching around her, it’d never felt nearly this good when all you could do was think of her. You never knew it was going to feel like heaven on earth once she finally got her hands on you. The incoherent cries and moans of her name were flooding the room, sure to drift under the doors and fill the house in short time.

“I’m sure this is better than touching your little pussy and thinking of me, huh?”

Your eyes shot open in fright, looking to her with the complete knowing of being caught, painted across your face. She just grinned at you, that kind of cruel grin that said “you’re in for it now.”

“You think I couldn’t hear you, moaning my name when you’ve locked yourself in the bathroom?”

All the times you’d quickly tried to get yourself off to make your work day more bearable, suddenly flashed past your mind. You would’ve recoiled in shame if Naomi’s fingers hand’t suddenly sped up, instead making your mouth drop open with a cry.

“Go on, show me how pretty you sound when you say my name.”

So you did, pretty whimpers of her first name drifted past your lips some more. She smiled into your neck but you could still tell there was something more she wanted.

“Hmm, try again, and make sure he can hear it.”

It had to be the affect she had on you, because suddenly you were crying out a long moan of Mrs. Belfort, and if her husband couldn’t hear it, he would’ve had to be on the other side of the world.

That hit the spot and sure enough her thumb was coming to rub against your clit in time with the thrust of her fingers. Falling apart in her hands, you felt your whole body tensing against her, stars beginning to rush past your eyes in bliss.

She knew every button to push and exactly what it did, she could tell by the fierce grip you had on her thigh that your high was right around the corner and it was approaching faster than you could manage.

Trailing her lips against your jaw, Naomi sucked the smallest marks into the soft skin there, happy to leaving her brand on you. When she reached your ear, the breathy whisper was the final piece to push you over the edge.

“Come for me, pretty girl.”

And eager to please, you did as you were told. Clamping down hard on her fingers, you felt yourself flood her hand as you cried out for her. Your back arched off the mattress, toes curling and muscles tensing against your will.

As you were coming back down, you knew you’d never come like that before. Looking at Mrs. Belfort’s face, you could tell by that grin that she was eager to see it as often as she could.

She brought her fingers up from between your legs, laying them against her tongue and sucking the wetness off with a filthy moan.

“I don’t think he heard that,” She sighed, shuffling down your body. “Think I’ll just have to give you another.”

[sukirichi]

sukirichi’s 2.4k milestone event

weee another milestone and nooo i couldn’t wait for 2.5k because i’m so excited and happy, thank you so much! ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ including HAIKYUU this time around yeeeee! also i don’t have a restaurant aesthetic anymore, just kind of goofing around now! REQUESTS ARE OPEN. 

before you request...

please read about my writings first! it will include the stuff i write and don’t write about. i’m more flexible in nsfw works, so if you really want to try for a kink, just send me in and if the idea is up to my liking, we’ll see how it goes! 

please be patient and nice! if i don’t like the tone of your request or if you’re ‘demanding’ me, aka, “hey, write this for me, this concept...” your ask will immediately be deleted!

no requesting of the same idea to other writers please!

please keep in mind i don’t do too much canon-heavy plots, aka really specific canon events and how they lead up to one another. i don’t read the manga for both jjk and haikyuu ʕっ• ᴥ • ʔっ

I do not do headcanons anymore. I’m not good at them LMAO.

i feel a lot more laid back in my writings now, so i’ll only be taking requests that i want to write for! the accepted requests will be listed down below as i organize them

you may refer to my first milestone event if you want more ideas for AU requests! you no longer need to include the numbers/spices/ingredients format used in that. just send whatever idea you want ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ

I HAVE SOMETHING TO TELL YOU. whichever idea i love the MOST will be turned into a series just because I want to try new things hehe!

— characters i can write anything for (nsfw & sfw)

: gojo satoru, fushiguro megumi, fushiguro toji, choso, ryoumen sukuna, nanami kento

: suna rintarou, kageyama tobio, tsukishima kei, miya twins, kita shinsuke, oikawa tooru, ushijima wakatoshi, bokuto koutarou, akaashi keiji, tetsuro kuroo

— characters i can only write sfw for

: itadori yuuji, inumaki toge, okkotsu yuuta

: kenma kozume

— characters i’m MOST eager to write simp for

: fushiguro megumi, choso, naoya zenin, ryoumen sukuna, gojo satoru

: suna rintarou, kageyama tobio, kita shinsuke, oikawa tooru, akaashi keiji

accepted requests: (only accepting the ones that interest me for now!)

favorites marked as ⭐

RYOUMEN SUKUNA: hello love!! i know it LITERALLY just came out but would you consider a pt 2 or a drabble for sweet lies? where megumi either catches her and sukuna or she genuinely starts moving on uasdfghj i'm convinced that megumi heard her fucking sukuna in the bathroom <3 anyways pls feel free to ignore me too

RYOUMEN SUKUNA: Ma’am , i beg of u ,,, spare husband! sukuna x wife! reader drabble. I just read your arranged marriage AU and lordddd i’m obsessed. How long did it take for him to take her virginity 😳? i’m so curious as to how that went down read here: black magic [02]

⭐⭐ RYOUMEN SUKUNA:  Yooooo how about Rockstar Sukuna seducing his manager ehehehehe~ 

⭐ RYOUMEN SUKUNA: Ok but... pirate captain Sukuna 👀👀👀 I’m havin some Thots ngl 🥵🤤 I can’t decide whether reader should be the first mate and they’re a kickass Power Couple 💪😎or if she should be a stowaway who gets found out and has to pay for her passage with her body 😩😉

OKKOTSU YUTA: We both be weak for yuuta and toge😩 congrats 2.4k btw. so i'll request that for the event! poly!yuuta and toge. i see that you only write sfw for them so fluff. u can think of anything you want for it..and yes we simp for both of them i love them sm🤧

⭐ OKKOTSU YUTA: Hi saw that your request are open and congrats for the 2.4k !! 🎊 if possible can i please request yuuta having a girlfriend that's his childhood friend? (So like instead of rika it's y/n and she doesn't die) that loves to dote on him cause that boy needs some love. Thank you!! <3 | kiss me more

⭐ OKKOTSU YUTA: Hi can i request a scenario in which inumaki and okkotsu gets hit with a curse(?) That makes them a clone but the clone is a kid and seeing their gf taking care of the baby please thank youuu

INUMAKI TOGE: Toge's S/O being so sad that even when he says "smile" it doesn't work( also saw that in TikTok)

⭐ INUMAKI TOGE: Hi can i request a scenario in which inumaki and okkotsu gets hit with a curse(?) That makes them a clone but the clone is a kid and seeing their gf taking care of the baby please thank youuu

INUMAKI TOGE: We both be weak for yuuta and toge😩 congrats 2.4k btw. so i'll request that for the event! poly!yuuta and toge. i see that you only write sfw for them so fluff. u can think of anything you want for it..and yes we simp for both of them i love them sm🤧

⭐ INUMAKI TOGE: Hi! Congrats on 2.4k!!🤩 For the event, may I request an au where reader is Yuuta's sister? Can be gn/fem reader anything is fine. And they fall in love with Toge? Fluff fluff fluff please🥺Maybe they meet one day when she went to visit the school? Or she's a new sorcerer. Aahhhh I can't think of anything so I'll leave it up to your wonderful mind😌 Thank you! And again congrats! | crush

INUMAKI TOGE: SUKI OMG SIREN AU WITH TOGE AND DEAF READERHis voice hypnotizes all who hear it but she’s unaffected and he’s shook lmao 😂 She teaches him human sign language so they can communicate 🥺 maybe when he realizes he likes her he brings her seashells and other shiny things from the sea floor and it’s so cute 🥰 just 🥺🥺 siren Toge 🥺🥺🥺 (DEBATING)

GOJO SATORU: Hello dear Suki! 🤗 congrats on your more than deserved milestone 👏🏼🥳 I know it’s not the restaurant aesthetic anymore but still, thank you for being a Michelin-star chef spoiling the fandom with your food 🤤👀 I’d love to request the following: ingredient 66 with sugar 8 & 9 and Gojou as cherry on top 🥰 some heavy angst with a happy / smutty ending. additional 🍪 for inspiration - „Best friends don’t look at each other the way you look at her. You never know what will happen, tomorrow might be too late“. Have a lovely day dear 💕

GOJO SATORU: Congrats on 2.4K!!!! May I please request a fic where the reader has like. Zero reaction to Gojo? And he’s kinda shook bc people either adore him or hate him, but here’s reader acting like he’s just a normal dude. And he starts falling for her bc he’s never experienced that before

⭐ GOJO SATORU: a reader that likes Gojo but immediately says N O P E bc they clock that he’s at risk of breaking their heart so they just try to avoid getting close to him despite being a teacher stuck with him a lot of the time. And Gojo is just like ??? But I like you??? Why are you always avoiding me? “I’m tired of you acting like I can’t commit to something. Committing to you is easy.”

⭐ GOJO SATORU: ♡Soft nsfw scenario with s/o and gojo while outside is snowing read here: cold

⭐ GOJO SATORU: Ohoho~ another milestone! Congrats~Can I get Vampire!Satoru x Monster Hunter!Reader where he “proves” to her that all of his victims came willingly(I think from the AU choice you’ll know exactly who I am lol 😉)

⭐ GOJO SATORU: hello! first and foremost, congratulations on reaching 2.4k! i love your writing and its just oh my goodness <3 your stories made my heart squeezed! second of all, i'd like to propose a request for a story. fluff/angst (up to you! your way of writing is just superb) mixed with nsfw gojo satoru. a modern business tycoon au where he just lost his wife and is overprotective of his 1 year old toddler. you're his new staff in the office and is treated badly bcs you know, new staff. one day, you stumbled upon your boss and his baby in a shop, who wont stop crying and he took an interest in you when you managed to calm his kid down. he hired you as his babysitter + made you move into his estate. from there, your life changed! also, thank you for accompanying my days with your stories, it's marvelous! 💕

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ NAOYA ZENIN MY BAE: okay i thought you might like this idea for the event (or maybe not lol) - naoya coming home to his beloved little housewife and feels like giving her a treat for being such a good girl.,,.,, read: man's gonna re-arrange your guts and have some soft moments with you after (not that he would ever admit that shsghshsj) ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ | good girl

NAOYA ZENIN MY BAE: Stage magician Naoya and his cute little assistant, where every other trick works to undress or strategically rip her outfit so he can show off his little bunny to the crowd before fucking her brainless backstage

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ NAOYA ZENIN MY BAE:  listen ,,,,, ur naoya hate fic goes crazy stupid may i add something. naoya being overprotective like reader is so pretty and many of the clan men look at them a lottttt and naoya out of nowhere will kiss you in front of them or will grab them in front the maids and workers. then reader becomes mad and they get into an argument and then hate fuck :D lmaoo  (THIS REQUEST PLEASEEEE SEND ME TO HEAVEN) ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ NAOYA ZENIN MY BAE: Omg Suki! Congrats on the 2.4k! So uhmm I decided to take a break from the Kita/Naoya twin au angst 👉👈 idk if you are still accepting requests but HAS ANYONE EVER MENTIONED OR HAVE YOU EVER CONSIDERED SUGAR DADDY NAOYA????? 🥺 -🌸

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI: Megumi being insecure about his eyes because they are a very light green colour( like in manga) so he wears blue contacts( I saw that on TikTok and... big brain energy)

⭐ FUSHIGURO MEGUMI: SUKI, HI! First of all, congrats on 2.4K you absolutely deserve every single milestone coming your way 💞💞If it’s not too much to ask may I request a one-shot with megumi where he’s jealous that his fem!crush is spending more time with Itadori and sees how she enjoys his company a lot but it’s purely platonic? Reader likes megumi too and they both need that push in the right direction?Thanks so much if you decide to write this 🥺💖 I seriously love your writing and your big brain sm

CHOSO: Could you write something with Choso and the reader that has a toxic mother (if that actually exists.  She controls everything the reader does, and plays with her mind/ feelings making her feel like she's the bad one)?But after a fight with the mom, the reader has enough and just leaves deciding they will finally do what they want, ending up at a tattoo shop, where Choso is the tattoo artist.Ngl, i'd like this to be nsfw because i am thirsting for this man ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)Don't really have kink preferences but if you could include size and breeding kink then i'd be hella thankful ☺

GETOU SUGURU: Yo how about a Victorian AU with Gentleman Thief!Getou and Debutante!Reader nsfw 👀👀 maybe she hears something in the dark and goes to investigate and gets pressed to the wall with a knife at her throat 👀🥵

FUSHIGURO TOJI: can we get a part two of the "lessons learned" toji fic 👉🏽👈🏽 maybe him fucking and overstimulating her so hard she cries and begs for mercy but no mercy will be given. maybe he uses the same handcuffs she used for him on her 🥰 maybe some manhandling cause im a hoe for letting a man throw me around

⭐ KAGEYAMA TOBIO (fckin finally): kageyama tobio x reader fic for mutual virginity loss? maybe they just haven’t had time with him being a fancy schmancy volleyball player, maybe there’s just nerves, i don’t know! i’ll leave it up to u babe <3

⭐ SUNA RINTARO: hi!! congrats on the 2.4k HEHE just wanted to request a suna and tattoo/flower shop au? idk just the thought of tattooed suna is like. mm yes

⭐ SUNA RINTARO/AKAASHI KEIJI: hi suki!! i’m so excited for your event! so i rarely ever see someone else who loves both akaashi and suna so i was wondering if you could write something for them! maybe apocalypse au?? or roommate au?? i was thinking y/n could have a relationship/be fuck buddies with one of them and some smutty exhibitionism happens with the other watching, and then some pining that ends in a threesome if you write those! if not, then just a smutty n filthy little love triangle that you can choose an ending for lol (a happy one would be nice bc my heart can only handle so much angst, but really it’s up to you and what inspires you!!) tysm for doing this event and always working so hard <3

⭐ OIKAWA TOORU: hi i love your writing!! can i please request work au (boss oikawa x secretary fem reader?) with degradation and him fucking your in the window 😭💗💗

[asscandles]

Hello !!! I really liked ur writing (also the fandoms you do are chef's kiss) and i wanted to request for Mondo, Togami and Fuyuhiko (separately of course) with a very touchy (short 👀 I'm like 5'0") reader, who likes to squish their cheeks, hug them and give lil smoochies, sit or have the boys sit on her lap and other stuff like that? (It'd be cute if it were a mutual crush situation but I don't mind platonic either) Thank you sm in advance if you write it !!

ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ!! ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴀ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ᴄᴜᴛᴇ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴇᴅ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ɪᴛ. ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪᴛ ʟɪᴠᴇꜱ ᴜᴘ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴇxᴘᴇᴄᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ!

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ + ꜱᴜɢɢᴇꜱᴛɪᴠᴇ

Mondo Owada

Honestly, he never thought he would ever be in this position.

Him? The Ultimate Biker Gang Leader? Receiving a constant supply of affection?

Ridiculous. Improbable. Impossible.

Oh, but don’t get me wrong. It’s not like he doesn’t enjoy the attention. But after he accidentally shouted at you in embarrassment when you complimented his eyes, reflexively crushed a pencil and consequently showered you with the splintered wood when you ambushed him with a hug, and fled from the premises after you innocuously offered to massage his shoulders… the idea of you sticking around in his life seemed unfeasible.

But here you are.

It doesn’t take him long to grow accustomed to the attentiveness and devotion you always treat him with.

“So, we should close off this area and tighten our control around this neighborhood. Oh, and maybe--”

“Uh, sir? What’s… um… What’s..?” One of his men tentatively pointed to where you were clinging to Mondo’s back, legs constricted around his waist and arms looped around his neck, blinking blankly at the man standing before you.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Mondo didn’t even flinch. “Anyway, as I was saying--”

Mondo really doesn’t mind when you cling to him in public. In fact, he appreciates the warmth of your body and the unexpected sense of security that holding your hand gives him.

But, he starts to draw the line when you stand in front of him while he’s sitting, smiling sweetly as you squish his cheeks and giggle about how adorable he is. He always flushes a florid shade and averts his eyes from yours. He would never tell you, but whenever you do that, he feels so defenseless, something that the rest of his crew should never know about.

That’s why he tells you to keep such intimate actions private. When you two are alone, you can squish his cheeks and pepper his face with kisses as often as you want. You understand this, and you’re always ecstatic whenever you walk in on him somewhere he’s alone.

You’re so short he loves it omg.

He thinks that watching you struggle to reach his face with your lips is so funny. He will often poke fun at you by either pretending to not see you or lifting his chin even higher. When you finally give up and try to storm away with a huff, he captures you in his arms and lifts you off the ground while you grumble indignantly.

Okay, but when you press yourself against him and wrap yourself in the loose fabric of his jacket so that it covers both of you? BITCHHH he melts.

Due to your short stature, you often find yourself seated upon his shoulders. At first, Mondo was taunted by his friends for quote-on-quote “having his head buried between your thighs,” but Mondo easily dismissed their teasing. He knew that your intentions were nothing less than pure…

Even if he initially was nervous and sweaty at the idea of being so… so close to you.

Mondo always treated you as if you were made of glass. Since you’re so small and he’s so muscular and tall, he always feared that a single bump or scratch would absolutely eviscerate your bones and pulverize your internal organs. For a while, he had been worried that he would forget about his own strength and accidentally hurt you. So, it did take him a little longer to reciprocate your affectionate.

That being said, he nearly flipped his shit when you nonchalantly asked him to try sitting in your lap. His brain was pumping out ideas at ninety miles an hour, but his lips could only communicate half of them, leaving him stuttering and nearly choking on his saliva. He was certain that he would crush your body beyond recognition if he tried.

No way. No. No. Absolutely not.

He’s cool with having you seated on his lap, though. In fact, he even encourages it. Having such a stunning gem to show off to his men during meetings stokes the flames of confidence within him, often resulting in a shit-eating grin and a protective hand on your shoulder or around your waist.

You get unlimited access to Mondo with his hair down, you lucky bitch.

You’re absolutely bewitched with how soft his hair is as it slips through your fingers like rivulets of water, the opposite of how it feels when it’s gelled into his usual hairstyle. You spend a lot of time combing your fingers through his hair and lightly scratching his scalp. Mondo finds it extremely relaxing, and he often comes to you whenever he has a headache or needs an extra push that will lull him to sleep.

Byakuya Togami

Before you appeared in his life, he had never been subjected to genuine love and sentiment. In his world, it was either surpass or be surpassed. Mercy was not an option, and competition was all he knew. As a result, he views everyone around him as inferior and lesser creatures.

When you first started to show kindness to him, he thought that you were merely pitying him because he spent so much time by himself. This led to him holding you at an icy distance and shooting scathing remarks in your direction.

However, you were steadfast in your determination to make Byakuya a part of your life. It took some time, but soon enough, you had earned a place in his heart.

He wished that he didn’t know how it was possible for you to have become such an essential part of his life, but he did. No matter how many times he told you that you were annoying, a distraction, or disgusting, it was clear that you were absolutely unaffected by it. You knew that his dislike of you wasn’t personal. Your tenacity is what caused his harsh words to dissipate in his throat and him to surrender to the prospect of developing a relationship with you. 

You were strong, and he understood that now.

It definitely takes him a long time to accept your clingy nature, and even then, he sometimes feels suffocated by the surplus of affection.

It doesn’t mean that he completely brushes you off. It just means that you have to be more sparing with your ministrations.

He sees nothing wrong with allowing you a quick hug or to hold his hand in public. If anyone says anything about it, he will deadass act like nothing is happening. He knows that if he acknowledges it, the chances of him becoming openly flustered will skyrocket.

He would never be able to live it down.

Anything else you would like to do to him, he prefers to keep it private.

Wow, that sounds suggestive.

Whatever, let’s proceed.

He’ll gripe and complain about you being heavy, but he never pushes you off or directly tells you to get off when you burrow your way beneath his arm and curl into his side while he reads. He’ll just sigh and settle his arm around you with the tiniest, most discreet smile.

He can’t help but chuckle to himself when you remove his glasses so that you can wear them instead. His chuckle flourishes into a genuine laugh when you promptly yank them off, your stomach churning in protest of your warped vision.

When you hold his hand in private, you pay a lot of attention to his fingers. You toy with them, marveling at how strong they are despite their slender appearance.

So, kisses are a thing.

“What was that?”

“Uh, a kiss.”

“Revolting… Do it again.”

A common thing, actually.

You plant kisses everywhere that you can: his fingertips, his cheeks, his shoulders, the back of his hand, his nose. He never fails to blush red as a rose, often pulling away and pressing the back of his hand to his mouth.

If you want him to complain in mock disgust, press a sloppy, prolonged kiss right in the center of his forehead.

If you want him to squirm, brush the softest kiss you can manage to either his collarbone or the shell of his ear. Biiiitchhhh…

ANYWAY, THAT’S NOT THE POINT--

Surprise, surprise. He loves poking fun at your height. How shocking. How absolutely unbelievable.

Like Mondo, he finds amusement in watching you balance on your tiptoes as you try to kiss him. You, however, combat his devious snickering by seizing his crossover tie and yanking him down to your height, catching him off guard. Then, all he can do is inwardly grumble about his blunder while you press a kiss to the corner of his lips

He once actually sat on you to trap you after you tried (and failed) to tickle him. He wasn’t expecting you to laugh gleefully and wrap your arms around his waist to anchor him to you. Since you were enjoying what he deemed a punishment, it was no longer pleasurable for him. He finds it embarrassing to voluntarily sit on anyone’s lap--let alone the lap of someone remarkably smaller than him. He sees it as a role of submission. Need I explain more?

He won’t complain if you sit on his, though. Well, I lied. This bitch complains about everything. It’s more like… he won’t reject you if you end up on his lap.

But about a half hour into whatever the hell this “cuddling” thing is, Byakuya discovers that the combination of your weight and body heat is an interesting catalyst for the onslaught of fatigue that he’s been procrastinating for the longest time.

You happen to doze off first. But upon awakening, you notice that Byakuya’s head is resting against yours, his arms loosely wrapped around your waist. His book is closed beside him.

Ngl, you thought he was actually going to rock your shit the first time you squished his cheeks. His frosty glare was enough to make you draw back in shock, but it soon disappeared, accompanied by a sigh from him.

“You have one more opportunity to do that. Don’t waste it.”

Oh, you definitely don’t.

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu

Someone is???? Smaller than him???

!!!!

That one inch of height makes him feel so powerful omfg.

Because of his job, he would rather keep any kind of affection hidden behind closed doors. The only people who he would let PDA slide around are those in his immediate circle, like his family, Peko, and whoever else serves directly under him.

He just wants to keep you safe, and he feels that the best way to do that is to not make it known that he has a soft spot for you.

You smile at the way his aloof, callous demeanor switches to a gentler, more amicable one when he sees you waiting for him to finish whatever job he’s been tasked with. His perpetual scowl melts away, the wrinkles of irritation blemishing his forehead smooth, and his distrusting, narrowed eyes round with an almost childlike, innocent delight.

You enjoy the latter side of him so much that it isn’t uncommon for you to cling to his waist and drop like dead weight, forcing him to drag you with him across the floor if he wants to return to work.

“Hiko… You can’t leave..!” You whine. “I’ll miss you..!”

“I’m sorry…” He huffs, taking another step while you’re dragged behind him like some ragdoll. “But I have things I need to take care of!”

You eventually sink into a heap on the floor when he reaches the door, making a half-hearted attempt to hold on to his ankles.

He chuckles and squats down in front of you. “I’ll be back later.” You sit up and sharply turn your head away with a pout. He gently yet firmly seizes your chin between his thumb and forefinger, directing you to look at him. “Promise.” His eyes are gentle, but you know he’s serious. You reluctantly release him.

“Okay,” you mumble. “Please, be safe.”

You know the, “When I was your age…” thing?

Yeah, Fuyuhiko does that shit. But, he does, “When I was your height…” instead.

A fucki.ng pO w  e R trip.

He really likes the feeling of having you on his lap. It makes him feel like he’s actually capable of offering security to someone. Bonus points if you straddle his lap and hug him close in return, resting your chin on his shoulder.

Back-hugs? Back-hugs.

The first time you snuck up on him and embraced him from behind, he almost knocked you tf out. But over time, he’s gotten used to it. That doesn’t mean you don’t manage to catch him off guard from time to time. Feeling him jolt and hearing him yelp in shock when you wrap your arms around his waist never fails to make you laugh. One time, you laughed so hard that your legs gave out and you tumbled to the ground, accidentally dragging him with you.

Whenever he’s stressed, kisses always seem to be the cure. Sprinkled across his cheeks, tracing the edge of his jaw, following the shell of his ear, pressed to his fingertips--you name it. Whatever you have to offer, he’s more than happy to let you have your way and shower him with love.

You pay special attention to his freckles. Whenever he’s had a taxing day, you vow to kiss each and every freckle on his face. When you’re lulling him to sleep with his head in your lap, you smooth a feather-light fingertip over his cheeks, playing connect-the-dots with his freckles.

But there are just some days where he needs to be the baby, y’know? On those days, he likes laying with his face pressed into your stomach and his body curled into your embrace. You watch over him lovingly, tracing the designs shaved into his hair with a curious finger and slowly massaging his scalp.

He needs reassurance every now and then, verbal or otherwise. You are always more than willing to oblige, filling whatever role he needs at the moment.

He always takes necessary precautions, such as locking the doors and drawing the curtains, before he allows himself to strip his soul bare and lay all of his impurities before you. This is a side of him that no one else must know about. Otherwise, his reputation would take a massive blow.

Speaking of “baby,” it’s no secret that Fuyuhiko positively despises his baby face. You, however, adore it. You like to squish his cheeks and coo about how cute he is. He never resists you, and will even play along by puckering his lips at you if he’s in a good mood. It doesn’t change the fact that he doesn’t like his face, but if you seem to be fond of it, then maybe it’s not all that bad.

But if anyone else even thinks about touching him in such a manner, then that’s it.

Their ass is grass.

[belpheroo]

Title: Pangs Pairing: Lucifer x F!MC Rating: 🍋 Summary: MC returns to Devildom for her second year. Following an “interesting” mishap with some fire newt syrup, MC checks in on the eldest brother who seemed unaffected by it. Notes: Basically just an… expanding of that scene. IT IS SOFT, EVERYTHING IS SOFT. Spoilers for lesson 21-22.

Her absence in the House of Lamentation had burned a hole of loss into each brother’s heart, but they were able to more freely express their sadness and their longing for her presence. As the eldest, Lucifer had to maintain decorum… he had to be stalwart and steady, unaffected and cool to soothe their hearts. Despite their bickering and their quips, Lucifer knew that when such pain came upon his younger brothers, they looked to him instinctively for comfort.

Lucifer would remind them of their D.D.D., of visits, of how she would one day come back, surely. He even resorted to teasing or dismissiveness to spike them on into annoyance with him or laughter. If even for a moment, it made them forget their loss.

Alone though? Alone, Lucifer would find himself staring in a daze, unable to focus upon his work in the late hours of the evening. His eyes would settle upon the edge of his desk, where a mug of hot coffee or soothing tea would have once appeared at some point in the night. He missed waking up to find a blanket had been settled over his shoulders, a snack or even once a morning tray with breakfast laid out on his desk...he missed waking up to her hand soothing through his hair, pretending to still be asleep even as his pulse sped up and his heart stuttered with a sharp pang.

In those quiet moments, when the witching hour was high and the House was filled with the silence of early morning, he remembered the sound of their voices together as they spoke of nothing, soft and low. They had always whispered, though they had no fear of waking anyone. It had been so natural, that intimacy… and Lucifer felt heartsick at the loss of it.

Diavolo had even become more troublesome, his palpable sympathy making Lucifer’s pride sting. He didn’t want sympathy, he wanted her back. But these were things he would never say, which was why only a few short months later when she fell through the air back into their lives with Solomon close behind, he felt the world go back into focus.

But of course, now there was that damned syrup.

---

It was easy enough for Lucifer to mask the effects of the soup, centuries of control and experience having perfected his outer defenses until the walls around his heart and his feelings were easily raised. She had made her way diligently around the House, relieving the brothers of their affliction with a simple order and now was set upon finding him.

Unlike the others, Lucifer could easily navigate their pact bond, feeling her intent and her searching and a vague notion of himself as the object of her search inside her emotions. Even from a distance he need only focus and seek out the invisible tether of their bond, the pact mark on his left wrist glowing faintly as he did so.

The only issue was, there was no privacy in this act. As soon as the mark on his own wrist glowed faintly red, hers would too, letting her know he was calling for her. He sent a “message” of his own along, letting his own intent that she should come to his office fall through the bond and feeling her emotions excite and change.

It wasn’t long before she showed up at his door, the very sight of her aggravating his condition and making heat threaten to flush across his face. Had she always been so enticing? She wore a lovely white dress, red and pink flowers adorning it. The only thing keeping the fabric in place was where the straps tied in a bow at the nape of her neck… one small pull and it would be so easily gone. Lucifer checked himself before his mind began to fully wander around the idea of what, if anything, she was wearing beneath it.

“The crisis is contained.” she declared with a grin, sauntering into the room with ease and familiarity. She closed the door behind her, the sudden privacy making his stomach flutter just slightly.

Lucifer got up from where he lounged in one of the plush red chairs, setting aside a book he hadn’t been even reading as he met her halfway. She clasped her hands behind her back, inclining her head expectantly. Lucifer knew what she was silently asking, but instead he smiled slyly.

“Now that you are here, we should complete your student processing… I’ll need to check you for dangerous items.”

She sputtered a laugh, looking down at her attire with a look that said loudly what she then vocalized, “Where would I hide them?”

“From what I recall, humans can be very crafty.”

“Then by all means.” she said, lifting her arms up, smiling and smiling. A foolish girl as always, taunting and tempting a man such as him. Lucifer had to steady himself before he reached out, starting at her wrists as he let his gloved fingertips slide down the length of her arms… tracing down from her shoulders to the top of her ribs before flattening his palms against her body to run down. The deep ache within him only grew more intense, but within his chest a dark creature rumbled with pleasure. Lucifer made sure none of this showed through his face, keeping his expression neutral and business like, even when he ran his hands down over the sides of her thighs and her arms faltered just slightly.

“You’re acting strangely, Lucifer.”

He hummed, his only reply as he pressed against the small of her back just briefly, nearly running down over her backside, but stopping just short before he let his hands fall to his side. She leaned forward just slightly, as if following the touch.

“Everything seems in order.” he said, “I just need you to sign these registration forms.”

She followed him obediently to his desk, which she leaned over, clearly not oblivious to how it revealed her neckline and the smooth round tops of her breasts as she pushed her arms together slightly and up.

“You got a pen?”

He produced one and absentmindedly she reached out, missing the pen and instead finding the one bare trace of skin above his glove but below his shirt sleeve. In a moment, all that control, all that restraint, snapped like a dry branch. Lucifer felt his body surge with heat, a groan escaping his throat as he jerked away from her touch.

“Be more careful… “

And just like that he could see the devious cogs of her brain starting to move as that bright smile turned into a smirk.

“So you are affected by the syrup.”

Lucifer sighed, “Of course, but I’m not as easily swayed as my brothers. I can resist the… the--”

“Urges?” she finished, turning away from the desk and stepping into his space, so close his overly sensitive skin could feel the heat of her radiating out towards him. Lucifer wasn’t sure when he let out a breath, only that it fell from his lips in a soft puff of air as he found himself unable to look away from her eyes, turned up to him, bright and adoring. She pursed her lips, soft and plush and pink… he wondered how many of his brothers had kissed those lips today, had embraced her or held her hand? 

Unbidden, he cupped her cheek, thumb drawing down over her bottom lip gently. She ran her tongue out, licking him through his glove. Lucifer moved his hand to hold her by the neck, firm but gentle as he tipped her chin up.

“... give me an order… master.” he spoke lowly, voice a pitched growl.

“Kiss me, please, just ki—”

Her words were silenced in a gasp as Lucifer bit her lip, sucking gently before settling his own mouth, hot and needy over her own. All that waiting, the loneliness and the aching longing to see her again vanished in the kisses. His mouth trailed from hers, pressing open and hot to her jaw as he whispered, “... ever since you left the Devildom…”

Lucifer set his teeth on her neck, sucking hard until she let out a ragged moan.

“...not a day has gone by that I haven’t thought of you.” he said in-between his touches, laying his tongue flat over the red-purple mark he’d left behind. She clung to him, arms around his neck. There was a clatter of books, the wisp sounds of paper falling off the desk as Lucifer cleared the contents and set her upon it.

“I even considered going to the human world…” Lucifer murmured over her collarbone, kissing the tops of her breasts. She had pushed his jacket off his shoulders, fingers fumbling over buttons until she impatiently ripped them free, popping them off with a self-satisfied grin as her hands ran up and over his bare chest. Lucifer made a sound low in his throat, shoving the hem of her dress up around her waist and suddenly jerking her forward to the edge of the desk until he could feel the core of her against him.

“...to find you…” he groaned as she rolled against him, feeling the hardness of him straining in his pants. Her fingers sought out his belt as he spoke, “...to bring you back here.”

“Lucifer.” she moaned, pulling him free and holding him, hot and heavy in her hand. She barely managed a few strokes before he was batting her hand away, taking himself in his own hand and his other steading on her hip as he pressed up against her center, not yet taking but so close. So unbearably close.

“But never once did I imagine… you’d come back to me on your own.”

And with that Lucifer let himself sink into her, drawn in by her and held in welcome inviting heat. She kissed him this time, taking control as her legs locked around his waist and she thrusted her hips forward with a slow roll. Lucifer still didn’t move, locking his arms around her to keep her still, to let him enjoy the overwhelming closeness. He was vaguely aware that their bond marks were glowing, skin thrumming and humming with deep contentment… his and hers.

“... I love you. Truly and deeply.”

This was a time where she would make some joke, some light-hearted quip at his expense to earn his ire and spur him on… but she was so uncharacteristically quiet. Lucifer drew back slightly, enough to see her face and trace a loose strand of hair back over her ear. Her eyes were half-lidded, expression soft and dazed until she finally smiled… that sweet, precious smile just for him.

Her words were quiet, elevating the intimacy of the moment somehow in a way that made Lucifer feel his heart might simply stop, overwhelmed with such violent, intoxicating emotion.

“I’ve missed you so much,” she said, leaning forward to kiss him briefly and letting out a small gasp as Lucifer moved in a few small shallow thrusts, “I love you.” she breathed and then desperately, pleadingly panted out the words, “D-don’t stop.”

“As you wish, master.” Lucifer said, intent upon making this reunion one she’d never forget. They fit so easily together, like falling into an old memory. She helped slide the rest of his shirt off and Lucifer finally indulged that urge to tug free the tie around her neck and peel that dress down beneath her breasts. 

“Lovely... every inch of you.” he said, words coming so easily between a rough groan as she ran her nails across his back. She giggled into his kiss, smiling against his lips. Each movement was so slow, so indulgent, except for when he’d sharply thrust forward, earning a string of pleased sounds from her with the sudden harshness.  Lucifer could feel her tightening, coiling up ever closer, but even as she whimpered and squirmed and tried to force his pace faster, he kept the same steady rhythm. It was so much more pleasing to watch her rise toward her release, the skin of her neck and chest flushed pink as her arms tired and she lay back unto the cool surface of his desk, her fingertips finding her center.

Lucifer took the opportunity to rip off one of his gloves with his teeth, sliding his bare palm over her stomach and up her chest until he pressed it flat against her breastbone, holding her in place. She brought her other hand over his, holding tight as he braced her down and gave into her, wholly and completely.

She came apart so easily between her own touch and his, grasping unto his forearm for some steady port as waves of heat shuddered from her core and down her spine. Lucifer could feel the force of it clutching around him, pulling him and holding him in until he could only just barely ride out his own orgasm, feeling all at once the sort of heavenly lightness that brought him perhaps as close to the celestial realm as he’d ever been.

She was an endless well fo tenderness once she had composed herself, sitting up and eagerly touching and caressing every inch of skin she could reach, kisses peppered over his face and his lips as she made a point of keeping him from pulling out.

“Stay, it feels nice.” she said, wiggling her hips enough to make him jolt slightly from overstimulation. Lucifer clucked his tongue chidingly, but did not stop her.

“... you ruined my shirt.” he said, an observation more than a complaint as he noted a discarded button upon the desk.

“Mmmhm and you can punish me all night long.”

“That sounds more like a reward than a punishment.”

“Depends on how loud you make me scream.” she cooed, nuzzling against his neck with a self-satisfied smile. Lucifer could only chuckle to himself, at a loss as usual for how to win against such a creature. But for now, she was here and here to stay... there would be plenty of time to think on it.

[beanieblanchett]

Tremble and Shake (i)

(not my gif)

Pairing: Lou Miller x female reader

warnings: fluff, slight smut, dominant Lou Miller, submissive reader, stable relationship, sexual frustration/anticipation, bullet vibrator, semi-public sex

Summary: after the heist Lou decided to take her girl to California for an escape and a surprise

(It’s my first time writing anything non-academic in English so be gentle on me. the title comes from Led Zeppelin’s lyric “mountains and canyons start to tremble and shake”in their song going to California)

It was two days ago when your girlfriend finally got back from the heist with a huge success and the announcement that she wanted to go live in California for a while. “It is so god damn cold these days, I would love some sunshine,” she explained to you as she wrapped you in her arms from your back, a smile against your soft neck: “I know you’re used to the weather here in New York but the Aussie part of me really need some legitimate sunlight and spaces once in a while.”

You said yes immediately. You always say yes to Lou for just being with her makes your head spin. And so here you are, on the plane with Lou next to you, napping. Her seat is next the the window and the 5pm fading sunlight kisses her blonde hair beautifully. She looks exotic and divine as always, eyes shut and lips slightly curled up showing how pleasant and peaceful she is right now. You lean yourself against her gently so to not disturb her from her rest, greedily inhaling the smell of her with a somewhat awkward position as the airplane seat’s handle separates you. She smells like a dark mix of smoke, cologne and tears yet also like a warm blanket dried by the affectionate sun.

You can’t help but think about earlier today when she smirked and winked at you and told you that she has prepared a surprised for you. Lou always like to surprise you, sometimes something sweet and heartwarming, other times something sexual and exhilarating——Lou is a passionate and possessive lover so mysterious and freewheeling that you can never predict.

And so on the way to the hotel your mind kept wondering what surprise you are going to get. You couldn’t help but think back to all the surprises you’ve gotten throughout the year: your favorite one being the red collar she gave you as your first anniversary gift. It is a shame that you can’t wear it in public, so you almost always wear a chocker as a placeholder. You love sharing this little secret between you and your criminal girlfriend: the way she looks at you smirking, knowing that you belongs to her.

Lou loves playing games and building anticipations but she also loves building frustrations. She isn’t someone who loves too many rules and regulations but she makes it clear that you should not touch yourself or cum without permission——and you know better than to break the rules, so for the last few days you’ve contained yourself even though every time you hear her voice your heart and body burn uncontrollably.

It’s already late after you checked in. You could hear the ocean wave clashing onto the shore in a steady rhythm and feel your heart pounding with it, wondering if you will finally get your relieve tonight. But when you look at Lou with question she looks back at you lovingly yet innocently, giving you a kiss on the forehead before going to the shower, leaving you high and dry.

You somehow fell asleep and wake up finding yourself in bed with Lou. The room is quite bright by now, filled with sunshine and pleasant singing of birds. You could see how blue the sky is through the white curtains and feel incredibly joyous as you scoot closer to plant kisses on your lover’s cheek and then one on her nose, one on her mouth. Lou opens her eyes lazily and glances at you, her lovely kitten waking her up with wet kisses. She lift her hand and put it behind your head to caress your hair.

“you awake, little one?” She says with a raspy voice, her fingers playing with your hair.

“Yes. I was so tired last night I don’t even know when and how I fell asleep.”

“Well,” her fingers moves to your face, feeling your skin, “you fell asleep right there on the couch with all your clothes on, even that lovely chocker of yours. I had to take them all of and change you into your pajamas.”

Her eyes now shining flirtatiously, and you blush at her words.

“I should go take a shower.” you say as you lift yourself out of bed, cheeks still burning.

“You better do, dirty girl.”

You try very hard not to touch yourself in the shower. It would be against Lou’s will if you do. You love the thought that she has total control over you, even when it is torturous to obey her, the thought of her owning you completely is far more exiting than any orgasms in the world.

You wrap yourself in the towel and start to brush your teeth and suddenly you hear the door open. You turn back to see Lou who’s now fully dressed in a leather jumpsuit that shows off her height and her beautiful body. You gasp at her breathtaking figure, losing the ability to speak. She sees your reaction and chuckles, reaching into her pocket to get out a metallic green bullet vibrator. She hands it to you on her palm and you are still too in shock to react.

Enjoying how overwhelmed and confused you are, her smile widens, “I want you to put it in you before you come out, little one. Can you do that or do you need help?”

“I—I can do that.” You stutter and swallow hardly as you take that vibrator from her palm, looking down to avoid any eye contact.

“Good. Just put it in. You’re not allowed to play with it just yet.” She smirked, “I’ll be out there eating breakfast. Come find me after you’re done.”

Closing the bathroom door, you stand there dizzy with all the thoughts and feelings in the world. You look at the bullet curiously, there is no button on it, so it must be controlled with a remote. You shiver, toss away your towel and open your legs. It is never hard to get you wet, and Lou’s teases certainly helped a ton. You rub your fingers on your pussy lightly and slowly, just enough to get it damp. You juices dance around your fingers as you picture Lou in that stunning jumpsuit. You moan with pleasure: it is the closest you’ve gotten to a relieve in more than a week. But you don’t let yourself to get carried away with it, so you push the bullet in. Your pussy clench to the feeling of fulfillment but also tremble to the cold metallic sensation. It slides in easily as your vagina is now warm and slick with all the juices, swallowing the toy deep inside.

You gasp and sit there with the sensation of having something inside you. The feeling is odd, cold but fulfilling. You put on your white panties, a white tank top and a mini skirt. Then reach to the chocker on the nightstand, wrapping it around your neck carefully. You stand before the mirror for awhile before grabbing a leather jacket to match Lou’s outfit.

When you walk into the hotel restaurant you spot Lou from your first sight. She is so elegant and unique with her light blond hair and fierce eyes. She see you through the tables, smiling, her eyes inviting you as she sips into her coffee and licks her lips suggestively.

As you start walking towards her you feel the bullet buried inside you starts to vibrate and you gasp out of surprise. You sit across her from the table, biting your lips to contain the moans. The vibration was low but the numbing sensation takes over your mind.

“Don’t you look pretty today, little one.” Lou says as her leg touches yours, hers wrapped in leather and yours naked, exposed. She senses your shivering to this contact, but only innocently says,” the French toast here is pretty good.”

Lou watch as you chew on your breakfast. Enjoying the sight of you trying to hide the little pleasant noises into the bread you’re biting on and attempting to act normal when you’re torched inside. You’re on fire under her intense stare and too add to that she turns the vibration up a notch.

You drop your food and whimper in surrender, eyes watering as you look at her, silently begging.

But Lou won’t buy it. She puts a palm on your thigh under the table with a touch light as a feather, teasing you even more. But her face was unaffected.

“If i were you I would eat faster, sweetie. I hope you didn’t forget that I have a surprise for you.”

Read Tremble and Shake (ii) here.

[soulwillower]

high • richie tozier

(step brother richie tozier x reader smut)

requested: Could you do step brother richie fic? 👉👈 + Could you please do a dom stepbrother Richie? Thank you! 👉👈 + i am here to ask for step brother richie or step brother e-boy ver of eddie 🥴

warnings: swearing, marijuana use, dom!step brother richie, p dirty smut, oral sex (male receiving), dirty talking, a bit of praise kink (sry i can't stop)

[losers + reader are 18+ in this.]

2.6k words oof

♡

you wanted to fucking kill richie.

you swear, every moment your step dad and your mom left the house, he was sealed up in the basement smoking himself into an oblivion - and today must not have been any different.

you know that if your mom smelled it when they got back tomorrow, you'd be the one to get in trouble, because your step brother was a prick. but your mom, for some reason, saw him as an angel who 'just had some quirks.'

except those quirks were wearing awful hawaiian shirts, aggressively partying every weekend with his friends, accidentally crashing cars, having a pretty serious nicotine addiction, drunkenly piercing his ear, coming to family dinners high, flirting with you all the time - even when you're not alone - and giving girls stick-n-pokes under the bleachers during class periods.

you didn't really care for richie before your parents got married, and now he's a permanent thorn in your side. 

especially because he's so fucking hot and he knows it. he's always winking at you, putting you in risqué situations, making excuses to have you sit in his lap, to lift you, always putting his hands on you, and making suggestive comments. but the thing you despised most was yourself, because all of what he did just made you want him more. and he probably knew it.

you throw yourself down the stairs, frustrated. "richie, c'mon. do you have to do that down here?" you whine as you find yourself facing him. he's sitting on the couch, a shitty rerun of some show on the tv. he shrugs, looking unaffected as he holds a glass pipe in his hand. "it's just one bowl. it won't smell and it won't even get me high." he defends casually.

you scoff. "i could smell it from upstairs." you lie. he rolls his eyes, "no, you couldn't. you just wanted to come down here to yell at me."

you almost laugh at how quickly he reads through you. "well, you deserve it, anyways." you mumble, walking closer. he watches you warily as you sit next to him on the couch. "you want some, y/n/n?" he asks slyly. you give him a look and he shrugs. "why not? they won't be back 'till the morning." richie reasons. you really want to but... "i've never..." you trail off, eyeing the glass pipe in his hand.

his eyebrows raise, a teasing look filling his features. "shut up, you asshole." you grumble, flopping against the back of the couch. "i didn't even say anything!" he says with a grin. 

you scowl, rolling your eyes as he snickers. "you're a big girl, i'm sure you can handle some if you want." he teases and you roll your eyes. "you're a dick." you say, grabbing the piece out of richie's hands. you look at it, figuring it can't be that hard, right? richie doesn't let you guess though, immediately taking control.

"so you put your lips to it here then cover your finger over this hole. then you'll inhale and when i tell you, take your finger off and keep inhaling. then try to hold it in as long as you can." he says, fingers guiding you over the steps. you gulp, face red because of how close he is to you.

you're not 100% sure if he intends to be so seductive with you, but with the way he's breathing on your neck, you're starting to think that he means to. 

two can play at that game.

you look at him, putting your lips on the piece. "like this?" you mumble on the glass and his eyes are trained on your lips. he licks his own but then looks back to you, "just like that, toots. you're doing perfect." he mumbles, eyes hooded and trained on your lips. you blush from his words, cursing yourself for feeling slightly aroused but also deciding to just fuck it. 

"and then i just suck?" you whisper, watching his face contort at your words. he hums lowly, almost to himself, eyes not leaving your lips. to distract yourself, you take a small inhale.

"that's right, there you go. good girl." he mumbles lowly and you immediately pull away, the smoke thick in your throat and you cough and wheeze, shaking your head. 

richie's laugh is deep and you want to hit him in the chest because he fucking knows, he knows what he's fucking doing to you. he takes the pipe back with a smirk, making you pout. "no, i wanna do it!" you whine.

"well girls who whine don't get what they want." richie says bluntly, giving you a sharp look that makes your heart stop.

 you gulp as color fills your cheeks. you know richie notices because he lifts a brow, smirk still plastered on his face. "sh-shut up." you mumble and richie just lifts a brow. you sigh. "please, rich?" you ask, trying to ask nicely and not sound as desperate for him as you are right now. he just laughs again, staring at you. "why don't i shotgun it to you first?" he asks. you tilt your head with a lifted brow, "what's that?"  

he shrugs, "i'll take the hit and keep it in my mouth and blow it towards you. then you can inhale it. it'll be easier on your lungs." he says casually. "okay, yeah. do that." you say, trying not to think about how close he'll to be.

you stare at him intently as he takes a hit and turns to you. he raises his eyebrows and you snap out of it, your hand falling forward as you lean towards him. 

he blows the smoke out slowly and you inhale it, the burning sensation at the back of your throat making you want to cough. you hold the smoke in your lungs for as long as you can until you do cough, sputtering into your elbow. richie pats your back, laughing to himself.

you’re embarrassed. “don't worry. that wasn't the most pathetic thing i've seen you do.” he says with another smirk and you just flush deeper. you glare at richie with angry, watery eyes. "fuck off, richie." you spit at him. 

you cave quickly though, wanting to try it another time, "can we do it again?" you ask. richie's smirking as he nods. you can't tell why he's grinning until you feel him sit back against the couch and he moves under your hand.

your hand is on his thigh. but it feels like it would be more awkward for you to remove your hand now as opposed to leaving it. now he's taking another hit and it's too late anyways, so you just leave your hand there.

this time as he leans toward you, you lean as well and his hand grabs your neck to steady you as he exhales into your mouth. "stay fucking still, idiot." he mumbles, smoke escaping his mouth. 

you roll your eyes but you swear you can almost feel his lips against yours, "you’re a fucking douchebag, richie." you say, but you itch to just close the gap. you could call it an accident... blame it on the smoke...

but your thoughts are cut off because richie's lips are clashing against yours. 

it's harsh and you kiss back immediately, exhaling through your nose and feeling it burn as the smoke leaves through your nostrils. your hands grasp at his shoulders to pull him closer and you feel his arm lean over, setting the pipe on the table before grabbing your waist and pulling you towards him harshly. his tongue licks into your mouth when you gasp, making you shiver.

you pull back slightly, and richie mutters a soft "fuck."

you can't help but snort, despite how insanely turned on you are. "yeah, fuck." you whisper, not pulling away. he looks into your eyes and you close the gap again, hands immediately flying to the buttons on his shirt. now that you have the chance, you're not gonna let it slip.

he's even more enthusiastic than you it seems, because he lifts your shirt off quickly and then shoves you down so you're laying vertical on the couch cushions. you moan as you fall back and his body chases yours, pinning you under him. his lips are immediately sucking on the flesh of your neck and you whimper, grinding your hips up against his.

he moans under your ear softly, and you can't help but ache for him at the noise. this was so wrong.

 "this is so wrong." you mutter and richie chuckles against your chest. he hums in agreement, his hands unclipping your bra. "d’you wanna stop, princess?" he asks, leaning his head up to stare at you as he thrusts his hips slowly against your heat and you mewl. 

"no." you say shortly, trying not to act too desperate. he chuckles, his fingers coming up to pull your bra all the way off and pinch your nipple between his thumb and finger.

he kisses you again, grinding against you harshly as your fingers tangle into his hair. your bare chests are pressed together and he smells like his body wash and aftershave and a little bit of weed and it's completely intoxicating. "can you just fuck me already?" you say, feeling like if something doesn't happen soon you might explode.

"if you want it so bad then beg." he says smugly, and you're so frustrated you want to scream. "fuck you, richie." you say instead, and the smile wipes from his face. 

he raises his eyebrows and steps away from you, standing up with a tsk. "you're always such a fucking brat." he says, jaw clenched. you just look at him, clenching your thighs together in seek of some sort of relief. he points to the ground in front of him, his shirt fully unbuttoned and hanging open. your eyes rake over his torso, but he snaps to get your attention.

“get on your knees. i want to see those pretty little lips wrapped around my cock.” he says sternly and you almost whimper, giving in and sliding off the couch, onto your knees. 

richie's standing in front of you and you gaze up at him, eyes wide as you wait for him. he palms himself before pulling his pants down and then his boxers. you gulp, eyes blown wide as you take in his size. he's fucking huge, and you're not sure if he'll even fit.

he chuckles, his hand wrapping around your jaw and sliding his thumb to open your mouth. "you're going to behave." he orders. you feel yourself getting wetter by the moment. 

you nod, desperate to taste him, your mouth opening and laying your tongue out flat. he chuckles, gripping the base of his cock and slowly easing himself into your mouth. you take him in as well as you can as he stretches out your mouth. he moans lowly, muttering, "there you go." under his breath.

your hands come up to his thighs to stabilize yourself as you start to bob your head. you feel him hit the back of your throat and gag, making him groan. his hand reaches up to squeeze one of your tits, thumbing your nipple and making you moan around his cock. "right there." he mutters, his other hand lacing into your hair and holding you against him. he thrusts gently into your mouth, his tip hitting the back of your throat. you moan, your eyes start tearing up as he fucks your mouth. he slows and you start to enthusiastically bob your head, loving how he’s moaning your name above you. 

suddenly, he pulls you all the way off. you cough, a string of spit coming off. he wipes it with his thumb, giving you a grin.

"c'mere, toots." he whispers and you stumble to your feet. he pulls you into a searing kiss and you feel his cock against your bare stomach, making you whine into the kiss with need. "are you gonna be good?" he mutters and you nod against his lips. "yes." you whisper desperately.

he smirks, pushing you back onto the couch and pulling off your shorts and panties. he presses a light kiss to your swollen clit, making you take in a sharp breath. 

he hums in disappointment, "no time to tase you, princess. maybe another time. i need you right now." he says and your stomach swirls at ‘another time.’

it feels so wrong, but you're so relieved that he wants to do this again.

 he pulls your legs apart and situates himself between them, teasing your slit with his tip. "you ready?" he mumbles, and you nod desperately. he leans over and kisses your hairline surprisingly softly. "i need to hear you say it." he mumbles. your heart skips so you speak up, "y-yes. please richie. please fuck me."

he smirks, easing himself into you slowly. your hands clench his shoulders tightly, your eyes squeezing shut. he bottoms out and you're panting, raking your nails down his bare back. you feel like you're floating and the only thing keeping you down on earth is richie. you mewl, kissing under his jaw as he starts pounding into you.

 he throws your legs over his shoulders and pushes himself into you again, making you gasp. he's so big and you barely have time to adjust as he's already pumping himself into you. "shit, y/n. so tight." he hisses, his hands grabbing your breasts and rolling your nipples. 

you let out a moan, eyes closing in pleasure as he fucks you into the couch.

"richie, rich..." you mutter his name like a prayer and he tucks your hair behind your ear as he kisses you heatedly. "you close already?" he mutters, "so desperate for me. you gonna cum on your step brother's cock?" he hums as he says it and you almost scream at the pleasure as he hits you in the perfect spot. you're just nodding, your hands raking down his back and lips tucked under your teeth. his hand drops down and he rubs figure 8's on your clit, kissing you right as you hit your peak.

you clench around him, making him toss his head back with a low groan. you ride out your high, watching him as he picks up his pace thrusting into you. you start to feel sensitive as he pulls his thumb off your clit and he grabs your breasts again, watching them as he fucks into you. you start to whimper at the feeling, the sensation overwhelming as he coos, wiping your tears as they pool in your eyes. "i'm close, fuck, y/n." he mutters.

after a few thrusts, he pulls out and starts pumping himself as he moans. you quickly sink down and grab his hands, halting him and he looks at you through hooded eyes until you sink your mouth onto him, your legs shaking and feeling weak."fuck, look at you, so desperate." he mutters, his hands pushing you down on his cock. you’re gagging around him and he thrusts his hips, tears streaming down your cheeks. it’s so hot that you start to sputter around him and gag as he thrusts up into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat and hearing him groan your name.

he's holding your head down against him as he cums in your mouth.  you swirl your tongue on his tip, swallowing around him as you lap up the rest of his cum.

gasping as you pull off of him, he wipes your lips to clean the spit and cum off. your chest is heaving, your body weak, and you have to suck in your breaths.

 richie's hand comes up to your face, rubbing it and kissing your tears away gently. "you did so amazing, y/n. that was the hottest thing i've ever seen." he mumbles, staring at you. you can't help but smirk bashfully, your eyes catching the pipe, half of the bowl still good.

"hey... d'you want to.. finish that?" you ask, your voice broken and fucked out as you settle next to richie, gesturing to the pipe. he laughs, rubbing your arm and grabbing the lighter. "fuck yeah, i do."

[gin-and-total-annihilation]

more spop not!fic that actually turns into fic bc i am trash

I will preface this entirely-too-long post by saying I’ve read very, very little spop fanfic, and the few I’ve read since s5 dropped are all Catradora oneshots that are, um, a little hyperfocused. (Read: Y’all really have some Ideas about how a sword lesbian and a cat lesbian have The Sex, don’tcha.) So it’s entirely probably that the scenario I’m imagining here has been done before, possibly a lot, and likely better than how I’ve imagined it. This is me, 15 minutes late with Starbucks.

But can you imagine how hard it would be for Catra to integrate into the Princess Alliance? I mean, the show depicts the BFS adopting her pretty much immediately with, like, zero hesitations over their past history with her (a few sarcastic one-liners tossed here and there don’t count as processing, imho). But the kingdom at large? Not to mention the other kingdoms? Catra was the face of the invasion for such a long time. She had a specific angle to take out She-Ra, the ubiquitously-loved and lauded hero of Etheria. Yes, she helped save the planet/universe from Horde Prime, but once the banners and balloons come down, there’s still a reckoning to be had.

Mermista alternately pokes fun at Catra for being afraid of water, and takes any opportunity to “accidentally” splash her

Netossa brings a squirt bottle to any meeting where Catra is invited, and offers at some point to make Adora a magic leash for her

Frosta doesn’t particularly say or do anything, but she makes extra sure to exude icy menace in Catra’s direction. Okay, one time she maybe accidentally zings Catra during iceball, but everyone else thought it was funny!

Out of respect for Scorpia’s friendship with Catra, Perfuma doesn’t stoop to playing pranks, but she does pointedly remark on how muddled Catra’s chi is, a lot. Sometimes in the middle of a meeting, if Catra is arguing with someone, Perfuma will airily announce to the whole room that negative energy is starting to interfere with their goals again, and it looks like she’ll have to sage the meeting room again. After which Catra usually just gives up and sulks in silence

Micah is fairly neutral on the subject of Catra, considering she’s part of his daughter’s “best friend squad” and is also dating She-Ra, Princess of Power, demigod of the wind and sea, vanquisher of Horde Prime, hero of Etheria. But he does get moody sometimes looking at the mural of Angella, and a couple of times he’ll go Dad Mode and tell Glimmer she reminds him of her mother, but then he’ll glance at Catra and change the subject.

And like, Catra gets it, okay? She fucked up. She was the bad guy. And these people are princesses. If there’s anything Catra knows is true, it’s that princesses are champions at Not Letting It Go. So she mostly just lets it roll off her shoulders. (Okay, yes, sometimes she goads them, and yes, she should keep her mouth shut more instead of trading barbs, but what do you want from her? Being catty is her thing.) After all, she got her happily ever after. She got Adora. And that’s really all that she cares about. So a couple of whiny, poofy, pastel-wearing bimbos wanna take cheap shots at her? Ha. Catra wrote the book on petty. She grew up in the Horde. Let ‘em do their worst. 

Except Adora gets Big Mad about it.

I imagine Adora not only notices how the other princesses act around Catra, she sees Catra doing her best to ignore it. Melog is a pretty good indicator of Catra’s temper, and so it’s clear that the hazing irritates the shit out of Catra, but true to her word, she’s been working on her anger, so aside from sarcasm the worst anyone gets out of a her is a scowl, a flicking tail and ears, and Melog’s brief display of red-tinged spines and growling. 

So Adora is proud, seriously! Catra has come a long way from where she was in the Horde. But Adora, the OG “Punch Your Feelings Out Guy”, wants to remind the other princesses that Catra’s not the only one who changed sides.

Naturally, she does this by losing her temper and shouting them down during another all-princess meeting where everyone is subtly picking on Catra.

“What is your problem? Catra’s on our side now! Why are you all still acting like this?”

Mermista, never one to back down from a verbal slap-fest, gamely engages. “Um, not everyone thinks that just because Catra made, like, one good choice, she gets a free pass on all her other ones.”

“Forgiveness is a process, Adora,” says Perfuma primly, ignoring the glare Adora sends her way. “You can’t expect everyone to accept Catra immediately. We need time to work through our negative associations with Catra so that we can begin the healing process.”

Catra rolls her eyes, but Adora throws her hands in the air. “Immediately? It’s been months! And you’re not working through anything! You’re bullying her!”

At this point, Catra is almost offended at all this implies. “Uh, excuse me, no one bullies me, okay. I can take anything they throw at me.”

“Ha, that’s funny,” says Netossa sweetly. “Because that’s not what you say anytime I have this in my hand!” She brandishes the squirt bottle, and Catra’s ears flatten but she keeps herself from flinching.

Adora slaps the table. “See! Bullying!”

“Adora, calm down,” says Glimmer, sighing with a hand over her eyes. At her side, Bow splays both hands in a gesture that simultaneously tries to placate everyone.

“Okay, look, everyone,” he says. “A couple of jokes are one thing, but Adora’s got a point. It’s going a little too far.”

“Oh? Was it also going a little too far when Catra wrecked my castle and destroyed Princess Prom?” says Frosta, crossing her arms.

“Or when she decimated the Whispering Woods?” adds Perfuma.

“Or when she attacked my kingdom?” Mermista, chin on fist, rolls her eyes. “And, you know, stole it for a while.”

“Or when she sent Entrapta to Beast Island?” Perfuma turns to put a hand on Entrapta’s shoulder, but Entrapta’s eyes have gone starry.

“Oooh, I liked Beast Island! The tech there was superb! Maybe I can go back with all the resources at my disposal, now that I’m not an exiled prisoner anymore, and see if I can finally succeed in reversing the polarity of the--”

“See,” says Perfuma hastily, “she was exiled and a prisoner! With no, um, resources!”

“Look, Adora, it’s great that you and Catra are happy together,” says Frosta, with the deadpan expression of a fourteen-year-old who does not mean a single thing she says. “But I still don’t like her.”

“My heart breaks,” mutters Catra, but Adora leans over the table, eyes closing in a bid for patience.

“I’m not asking anyone to like her. I’m just saying, stop bullying her.”

“Uh, again, I’m not--”

Adora spears Catra with a single look, and Catra subsides, a little stunned at the turbulence in her girlfriend’s eyes.

“It’s mean,” Adora goes on, “and it’s pointless, since Catra is on our side now. I know there’s history there, but we are in the process of rebuilding Etheria and creating an example to show the other worlds we’re trying to reach. So just--chill, okay?”

A moment of silence greets this declaration. Then Frosta looks away with a snort.

“I’ll show her some chill,” she mutters.

Catra desperately wants to roll her eyes. “Give it a rest, kid.”

Frosta shoots to her feet, a layer of ice sheeting the table under her hands. “Don’t talk down to me, Horde scum!”

Melog leaps onto the table, its mane blazing so deep a red it’s nearly black. Chaos erupts as various shouts of “Melog, no!” and “Watch out!” tangle in the air. Catra rises from her seat, alarmed that Frosta is about to ice-punch her alien cat, when thunder cracks and a deep, throaty voice shouts, “Enough!”

She-Ra stands in battle stance, glowering at the room’s occupants, light pouring off her. The sword is held in a neutral rest position in her hand, though every inch of her (and there’s a lot of them) seems to be vibrating with energy.

Catra clears her throat as Melog instantly goes liquid-blue and pounces to She-Ra’s side, curling around and around her legs with undisguised adoration.

Melog, it seems, has no concept of chill.

The princesses all resume their seats, staring at the beast they’d been seconds from attacking as it practically rolls on the ground at She-Ra’s feet. Their eyes go from She-Ra to Melog to Catra, who expertly pretends to be unaffected and unblushing.

“Catra is not a threat,” says She-Ra in that voice, and Melog agrees blissfully, rubbing its head against her hip. Catra opens her mouth to protest, but sighs and shuts up. No point in protesting that you’re a badass when your psychic mood-ring therapy cat goes belly-up anytime your hot warrior girlfriend looks at you.

“Catra deserves another chance. She’s already proven herself by helping us defeat Prime.” She-Ra lays a single hand on Melog’s head. Catra wants to bury her face in her hands at the sound the alien cat makes.

“But how can we trust her when she used to fight for the Horde!” protests Frosta.

“So did I,” says She-Ra quietly, and it’s like all the air gets sucked out the room.

“So did Entrapta and Scorpia--” Perfuma’s eyes drop to the table at this. “--and you, Mermista--” Mermista sighs, but doesn’t argue. “and Spinnerella--” Even though She-Ra’s voice is gentle, Spinnerella’s eyes still well with tears, and Netossa tries to glare while she comforts her wife, but even she looks guilty. “--and King Micah, and Shadow Weaver--” Even though Glimmer wasn’t one of the princesses giving Catra shit, she still winces and leans closer to Bow. “And we gave every single one of them a second chance before the war was even ended. What makes Catra different from them?”

“She wasn’t mind-controlled!” argues Frosta.

“Yes, she was!” shoots back She-Ra, and Catra can’t help the flinch, the instinct to reach back and rub her neck. Her hair is just starting to be long enough to cover the faint scar of the implant.

“Okay, for like, a second, but even before Horde Prime, Catra was--”

“Catra and I were both abused and manipulated by Shadow Weaver.” There’s a thread of pain in She-Ra’s voice now. “From the time we were infants. We never stood a chance against her.”

“But you escaped,” says Perfuma, almost as a question. “You changed your mind about the Horde, and you left.”

Catra stares at the table. She can feel She-Ra’s eyes glance toward her. Melog gives a solemn mrow of comfort, pulsing aqua-blue. Without warning, light flares again and Adora is standing at Catra’s side, hands empty.

“If I hadn’t found the sword in the Whispering Woods, it would have been me marching on your kingdoms,” says Adora, and everyone shuffles uncomfortably. “I was chosen to be Force Captain just a couple hours before. It was dumb luck that I fell off that skiff and landed where I did.”

“It was destiny,” argues Perfuma. “You were chosen to be She-Ra! You would have found the sword at some point!”

“By that point, would it have mattered?” Adora’s hand strokes Melog’s ears. Catra swears she can feel the ghost of those fingers on her own head. “I wouldn’t have had Bow and Glimmer to show me what the Horde was really doing. I would have had Shadow Weaver and Hordak reinforcing my training.”

“You would have found a way to become She-Ra,” says Perfuma earnestly. “The universe would have aligned somehow--”

“And whose kingdom would have already fallen to the Horde by the time that happened?” Adora lifts her hands helplessly. “Don’t you get it? If I hadn’t discovered I was She-Ra, I would have become Catra.”

They stare at her, apparently never having put the dots together before. Catra, who has always been smarter than these princesses, leans back in her chair.

“Maybe,” she says, smirking up at her girlfriend. “But I wore it better.”

aslfja;lskdjfl;a this is already too long and it half-morphed into fic, so I’ll just summarize by saying everyone is a little sorry that they’ve been bullying Catra, and Catra refuses to admit she’s been bullied because of course she does, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t hugely touched and grateful that for once Adora fought to protect her from her princess friends. The Alliance goes forward with the intent of trying to behave better towards Catra. It helps that they saw Melog turn into a jello-mold as soon as She-Ra appeared, so they have proof positive that Catra is indeed not a threat and is in fact secretly a jello mold herself. The bullying turns into heckling whenever Catra and Adora goo-goo-eye each other. Which is a lot. Frosta makes an ice sculpture of Catra swooning into Adora’s arms (her art skills mysteriously improve enough to clearly depict Catra with heart eyes and Adora with bulging biceps). Perfuma decorates it with flowers. Netossa puts a forcefield net around it so Catra can’t destroy it. Catra sulks and Adora flexes her muscles to make her feel better. the end???

bonus line I couldn’t figure out how to incorporate: “Uh, Entrapta has two Hordaks and I don’t see anyone giving her crap about them!”

[dreary-doll-writing]

Spying Turned Accidental Double Date (1/2)

Fandom: Yu Gi Oh ZeXaL

Pairings: Yuma/Trey, Kite/Quattro

Rating: G

Word Count: 2,454

"You want me to What?" Kite asks Kari over the phone.

"Yuma is going on a date with an older boy, and he seems nice enough but I'm worried. I have to work late, can you please just keep an eye on them for a little bit, please? I'll pay you."

Kite lets out a long sigh, "I guess, but don't expect much, “older” boys aren't all as awful as you seem to think."

"Thanks, Kite, don't let the little punk get into trouble!"

"Have you met your brother?" Is how Kite planned to respond but she hung up on him before he could.

~~~

"Yuma Tsukamo? Really?" Quinton can't believe what he's hearing.

"Yeah! It was so sweet, too, he gave me a flower and asked me to go out with him with a red face and a stammer," Trey gushes.

"You're...sure you want to go? I can't help but worry this is some sort of prank..."

Trey pouts, crossing his arms, "A boy likes me and it "has to be a prank"? Really?"

"Don't put words in my mouth, I'm just keeping an eye out for you because that boy seems like he has ulterior motives," Quinton argues.

"I'm older than him, and I can take care of myself, especially over Yuma."

Quinton lets out a long, defeated sigh, "Be safe, and smart."

Trey let his angry façade fall, smiling at his oldest brother, "I knew you'd come around."

He heads to his room to get ready and Quattro starts laughing, "You're going to spy on them."

"It's not spying, it's keeping my youngest brother out of harm's way," Quinton doesn't bother trying to cover up his plan.

Kite quietly followed Yuma to some cheap restaurant at the edge of town and was surprised to see none other than Trey Arclight waiting for him, waving at him once the younger boy entered the restaurant.

Kite tried not to be spotted by ducking into the nearest booth that could see the two boys as soon as he entered the restaurant himself.

He was surprised to find another patron there already, sitting with their head ducked, but he was even more surprised when he noticed who it was.

"Why are you following Trey on his date?" Kite asks in disbelief.

"He's my little brother, why in the world are you following Yuma?" Quinton whispers the question with a raised brow.

"His sister wanted me to keep an eye on him."

"I have things under control here, you go home," Quinton offers.

"If his sister finds out I left she'll find and kill me, you go home."

"I trust Yuma a lot, and you, but not with my littlest brother's heart."

"I guess we're both staying then."

"I...guess so."

"Oh, hi you two, didn't see you come in! Here," a waitress sets two menus in front of them, "Lots of lovebirds in today."

"We're not-" they both begin to say, but she's already off to take Yuma and Trey's orders.

"Maybe you should...go to the other side of the booth, Kite, I'll watch them, you see if you can listen in."

Kite cautiously moves to the other side of the booth so he's back to back with them, and can just barely hear the boys giggling to each other quietly.

"And that's why Caswell can't wear tank tops," Yuma seems to finish a story that must have been funny from the way Trey is still giggling.

"You have so many fun stories," Trey muses.

"What are they saying?" Quinton asks.

Kite leans in closer to the table so the couple doesn't end up hearing him, Quinton following suit to hear better, "They're just talking about Yuma's friends."

"That's innocent en-"

"Oop!" The waitress shows back up, seemingly out of nowhere, "Sorry you two! Didn't mean to interrupt but I was hoping you two had a drink order ready?"

"Uhm, I'm no-"

"Two coffees, please?" Quinton smiles politely at her, "Sugar and cream on the side."

"You're darling, ordering for your boyfriend, I'll have it right out, hun."

"I don't want-"

"It's rude to not order, Kite, not to mention suspicious, just let it go, I'll pay."

Kite shakes his head and leans back to eavesdrop on the other conversation again, and is just met with more giggling.

~~~

Trey noticed Quinton following him immediately and wanted to get mad at him for it, but when he texted Yuma about it, Yuma revealed that Kite also seemed to be following him, probably for his sister.

Yuma had a better idea than yelling at their spies, so they decided that, instead of a quiet date at the water tower like they planned, they met up at a cheaper restaurant.

"Are they watching us?" Trey asks when Yuma sits down.

"Mmhmm, they're sitting in a booth together now," Yuma nods.

"Do you think they're in on this together?" Trey asks.

"No way, Quinton looks too surprised to see Kite."

"How close are they?"

"They're right behind you."

"They're not even trying to be subtle," Trey laughs.

"I think they're bickering."

"Maybe one of them will leave, it'll be easier to lose one than both," Trey hums.

"You really th-" Yuma cuts himself off with a laugh, "I don't know what the waitress said but they're both red as tomatoes."

"She probably asked if they were dating or something," Trey giggles.

The waitress comes to their table with her notepad ready, "You two know you have stalkers right? I can have them kicked out if you need."

"That's my brother and his friend, they're over protective, but we're safe," Trey assures, "Thank you."

"Well, can I get you boys something to drink while they breathe down your necks?"

"Lemonade?"

"Two."

"On it, and it's on the house since you two are already having a hard time."

"Kite moved while she was taking our order, act like I said something funny," Yuma informs very quietly.

Trey starts giggling, which is easy since they're already messing with the two adults.

"And that's why Caswell can't wear tank tops," Yuma pulls some sort of ending out of nowhere, which only makes Trey giggle more.

"You have so many fun stories," Trey goes with the flow of whatever Yuma's plan is.

The waitress walks by again, setting their drinks down as she walks by, before going back to their shadows' table.

Yuma starts laughing after a little bit of awkward silence, "I think she embarrassed Quinton, he's red again."

Trey starts laughing again, imagining what she must've said to get a reaction like that out of his brother.

"Hey, I have a plan, I'm sorry in advance, but go with it," Yuma whispers.

"Wha-"

"Oh No!"

Yuma very intentionally knocks his drink over, onto Trey.

"Yuma! You're so clumsy!" Trey whines, trying to keep the rising giggles out of his voice.

"I'm sorry, come on, I'll help you clean up," Yuma offers him a hand before leading him to the bathroom.

~~~

Kite hears Yuma cry out in shock, and Quinton jumps, but sits back down.

"Yuma! You're so clumsy!" Trey whines, and Kite peaks to see the teen standing practically next to him, coat dripping with what Kite guesses is Yuma's drink.

"I'm sorry, come on, I'll help you clean up."

Kite watches the two go to the bathroom, both him and Quinton hide their faces in their menus as the teen duo walks by.

"That seemed pretty deliberate," Quinton scowls.

"Knowing Yuma, it wasn't, he's just that dumb and clumsy."

"And now those two are alone in the bathroom," Quinton adds.

"Yuma's too...Yuma to have any sort of plan like that to get Trey alone."

Quinton lets out a small laugh, "I'll give you that. If he wanted Trey alone for a reason like that he'd probably just say something dumb that makes what he wants too obviously."

Kite laughs too, nodding, "But then again, would Trey even get it if he did that?"

Quinton goes to argue but just shakes his head, "No, probably not, for such a smart boy he's so innocent."

"Pretty much the exact opposite of that other brother of yours."

"Yeah," Quinton nods.

"Crap, they're coming back," Kite spots the teens out of the corner of his eye, leaving the bathroom.

They both hide their faces in their menus again.

"Is...Trey wearing Yuma's vest?" Quinton asks, watching the two sit back down.

"Looked like it..."

"...Maybe Yuma is slicker than we gave him credit for?"

~~~

"Was that necessary?" Trey pouts, taking off his outer shirt, only to find the lemonade had soaked through to his base shirt.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to make that big of a mess, but I wanted to say, without them hearing, maybe we should go to a movie or something after lunch?" Yuya slips off his vest and offers it to Trey.

Trey smiles softly, taking off his shirt and putting on the vest instead.

"Because you want to go to a movie with me or because you want to mess with them more?" Trey asks, struggling with the buckles on the vest. It was definitely not meant to be worn like this.

Yuma takes over for him, buckling it as tight as it goes, "Both?"

"I'll go, but only after my shirt dries off...this is too short for me..."

Yuma beams, and offers Trey his elbow as politely as he can muster and leads his date out of the bathroom, both of them suppressing more laughter as they see Kite and Quinton hiding their faces in their menus.

The waitress gets to their table right as they get back, raising a questioning brow at Trey's change in clothes, but not saying anything about it, "You two decide on what to eat? Or were you a little...preoccupied?"

Trey's face turns bright red when he realizes what this probably looks like.

"I'm ready, you?" Yuma seems unaffected.

Trey swallows thickly before nodding.

[kitten-anarchy]

frenemies (TUA Fanfic)

TUA | BAD THINGS HAPPEN BINGO

PROMPT: ENEMY TURNED CARETAKER

(ao3 link)

TWS: emetophobia (vomiting), the handler is kind of creepy (not sexually!! PSA: if i see anyone tag this as ship, i’m gonna break your kneecaps :D) = Five wakes to a pounding, ear-splitting headache.

His vision is blurry, black spots dancing in his vision, and he can barely keep himself from throwing up. Instinctively, his hands go to wipe his nose, expecting the usual trail of blood that comes with overusing his powers.  His hands come back dry - not even a fleck of dried blood on them.

Did I get kidnapped?

He bites back a groan of annoyance. Of course. Five is not unfamiliar with the infamous Hargreeves family luck. It's his own fault for letting his guard down; after getting stranded for forty-five years and stopping two apocalypses, he really should know better then to expect one day off.

Rubbing his aching head, Five takes stock of the room. It's a simple thing, four smooth stone walls with only a single door across from where he's sitting. Annoyingly enough, he's attached to a monitor and an IV. Normally, Five wouldn't think twice about removing the wires and jumping out, but just the thought of it makes his head spin.

He'll have to suck it up. You're fifty-eight years old, Five. You can handle a little pain. Get over yourself.

Five swings his legs off the bed, shivering slightly as his bare feet touch the cold concrete flooring. The freezing air easily penetrates the thin white hospital gown. He slowly makes his way towards the wooden door. It's annoying, feeling this weak and vulnerable. It doesn't help that he doesn't have access to his powers. At the very least, he can take comfort in the fact that his siblings aren't-

His siblings.

Fuck, where are his siblings? Are they in here with him? Shit. Shit.

Don't panic, Five, Dolores would say. Take a deep breath. I'm sure they're fine.

Right, right. They're thirty years old, and they can hold their own in a fight. They'll be fine.

(They're thirty years old, and they can hold their own in a fight, but that didn't help them against the end of the world.)

He starts making his way quicker to the door, ignoring the way the burning taste of bile that fills his mouth. He tries the door - it's locked. Of course it is.

He doesn't have time for this.

Five dislikes blinking into unknown areas - anyone or anything could be there, and while Five is confidant he can still put up a damn good fight if need be, he doesn't want to risk it. The wood is thin, though, and Five can't hear or see anything passing by. Concentrating, he blinks into a mostly empty hallway.

He throws up on the spot.

Sinking to his knees, Five chokes, phlegm and blood littering the bile splattering the cold cement flooring. The flickering fluorescent light bulb makes his nausea worse, and his eyes squeeze shut as another heave wracks his shaky, weak body.

His head spins.

Everything spins.

It all blurs together, and Five can't tell the walls from the floor from the ceiling from the door from the floor.

Between heaves, he can faintly make out the faint sound of footsteps. His powers don't work. His throw-up cools around his fingers, sticky and gross. His powers don't work. The footsteps grow louder. His powers don't work. Cool fingers card their way through his sweaty hair.

"Oh, Five," a voice tuts. The air suddenly smells sweet, crusty and sickeningly so, a faint undercurrent of smoke reminding Five of burnt caramel. He dry-heaves again. "Look at the mess you've made. Good little boys don't throw up on the floor."

Don't fucking patronize me, he wants to hiss but the words dry up in his throat as he looks up. The Handler smiles down at him, easily picking him up bridal style. "You should go back to bed," she says. "You're not well."

He struggles in her grip, clawing at her throat as her sharp nails dig deeper into his legs and shoulders. His limbs are weak, bones shaky like jelly. "Don't fucking touch me." Five snarls, clawing and scratching but she won't put him down. How the hell is she even alive? What the fuck does he have to do to make sure she dies and stays dead?

"Relax, dear," They aren't going back to the room, instead walking down the hallway. They pass by more doors, all the same - 009, 010, 011...  it just keeps going. Where the hell is she taking him? Where the hell is she taking him? "I don't know if you've noticed, but you're covered in vomit. You need a change of clothes, mister!"

"Where am I?" He tries to sound intimidating, or at least vaguely unaffected, and fails horribly. Five's voice fails him, hoarse and barely above a whisper. The Handler is enjoying this - he can tell. There's a slight curve to her mouth whenever she glances down at Five's small and pitiful form. She's in control here, and they both know it.

The Handler stumbles suddenly, jerking Five, and he buries his face into her stomach at the sharp burst of nausea. He can practically feel her smirk. "I don't know if I should tell you, Five," she sings as they continue down the hall. "What's the magic word?"

"Fuck you," he snaps. He hates this - weak, shaky, and feverish, stuck in the arms of a monster. "Fuck you." They enter the bathroom, grey and sterile, and she sets Five down on the toilet.

"That's not very nice," The Handler hums, running the bath water. "Say that you're sorry, Five." He's not, but she's walking towards him, and his powers don't work, and she's trapping him against the cold porcelain, and his powers don't work, and her sharp nails are digging their way down his neck, and his powers don't work-

"I'm sorry." He chokes out.

"I forgive you," she says, easily. "Now, let's get you into the tub."

"What the hell are you doing?" He snaps as her fingers reach to tug at the strings of his hospital gown. Five has no idea what she's planning, but he does know that the thin, flimsy fabric is the only barrier between him and her, and he intends to keep it that way.

The Handler chuckles. "You can't take a bath with clothes on, silly!'

"I'm not taking a bath while you're in here."

"Oh, but it's for your own good! I mean, just look at you!" she says slyly. Five bats away the hand reaching to stroke his cheek. "So weak and helpless... you're covered in your own sick. You need help. I'm a mother at heart, you know." Yeah, sure. She knows as much about parenting as his own father did. "You're so stubborn, Five. Fine, fine. I'll leave to get you some new clothes. If you slip and crack your head open, it's not my fault."

True to her word, she leaves, finally leaving him alone. There's no windows in here either, unfortunately, and the only vent he sees is far too small for even this stupid prepubescent form to fit into. The door is locked from the outside, and Five really doesn't want a repeat of last time.

Sighing, he unties the gown and steps into the lukewarm water. His limbs are still shaky and weak, and for a second Five really is convinced he'll crack his head open. Though it hurts to curl his fingers, he keeps a tight grip on the sides of the tub as he lowers himself down.

Some food would help him regain his strength - if his former employer is so obsessed with her little power play over him, maybe he can play to it and get something actually substantial out of it. If he bides his time, acting weak and nauseous, she'll get overconfident.

Maybe she'll even tell him where he is, to try and break his spirit.

For now, all Five can do is get clean. He tries not to focus on it too much - waste, waste, waste - and just goes through the motions as fast as he can. The only good thing is that the sharp pain in his head has dulled down to an ache. As he's wrapping himself up in a towel and stepping out, the door opens, and Five scrambles back, keeping the towel close to his body. "What the hell? Get out!"

She has the decency to keep her eyes closed, though that doesn't stop Five from fantasizing shoving her heels down her throat. "I'm just bringing you your clothes, Five! I even went through the trouble of getting something that wasn't a flimsy old hospital gown."

"I'm not changing in front of you-"

"I would never ask you to do that, Five," she huffs, eyes still closed, placing his clothes down onto the toilet. "I'm a mother, not a pedophile."

"Could've fooled me, seeing as you wanted to give me a bath."

"What can I say? You're only a little bit bigger than Lila when she was eight, and heaven knows she didn't know how to shampoo properly until she was ten."

"Well, I'm fifty-eight, and I do know how to take a bath by myself. Now, get out."

The Handler smiles indulgently. "Of course. I'll be right outside." Great. She leaves, the door locking with a click behind her. Thank god.

His fingers tremble violently as he buttons the red flannel shirt closed. It reminds him of something Vanya would wear, which brings him a little comfort. Vanya... does she think he left again? He has no idea how long he's been stuck in here. If they think he left, they won't look for him.

They won't look for him.

So what? It's only logical - you left once. Are they supposed to magically know you've been kidnapped? Get a grip, Five.

Sucking in a breath, he continues getting changed. The Handler had left him a pair of shorts that looked incredibly similar to his academy ones, and if it weren't for the fact that he had nothing else to wear, he would've gone out there and choked her out with them. Combined with some threadbare animal socks and black flats, Five is convinced she probably grabbed these at random out of Lila's closet just to piss him off. "I'm done," he calls out, not bothering to hide the bite in his voice.

She opens the door, giving him a wide smile. "Oh Five! You look absolutely lovely," she says, her hands fingers brushing the wet strands of hair out of his face. "Smell nice too."

"Fuck off."

"You really ought to be more polite," She hums, keeping a tight grip on shoulder and leading him down the cement halls. "You do want to eat, don't you?" They're approaching the same hallway from earlier, and though Five hasn't seen a single person, the vomit from earlier has been cleaned up, leaving the floors slick and shiny. The Handler opens the door to his room, pushing him inside. He doesn't bother fighting it - until he has enough energy, trying to run out would be suicide.

Still, he won't give her any satisfaction. "I'm not," His traitorous stomach takes that moment to rumble, and his ears burn at her smug smile. "Don't."

"Teenagers," she sighs. "Always so stubborn."

"You-" The door slams shut in his face, locking with a click.

-

When he wakes up again, he can smell spices and chicken. For a moment, he can pretend he's in his room, Grace bringing up a dish of soup on a cold winter's day when they've all inevitably gotten sick. The undertones of perfume ruin it.  "What do you want." Five feels marginally better after getting some rest, but the sight of the Handler's face threatens to make him sick all over again.

"Lunch, Five." She holds up a bowl of chicken soup, waving it around almost playfully. "I'm not going to let you go hungry."

"Why are you really doing this? What do you gain from playing house?" He can't take this anymore. He's tired, and all he wants is to stay with his fucking family. Is that so much to ask?

She's silent for once, expression unusually weary. For someone who's usually so arrogant, so confident in her plans, it's... unsettling. "How about this?" She finally says. "If you let me feed you, I'll answer your questions."

"...Fine." He needs answers more than he needs his dignity. Smiling, the Handler spoons some broth and holds it up to his lips. Ears burning, Five opens his mouth. It's not laced with anything, surprisingly enough, and it actually tastes good, though he would rather die than admit that to her face. They sit in relative silence, her feeding him one spoonful at a time until the last drops are scraped from the bowl and down his throat. "I want-"

"Answers, yes, I know," she sighs, setting the bowl down. "Always straight to the point. How are your hands?" He's about to snap at her for changing the subject but... they do burn, despite looking unblemished. Now that he's regained his strength, it's worrying - he uses his hands as a conduit for his powers. His powers that still aren't working, he realizes, the little tear he's used to feeling in his chest clumsily stapled shut. With no way to release them, the familiar hum of his powers burning feels almost unbearable under his skin. "Not good, I presume?"

"Why do you care?" He snaps.

"I care, Five, because you're, unfortunately, the only hope of escaping this place." She snaps back, and the fact that she's told him anything remotely honest is chilling enough, but her next words leaves a cold pit in his stomach. "Welcome to the basement level of Hotel Oblivion, Five.”

...She's not lying.

"...Shit."

[meta-squash]

Brick Club 1.5.10 “Outcome Of The Success”

It’s long, I’m sorry. There’s just so much in this chapter!

The chapter’s first paragraph is a description of the misery of winter weather, bookended by sentences about Fantine. It’s been nearly a year since she was fired. The bit about winter is a description of Fantine’s descent as well as the weather. Winter brings short days which means less work; Fantine’s position in society means she’s finding less work as well because she is essentially freelancing rather than working for an employer with steady jobs. “No heat, no light, no noon, evening touches morning” is such a good description of the way everything is miserable and just blurs together when you’re trying to just stay alive. All the awful stuff is sharp and dull at the same time. “Winter changes into stone the water of heaven and the heart of man.” Fantine is starting to harden here; we see her become more shameless, tougher.

Fantine wears a cap after cutting her hair “so she was still pretty.” And this disappears so rapidly in this chapter. Her beauty is so important. Fantine is the only character aside from Enjolras who is repeatedly described as beautiful in a way that seems to really matter. (Cosette is also beautiful, but that description is almost entirely through Marius’ POV, rather than from a more general POV with Fantine.) The slow destruction of Fantines beauty--the discarding of her pretty clothes for peasant ones, her frequent tears, the loss of her hair and teeth, the torn and threadbare clothing--mirrors her social destruction. She desperately clings to her beauty by wearing a cap, but she obviously gives up pretty soon.

What fascinates me here is that Hugo mentions that Fantine admired Madeleine, like everyone else, but he also implies that she didn’t hate him straight away for her dismissal. In the previous chapters, her reaction is to accept the dismissal as a “just” decision. She works up her hatred by repeatedly telling herself it was his fault. It seems as though she lands on the right conclusion in the wrong way. She blames herself first, and only through gradually convincing herself does she start to blame Madeleine. He and his crap system are the ones to blame, but she comes to that conclusion in a roundabout way that feels like she still blames herself but is trying not to. Fantine has been a scapegoat for everyone up until now; Madeleine has become her scapegoat to avoid (incorrectly) blaming herself.

“If she passed the factory when the workers were at the door, she would force herself to laugh and sing.” She’s trying so hard to make them think they haven’t gotten to her, but it just makes it so much more obvious. The laughter and singing is the “wrong” reaction, and it makes everyone notice her even more, and judge her even harder. It’s just so sad because I can understand that behavior of trying so hard to act the opposite way of how you think people will expect you to, only it backfires and makes your true feelings all the more apparent, which gives even more fuel to the cruel people.

Fantine takes a lover out of spite, “a man she did not love.” There are a few things here that contrast with the grisettes of 1.3. This lover is someone Fantine does not love, her first relationship since losing Tholomyes, who she was in love with. The man is also a street musician, which reminds me of Favourite’s actor/choir boy. The difference being that Favourite’s boy had at least some connections through his father, and Fantine’s lover is only a street musician. Fantine takes this lover in for the same reason that she sings and laughs outside the factory: to try and show that she’s unaffected, which really only serves to do the opposite. She has this affair “with rage in her heart,” which seems to be the only emotion left for her for anyone besides Cosette (and maybe Marguerite).

“She worshiped Cosette.” My only comment here is that this is something that Valjean will later echo. Both worship and adore Cosette as a point of light, something to cling to and love and care for.

Okay maybe I’m missing something here, but Fantine can read but she can’t write? This is probably my “been good at reading/writing my whole life” privilege talking, but wouldn’t she be able to write if she could read? I suppose maybe it’s like how I can look at numbers and understand the numbers but I can’t do math for shit? I don’t know. That just caught my eye.

Fantine is starting to lose her inhibitions as she begins to lose control of everything in her life. She’s laughing and singing and running and jumping around outside in public, she’s acting loud and brash and odd. Her reactions to her misfortune and the terrible things that keep happening express the “wrong” emotion. It’s an attempt to cope, and a courageous one, but it’s drastically different from the quiet Fantine who barely spoke that we were introduced to.

“Two Napoleons!” grumbled a toothless old hag who stood by. “She’s the lucky one!”

This line really struck me. We’ve been tunnel-visioned on Fantine’s misery this whole time. Suddenly the focus pulls back a little bit and we get a little bit of perspective. Fantine is not at rock bottom yet. She could still go so much lower. To this toothless old woman, she’s lucky because she’s pretty and because her teeth have worth. Fantine is poor, and cold, and worried about her kid, and most of the town laugh at or scorn her, and yet this old woman still thinks she’s the lucky one of the two of them. It’s a much more subtle commentary on the levels of poverty and abjectness that exist. Once you’ve fallen through the cracks in society to the level of homelessness, to the level of selling your teeth and hair and body, to complete aloneness, anyone who has even a scrap more than you seems “lucky.” And Fantine’s not too far from that existence.

The conversation between Marguerite and Fantine about military fever is so weird. Is Marguerite just saying stuff? This dialogue sounds like a conversation between two people who have no idea what they’re talking about. It’s like those scenes in comedies where one person pretends to be super confident about something to impress the other even though both of them are completely wrong. Oh okay wait! I just did some googling and I’ve realized that neither of them know what they’re talking about because Thenardier did his bad spelling thing! “Miliary fever” is an old medical term for an infection that causes fevers and bumpy skin rashes. (Mozart’s death is attributed to it; it seems to have fallen out of use as it became easier to pinpoint certain illnesses.) I think this isn’t just Marguerite not knowing what she’s talking about. This is a misunderstanding due to Thenardier’s misspelling (whether deliberate or not, I don’t know) and neither Marguerite nor Fantine know enough to realize it.

ETA: Okay wow I’m keeping that whole “miliary fever” thought journey in just to record my thought process but I’ve just double-checked against the Hapgood translation and the original French, and the mistake isn’t with the Thenardiers at all! It’s entirely the fault of the translators. The original French says “miliare” and Hapgood has translated it as “miliary”; Fahnestock and MacAfee clearly did not notice that the French was “miliare” and not “militaire,” and neither did their editors.

“During the night Fantine had grown ten years older.” Off the top of my head, I can only think of three instances of not-old people being blatantly described as looking old. This description here, Valjean when he returns from Arras, and Eponine. There are probably more I’m missing, but the connecting factor between these three is severe, prolonged trauma. Trauma and a difficult life can prematurely age people (I always think of that Dorothea Lange photo of the migrant mother who was only 32 but looks 50) and Hugo uses this fact to bolster his descriptions of what they go through. But Fantine and Valjean both age almost suddenly; Eponine is already old-looking the first time we meet her as a character with dialogue. Fantine’s sudden aging is another level of departure from her old life. In Paris, she was the youngest of the group, and now she looks far older than she is.

“Actually, the Thenardiers had lied to get her to get the money. Cosette was not sick at all.” As readers, we know this. We’ve seen the Thenardiers lie over and over and we see Fantine sacrifice with no idea. But this one hits harder than the others. Partly, I think, because Hugo puts it so bluntly in a sentence that has its own paragraph. But also because this is the first sacrifice that is truly unalterable. Fantine’s hair can grow back. There may have eventually been some slim chance of a job opportunity or something coming up somehow, or an influx of things needing mending or something. But she cannot regain her teeth. This is also the first sacrifice that physically disfigures her in a visible way. She can hide her lack of hair under a cap, she can hide her lack of money by using and reusing things. She cannot hide her missing teeth.

It’s interesting that we do not hear about Mme Victurnien here. Rather than the last chapter, this would be the one where Victurnien would be “winning.” The consequences of Victurnien’s actions have now permanently affected Fantine’s life. Except I think the reason we don’t see her here is that she wouldn’t face it. She can look out her window at Fantine walking down the street in distress with her beauty intact and feel satisfaction, but if she saw Fantine walking down the street, toothless and hairless, I don’t think she would feel satisfaction, because she wouldn’t be able to connect her actions to this Fantine. Feeling satisfaction towards this level of misery would require acknowledging her participation in causing it. It’s one thing for the townspeople to laugh at or gawk at her, but I think claiming responsibility for her condition is something else altogether that I’m not sure Mme Victurnien would do.

Fantine throwing her mirror out the window is a strange sort of contrast compared to Eponine’s reaction to a mirror. Fantine cannot face her descent. Eponine is already there, and her excitement at Marius’ mirror is a weird sort of distracted examination of herself. Fantine cannot bear to examine herself because unlike Eponine, she can remember what it was like before this. Tossing away the mirror is tossing away the thoughts of her past life and her past self; she can’t ever go back to that.

“The poor cannot go to the far end of their rooms or to the far end of their lives, except by continually bending more and more.”

God I don’t really even know what to say about this line except ouch. It’s just so poignant and intense. The older you get the harder it is to survive, to get up with each new stumble. And we can also take into account things like the cholera epidemic that will occur a few years later in the book, which mostly affected the poor. There’s so little access to any sort of help or assistance. And clearly Valjean’s few little systems of aid aren’t good enough. He may have set up a worker’s infirmary and a place for children or old workmen, but there doesn’t seem to be assistance for single, unsupported women, or the homeless and unemployed. They’re left to bend more and more under the weight of life.

“Her little rose bush dried up in the corner, forgotten.” I can’t help but read this as a parallel to the Thenardier’s treatment of Cosette. As Fantine falls apart and falls behind on her payments, Cosette is growing up which means the abuse from the Thenardiers has probably increased. It also feels like a weird sort of throwback to the spring/summertime imagery of beauty and chasteness and modesty from back in 1.3, which has now completely disappeared and dried up as Fantine loses her beauty, her modesty, and her coquetry.

I love the little detail about Fantine’s butter bell full of water and the frozen ice marks. It’s such a small detail but so evocative. It also feels like a metaphor for each of Fantine’s new hardships. Every time the butter pot freezes over, it leaves a ring of ice for a long time; each time Fantine encounters a new trauma, she hardens and becomes tougher. She keeps her dried up, long gone modesty and youth in one corner and the suffering that has hardened her in the other. On a side note, I’m wondering if there is actually butter in her butter bell or if she’s now using it only for water? I would imagine water only; butter seems like something that might be expensive. Also, would the building she’s living in have had indoor plumbing, or would she have gotten water from a well or a pump somewhere? My plumbing history knowledge is lacking.

Hugo describes Fantine’s torn and badly mended clothes. At this point she’s working as a seamstress, which means she’s at least proficient in the skills needed to sew and/or mend clothes in such a way that they stay together. This means that the repairs done for herself are likely careless and messy. I think this is partly an indication of how little time she has for herself--if she’s sewing for work for 17 hours a day, she has very little time to mend her own stuff, and definitely can’t afford better quality material--and partly an indication of the ways in which she is falling apart. She doesn’t bother mending her things properly, she goes out in dirty clothes. She doesn’t mend her stockings, she just stuffs them further down in her shoes. It seems she has only one or perhaps no good petticoats, which means she’s probably walking around in just a shift and a dress. Not only is her stuff threadbare and falling apart, she’s also probably freezing due to the lack of layers.

“A constant pain in her shoulder near the top of her left shoulder blade.” This makes me wonder if Fantine’s left-handed. If she’s sewing by hand, by candlelight, in a shitty rush chair, for seventeen hours a day, that is absolute murder on the back/shoulders/neck. Whenever I do hand-sewing I’m usually sat on the floor or my bed, and my back and upper shoulders tend to get sore if I get in the zone and I’m bent over the work for a long time. I don’t know about French dressmakers, but I know around that time the English were really big on very small, neat, almost invisible stitches. Which would hurt to do for seventeen hours a day by candlelight.

“She hated Father Madeleine profoundly, and she never complained.” The Hapgood translation of this line is better, I think. Still, I think it’s important that it’s pointed out that she never voices her opinions or her complaints. It’s only when Madeleine is in front of her that she announces them at all (despite not speaking directly to him then, either). She hates Valjean, she blames him, and yet obviously some part of her still thinks that she deserves it, or that her dismissal was right.

“She sewed seventeen hours a day, but a contractor who was using prison labor suddenly cut the price, and this reduced the day’s wages of free-laborers to nine sous.” Reading this book is always a lot because aside from the still-relevant general overarching commentary about society and poverty and mutual aid and goodness and all that, there are so many smaller details that are so painfully, strangely relevant to the present day. Even today there’s fear that employers will come up with a new policy or a new labor shortcut that means less income. Employers who pay their employees less because the workers get tipped, or outsourcing that causes layoffs. Prison labor, too (and behind that, the fact that prison labor doesn’t guarantee a job in a similar field after release if desired).

In the next two chapters, we jump ahead somewhere between a few weeks to a couple months. What happened to Marguerite in the interim? Hugo describes her as a “pious woman [...] of genuine devotion,” but I have this sad thought that maybe when Fantine made the decision to become a sex worker, Marguerite may have turned her back on her as well. As we’ve seen with Valjean, being poor but modest is Good, and being poor and desperate enough to do something improper and “immoral” is Bad. Despite Marguerite’s canonical generosity towards the poor, I wouldn’t be surprised if Fantine’s decision overstepped some moral boundaries of hers.

“But where is there a way to earn a hundred sous a day?” I’m a little stuck on this. Would she make this much money? I’m basing the following information off of Luc Sante’s The Other Paris, so the monetary info might be slightly different a for non-Parisian area. According to Sante, someone like Fantine, a poor woman working without a pimp or madame and not in a legal brothel, would basically be working for pocket change. 100 sous would equal about 5 francs. If her earnings are basically pocket change, I don’t think she’d make 5 francs a day. Just considering the fact that a loaf of bread might cost about 15 sous, which seems like pocket change, or even slightly more than pocket change. Fantine probably becomes a sex worker and finds herself in the exact same position that she was in before, not making any more money than she would have if she had continued to be a seamstress.

[thecleverdame]

Control and Release - 30

Series Masterlist

TEDTalk!Sam x Reader

Summary: After the rest of the staff is caught in a snowstorm, you find yourself acting as a personal assistant to the notorious Sam Winchester. As the arrangement becomes more defined, you and Sam begin a sexual adventure with dangerous consequences.  

Warnings: Dom/Sub, humiliation, embarrassment, sexual objectification, mutual masturbation, spanking, cum play, fingering, anal play, orgasm control, nipple clamps, dub-con, breath play.

Beta: @ilikaicalie

Words:3.1k

Parts 1-36 are currently available on Patreon for a monthly pledge of $2.50. This includes early access to all my stories, including the ABO series Gods of Twilight and Patreon exclusive content.  >> CLICK HERE <<

-

You blink once..twice...and then your cloudy vision clears and Sam comes into view, hovering above you.

“Welcome back,” he offers, giving your hand a squeeze.

“I passed out, huh?” You try to sit up but your body isn’t ready quite yet.

“Yes. There are usually more warning signs. You went down fast.”

“I hate this.” You close your eyes, a pounding headache whirling to life in the back of your head. “It’s so fucking scary. Every time I’m sure I’m not going to wake up.”

“But you did wake up and I was here with you the whole time,” he explains calmly.

“How long was I out?” You feel around, realizing he’s moved you from the couch to the bed. You’re stark naked and tucked under the sheet.

“Ten minutes, you started to come around once but slipped back under.”

“I’m so sick of this.”

“Maybe this one was my fault. I shouldn’t have put you through all this, not tonight. I know you’re dealing with a lot-”

“It wasn’t the sex.” You shake your head. “I liked that. It’s something else. I know it, I just can’t put my finger on it.”

“Well, you need to call your therapist in the morning.” Sam studies you quietly for a moment. “You should be getting better and these incidents are happening faster every time.”

“But fewer and far between.”

“It’s not good enough. If she can’t help you, I’ll find someone who can.”

Rolling onto your side you look at him sitting naked on top of the bedspread. He’s your favorite version of Sam when he’s like this, stripped down to nothing and he’s still so fucking confident in everything he does it makes you wet just to think about it.

“I think I just need time, Sam. It hasn’t been that long, I’ll call her.” You glance at the clock, it’s almost midnight but thankfully tomorrow is Saturday, a well-deserved day off. “Are you working tomorrow?”

“No.” Sam gets up to grab a bottle of water from the minifridge and brings it back to you. “Drink. I had hoped we could go out and see the city. If that’s something you’re interested in and you feel up to it.”

“I would love that,” you smile, wincing as the throbbing intensifies. “I think. As long as my head stops banging.”

Saturday Morning

“You sure you feel okay?”

“Good as new…what is this?” You look at the boxes spread out over the table. There’s so many they’ve overflowed onto the couch, garment bags carefully laid out so as not to wrinkle whatever’s inside. None of this was here when you stepped into the shower and now it’s as if the room exploded. Like he snapped his fingers and a couture fairy appeared.

“Clothing. I ordered you a few things.” He’s toweling his hair dry in the corner as you stand there, hair dripping onto the carpet.

“This is more than a few things.” You tiptoe around the packages, wary of the designer names. One of these boxes is equivalent to your monthly rent, some five times that. You can tell just by the labels.  

“It’s not all clothing. There are a few pairs of shoes, handbags, hats. Anything you might want.”

“Why?” you ask, glancing at your ratty sweatpants hanging from the back of a chair. “Do you not like the way I dress?”

He looks up, thinking about his response before speaking.

“The way you dress is fine.”

“But…” you continue.

“But you’re a beautiful woman and your clothing is...not on par with the rest of you. I thought you might enjoy some new things.”

You can’t help but feel indignant and flattered at the same time.

“So, you don’t like the way I dress.”

His jaw ticks, already losing patience with the conversation.

“No, I don’t.” He pads to the closet pulling a shirt off a hanger. “You can pick out the things you like and I’ll have the rest returned. If you’re upset with me, it can all go back.”

“I didn’t say I was upset with you,” you counter, peeking inside one of the bags. “I’m just surprised, that’s all.”

The truth is you’ve got one look: business wear. In your downtime, you live in jeans and a T-shirt. It’s not that you don’t have an interest in looking more put together, but your salary has never allowed indulgences. Any nice items you own came from second-hand shops. You’re aware the two of you look like a mismatched pair. The thought makes you blush, embarrassed that you’re not living up to his idea of what you should be.

“You liked the suit I bought you.” He shrugs.

“Yes, I love the suit. But it’s worth more than my car. I’m not used to being gifted these kinds of...luxury goods.” You watch as he buttons up his shirt. Even on a day off he’s dressed like he’s got somewhere to be. If you didn’t know him, you’d still know he was someone. He looks important.

“You deserve to look like your worth.” He opens up a small box and pulls out a pair of heels that make your heart flutter.

“How much am I worth?” you ask.

“Oh,” he grins as you slink closer, cozying up to him. “I couldn’t put a price on you.”

“Thank you.” You kiss him softly, watching his eyes fall shut.

After picking out an outfit comprised entirely of Sam’s selections you do feel like a million dollars. You walk a little taller, laugh a bit louder and for the first time you get a true taste of what a life with his resources would feel like. You spend the day eating, shopping, and sightseeing until your feet feel like they’re going to fall off.

Sunday Morning

That morning Sam gets between your legs before the sun comes up. You awake to the feeling of his tongue on your clit. He manages to coax out your first orgasm before you’re fully coherent, leaving you swimming in pleasure as he slides his cock inside.

By the time you roll out of bed you’re ravenous and order half the room service menu. You’re elbow deep in banana pancakes when there’s a knock at the door. Sam answers to an agitated Pepper who slips inside.

“There’s something you need to see.” Pepper glances at you mid-bite, just as you’re shoving an obscene forkful of pancakes into your mouth. She rolls her eyes as you snap your lips shut, watching as she hands an iPad to Sam.

His eyes flit over the screen, glancing up at you for split second.

“What is it?” you garble, chewing as fast as you can.

“This surprises me,” Sam looks at Pepper. “I underestimated the interest in my personal life.”

“It’s different over here, the tabloids look for anything. You’re rich and known for being a bachelor. It’s newsworthy.”

“What is it?” you ask again, standing up and pulling your robe closed across your chest.

Sam wordlessly hands you the iPad as you read the headline scrawled across today’s digital edition of the Daily Mirror:

Love in London? American millionaire Sam Winchester spotted out and about with mystery woman.

It’s accompanied by several photos of you and Sam walking hand in hand, stopping to peer into shops. These photos are from the end of the day. The only saving grace was the whipping wind. You had shoved your hair under the hat he insisted you take along. It kept your locks in check and did an adequate job hiding your face from the photographer.

In the last photo, Sam has his arm around your waist, looking down at you with a sly grin, a moment away from a kiss. There is no denying the nature of your interaction.

“Shit.” You sit back down on the couch, staring at the screen.

“No one knows it’s you,” Sam assures, his tone unreadable as always.

“What?” You look up. “This doesn’t bother you?”

“No, not really.” He shrugs.

“These were private moments.” There’s anger rising and you’re struggling to verbalize exactly why this is so upsetting.

“No one will know that-”

“Oh, I don’t care about that!” you cut him off. “I mean, we’ve gotten ourselves into a place now where people are going to find out eventually, it’s going to be awkward but I’m not worried about it. But someone followed us, Sam. Took photos of us and we didn’t even know it. That’s what scares me. The idea that there are people interested enough in your life to follow you around is...unsettling.”

Pepper is hovering in the background, watching and listening. She’s been privy to the two of you together, but this is by far the most intimate moment she’s witnessed between Sam and, well, anyone.

He’s silent, taking a seat in the chair across from you, tilting his head to the side as if he’s reading your thoughts.

“You knew from the very beginning that this was a possibility. I’ve been boring. I’ve never gotten into trouble, I don’t make a spectacle of myself. But this is..something. People are interested in my life because I have money and they’ll be more interested now that I have you.”

“Is this going to become a regular thing?” you ask, trying to sort through all the possibilities. “I mean, are there going to be people hiding in the bushes when we go to dinner? Will it happen when we go home?”

“I don’t know, but it’s probable.” He shrugs, seemingly unaffected, which only serves to exacerbate how invasive you find the whole thing.

“I don’t know how I feel about this.”

“We should think about making a statement. The longer you stay a “mystery woman” the more interest we’re going to garner. If we get ahead of it, it’s not a thing. We’re in control.”

“No,” you shake your head vehemently. “I will not be bullied into going public. How is that being in control?”

“You really don’t want anyone to know about us, do you?” The words fall out just as even as everything else, his eyes narrowing. He sits back, one leg crossing over the other as his jaw ticks to the side. Sam doesn’t have many tells but this one of them. He’s profoundly bothered by your response.

“That’s not what this is,” you counter, feeling instantly defensive.

“Are you sure?”

“Don’t talk to me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m a spoiled brat. Like you’re the only one with a brain.”

He stares at you, nostrils flaring, fingers curling into the armrest of the chair and then he looks up.

“Pepper, would you give us the room please.”

You completely forgot she was there.

“Of course,” she whispers, scurrying out the door and closing it behind her.

“There, we’re alone now. You can tell me how you really feel.”

“I wasn’t going to let her stop me,” you hiss. “I hate it when you use that condescending voice. You know that bothers me. And you did it in front of her.”

“I’m trying to remain rational and calm. But it seems as if I’ve hit a nerve. While we're on the subject, why don’t you tell me why the idea of you and I being out in the open bothers you so much?”

“It doesn’t,” you snap.

“That’s a lie.” He points at you, thrusting a finger forward. “You’ve been fighting the very idea since we evolved. So tell me, what is that you have to hide?”

“I’m not hiding anything.”

“You sure? I get the distinct feeling you’re keeping things from me. A dirty little secret waiting to rise from the ashes.” He’s provoking you now, pushing further than he should and he knows it, but he can’t help himself. “What is it? Some guy you fucked in high school have a polaroid of your pussy?”

“Fuck off!” you yell, pounding your fist on the table. He’s the worst to fight with, he goes from zero to nasty in the blink of an eye. “It’s you, Sam, you are my dirty secret.”

He just stares at you, taken aback by the statement as you fume.

“It’s so complicated, I’m so fucked up I don’t even know where to start.” You kick at the leg of the table in frustration. “I know it’s crazy but I’ve convinced myself that someone is going to know just by looking, all the things I let you do to me. The dirty, nasty things I beg for. And you keep telling people about us without asking me. All I can think is that Toni is in the middle of a meeting picturing me on my knees with a dildo in my ass. Or one of those people from Nick’s party is going to show up and they really know what we’re all about. That stuff is ours, Sam. It’s private and personal and I love how you make me feel but I need that part of our life to stay between us.”

“I already told you, I’ve never told anyone about our dynamic.” His face is hard, emotional armor beginning to build.

“That's not even the half of it.” You sit back, putting your knees up to your chest. “I think about Dean all the time. Every time I’m alone I picture him rounding a corner or showing up at the office. I dream about him. To you, it’s no big deal, but for me, he’s this ever-present threat hovering in the background. You know when the shooting happened, when I first heard the shots, I thought it was Dean, or your dad? And now there are people following us, taking pictures and we had no idea. It would be so easy for your brother to do the same thing. The more we put ourselves out there, the more information they have. You say that there’s nothing to worry about, but I don’t think that’s true. I see first hand every day the damage they did to you.”

You pause to see if he has anything to say, but he just blinks at you.

“And I am nervous about everyone I work with finding out. People will assume I’m fucking you for your money, or for my job. Not that I even care that much about that part of it, that’s the least worrisome part of all this. And, since you brought it up I’m sure there are some pictures of my tits floating around out there. I wasn’t a saint before I met you. I’m a good person but I’ve done some questionable things and being with you means someone will go digging for them. So now I’ve got that anxiety to add to the mix.”

“All of that shit I can get over. It’s not easy by any means but you’re worth it to me. But you really want to know why I’m so gunshy about people finding out about us? I’m afraid you’re going to leave again. You’ll wake up one day, decide you’re bored with me and that will be it. The way you ended things before was devastating and it would be a thousand times worse now. I couldn’t bear losing you and have everyone know about it. I don’t think I could stand that.”

“I wouldn’t do that to you.” He counters, looking genuinely troubled.

“You already did it to me. It was fucking brutal. We didn’t talk, it was just over. You cut me out of your life like I was nothing to you. You were cruel and it took a fucking lunatic pointing a gun at my head to bring you back. You scare me, Sam. And I scare myself because I’m so in love with you.”

He opens his mouth to speak, then stops, rubbing a palm up and down his thigh. His eyes flutter closed for a lingering moment and you can practically see him evaluating and categorizing his thoughts.

“I-” he starts to speak, his voice catching and he clears his throat. “I had no idea you felt this kind of intensity about our situation.”

“Not all the time,” you whisper looking at your knuckles. “I’ve gotten used to this safe little bubble and I’m terrified if we change things, maybe you won’t want this anymore.”

“My feelings for you won’t change.” He sighs, looking up at the ceiling like it’s physically painful for him to expose these kinds of emotions. “I admit I’ve had the same thought, that you will eventually realize that I’m a terrible person and you’ll walk away from me. I’m sorry for what I did to you. I would take it back if I could, but I can’t. All I can do is move forward and show you that I’m committed.”

“I know.” You take a breath, waiting as he gears up for something else.

“As far as Dean goes, maybe he’s not as harmless as I make him out to be. You’re right to be concerned. I’ll figure out how to put more security measures in place. The last thing I want is you to feel unsafe.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

“I can’t control what people think of you. I can only tell you that in my experience people assume the worst and enjoy tearing each other down. That is going to happen. There will be some terrible things said and written about you.”

“I don’t need you to control that. I only need you to acknowledge that it’s not going to be easy for me.”

“I understand.” He nods, his eyes never leaving you. “I do love you. I need to say it more.”

“I love you too.” You offer a tired smile, already emotionally exhausted before the day has even begun. “We can’t keep this a secret and I think it would be better for us if we were open.”

“I agree.” He gets up from the chair, sinking down on the couch next to you. “People will start digging. Looking for anything that could be twisted into a scandal. But I have someone who can help. Make sure we know what's out there, look into your past and get things cleaned up.”

“That would be great.” You take his hands, laying your head on his shoulder. “For the record, I’m not going anywhere.”

He gives a stiff smile, still in his head.

“Neither am I.”

[joonsrack]

+Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

+Genre:  One shot (maybe an eventual series). It’s not fluff, it’s not angst, it’s....idk i’m bad at this.

+Word count: 2.1k

+Summary: 

“Here stands Kim Namjoon, tyrannic CEO who has made the last few months of your life a blur of stressful weeks and nonexistent weekends. He's a workaholic on a good day, and a demon on the bad ones. Not a...whatever this is.

‘He’s flirting, right?’ The little voice from the back of your mind supplies. ‘Shut up’ is all you answer.”

Meeting your boss in a BDSM club is probably the last thing you were expecting coming here.

+Warnings: NSFW (nothing graphic but story takes places in a BDSM club), BDSM themes, implied switch namjoon, implied dom reader, i know nothing about BDSM and BDSM clubs, don’t @ me. (if i should have tagged anything else pls let me know uwu)

+A/N: This is my first reader x member type of fic, and i gotta say, it was pretty fun. I wrote this for the Secret Santa event organized by the amazing people at BTS writers collective, as a gift for the lovely @freekyegg​ 💖💖💖. You said your fave namjoon was harness and choker namjoon, so my brain went straight for the kinky stuff.... I  hope you enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it! Also this fic has nothing to do with Christmas, idk how that happened..

ENORMOUS thank you to @spicykoreantatertots​ who edited this on a 2 hour deadline, when it wasn’t even finished yet 🥰💖

Of all the places you thought you’d be spending your Friday night, sitting in the office of a BDSM club owner, discussing SSC and setting up your membership, was not one of them. But here you are, sitting in the office of a BDSM club owner, going through the terms and conditions of your membership.

Jung Hoseok smiles at you before handing you a gold pen. The man looks immaculate in his double breasted gray suit, not a crease in sight. Despite his smile, there’s a dangerous aura to him. One of complete and utter control.

“Sign here, here, and here. It’s very important that you respect these rules, for everyone’s safety. We also insist that first timers stick to observation during their first visit. Wear this.” He says, putting down a red bracelet on the desk before you. “Then other customers will know not to propose you. You can also choose to wear this bracelet whenever you feel like just watching from the sidelines.” You hand him back the membership contract after you’ve finished signing on all the proper lines, and he examines your signature before nodding in approval. “There’s a bar at everyone’s disposal, but we don’t allow heavy alcohol consumption, since we prioritize clear consent.”

The nameplate on the desk with 'Jung Hoseok - Headmaster' engraved in cursive makes you feel like you’re back in high school. Except this is not high school, and sitting on the other side of the desk is a successful attractive young man, not a bald idiot.

“There’s some private rooms to everyone’s disposition, which you can either reserve in advance or the same night depending on the availability. We have one room for people who like to have an audience, which we call the Window Room.” 

You nod along with him, a little overwhelmed by all the information. He smiles reassuringly at you, noticing your deer in the headlights look. It feels more predatory than anything else.

“There's single mixers every last Thursday of each month, open to the BDSM community, and sometimes there’s special events, themed nights or performances, which are posted on the website. Any questions?”

You shake your head, feeling so far out of your element, sitting in this chair, about to enter a whole new world you’ve been fantasizing about but never dared to seek out.

It took your best friend, Taehyung, digging a little too deep in your closet for one of your blouses and finding your box of accessories and outfit. You had flushed a deep red in embarrassment at having your secret exposed, but your friend had been quick to reassure you there was nothing to be embarrassed about. 

Then he’d shocked you into admitting he had a similar interest.

“You asked me once why I have a leash at home when I don’t own a dog.” He had said, shrugging one shoulder, and that had been an eye opening moment for you.

And then, after revealing you’d never shared with anyone your interest for all things leather, whip and power dynamic, he had talked to you about this club.

“It’s called Club Dionysus. It’s for people interested in BDSM. There are spaces reserved for scenes, but you can also just chill at the bar and observe. It could be good for you, to explore this side of you, you know? Without any pressure to participate in anything.”

A few days later, after a hellish week of dealing with your tyrannic boss, distracting yourself with a new experience seemed like an excellent idea.

The corset is hugging your body just right, your sheer stockings held in place by some garter and disappearing into your leather pencil skirt. The heels you have on would never be appropriate for a setting other than this one, making you feel like there’s power to each of your steps.

It’s definitely not the kinkiest outfit you own, but you chose to keep it tame for you first visit.

Taehyung is waiting just outside the door as Hoseok dismisses you from his office, wishing you an excellent time. He steers you toward the bar area, but that doesn’t stop you from mapping out the place. You had sneaked a peak at the club before being ushered into the Headmaster’s office, but it’s still a lot to take in once you’re finally free to let your eyes roam around.

The general theme colour seems to be dark palettes, dark wood details, and a little touch of red here and there, but definitely less than you were expecting. There’s the bar corner, which looks like any other club, save maybe for the bartender’s outfit. There’s some tables and then an open space, but it doesn’t seem to be for dancing, judging from the handcuffs hanging from the ceiling.

“For public punishment.” Taehyung specifies once he sees what you zeroed on.

You try to act unaffected, but it’s definitely going to stay in the back of your mind.

There’s a hallway that leads to a few closed doors, some with signs on them. It’s probably safe to assume these are “occupied” signs. Then there's a corner with a small stage, where those performances Hoseok mentioned probably take place. A Saint Andrew’s cross is placed on it, which you were kind of expecting, coming here.

Then, there’s a ceiling to floor window, giving into a darkened room.

You leave Taehyung at the bar waiting for you drinks, curious about what is standing on the other side. The room is dark, so you need to stick your face to the glass and shield your eyes from the light to see anything beyond the window.

You see some outlines, but you can’t make out exactly what’s in there, other than some dark furniture. You push your face even closer, tightening the shield around your eyes.

“You’re allowed to peak inside through the door, you know.” Someone says from behind you, startling you from how close they sound.

Your body seizes up in fight or flight response, survival instinct kicking in at the familiar voice. You know it so well; Too well. It follows you all day long, barking orders left and right, calling you at all hours to add to your workload. And then it wakes you up in the middle of the night, most of the time from stress nightmares.

Most of the time.

You deliberate about turning around and facing the most humiliating moment of your life, or just going straight for the exit without turning back. There isn't a lot of patrons in the bar right now, so the path to the door is probably clear. The only problem is that your feet are grounded to the floor, your heels feeling like they're suddenly made of concrete.

There's a little voice in the back of your mind whispering something that resemble 'Don't forget he's here too', but right now all you’re able to focus on is the presence you can feel, hovering over your shoulder. 

That's probably what describes best your relationship, him hovering over your shoulder.

Kim Namjoon has been breathing down your back since the first day you started working as his personal assistant, making your every waking moment a living hell. Go figure he would be doing it here too.

You brace yourself for his usual cold demeanour. You're persuaded this man hates you, always bossing you around and criticizing your every move.

You aren’t expecting the soft grin pulling at the corner of his lips. 

Neither are you expecting… everything else.

Gone is his everyday slicked back hairstyle, his silver hair coiffed into a more relaxed, swoop to the side look. He’s wearing this black satin blouse with see through sleeves and leather jeans, which is already a lot to compute, quite different from the suit you’re used to seeing him in. What makes your brain short circuit though, is the harness. 

A leather belt cinches his slim waist, two leather straps attached to it, running over his strong shoulders. There’s two leather cuff on each of his wrist, over the sleeves ends, and the harness look is completed by a simple black choker, looking stark against Namjoon’s neck.

You feel your mouth go dry, your breathing getting a little short and heart beating a little faster. 

All because of the stress of meeting your boss here, of course. No other reason at all.

“Hello sir.” You say, finally finding your voice. Your head is in a state of chaos, your brain on a loop of everything going on with Namjoon’s outfit. 

“Rule #6 if I remember correctly; Relationships and dynamic with people you might know outside of these walls do not apply inside Club Dionysus.” Namjoon recites, eyes on your red bracelet. He takes a very small step back that doesn’t do anything for the lack of space between you. 

You would feel caged in, except he has his hands in his back.

You’re not exactly sure why he’s telling you that, although you vaguely remember Jung Hoseok mentioning this earlier. The confusion must show on your face, because Namjoon carries on.

“You don’t need to address me as sir here.” He says, his smile turning sharper. “That is… unless we’ve previously agreed upon that.” 

Oh. Oh.

There’s something happening here. A shift in the air. A glint in his eyes. 

You swallow, and it sounds ten times louder than usual, despite the soft background music.

“I- hm. Interesting.” You’ve probably never sounded so dumb, but you can’t think over the sirens going off in your head.

This is a weird situation. Something you were not expecting, not in a million years. And how could you? 

Here stands Kim Namjoon, tyrannic CEO who has made the last few months of your life a blur of stressful weeks and nonexistent weekends. He's a workaholic on a good day, and a demon on the bad ones. Not a...whatever this is.

‘He’s flirting, right?’ The little voice from the back of your mind supplies. ‘Shut up’ is all you answer.

Unaware of your internal struggles, Namjoon snorts at your lack of response, looking...endeared? Is that the correct word? Is your obvious lack of brain cells endearing to him?

“I’m not your boss here, and you’re not my personal assistant.”

“Ehrm, I see. Should I call you Mr.Kim then?”

“If you wish to.” He says, looking particularly amused by your awkwardness.

Which, rude. This is a stressful place to meet your boss, how dare he.

“If I wish to, huh? So, I could choose to call you anything I’d like?” You can’t stop the slight flare of temper, not liking being made fun off. If he wants you to treat him as an equal, then treat him as an equal you will.

Namjoon nods once, his tongue quickly wetting his lips before adding, “Of course I will need to agree to it beforehand.”

You catch Taehyung from the corner of your eyes, waving at you from the bar with a question mark on his face. Namjoon follows your line of sight, focusing on your friend and frowning.

“Would you agree to being called ‘baby boy’, then?” you taunt, standing straighter than you have so far. 

He snaps his attention back to you, looking taken aback by the switch of demeanor.

You can’t stop your mind from conjuring the memory of those dreams, the one that wake you up in the middle of the night. Blurs of a long body tied to a bed, a diamond choker sparkling on his neck, a voice, usually hard, sounding soft and whimpery.

The wide eyed look Namjoon is giving you is pretty close to the one you usually see on his face during those short nighttime visits. 

“I-” He says, but stops, looking flustered. You feel a growing satisfaction at having reversed the roles.

The novelty of the situation, that left you feeling unsteady, is starting to subside, leaving you sure footed in your stilettos. 

You purse your lips, cocking a brow.

“Only if you agree, of course.”

You see his throat work, making his choker shift as he swallows once, then twice.

“I’m sure you’ve noticed I’m not allowed to take part in the events tonight,” You say, showing off your bracelet. “so I guess we should keep this discussion for next time.” You side step him, never breaking eye contact.

“After all, we need to talk about what you’re going to call me, too.” 

“In fact,” He finally says after a moment of silence, his earlier confidence replaced by something more tentative. “we should discuss it in great detail.” He finishes.

You smile in lieu of a response, before giving one last appreciative look to his attire, lingering on the black choker. You feel his eyes on you as you make your way back to the bar, already looking forward to next Friday.

[otomescriptdoctor]

Masking - Chapter 5

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27939147/chapters/68519532 He’s agreed to let you monitor him in exchange for your later services. This is not how you saw this night folding. You wonder why he needs someone whom he believes to be a government spy. Parliament is about to recess before the snap election. Are his motivations political? You speculate with so little evidence. Better than thinking about how your heart rate is still racing from his unorthodox oathmaking.

“From now on, you’ll be acting with me.”

“Like you want me to come to work with you?”

Kei laughs. “Oh no, no, no. What are you talking about? I mean...You’ll be by my side 24/7.”

Isn't that awfully extreme? Shouldn’t have put it past him, though. He's been very thorough so far. His only blindspot being that he seized on the idea that you're a government agent and discarded all other possibilities. The usual fatal flaw of highly intelligent people. Your hindbrain chimes in.

Alpha wants to protect us. That's why he wants to be near.

Perish the thought. At least this means your job is much easier in a sense. You are supposed to be surveilling him, after all. The only trouble is, how do you report to the Boss? You turn your head upwards and notice the cameras. This is going to be tricky, to say the least.

Kei gathers the glasses, putting them casually back on the tray. He clearly doesn't trust having staff within his home either.

“It’s not as if you’re a prisoner, though. Feel free to make yourself at home here. And if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.” Kei brings the tray into the kitchen and starts washing the spoon and absinthe glasses.

You snort derisively, “Got it. How sweet of you.”

Alpha knows he has to take care of us. Why don't you trust Alpha?

Your Omega seems insistent on trusting him. You're torn. All your training is at odds with your instincts.

Kei replies cheerfully, “But of course! You’re my accomplice now. It’s only natural I treat you well.” He smiles, as if he wasn’t just licking green liquor off of your lips not five minutes ago. He continues, “Now then, if you work for the government, then you must be reporting to a superior.” He continues tidying away the drink accessories.

You nod.

“Report to your superior. Right here, right now. Contact your boss.” Kei doesn’t even look at you while making this request.

You’re not so certain about this part. What if Kei traced the call? Maybe you could bluff. It’s worth a shot. “My bosses could figure out you’re up to something. If I were you, I wouldn’t let me make a report from here.”

He finishes with his cleanup, and chuckles softly. “I appreciate your thoughtfulness, but you don’t need to worry about me. Just contact your boss and make a status report. I’ll be fine.”

Once again, there is an illusion of having a choice, but you see he’s forced you into only one outcome. You turn the video off on your phone and run it through your VPN, to at least make it a little more difficult to trace your employers. If he’s going to do it, He should have to work for it. Turning the video off is a signal to your Boss that you’re in a situation where a target could see his face. Might as well put on a show, just a little razzle dazzle. You don’t intend to keep him long.

The boss’s voice plays through your phone’s speaker, “Heyyy Nagisa. How’s it going?”

This is a very casual greeting even for him, and he’s using your alias. You turning off the video portion is the standard operating procedure for reporting in a place where you’re probably on camera.

“I’m calling to report on the results of today’s assignment. Per Kei’s suggestion, I’m going to be working with him as his partner while he is in Japan. Evidently, he was pleased with the way I helped him entertain his guests for afternoon tea.”

“Excellent. Keep me updated on his every move. You’re doing alright, I presume?” Alright is one of your code words for if you need extraction or other help without blowing your cover to bits.

“Yep, everything’s great. Well, talk to you later.”

You hang up the call, keeping it brief enough that tracing it will be an exercise in futility. You didn’t exactly lie to the boss. Unless you count lies of omission. You feel a little sick for giving an incomplete status report. But what choice did you really have?

The Alpha smiles at you, pleased with your little performance. “Sounds like you’re going to have to keep him ‘up to date’ on my every move.”

You want to scowl at this man so badly. He is treating this like a game. You don’t have that luxury without any of your weapons. There’s an awkward silence while you stare at each other. “So what’s next?” you ask, impatient to break the silence. You’re feeling a little overtired from the back and forth, and would welcome a few moments in sweet oblivion. You lean back in the sofa and exhaustion starts closing your eyes.

“Come this way.” he pulls you up from the couch firmly, and leads you into another room.

It’s a beautifully appointed guest room. Ivory curtains frame the windows, but they’re a heavy velvet, so they would keep the room dark during the day if desired. The view of Tokyo is incredible up here, a sea of stars in the inky void of night. Every stick of furniture is a beautifully restored antique. Maybe from his family’s home? It’s almost nice except… there are cameras everywhere. That panics you, a little, and the adrenaline wakes you up.

“You’ve got quite the place here.,” you say, while motioning to the cameras.

“I have friends who are into some pretty...hm… shall we say sinister stuff.” His smile is chilling.

“What are you plotting?

“Me?” he scoffs. “You’re the one monitoring me. That’s on you to figure out, isn’t it?”

“Fair point.”

You might as well be in an actual cage. Ensnared. Ah. that’s how this feels. It’s hard to breathe around him, scent notwithstanding. You’ve been caught in his web, and for your part, eagerly awaiting his treacherous caress. So much for thinking you earned his trust earlier.

“Next, I’d like you to take off your clothes.”

You give him a blank stare, pointedly blinking. He can’t be serious. Kei pulls out a small briefcase from under the bed and slides it towards you. He steps back and leans against the wall, watching you.

“Remove everything you’re wearing -- everything you don’t need -- and put it in that briefcase. Don’t forget your jewelry and your phone.”

“I didn’t think you were the kind of guy who’d watch a woman change clothes.”

His laugh is sinister mischievous. “I don’t know what gave you that impression. But this is who I am.” He leans against the wall and pulls out his phone, starting to read.

“I thought you were supposed to be the darling of English High Society. A veritable prince.”

“Princes are still only men, after all.” Kei again makes eye contact with you. It’s not passion in his eyes, but it grips you nonetheless. Your instinct is to shrink from his gaze. Every sense says he’s right next to you though, that there is no escape. You search your alias’s notes for anything to center around. Ah yes, Nagisa was very flirtatious. Might as well make it a show, right?

You turn your back to him and unzip your dress and let it fall to the floor. He looks you over once, and hurriedly turns back to his phone.

Maybe he’s telling himself it was just to make sure you’re not carrying any weapons.

You could hear a fucking pin drop in this room. His scent intensifies, and you pick up a hint of confusion. It seems like the ice prince isn’t entirely unaffected, though he regains his poker face. He must be trying his best to look disinterested. You slowly peel off every layer, catching his occasional stolen glances.

Though you’d consider yourself to be in control at the moment, your pulse is racing due to his scent. You detect very strong, focused interest from him, only growing in intensity. Your breathing is a little shallower than usual. Is this what it’s like to be with an Alpha?

You place everything, stockings, garter belt, and jewelry into the briefcase. You only have your bra and slick soaked panties left. Unless..

“Are you going to make me remove my undergarments as well?”

Kei doesn’t look up from his phone again when he replies. “No, that’s fine. Making women strip under these circumstances isn’t really my thing.” He shakes his head as if to clear his thoughts. He approaches you and closes the briefcase, pulling away from you quickly and crossing to the door.

“I’ll have a change of clothes ready for you. In the meantime. You can use the dressing gown in the closet. Good night, sleep tight.” He leaves, shutting the door behind him.

Though the room is still full of cameras, Kei leaving the room lets you exhale a breath you were holding.

He could have taken you forcefully like you’ve heard about other Alphas before.

He didn’t.

Another startling realization, up until this afternoon, he was distinctly Mr. Soejima. After he told you to call him Kei, it’s like a switch was flipped. Your curse, your biology betraying you still.

At least he didn’t know your bra still has a camera and recording device. Small blessings for repurposed areas of push-up bras. You can still do your work.

You have an unshakeable feeling that he’s definitely got something worth exposing to put you through the wringer like this.

---

You wake up. Right. He’s essentially got you on house arrest. You put on the ivory satin dressing gown. There’s a clothing box outside the door. You quickly pull the box inside and check the labels. He must have measured your confiscated dress to get your size. There’s some undergarments as well. There’s a note that falls out after you put away the clothes. It reads: Come down for breakfast in my office.