#clear some fucking tables maybe instead of prepping something that has Already Been Prepped like. an Hour Ago.

[strawbnetwork]

and what to do when one coworker complains about another never doing any work despite the fact that they, too, never seem to be doing any work? to kill them both, or to not...

[95-6qrsk2rx9uq42069nnnnnjthewolf]

"Princess"

Red Robin has been hanging around Hood like a persistent gnat he can’t swat lately. And sure, they’ve come to an understanding and collaborate frequently on cases. But this isn’t a predetermined meet-up to exchange intel or brainstorm an infiltration. This is Tim dropping in unannounced on a stakeout, or taking out a goon in a brawl that totally wasn’t about to get the drop on him, Hood had it all handled, really. And then the replacement doesn’t leave. Looking over his shoulder while Jason rifles through cargo holds, or ‘tsking’ from some high perch while watching him make a field repair on his gear, all with some vague air of expectancy like he was waiting for Jason to do something.

But he never gives any indication what it is he’s expecting from Jason, or whether or not Jason actually delivered. No rhyme or reason for when he decides he’s done being a nuisance, from what Jason can tell, though he’s sure it's all very precisely timed in Tim's head. 

The thing is, though, that Jason would maybe like to give Tim whatever it is he seems to want. He knows part of it is just how Tim is; the guy would probably have neglected to mention he runs a fortune-500 company if it hadn’t made national news. But he also knows that if you don’t ask for something, nobody can deny you it. He and Tim tend to run their mental gymnastics on a similar course. Probably part of why they get along so well. 

It’s the very same reason why, instead of asking for clear communication, what comes out of his mouth instead is, “You can pout all you like, princess, but that don’t make me any more of a mind reader. The sooner you tell me what you’re after, the sooner I can tell you to fuck off.”

Red Robin pouts even harder and straightens up, and Jason panics for a second that he actually is about to fuck off. A baseless worry though, when there’s still shit for Tim to poke his nose in. His frown only turns into a satisfied smirk as he points out the false wall in the office he’s decided they’re now investigating together.

~~~

Jason’s pretty sure he solves the mystery of what Tim’s after about two weeks later. 

Tim has turned Jason’s couch into a battle station; laptops, photos and files strewn around him. The coffee table is marginally less cluttered thanks to Jason only just having cleared the empty mugs and energy drink cans away. They’d returned from an extremely fruitful bust on a trafficking den that was the product of days worth of prep, and Tim is already picking up where they left off, pulling on the threads that will lead them to the next step up in the operation, not even fully out of his body armor and buzzing off the adrenaline of their success. Jason had barely gotten Tim’s jammed fingers in a splint before a laptop was being booted up and documents updated, dots connected. 

Normally Jason is more than happy to let Tim’s ridiculous brain run ten steps ahead and in five different directions at once; had once watched him solve a different case from the one he was actually working on accidentally. But Tim’s been burning the candle from both ends even more dramatically this week, prepping with him for this bust in the evenings, and dealing with bullshit meetings at his day job (Jason resents being aware of corporate finance calendars). Jason hears the beginning of frustrated grunts and pronounced keyboard clacking as Tim’s fingers start to stumble over one another and he has to delete more words than actually make it into the report he’s writing. 

“Alright, I’m calling it. If you crash here for the night you can get right back to it when you wake up,” Jason offers, like there’s actually any room for debate, sweeping up papers from the couch. And Tim must be even more exhausted than he realized, because he only gets half-hearted grumbling in response.

“You better save whatever you’re working on by the time I come back with blankets or I’m closing that laptop right on your fingers.”

And miracle of miracles, the laptop is already closed and atop the slightly precarious pile on the coffee table when he returns to the living room, Tim horizontal and watching him with pale eyes as piercing as ever, even behind heavy eyelids he can barely keep open.

Jason can’t do anything but drape the sheets over him, make sure he’s fully covered. Can’t help the words out of his mouth, not nearly as teasing as he meant them to be, 

“Sweet dreams, princess.”

And in response he gets the warmest, sleepiest smile he thinks he’s ever gotten from Tim, nuzzling happily into the blanket before he’s fully asleep in seconds flat, leaving Jason to stare and will his heart to not beat out of his chest.  

[officialscaramouche]

Omg I love the angst of "did you at least think of me when you were having sex with her?" Can you please make a part 2? Thank you very muchhh

Thank you so much for waiting, anon!!! I like where this is going, but since I’ve been making u wait for so long, I’ll have to end it there. If u want a part three, let me know and I’ll write one but for now, here u go!

pairing: gn!reader x Scaramouche

word count: 1,342

tw: none. Maybe language, I don’t remember

prev next

He should’ve been happy. Maybe he just couldn’t be satisfied, even when he got everything he wanted. It was what he wanted, anyway. Back then, his confidence in his desires was unbreakable. But now as he looked back on it, he could see the naïveté in his eyes. He realized that in his heart he was blindly believing that this is what happiness was and that he’d forever be happy. All he had to do was throw away what he’d worked so hard on for many years. He had to throw away you.

The way you looked at him didn’t bother him at the moment, but as the palm of his hand made contact with your cheek and remembering your quivering lips, your glassy eyes, and the flush of red across your face, it was as if you drove a knife right through his heart.

Archons, how could he be so stupid? He treated you like shit. He never appreciated the things you did for him and he always found your presence annoying. He savored every moment he had alone because you just wouldn’t leave his side. He wanted so badly to shove you away and tell you to fuck off, but he hesitated every time you smiled at him. He should’ve known then that there was a reason— a reason why he couldn’t get rid of you. A reason why he didn’t want to get rid of you. But the new and exciting adventure that Mona had laid out for him was too tempting to realize that you were all he wanted. All he needed.

It had been years since he last saw you. He had been fine living with and loving someone else all this time until he woke with tears in his eyes, having a dream of being yours. Dreaming that he woke up next to you. Dreaming that he came home to you. Dreaming that all these years, instead of wasting it with Mona, he was spending it with you.

When he woke and it wasn’t you who he held in his arms, he had a nasty attitude the whole week. He always had an ugly personality, but he was exceptionally unfathomable today. None of his cohorts wanted to be assigned to missions with him, so he went alone. Mona didn’t appreciate his lack of respect for her, and she threw his stuff out. The Tsaritsa told him he needed to do some soul searching and figure out what he needed to move forward. The answer was as clear as day. He needed to find you.

It wasn’t hard figuring out where you had been all this time. Having been very intimate with the Harbinger, the Fatui brought you protection. His subordinates monitored your every move to make sure that no harm would befall you no matter where you went. It only took a few questions to figure out that you had been staying in Liyue. The apartment you lived in was in Tartaglia’s name. If anyone else were doing the investigation, they would’ve never found you. But with Scaramouche’s money on the line, it was only a matter of time until he found you.

When he arrived, Scaramouche was quite obviously not from Liyue. Word spread quickly of an “intricately dressed fellow with a strikingly large hat.” When word finally reached you, you pushed your plate of skewers aside and rested your chin in your hand as you pouted.

One of your friends, Signora, sat beside you and leaned in to look at your face. “What’s wrong? Not gonna eat your skewers?” The one sitting across from you asked, reaching for it.

“No, I lost my appetite. The two of you can have it.”

The skewer was snatched from your plate in an instant.

Signora glared, and put one of her skewers on your plate. “Try to be a little more sympathetic, Tartaglia.”

“It’s just Scaramouche,” he said, shrugging his shoulders.

You folded your arms on the table and laid your head in them. “Yeah. But please don’t get involved guys, it’s already bad enough that he cut ties with him,” you emphasized, jutting your thumb out at Tartaglia. “You guys haven’t worked together in, what, like four months?”

“More like six,” Tartaglia corrected with his mouth full of chicken. “He really thinks we’re dating.”

“Give him more credit than that, will you?” She snickered. “I’m sure his little entourage has been spying on us. And I don’t doubt that he’s only here for you, [Y/N].”

“Please Rex Lapis in heaven, make him go away,” you plea, clasping your hands together in prayer. The other two laughed, but you weren’t joking.

Tartaglia slid the key into the lock and opened the door for you, letting you walk inside. “See,” he said with a smug look on his face. “He’s not here, there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Don’t say that,” you sobbed. “You’re gonna jinx it.” You both kicked off your shoes and wandered inside, plopping onto the couch with a long and dramatic sigh. “I really don’t know what I’m going to do,” you said with worry. “I don’t want to see him.”

Tartaglia pulled you in for a hug, something he did often. He and Scaramouche were often paired together for work, so he knew the ins and outs of your relationship very well. You were another victim of Scaramouche’s abuse just like everyone else. But you were the only one to actually care about him. Tartaglia felt bad for you. But he also cared about you, so his sympathy wasn’t artificial at all.

“I’d say I’d stay to protect you but today’s my last day off.”

“That’s okay, I know. None of us expected him to be in town.”

Tartaglia kissed the top of your head then stood. “Okay, I gotta meal prep so I’m gonna go to Second Life then go home. Are you gonna be okay?”

You smile and wave your friend bye. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Write me letters from Fontaine!”

You picked up the tea bag from your cup and tossed it in the trash, leaving the mug in the sink before heading off to work. Tartaglia wasn’t going to pay your rent forever. You picked up a job at a restaurant and started saving money. Living with Scaramouche, he didn’t ask you to pay for anything so long as you took care of him and the house. He gave you allowances every other week that you could entertain yourself, but it wasn’t enough to rent an apartment all alone.

You slipped on your shoes, grabbed your keys and swung the door open to step outside, when you’re met face to face with the one person you didn’t want to meet. He smiled, looking up at you from halfway up the stairs, and waved. “Good morning, [Y/N]. I’m glad I’ve caught you before you ran off somewhere.” He raised his hand and dismissed the agents with him, all of them scurrying away to give the two of you privacy. “How have you been?”

“I’m sorry, Scaramouche, I need to go to work.” You quickly locked the door and ducked to go around the balladeer, but he grabbed your arm and held you back.

“Oh, you work now? Where?”

“It’s none of your business. Please let me go.”

“No, I want to spend time with you. How much money would you be losing? Let me pay you for your time.”

“No, Scaramouche. I don’t want to meet with you. I need you to please leave.”

“[Y/N], don’t be stupid. I’ve come here on my own time. Using my sick days to see you.”

“I’m sorry, but I do not want to see you. Now I really have to go to work.”

You brush past him and hurry on to work, hoping that it will serve as a good distraction from today’s events. If you shut him down enough, he’s bound to get the hint. But he’s a stubborn man, and you don’t know just how stubborn he can get.

[palbabor-writes]

Adhesion

Pairing: Dabi/Touya Todoroki x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT/18+ only, unbalanced/unhealthy relationships, TA/student dynamics, tw.mild drug use, tw.bribery, tw.recording without consent, tw.dubcon, brat taming, fingering, cucking 

Words: 8,915

You can feel his gaze; can tell he’s watching you from hooded eyelids and you do your best to resist his pull, not wanting to be drawn in by that eerie blue of his eyes. It’s not that you don’t like his eyes; no, if anything, you like them a little too much. They’re a beautiful shade of shifting cerulean and possibly the only positive thing about the man. 

“You sound upset, babe,” he taunts, taking another drag on his silver vape.

“I’ve told you a hundred times, don’t call me that. And me? Upset? You’re a real Sherlock, you know? What fucking gave that away? Oh, maybe the fact that I pay this university good money for these classes and I could actually use some support. But what do I get instead? A lazy TA who can’t be bothered to do anything more than the bare minimum. It’s a goddamn miracle I’m passing, and it’s certainly no thanks to you,” you snarl, twisting back to your work, ignoring the sound of his chair, gliding ever closer.

Notes: i bribed @libiraki and this fic is my part of the bargain. you heard it here folks, full stop, i am trash. 

this story falls under the University AU that i’m working on: Licentia Docendi - the first fic is Practicum & is all about Professor Shigaraki. For Adhesion, Dabi is a TA: Teacher’s Assistant in a college chemistry class. 

my reward for completing this is User 433 by libiraki. go read it, it’s killer & i’m so fucking pleased my nefarious deeds have paid off.     

Adhesion ad·he·sion /ədˈhēZH(ə)n/ noun the molecular force of attraction in the area of contact between two unlike bodies that acts to hold them together

What time did he say this was supposed to start at? There’s no way you’re late. Did he tell you the wrong room number? You paw into your low slung backpack and wiggle out the [Teacher’s Assistant (TA) handout for Organic Chemistry II]. Nope, you’re not in the wrong room, so it looks like he’s the one who’s late. 

Not too surprising, judging from his appearance. 

You’d only caught a glimpse of him that morning. He’d sauntered to the front of class when the professor had finished with the preliminaries of the syllabus and introduced the lanky man with inky black hair and some of the scruffiest clothes you’d ever seen, as nothing other than, DABI. No last name, no other credentials, just a simple, ah, here’s the TA for this class; he’ll give you a handout on meeting times and be sure to follow his lead with the labs. This Dabi fellow hadn’t even grunted out a hello. He’d merely waited, hands tucked firmly into his jacket pockets, and dropped down from the raised platform once the professor finished his brief introduction. 

You tend to avoid the TA sessions. They’re usually just reviews and endless reminders on the readings, and study prep has never been a weak spot for you, but this semester is different. You’re a junior and you’ve got to push through six classes this term if you want to graduate on time. You haven’t slacked off, haven’t taken less than a full course load. No, it’s just bad luck that they only offered organic chemistry during the Fall term this year.

Thanks to the addition of Organic Chemistry, now all of your classes are heavy sciences. Ick. Well, it’s the price you’ll have to pay for your pharmaceutical degree. It’s not that you don’t like the classes. Honestly, they’re fascinating, chock full of information and techniques that you love to dive into. Nah, it’s not the material of the classes themselves, but the course load and labs that’ll be your downfall if you don’t keep pace. 

So, here you are, waiting in an empty room in the library’s basement for the errant TA of organic chemistry to show. You’re a little shocked that no one else has come to this session. Maybe they’ll try for the other times, or they might be under the blissful impression that they can score the ‘A’ with no outside help. Who knows? 

You’re twiddling with your phone and debating leaving when the study hall door opens. His dark hair is the first thing you notice. It gleams in the bright light of the fluorescents, and you’re distracted by the sheen. It’s almost a little too black. 

It’s not that it doesn’t fit him. If anything, it makes the angled features of his face and neck stand out and draws your eyes to his pale patches of skin. They’re patches because his collarbone and lower neckline are wrapped with spiraling whorls of tattoos; they’re everywhere. How had you missed that? Was his jacket zipped up when he stood in front of the class?

“What’s up?” he calls out, tilting his chin at your wide eyes. He pauses beside the table you’re sitting at and regards you frankly. His eyes are half hidden by his fringed mop of hair, but you can see that they’re a vibrant blue. It’s a haunting color, almost otherworldly. You don’t particularly like the coldness that’s reflected at you, so you focus on the rest of his face instead. He’s got a few nostril piercings, three little studs that shine out when he wrinkles his nose at your bewildered expression. 

“You hard of hearing or something?” Dabi scolds, crossing his arms and glaring down at you. You shake your head and loosen your heavy tongue, finally pulling your gaze away from him. 

“I-I’m here for the TA session.”

“No fucking way!” he mocks, a barked laugh escaping his quirked lips. “Alright captain obvious, let’s get you set up so I can go about my day. Sign this and I’ll give you the power point slides for this week.”

He yanks his backpack forward and tosses a few mismatched papers your way. One is so badly crumpled you have to iron it out with your arm, ignoring the slight stick that clings to one side. Ah, it’s a sign-up sheet. But, hang on, isn’t he supposed to poll the class on these meeting times? He can’t just pick the times himself, can he? You’ve never seen that before. What’s going on?

“Hey, aren’t you supposed to ask which time works best for us before you set the schedule?” you question, sliding the paper back to him. 

His long fingers catch the sheet before it can tumble off of the narrow table and he gives you a wolfish smirk. “Ah, you’re gonna be one of those,” he grumbles, pulling back one chair and flopping into it, splaying his long legs out in front of him. 

“Tch, what do you mean by, ‘one of those?’ I’m not some green freshman, I’ve been to TA meetings before. You ask us for the times.”

“Hmph, okay. Let’s put it this way then, you’re here now, right?”

“Yeah. I–”

“So it’s fair for me to assume that you can make this time?”

“I can today, but what if it’s a one-time thing? What if I have another class or a job?”

“Do you?” his voice drops as he lingers on that ultimate word, lacing his fingers together and leaning forward, blue eyes watching you closely. 

“N-no, I don’t personally have any objections to this time. But what if others–”

“Others?” he scoffs. “I’m sorry, do you see anyone else in here? We’ve been talking, what, five minutes? And I was, eh, almost fifteen minutes late? That sound right? Hate to say it, but I think it’s just gonna be me and you babe.” 

“Ew. Don’t call me that! It’s (F/N)(L/N). Gross, who does that? Babe? You don’t even know me,” you sputter, leaning away from his hunched gaze, earning yourself another clipped chuckle. 

“Ooh, so sensitive! Alright, miss. “I’m not a freshman,” if there are no more objections from the peanut gallery, go ahead and sign this so I can conclude this session. Don’t particularly like chatting with you either, since you’re taking years off my life with these pointless questions.”

“Yeah, well, you’re a dick,” you bristle, crossing your arms and glowering down at the crinkled sign-up sheet that Dabi’s pushed back toward you. 

“Damn, we’re already talking about my dick! I usually reserve that kinda thing for the third week, but I’ll let it slide. Now, be a good little girl and sign that paper for me.”

A month in this whole TA arrangement hasn’t gotten any easier. 

Half of the time Dabi doesn’t even show up, opting to text you the notes and study guides, waving you off with some vague excuse, or promise to make it up next time. The days he appears for the session, he’s always late and glumly sits beside you in the vacant study hall, tinkering with his phone and doing his best to avoid any kind of work. 

But today? Today takes the cake. 

He’s got his booted feet on the table and is taking quiet hits on his vape pen, exhaling long breaths of clear steam into the study hall. “Dabi,” you hiss across the room, aghast at his cavalier attitude. “You’re not supposed to smoke in here! Wait. Oh, my god! Is that weed?”

“Shhh, Jesus. Keep your voice down, mom,” Dabi sneers, puffing a wisp of smoke your way. “Why don’t you try focusing on your work, huh? You’ve got twelve more molecules to stabilize and your functional groups are a mess; you don’t have time to worry about me. Come on, chop, chop. I’ve got places to be.”

“Ugh. Places to be. What a load of bullshit. You know what? I wonder what might help me speed things up? Oh! I know! What if you did your job instead of getting stoned out of your mind?”

Dabi swivels around in his rolling chair, lowering his legs from the table and cocking a dark eyebrow at you. He’s foregone his tattered jacket today, and the sleeves of tattoos that lace up the chorded muscles of his arms are on full display. He’s done that on purpose, the bastard; likely noticed that you like to stare at them, your eyes engrossed by the shadings and designs. Not your fault you like some of the artwork. You’re not looking at him, not admiring any kind of twist or pull of his forearms. Not thinking about how nice they look when he wears a low cut shirt, or rolls up his sleeves. Nope, you promise yourself, careful to keep your eyes down and on your notes, it’s not that.  

You can feel his gaze; can tell he’s watching you from hooded eyelids and you do your best to resist his pull, not wanting to be drawn in by that eerie blue of his eyes. It’s not that you don’t like his eyes; no, if anything, you like them a little too much. They’re a beautiful shade of shifting cerulean and possibly the only positive thing about the man. 

“You sound upset, babe,” he taunts, taking another drag on his silver vape.

“I’ve told you a hundred times, don’t call me that. And me? Upset? You’re a real Sherlock, you know? What fucking gave that away? Oh, maybe the fact that I pay this university good money for these classes and I could actually use some support. But what do I get instead? A lazy TA who can’t be bothered to do anything more than the bare minimum. It’s a goddamn miracle I’m passing, and it’s certainly no thanks to you,” you snarl, twisting back to your work, ignoring the sound of his chair, gliding ever closer.

“Such a fucking sour puss. I bet you’d look a lot prettier if you’d wipe that scowl off your face every once in a while. Lemme see what you’ve got,” Dabi snorts, sauntering out of his chair and bending over your work. 

His tattooed arm braces itself beside your shoulder and the exposed skin brushes against you, making you unconsciously scoot awkwardly to one side.

“Don’t get so close,” you chastise, doing your best to ignore the pull of his cologne. It’s got a hint of patchouli and oranges, and it mixes so well with the cloying sweetness of his lingering vape smoke that it makes your head swim.

What’s he doing? This… well, it’s not like him. He never “checks” your answers, he usually just tells you to submit it to his email and he’ll get back to you later, which he never does. You don’t like this. Nope, not one fucking bit.

He takes his time studying your work, one long finger etching its way across your scribblings. His skin is warm; almost too warm. The heat of it against your clothed side makes you shiver and you duck your head at your unbidden reaction, balling your hands into fists and scrunching them against your tense thighs.

When he finally replies, he dips his head close to your ear, keeping his voice low and steady. “Not bad, (L/N). Nice to see you have some capacity for development after all.”

“What the hell does that mean?” you huff, whipping your head to his.

Oh, that’s right; he’s close.

The lazy smirk he gives you stretch his lips over his teeth and his eyes fall to a half mast as he leans closer, ghosting his breath over your face. “It means, you did a good job, babe. I’m impressed.”

You must be gaping at him; there’s no way that you’re not, but you can’t fucking think, not when he’s so close. If he wanted to, he could close that gap and he’d be against you. His lips look nice from here, smooth and pink, and you suddenly have a wild urge to see what he tastes like. Heart pounding, you feel yourself tilting your chin upwards, your lips parted, tongue dancing across the open plushness, dampening them, waiting, hoping that he’ll just…

“Practice your Lewis structures. Some of those compounds look fucking ridiculous,” Dabi replies, pushing himself off of the table and peering down at you, eyes gleaming with poorly concealed mirth. “But, you’re on the right track. Finish this shit up. Gotta go.”

“W-what?” you sputter, trying to quiet your pounding heart and steady yourself, upended by his short-lived…seduction? What exactly was that?

“Already told you, got some place to be. Send me the screenshots, if you wanna’, but I’m prolly’ not gonna look at them until after the weekend. Well, see ya’ around, (L/N).” And, with a last wave, he snatches up his backpack and saunters out the double doors, leaving you alone.

“So what are you thinking? Just go up to the dean’s office and ask to file a report against him?” your boyfriend questions, his voice hazy and distant through the filter of your earbuds. You’d called him a few minutes ago, once you had a good signal and filled him in on, well, most of the details. 

After Dabi left, you’d gathered up your things and paced the floors of the library, debating your next move. He’s not doing his job. That much is a fucking given. You’d even talked with a few of the other students in your class the other day and they all said the same thing: He’s lazy and he can’t be bothered to help. Apparently, you’re the only student who had one on one sessions with him, but the group meetups sound worse. They told you he usually just opened the textbook and asked them to copy down definitions, and those were the days when he showed up for the meetings.  ��

“Yeah, and today he really outdid himself. The jerk basically… well… he’s not doing his job,” you flounder at the omission of Dabi coming onto you. If you’re honest with yourself, he hadn’t really done much, and you’d been the one who was surging forward, suddenly tempted by his closeness, his scent, and those rippling sets of tattoos and bright blue eyes. No. Stop it. It’s the last straw, you remind yourself, shaking your head and refocusing on the familiar tone of your boyfriend’s voice.

“I’m sick of it. Midterms are coming, and I’m not about to let him hold the fate of my GPA in his stupid hands.”

“Go get em,’ love! You’re totally right, you’ve worked so hard and you shouldn’t have to put up with some middle-aged asshole’s antics. It’s been a crazy week for you, so dinner’s on me tonight. Wherever you wanna’ go, name the place and I’ll make sure we get a smile back on your face!”

That… that’s so like your boyfriend. He’s always so sweet and caring. Always looking out for you, ready to pick you back up and dust you off each time you feel you’ve fallen short. He’s perfect. He’s all you want, all you need… right?

Goddamn it, you think after you hang up your phone and hop on the elevator that will whisk you up to the dean’s offices, you’d almost kissed your TA. Here’s your boyfriend, being the most supportive and loving thing in the entire world and all you can think about is how fucking good Dabi’s cologne had smelt has he leaned over you. Some partner you are. 

The dean’s office is emptier than you expected. There’s a single secretary, who is sitting behind a low desk, twirling a dark lock of hair and skimming over the pages of a magazine. She looks up when you clear your throat and a practiced smile lifts her lips. 

“Hey there! How can I help you?”

“I uh, need to file a complaint against someone in the College of Sciences,” you explain, dropping your heavy backpack from your shoulders and scratching at the back of your head balefully. You’re likely not the first one to file a grievance against the Dabi, so why are you suddenly bothered by the idea? It’s not going to get better. Just remember all the shitty, half-baked sessions he’s made you sit through (Y/N) and get this over with. 

“Oh! I’m sorry to hear that! Let me grab you the registry of TA’s and adjunct professors,” the secretary chirps, pushing her rolling chair across the wooden floors to snatch at a heavy binder on a shelf. 

“I can, um, just tell you his name. If that makes it any easier,” you quietly reply, one foot tapping agitatedly against the other. What is this uneasy feeling that keeps zinging through your mind? It’s going to be an anonymous complaint. It’s not like he’ll ever see it. He likely won’t even know it’s you. Some of the other students had discussed the idea. He could think it’s one of them, not you.  

“No, no,” the secretary replies, sliding the binder across the glass counter of the desk. “It’s no trouble at all! Just search for their name and fill out all the particulars on the university system. Doing our best to reduce waste! Gotta keep that paper trail down! We’ve got a little kiosk outside, close to the elevators. It’ll help you with all the details, just click on the form and it will file it into our online system. The dean’s office closes in fifteen minutes, so be sure to bring the binder back as soon as you’re done!” 

“Uh, ok,” you mumble, hefting the thick book into your hands. “Do you want me to take it with me, or just look it up here?”

“You can take it out there! It’s sorted by department, for ease of use, so it shouldn’t take you long to find them.” 

Great. 

You lug the binder to one of the many empty tables outside the sliding doors of the office. Slipping your backpack into a vacant chair, you flip through the lists and sections. Chemistry, chemistry… ah! Okay, you’re in the right section. Now to find Dabi, should be easy enough.

Yeah, no. There’s no one in here listed as “Dabi.” What the hell is this? Some kind of elaborate scheme? Is he just a random student who’s fronting as a TA? It would explain some of his general disinterest, but he knows more about molecular chemistry than anyone you’ve ever met, and that skill isn’t exactly a common parlor trick. 

Oh? My secret talent? Well, I can tell you about isotopic labeling and the exact timing of the reaction speeds! Wanna hear more? 

No. No one does. Plus, the professor had introduced him to the class on the first day. He knew him and Dabi’s not exactly inconspicuous. There’s gotta be something you’re missing. 

You close the heavy book and make your way back into the office, fingernails tapping out a disjointed pattern against the plastic of the binder. “Hey, um, sorry to bother,” you begin, tilting your head and biting your lip at the secretary’s beaming face.

“No bother! Did you find them? Everything work okay in the system?”

“No. I, uh, couldn’t find their name? He said his name was Dabi, never gave us a last name so, um, that’s all I have to go on,” you explain, placing the binder back on her desk and praying she’ll give you some kind of explanation.

“Ooh! Dabi! Sorry about that, he’s a special case, since he goes by his nickname. He’s under the adjunct section. I believe his last name is Todoroki,” she twists the book toward herself and flips through the pages at an alarming rate, eyes skimming over the names. 

“Here he is! Touya Todoroki! They don’t put nicknames, or preferred names, since it’s an official listing. He’s a brilliant man and one of our brightest junior professors. I know the university is hoping to snap him up this coming semester, get him on track for a tenured position. 

He’s a little unconventional, but he’s a super nice guy and… oh! Wait a minute, you wanted to file a complaint against him, right? I’m so sorry, here I am, running my mouth! You want a pen and paper? So you can jot his university number and info down? Lets me keep the book in here. Four minutes to closing after all, might as well save you the trip back.” She whips out the procured sheet of blank printer paper and a university stamped pen, holding them both toward you, a friendly smile still crinkling her eyes.

“Thanks,” you sigh, a little bewildered by her chatter. From the sound of it, Dabi’s got some university backing and is a ‘nice guy’. Coulda’ fooled you. Doesn’t matter, you think, crossing the t’s of his first and last name; he’s likely just skimming by on the promise of tenure, and the sooner the school knows about his lackadaisical attitude, the better. 

You’re typing in Todoroki, Touya when the secretary closes up the office of the dean, flicking off the lights and waving a goodbye to your tensed expression. A few minutes later, the elevator swallows her up and the only sound that fills the empty space is the clacking of the keys as you finish typing out your complaint. 

Alright. Got most of the minor points out of the way. 

Inattentive to the lessons, frequent absences, missing materials, smoking in the library; you’ll leave out the mention of weed, it’s not like you can claim innocence on that charge yourself and you’re not looking to have the guy arrested, just stripped of his TA status. You could mention the near kiss, but it feels too vague, and it’s not like he made a move on you. No, all that shifting forward rests squarely on your own shoulders. Damn it, stop thinking about that! You’ve got a boyfriend, someone who loves you, who’s going to take you to dinner! Hit complete and get the fuck outta’ here, before someone–

“Whatcha’ doing?”

His voice makes you jump half a foot into the air, your right knee contacting the protruding keyboard of the university kiosk. “Fuck,” you hiss, twisting around and hunching over at the bright spots of pain that flash across your vision as you rub your fingers over the hurt. The soft footfalls of his approach snap you out of your dazed reverie and your head snaps up, eyes widening at the sight of him.

He’s got a loose fitting white shirt on and you can see the coiling of his tattooed muscles under the thin fabric. His chin is lowered and his eyes are distant pinpricks of blue flame in the low lights. Booted feet take a few more steps toward you, but he pauses beside the table that your backpack is sitting on, hands sliding into his dark jeans, waiting for your response. You gulp back your nerves and lift your eyes to his, hoping some of your ire and defiance will shine through. “I’m putting something into the system,” you reply, your voice holding steady as you re-straighten your spine. 

“Can see that,” he counters, head tilting, dark hair falling to one side of his soft jawline. “Why are you doing it up here? This is the College of Science’s dean’s office. Most people don’t come up here to adjust their university login. So let me ask you again, whatcha’ doing, Ms. (L/N)?”

“Filing a complaint,” you snap, fingers curling into tight fists, shoulders rising and fall with your quickening breaths. That’s right, asshole, and it’s a complaint about you. How do you like that? Not much you can do about… about it now…. oh, shit. Fuck.  

You haven’t hit the enter key. 

The fucking e-document is just sitting there, unattended and completely vulnerable. He might not have seen that you haven’t sent it through and if you could just step a few feet to the right, then you can slip one finger against the keypad and hit that all important “enter.” 

You look up at him again, praying he won’t notice you scooting your shoes backwards, doing your best to keep him wholly focused on your face. “What did you expect?” you taunt, eyes narrowed, arms wrapping around your back, fingers unconsciously stretching out, feeling for the lift of the keyboard. “You’ve been shit. Midterms are in a week and half of the class says you’re not showing up for their sessions. Don’t look so shocked. This can’t possibly be your first run in with something like this? No wonder you go by that silly name, Dabi. What’s the matter? Upset that I know your actual name now?”

As you ramble on, his face has dropped all pretense of blank civility and now his entire body is hunching forward, shoulders curving, hands pulling free of his pockets and coiling outward, reaching, palms tilted upward. 

“So much fucking talk (Y/N). Looks to me like you forgot that last step. Don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing,” he begins, a wicked grin twisting across his lips, not quite reaching the glare of his narrowed eyes. “Ah, babe. Why you gotta be this way? Make you a deal, huh? Walk away now and I’ll forget the whole thing. No repercussions, no questions asked. Never even saw you up here, scout’s honor.” 

The keyboard is close; you can hear the hum of the monitor, buzzing as it holds the screen with your complaint against Touya Todoroki steady, waiting for your inspection, for that final command. Dabi is close, his looming form heavy against your wide eyes, but it’s now or never. You’ve got to turn around, got to let the predatory lumber of your ill-appointed TA slip from your mind, you have to do this. It doesn’t matter what kinda promises he’ll make to you. That changes nothing, absolutely nothing. 

Now! Do it now!

You whirl around, hands shaking as they search for the right keystrokes, the right submission link. It feels like minutes have passed, not seconds. Even though you’ve pressed all the buttons and heard the computer chime, a sent message alert into the sudden, reverberating silence, you can’t take your eyes off the burning gleam of the screen. Not until that thank you pops up. 

He’s still behind you. You can hear his boots as they click across the wood. His movements have slowed, but he’s still advancing. It’s too late for you Dabi, you think, watching as the submission page fades to a pleasing orange, the school mascot waving a large “Thanks!” as it dances, close to the bottom of the page. You did it! There’s nothing he can do. Nothing that–

His powerful arm drapes across your stiffened shoulders, his wrist popped beside your face, fingers dangling lazily into the open air. “Ahhh,” he sighs, leaning over you, resting his head beside yours. You half turn your face to see him, aghast that he’s so close again, that he’s touching you, holding you in place with his weight. His muscled side presses against your back, leaning heavily into you as he gives you a rakish smirk. “Well, looks like we get to do this the hard way.”

“What the fuck? The hard way? What does–hey! HEY!” He’s stepped away from you, and that arm that was braced over your shoulders shifts to the back of your neck, ramming your face down into the keyboard, mashing out a random string of commands. Your nose stings from the impact and your eyes wince shut, protecting themselves from the threat of the black letters. 

“Warned you about sending that,” he replies, and you can hear the grin in his voice. He’s stroking a hand down your head, tangling his long fingers in your hair, pulling at the strands until you’re groaning in pain. “Now we have to do this another way. Gotta even the score, don’t we? Need to make sure you’ve got some kinda blemish on your record, too! I know that secretary filled you in on my upcoming tenure. No way she didn’t. She’s a fucking leaky faucet and I know you had to ask her about my name to fill out that complaint. No, no. We gotta fix this, babe.”

His voice has dropped into a terrifying lower octave, his words sharp, barbed, lancing into your mind like a showering of sticks and stones. He fucking sounds like he’s seconds away from losing his goddamn mind. The hand that’s wrapped around your hair is tugging against you in earnest, jerking your neck away from the threat of the keyboard, forcing you to look up at his leering face. The pupils of his eyes are blown, the black eating away at the shine of the blue until there’s almost nothing left. His teeth are bared in a grimace and his cheeks are pinched, making the silver of his piercings stand out against his flushed skin.

You do your best to gasp out another set of questions, but he’s yanking you back, holding you against his broad chest and wrapping those ink sleeved arms around you. They coil over your stomach and across your breasts, digging into the globes and heaving them under his forearms. His lips are tracing over your arched neck, teeth nipping against your bared pulse. 

“You always smell so good, babe. What are you wearing? Hmm?”

“W-what… get off me! You sick fuck! Why are you… ow… damn,” you whimper as he sucks a bruise into your skin, gnawing and pulling until you’re writhing in his arms. You keep attempting to slip away, to shift your feet forward, but that mouth of his won’t let up. Each time you shake yourself free from those quick pants and hums he’s dashing across your neckline, he moves to another spot, or his hands cup and squeeze at your heaving chest and shivering waist, distracting you. 

“Mmm, this is unexpected. Looks like you just might enjoy what’s about to happen,” Dabi teases, licking a wet line under your jaw. “Come on, let’s go somewhere a little more private, shall we?”

You exhale a shuddering breath and remain perfectly still, hoping your feigned submission will lull him. Thankfully, it works. He chuckles and spits something out about being a ‘good girl,’ but when he moves back, his arms unlacing from you, you stumble forward, one heel raised, cracking down over his booted feet with as much force as you can muster. 

Dabi hisses out a string of low curses, his body coiling over itself protectively. You do your best to squirm out of his grasp, but one of his broad hands reaches out for you, snatching at your leg and forcing you back to him. The sudden shift jolts you off your feet and you tumble to the wood, your palms skinning against the uneven surface. 

“Stop it!” you shout, kicking your feet, trying to dislodge his iron grip. 

“Kick me again and I’ll knock you out,” Dabi threatens, lowering himself to your level and jerking you underneath him, trapping you, bracing his knees on either side of your hips. 

“Fuck you,” you screech out, bucking upwards, trying to dislodge his weight.

“That’s the idea,” he croons, long fingers curling under your clenched chin, forcing you to look up at him. “Can’t say I didn’t warn you and stop acting like you don’t want me. You were practically salivating for me this afternoon. I bet you’re already wet. Let’s find out, hmmm?”

His other hand drifts to the clasp of your jeans, flicking past the barrier of your button and dipping his hand into your pants. His touch lingers around the elastic band of your panties, yanking and teasing at the seam as he works your zipper down. Unconsciously, your traitorous hips roll under him and he gives you a sharp grin, blue eyes blazing. “There you go, babe, just relax. Don’t worry, I’ll make it good for you,” he whispers, his voice catching as his touch slips downward, tapping across your curls and snagging against your slippery folds. “Maybe… ahhh… look at that,” he moans, a satisfied grin lifting those tempting lips of his. 

His middle finger brushes between your quivering flesh, gathering droplets of your arousal onto his finger pad. You choke back a staggered breath and your head flops weightlessly against the floor as you arch pitifully into his hand. One of his nails digs into your clit and faint stars pulse over your eyes. “S-stop it,” you stutter, unable to control the shiver that echoes up your spine.

“Tch,” Dabi scorns, adding the pressure of another finger. “Figures,” he continues, his mouth dropping into a pleased smile as you writhe under him. “I thought you liked being difficult. You’re so fucking cute when you’re mad, you know? So what happened to all that vigor, (Y/N)? Not gonna struggle anymore? I’m disappointed, I was hoping you’d keep it up.”

“You’re disgusting,” you snap, your fingers lifting from your side, grabbing the loose collar of his shirt and jerking him to your waiting lips. You can feel the lift of his grin, but he allows the caress, sharp nose digging into your upper cheek. This is wrong. So fucking wrong. But, if you have to endure it, it’s only fair you get a little bit of enjoyment out of this sick power play, so you nip at his lower lip, giving him soft presses and sharper pulls. Dabi, for all of his earlier barbs of prowess, is a bit taken aback by your sudden interest, his hands cupping at the back of your head, urging you on each time you maneuver away from his open-mouthed kisses. 

“You want to fuck me here? Right in front of the elevator?” you question breathlessly, fingers coiling into his dark hair, carding through the rough strands until he’s groaning above you. 

“Nah,” he pants, pulling away from your lips and leaning back. His fingers are still working their way against you, but it’s not enough friction and you wriggle under him, slipping him from your clit. “The fuck are you doing, babe? You gonna try and make a break for it again?” he laughs, pulling his hand from your pants and licking at the faint sweetness that you’ve left for him. 

“Why bother?” you reply, twisting your neck, your head dragging over the grains of the flooring. “You’re just going to catch me. I don’t know my way around this part of the building, so even if I got away, you’d only find me and I don’t really like being tossed around. Not good for me, you know? Why do you care? I thought you said you were gonna fuck me?”

“Oh, I am,” he assures you, one hand snagging under your chin, forcing your eyes to lock onto his. “Just wanted to know what changed.”

“Nothing,” you barb, tugging your chin free and fixing him with a pointed stare. “This whole thing means nothing. I’ve got a boyfriend, and he’s buying me dinner tonight, so, just get through this and I’m free to go, right?”

“A boyfriend,” Dabi muses, knees tightening around your hips. “Should we call him? I’d hate to think how he’d feel about all this. Knowing that his girl is letting her TA take advantage of her this way.” 

“Hmph,” you snort, arms bracing under you, pushing yourself upward, doing your utmost to level this shitty playing field he’s laid out for you. “Like you give a shit.”

“You’re right,” he affirms, hands snatching under your arms and pulling you out from under him. “I couldn’t care less.”

His office is small. 

You keep a sharp eye on the door, watching to see if he locks it. Fingers crossed, he’ll get himself off and that’ll be the end of this. But that tone he’d shifted into, when he’d told you that you’d need to fix this, to erase the complaint, to walk it back, that made your spine tingle and skin prickle. There’s something else, something he’s not telling you, he’s a smart guy, there’s no way it’s this simple. He’s paced behind his desk, fiddling with something in one drawer, his eyes lifting to observe you each time you shift on the couch he’d gestured for you to sit on.

“What are you doing?” you ask, your voice a dull monotone. You don’t care, you remind yourself, hands wrapping around your stomach. No matter how good he looks, or how skilled his fingers are, you don’t care (Y/N) and it’s pathetic that you have to keep reminding yourself of that.

“Just making sure everything is ready,” he answers, eyes flicking over you. “Take off your pants and shirt, but leave your bra and panties on.”

“Huh?” you question, shoulders tensing as you glare up at him. “Why?”

“Does it matter?” he responds, closing his desk drawer and stepping back to you, kicking his boots and socks off as he gets closer.

“I-I guess not, but I don’t understand why you–”

“Don’t worry, I’ll explain it all when I’m finished,” he reassures you, kneeling on the floor and propping an elbow against his tattered couch. “You can make a show of taking your clothes off, I won’t mind.” 

“You’re revolting,” you snarl, curling your fingers over the hem of your shirt, pulling the fabric up. 

“Mmm,” Dabi agrees, one palm rising to run over your exposed skin. “Whatever you say.” 

“Ugh,” you grunt, popping your hips up and yanking your jeans down your long legs, not wanting to give him too much of a viewing as you pull them along your calves and onto the floor.

“Cute,” he murmurs, one finger racing along the lace of your panties, curving around your hip and onto the soft skin of your ass. “Oooh, did you wear these just for me?” he asks, cupping a broad hand under your soft skin and tugging it into his palm. “Love a girl in a thong,” he murmurs, fingers pressing and lifting into the plush flesh.

“Stop it,” you groan, lifting your hips up, depriving him of his lecherous grip. “I’d never do anything for you.” 

“Always such a stuck up little thing, let’s see if I can’t change your mind,” Dabi laughs, pushing you back and splaying you against the haggard cushions. His long fingers hook under the band of your thong and steadily work it over the curve of your hips and down the line of your calves. Instinctually, you clamp your thighs together, rubbing against the ache that’s budding between your clenched legs. 

“Come on,” Dabi encourages you, slapping his hand against your round thigh, smoothing his palm over the redness that he’s left behind. “Open up babe, let me see you.” 

“Don’t, ah—” you bite out, leaning away from his ravenous gaze and bracing yourself on your elbows as Dabi leers over the sight you’ve been forced to open for him. He glances up at you for a single moment, the blue of his eyes ensnaring your attention and leaving you gaping against the cushions. Seconds later, he’s diving between your spread thighs, his curious tongue lapping over the exposed folds of your cunt.

He slows his licks as he passes by your clit, pausing against the bud before wrapping his lips around the nub, sucking a swift rhythm over you. Your feet rise from the floor to brace against his broad shoulders and you coil your hips upward, urging him on, your head falling into the swath of pillows that rest under your neck. Tense fingers wrench into the cushions and you give a soft gasp, your lips stumbling over his name.

“What was that?” Dabi asks, lifting his head from your curls, lips wet with your slick, his blue eyes watching the contours of your face.

“Fuck you. I-I know… I know you heard me… D-Dabi,” you moan, hissing when he brings a digit against the quivering ring of your entrance. 

“Dabi, huh?” he ponders, letting the edge of his fingernail tease over you. “Don’t know if I like that. I think I’d much rather hear you screaming out my name, my real name.” 

“What?” you question, popping your head up and giving him a blank stare.

“You remember,” he grins, poking out his tongue and dragging it over you, smiling as you buck under his hands. “Come on,” he taunts, sucking at your clit again. “I know you know it. Go on, say it for me.”

“Wha-what’s wrong with Dabi?” you smart, bracing your feet against the couch and forcing him to insert his wavering finger, digging it forward until it hits the second knuckle. 

“Nothing, I just wanna’ hear how the other name sounds. I want to know what it’s like when you’re choking on it, barely able to gasp it out cus’ I’m making you feel so good. Come on, (Y/N), indulge me, huh?” 

“Fine,” you huff, legs trembling as he shoves another finger into you, curling them upward, poking and prodding until you’re squirming. “Keep going. Make me cum all over your mouth, Touya.” 

“Oh, fuck,” Dabi hisses, his teeth catching over your clit. “That sounds real nice, baby.”

His lips seal over you again and he drags another finger into you, stretching you until you feel you’re close to bursting. It’s a low ache he’s working up, but you love the burn. It’s not like your boyfriend can’t do this, but you’ve never worked up the courage to ask. How do you even go about that? Hey, I want you to pin me down and… no. That doesn’t matter, you remind yourself; fingers sinking into Dabi’s black hair, pulling him closer. You just need to get him off and get the hell outta’ here. Don’t think about it. Just relax and get this over with. 

“You need more, don’t you?” Dabi questions, tilting his head and cracking one cerulean eye open, watching as you writhe and cant under his skillful hands. 

“I-I just need…” your voice fails you as he resumes that suction, tugging your engorged clit between his sharp teeth and giving you a few rapid fire nips. “Al-almost, just… keep… oh fuck…” you sigh, thighs tensing around his dark head. His fingers speed up that sinful drag and he wriggles them forward with each push, tapping and stroking over the spongy patch of nerves within your cunt. 

Then, right when you’re breaths away from a mind blowing release, he yanks his fingers from your sopping pussy, laughing as you pant and whine for him. “Ahhh, come on babe,” he sneers. “Why would I reward you when you’ve been such a fucking pain?” 

You openly gape at him, your eyes blinking back dots of frustration and distant flashes of lingering starlight arousal. “What the fuck,” you pant, shifting away from his slicked lips and crossing your legs. “Wh-what what was that for?”

Dabi pushes himself onto his haunches, licking the last traces of you off of his fingers before digging his hand into his jean pocket. He returns with a small remote and waggles it in front of your aghast expression. “Got all I needed,” he informs you, flicking it toward a bookcase. You swiftly whip your head to the shelves and spy the tiny camcorder resting above the topmost set of books. 

“You fucking ASS,” you screech, hands reaching for the dangling remote, not caring that your sopping pussy and half naked breasts are on full display. Dabi hovers the remote above the two of you, cracking that all too familiar grin over his thin lips.

“So, about that complaint,” he taunts, scoffing at your desperation, leaning on his heels to watch you scramble up from the frayed pillows of his couch. 

“Y-you, why… I… give me that! You can’t record me without my permission!”

“Awe, babe,” Dabi barks, his laugh echoing around the small space. “Too bad for you, huh? I don’t need two party consent.”

“That’s for phone calls,” you bite out, finally snagging his wrist, yanking him toward you. 

“Who said the video was on?” 

“You fucking jackass! That’s why you wanted me to say your name!”

“Calm down, I won’t release it if you walk back the complaint,” Dabi counters, letting you pull him closer, his lips teasingly reaching for yours. You dodge his touch and fix him with a pointed glower, nose wrinkling and brow furrowing. 

“This sounds like a well oiled routine,” you accuse, dropping your hold on him and crossing your arms over your exposed stomach. 

“Tch, you jealous?” Dabi sneers, cupping both of his hands under your bent elbows, forcing you to lean into his hold. You shake your head at his accusation and grit your teeth, tilting your face away from his seeking touch. 

“What are you going to do about this part? Where I’m yelling about what a son of a bitch you are?”

“Edit it out,” Dabi informs you, lips latching onto the hollow of your throat, teeth worrying your tender skin between their grasp. “Again, if you walk back the accusation, all of this goes away.”

“What if…” you pause, biting your lower lip and shrugging Dabi off of you. He leans away, bright eyes studying your face, pausing at the dip of your lips, following the pink indentations that your teeth leave behind. “What if I wanna’ fuck you?”

“Oh?” Dabi hums, nose flaring, making those three tiny piercings gleam under the low light of the moon that’s streaming through his window. “Now you wanna’ fuck me? You sure about that? Not that I blame you, I’m pretty good, pretty big, too.”

“Ugh, don’t say shit like that,” you reply, lifting a shaking hand to his neck, tracing your fingertips over the indentations of his tattoos.

“Hmm,” he groans, already leaning into your touch, his skin prickling under the gentle strokes of your fingers. “One condition. I get to record it. This time with the video on.”

“Fine,” you confirm, coiling your hands into his inky hair. “Never know, you might want it for later.”

“For what?” Dabi asks, yanking himself away from your intoxicating strokes to jerk his white shirt over his head. You shake your head at his question, not wanting to think about the ramifications of this situation, distracting yourself with the new patterns and whorls of dark ink that are bared to you. He twists back to the camcorder, hitting a few buttons before tossing his remote across the room, the plastic clattering over the wood.

You can just make out the outline of wisps of blue flames beside his ribs when he kicks his pants and boxers down, finally lowering the curtain on the dip of his hipbones, displaying his straining length to your ravenous gaze. He’s covered in piercings. A silver Prince Albert is gleaming at his tip, catching the drips and bubbles of pre-cum that are hovering against his slit. His cock curls proudly toward his stomach when he releases it from the thin protection of his boxers and you catch sight of the Jacob’s ladder that climbs up his impressive girth. Unconsciously, you gulp in a swift breath and shake your head, not wanting to show him your wavering uncertainty. 

He’ll undoubtedly be the biggest cock you’ve ever taken, and you’re not sure that he’s stretched you out properly. He’d paused too soon and you can still feel the shuddering echoes of your faint brush with release travel up your spine as you gape at him. It’s not enough… it’s not…

“What?” Dabi questions, one black brow arched. “Worried I’m too big for you?”

You’re about to respond when he shoves you down and maneuvers you sideways, stretching you along the cushions, his hand a steady pressure against your windpipe, choking out any reservations that threaten to escape your lips. He’s on top of you seconds later, the sheer weight of him pinning you under him, and you let out a whine when he spreads your legs, popping the brittle muscles of your hips in his rush. 

“I’ll make you like it,” he promises, looming over you, his lips tracing up your neck as his hands dig under your back, unfastening your bra and stripping you of your final defense. “You’ve got a nice rack, babe,” Dabi praises, lowering himself, ghosting over your peaked nipples, tongue lapping out to dip over the puffy areola. 

“Stop saying shit like that, I might think you mean it,” you snarl, throat catching on your gasps of strained pleasure. He sucks one stiffened peak between his lips and suckles, hard. The pressure makes your back bow off the cushions, fingers reaching for him, clawing and scratching your way down the muscled plains of his back. 

“Mmm,” Dabi groans, popping his lips free from the distraction of your nipples. “Do that again, but put some effort behind it.” 

Well, why let him down now? You dig your nails into him, yanking until you feel his skin part under you, splitting from the drag of your touch. “Fuck, yes,” he grunts, his hips jerking into you, blindly seeking your entrance. “I’m gonna fuck you,” Dabi warns, teeth biting the hollow of your neck. “I’m gonna fuck you until all you can say is my name.” 

He blindly reaches for your hips, two fingers searching for your cunt. Once he finds it, he grasps the swollen length of his cock, jerking himself a few times, splashing his hot pre-cum against your inner thighs. There’s no warning, no call for preparation, or a quick kiss, instead there’s just the heady press of his hips and the weight of his length as it splits you in two. Your neck arches off of the cushions and your hips fall away, shying from the keening sting that he’s thrusting into you. A low hiss slips from your lips and your toes curl, legs unconsciously wrapping around his thin waist, heels digging into the soft dip of his back. 

“F-fuck,” Dabi chokes out, hands bracing themselves over the swell of your hips. “You’re fucking tight, babe. Goddamn it.”

“Dabi,” you moan, curling upwards, praying he’ll give you a few more seconds, positive you’ll shake yourself to bits if he tries to move now. Your hand finally lifts from his back and makes its way toward the crest of your thighs, desperate to tweak and roll your pulsing clit. Once you’re inches away, one of Dabi’s hands unlatches from your waist and snatches your seeking fingers away. “Don’t you dare,” he warns, lips rising to suck against the lines of your neck. “Only if I tell you,” he continues, warm tongue dipping and licking over your ear. “Understand?”

You nod, still reeling from the steady stretch of his cock as he tugs it out of your sopping cunt. It pricks and bites and your heels do their best to restrict his movements, pinning themselves to his lower back and grinding down. He ignores your hints and starts a steady push and pull within you, the rungs of his piercings catching on the edge of your leaking pussy. Each thrust snags against a piece of you that sends a scattering of sparks and stars over your vision and you coil yourself forward every time he yanks back, anticipating that ignition, that ache, as he braces himself to slip into you again. 

“How the fuck are you still so tight?” he complains, hands jerking your chin upward, demanding that you kiss him. The bittersweet sting of pain is still too close for you to get into his caress, so he soon gives up, finally settling the pad of his calloused thumb over your clit. “Is this what you need?” he asks, hips lancing into yours, picking up the pace of his ruts. You nod as your teeth chatter, a thin slip of drool escaping your parted lips. Dabi grins at your overwrought expression and his tongue laps at the traces of saliva, nose pressing into your skin, his hisses of exhaled air hot against your cheek. 

“You’re getting real tight (Y/N). Wanna cum? You wanna’ cum on my dick?” he asks, his voice shaking with effort, trying to ignore the insistent envelopment of your slick cunt. “Hey, come on, answer me!”

His deep pitch of exasperation snaps you out of your stupor and you fix your hazy attention on him, closing your swollen lips and giving him a cruel smile. “I don’t think you’ve done enough,” you taunt, a laugh bubbling from your throat. “Looks like you’re gonna cum first. Turns out you’re not as impressive as you think, huh, Touya?”

He’d usually ignore you, keep pressing and teasing until you’re putty in his hands, but it feels too good. It’s too much. Your fucking cunt feels like heaven and he can’t help himself, thrusting and pounding into you like he’s fucking fifteen again, all hormones and no finesse. There’s nothing he can do to stop himself, it’s too good, it’s just too fucking good.

With a half-formed groan he spills into you, his cock pulsing and swelling, hands bracing themselves against the swell of your hips, lifting you to him until those dots leave his vision. “Fuck. Fuck, that was… you were… God. That felt so fucking good.” 

You sprawl under him, your eyes languidly meeting his as you crack a sly grin. “Ahhh, Touya, like I said, you were so close. Too bad. Thought you’d last a little longer. Haha! Maybe next time, hmmm?”

Tags: @spicy-skull​, @xwildskullx​, @evesmores​

notes: editing always takes me so long :((((

[meltwonu]

| 🍒 CH-CH-CHERRY BOMB! 🍒 |     [CHAPTER 16]

pairing; dom!seungcheol x camgirl!reader

this chapter’s notes; camshow, dom!seungcheol, oral(fem receiving), a little overstimulation, some hair pulling, dirty talk, possessive!seungcheol makes an appearance, sex toys, seungcheol riskin’ it all in this one 😏😳 yall!!! only 4 more chapters after this 🥺 it’s so crazy, I don’t even remember when I started this series but omg, my longest one yet! 💕 thank you so much for the support on cherry bomb, as always!! I love yall 💕💕 also my god has it been a week 😭 gonna do an inbox roundup tomorrow!💕 But for now, enjoy ch16 and have a good, safe weekend!! 💕🍒 

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - x - x - x - x

“Let me get this straight… She asked you if you considered her your girlfriend and you said what?”

Seungcheol grimaces for the third time, brows furrowed when Jeongguk blinks at him incredulously. “I’m sorry, I just---I need to hear it from your lips again, hyung.”

“Ugh, I said ‘sure’, okay!? I got nervous! That was a big fuckin’ question!” Seungcheol tugs at his own hair, groaning as he slams his head down onto the concession stand. “Don’t even get me started on the look she gave me after. I had to sleep next to her, you don’t know how horrible that was after my fuck up.”

Jeongguk pats Seungcheol’s hair; shaking his head as he gently tries to comfort his hyung.

“What did she say afterwards?”

“She just said ‘oh, okay’ and then she changed topics.” Seungcheol lifts his head from the countertop, hair mussed as he stares back at Jeongguk who shoots him a pitiful look.

“And that was it? The two of you went to bed?” Seungcheol nods, “We ate a little and she started talking about work so I thought everything was okay? But the more I think about it the more I’m thinking ‘oh, okay’ isn’t really okay? Listen, I haven’t been in a relationship in a while and the last thing I ever expected out of meeting her was for her to be my girlfriend!”

Jeongguk laughs in return, “I can tell. You’re fuckin’ rusty as hell, hyung.”

“He said what?”

You groan as you pick up another plate. “He said ‘sure’ and then it got awkward. We ate dinner and then went to bed and this morning when he dropped me off, I felt like---weird? I was all shy all of a sudden, maybe even awkward.” Jun helps you clear off the table, taking a couple plates of his own before turning to face you.

“Like, ‘butterflies in my stomach’ kinda shy? Or, like, ‘that wasn’t really the answer I was looking for’ kinda awkward shy?”

Grimacing, you start to wipe down the table as Jun watches. “I’m not even sure. I mean… He didn’t say no, right? But I guess I was just expecting a little more than just ‘sure’. Nothing like, grandiose but… a little more than ‘sure’? It’s like he was replying to me asking if he wanted a piece of chocolate.”

Jun laughs, fingertips on his chin as he thinks of an appropriate response. “He might just be… awkward. I mean, what was the preface of this question? What conversation were you two having?”

Your lips press into a firm line, cheeks hot as Jun stares you down. “Okay… maybe you’re right. I didn’t really… work up to that question. I kinda just… asked it. I mean, you guys were asking about it in the comments too so I just thought--”

“Ah! There’s the problem though. I don’t think hyung was even in the chat at that point. So, just because all of us were talking about it doesn’t mean he knew, y’know? He might’ve just been caught off guard.”

“Ugh... fuck, you’re probably right.”

You and Seungcheol don’t talk about it.

Even though you can feel the tenseness between the two of you during dinner and even when he drops you off and picks you up from work Friday afternoon. It’s all clipped conversations and shy, awkward smiles like the two of you had met for the first time, all over again.

It eventually comes to a head when you’re only an hour away from needing to start your cam show, Friday night, and you realize that you weren’t sure if Seungcheol was going to be part of it or not. “Hey, ‘Cheol?” You ask, voice small as you stare at the back of his head. The male turns from his place on the sofa, eyes wide as saucers at your shy voice.

“Y-yeah?”

“Are you, um, going to cam with me tonight or…? I mean, I can do it alone, I just--I wasn’t sure if you wanted to, tonight.” Seungcheol bites the inside of his cheek; he really wanted to talk about it and he didn’t understand why this, out of all the things, was so difficult for him to talk about.

“I--I don’t know. I just, I’m sorry, can I just... apologize first?” He groans as he gets up from the sofa and rounds it until he steps in front of where you sit atop the bed sheets. “It’s been so awkward and I know it’s because of me, so you don’t need to say anything. I just--I should’ve said more than ‘sure’, I was just nervous!” His cheeks burn red; wide eyes avoiding your own as you stare up at him. “I really want you to be my girlfriend, if I didn’t already make that clear. I was just thinking about how I never really expected you to like me that much, much less start a relationship with me, so the first thing that came out of my mouth was just… that. It was dumb, I should’ve said something else, but I think my brain was just mush by then.”

Your own cheeks feel hot at his confession; trying to hide the beaming smile that threatens to paint your features. “No--no, I should apologize a little too. I asked you that out of nowhere and made you panic. I should’ve worked it up better than that too.”

“I guess we’re both a little dumb, huh?” He laughs under his breath as he scratches the back of his head in embarrassment. “We can talk about everything else under the sun but that was just… harder to talk about in the moment.”

“Yeah, but we’re okay now, right? We’re an official c-couple?” You bite your lip, looking up at Seungcheol who seems to be staring off into the distance. A grin finds itself painted on his lips as he meets your shy eyes.

“That’s right, babygirl.”

Seungcheol decides to let you do your cam show alone tonight; watching from the sofa as you get settled on the bed before nodding at him and starting your stream.

“Hey, everyone! Happy Friday!”

The comments and donations flood in as soon as you start and you already hit your donation minimum before you even open your mouth to speak again. It catches you off guard momentarily as your eyes go wide and your lips part in a shocked expression.

“Whoa, that was so fast! We already hit the donation minimum!”

sleepy_wonu has donated $75

sleepy_wonu: your channel has grown so much in the past few weeks im not surprised lol

universe_WZ: yea seriously, i remember when it took us like 30 mins before we hit minimum

artist8hao has donated $75

artist8hao: now theres ppl we’ve never even seen before in the comments lol

angelhan has donated $50

tangerine_kwan has donated $50

“Oh I know! Remember that one cam show where it took me, like, almost an hour to reach minimum? If it weren’t for ‘dom.cheol’ then, I don’t think that one would’ve taken off at all!” You giggle at the memory, eyes momentarily flitting to Seungcheol who smiles back at you.

kitty_junjun: speaking of? No loverboy tonight?

therealchan99: oh yeah i didnt even notice he was gone 😌

chwenon: lmfao

“Ah, he said he wanted to take a break tonight so it’s just me! Hope that’s okay with you guys?” You pout at the camera, fingertips roaming your lingerie clad body as you read off a few more comments. “I’m so used to his hands all over my skin though… He gets me to cum so easily, y’know?”

You pick up a dildo sitting next to you on the bed; bringing the silicone toy to your lips as you moan. “This is the biggest toy I have and it’s not anywhere near the size of his cock...” Wrapping your lips around the tip, you start sucking on the toy, imagining it was Seungcheol’s cock instead when it fills your mouth.

Your eyes flutter shut when you start grinding against the bedsheets underneath you and Seungcheol feels his throat going dry at the way you take more and more of the toy into your mouth until you’re gagging on it. Tears spring to your eyes when you feel your throat constricting around the silicone and you repeat this action a few more times before you’re pulling the toy from your mouth and sputtering to catch your breath.

gentleman_josh95: god youre so fucking pretty choking on cock

alphagyu97 has donated $50

alphagyu97: fuck i know

Setting the toy down, you immediately work to get your lingerie off; tossing it to the side before spreading your legs for the camera. “Mmh, I’m already so wet thinking about this toy filling me up…” You tease yourself with the toy, dragging the tip through your folds and collecting the wetness on it as you mewl.

xcaliburDK: but is it gonna be enough for you?

hoshi_tiger_xx: probably not, we all know the toys arent as good as the real thing lolol

You let out a whimper as you circle your clit with the tip of the toy. “I know… But I really want something inside my pussy…”

Seungcheol feels his cock throbbing in his sweats at the way your words only sound sweeter to his ears now that the two of you had cleared the air. He bites his lip, palming himself through the material as he watches you from his place on the sofa.

alphagyu97: is ur tight lil cunt ready to take it?

therealchan99: why dont u use your pretty fingers to get yourself ready hmm?

You nod shakily, setting the toy down again before bringing your middle and index fingers to your lips to wet them properly before snaking them down your body. “Ah, my fingers aren’t as big either…” Mumbling, you pinch and tease your clit, moaning out loudly before dragging them down and sinking them into your soaked entrance.

“Fuh--fuck, mmh!” Regretfully, your fingers aren’t as thick or long as Seungcheol’s but you curl and scissor the digits inside of you to prep yourself for the toy.

The sound of your moans and cries mix in with the pinging on your laptop from donations and comments and for once, Seungcheol realizes how weird it is to be on the other side and not with you. Admittedly, he’d gotten quite used to being on cam with you that it seemed awkward to just be doing nothing on the other side of the room.

“Oh, ngh, I--I want the toy n-now…” Mewling, you pull your soaking fingers from inside of your pussy; bringing them to your lips to clean them off of your wetness before grabbing the toy again. You run the silicone through your folds as you get it covered in your slick before positioning it at your entrance and slowly sinking it in.

It was definitely smaller than Seungcheol and didn’t have the same girth, but you still whine and whimper when it fills you up to the base of the toy. “Ngh, feels g-good…”

universe_WZ: i just kno that toy is noy as satisfying as the real thing huh princess?

xcaliburDK: right? Her pretty lil pussy is probably so used to being stretched by a big cock 

You thrust the toy into your pussy, soft cries spilling from your lips as you try to imagine it’s Seungcheol instead. In all honesty, you would’ve wanted him to film with you but you respected his decision to stay on the sidelines for tonight.

“Ah, it--it’s not the s-same… I--I need h-help…” You whine; shaky fingertips still working the dildo in and out of your soaking pussy. 

“P-please, ah… the toy’s not, mmh, enough to make m-me feel good...”

In the time between you picking up the toy and you actually sliding into your wet cunt, Seungcheol internally argues with himself on what to do.

And it’s not until you start begging to the air for more that he mentally says ‘screw it’ and gets up from the sofa.

Your eyes are clamped shut as you try to chase the pleasure and soon you feel the bed dip; confused eyes peering back at Seungcheol who’s entire body, including his head, is in the camera’s shot. “W-wait, you---”

“Me, what? You asked for me, right?” He turns his head, eyes staring directly into the camera as he smirks.

“Hi. I’m her boyfriend. But I think the rest of you know that already, right?”

The comments go wild with Seungcheol’s sudden face reveal, even though you and him are already lost in each other as he grips the base of the dildo and starts pumping it inside of you, angling it as best as he can to graze against your g-spot.

xcaliburDK: i think i need to quit my job tomorrow

chwenon: ??? didnt u just start

angelhan: damn i knew this dude was gonna be hot as hell

kitty_junjun: whoa nice to see ur face

kitty_junjun: i take it u lovebirds made up

xcaliburDK: yea i did but i think ive embarrassed myself enough for one lifetime

xcaliburDK has donated $150

xcaliburDK: for my shame

Your entire body is aflame with Seungcheo’s confidence and you feel the pleasure building up even quicker now that he was here with you. “Ah, f-fuck…” Whining, you bite your lip to prevent yourself from calling out his name; something you were used to by now.

“What’s wrong, baby? Call my name. Let them know who makes you feel this fuckin’ good. Let them know who’s cock you always crave and who’s cock fills you up better than this toy ever fuckin’ could.”

“Fuck, S--Seungcheol!”

Your orgasm hits you out of left field; thighs clamping shut around his arm as he continues to fuck you with the dildo as you ride out your pleasure. He turns to face the camera yet again, winking at it cockily before he turns back to you. “That’s right, baby. Now I’m gonna eat your ‘lil cunt out and make you cum on my tongue while you let the entire world know who gets you this fuckin’ wet.”

He doesn’t give you a second to come down from your high before he’s nudging your thighs apart and sliding the dildo from inside of you. A shaky breath falls from your lips as he readjusts you on the bed; this time giving the camera a side view as you turn your head to face the camera.

The comments and donations continue to flood in, except now it seems like they’re going twice as fast.

xcaliburDK: kjdkjghsdkhg fuck

sleepy_wonu: well can i say at least hes not an old weirdo lol

sleepy_wonu: ❤️

chwenon: im like, pretty sure ive seen this dude come to the convenience store i work at

chwenon: bruh i met a celebrity and i didnt even know it

xcaliburDK: dont even get me started

Seungcheol pries your shaky legs apart before he eases himself down between them. “I want you to be as loud as fuckin’ possible. Understood?” He smiles at you warmly, but his words have a certain edge to them that has you nodding profusely.

“O--okay…”

He wastes no time; skilled tongue flicking at your swollen clit as you jolt and immediately tangle your hands into his hair. “Oh, god, Seungcheol I’m--I’m, ah, sensitive…” He smirks against your skin, noting the way you already start to grind against his tongue despite your words.

Resting your thighs against his shoulders, it allows him to eat you out easier as he flattens his tongue and drags it from your soaking entrance to your clit; alternating the pressure as you whine and whimper above him.

When he notices you trying to keep your noises in, he pulls away slightly, flicking your clit with the tip of his tongue before speaking.

“I thought I told you I wanted to hear you, baby? Don’t get shy on me now.” He smirks, watching as the goosebumps rise on your skin. “In fact, why don’t you tell your lovely viewers how good I make you feel, hmm? Or tell them about the time you made me finger you in the restroom at work ‘cause your ‘lil cunt couldn’t wait.”

xcaliburDK: THE RESTROOM? At woRK?

artist8hao: ah one of the originals huh

gentleman_josh95 has donated $75

gentleman_josh95: for backstory

tangerine_kwan has donated $75

tangerine_kwan: seconded!

You bite your lip when you catch the comments, shy eyes flitting from the screen to Seungcheol who resumes eating you out. Your thighs tremble and threaten to snap shut around his head; body already on the edge of another orgasm. 

“I--S--Seungcheol was at, ah, w-work… and I--I couldn’t wait so--so I made him finger m-me in his work’s restroom…” You whimper, hangs tugging on Seungcheo’s hair harshly when his tongue dips into your entrance. “Fuck, I--I couldn’t stop thinking about, ngh, his--his fingers afterwards e-either… They fit my p-pussy so well…”

A garbled moan floats through the air when Seungcheol’s lips envelope your clit, sucking it into his mouth as your cry out his name.

Your back bows off of the bed, fingertips locked tight into his hair. “Fuck, Seungcheol, please… please…” You grind against him, toes curling against his back when your sensitive body gives into the pleasure and your orgasm washes over you a second time.

Cries of his name are all you can manage when your body goes rigid; head fuzzy when he starts to dip his tongue into your pussy again. He smiles against you, calmly continuing to eat you out as your orgasm continues to wash over you.

kitty_junjun: is it just me or is it nicer to hear her actually calling someones name

artist8hao: honestly i was just thinking that too

artist8hao: its more organic idk  

alphagyu97: ~organic~ ok nerd lol

chwenon has donated $50

therealchan99 has donated $50

When the  overstimulation starts to bite, your soft cries of Seungcheol’s name turn into hurried, jumbled noises and only parts of his name as you squirm and tug on his hair.

“Ah, ‘Cheol it’s, ngh, too--too m-much…!” He drags his tongue against your clit a few more times, relishing in the way you still grind against him. “I c-can’t cum again…” You cry, teeth chattering when he gently laps at your folds and collects your wetness on his tongue.

Seungcheol repeats this a few more times; letting you tug and pull at his hair as he licks you clean.

“Ngh, Seungcheol…”

He finally pulls away, using a hand to pry your fingers from his hair as he smiles at your tired body. “Cute.” Mumbling, he eases your shaky legs from his shoulders before he sits up; lips covered in your wetness as he grins at the camera.

Seungcheol picks out a few comments as he chuckles under his breath; already wondering what work was going to be like on Monday when he had to meet Seokmin. 

universe_WZ: u look like a dude that could fuck someone up 

kitty_junjun: he probably would too

chwenon: come thru the convenience store bro, I'll hook u up 

xcaliburDK: should I quit? be honest

Your tired groans bring his attention back to you; eyes trained on the way your tired eyes threaten to snap shut. 

“Okay, I think I need to go take care of my girlfriend now. It was nice meeting you all, finally.” Seungcheol grins, taking care of your stream before thanking your viewers and ending the stream. 

He turns to you, a genuine and caring smile on his face when your hazy eyes look up at him. 

“Ready for a shower?”

“Ugh, carry me, boyfriend~”

[batwritings]

15 minutes of your time, dearest Bat, if I may. I'm studying to be a photographer, I really like taking pictures. A lot of the little jobs I do are taking graduation pictures for family friends. I got the idea of being the photographer of one of the boys, but in the nude....so I'm going to share it with you.

Model Gogy, because let's be honest he is so pretty and very photogenic. Filters are not needed for this man.

So you are hired to take photos of him on a regular because his agent likes the way your shoots come out. They have been the most flattering and it's all because you've got a crush on the British man. George is nothing but nice to you. The banter is easy and boarder line flirtatious at times. You are professional though.

Well one day you get an email from his agent, but it doesn't sound like them. 'Hey can we set up a shoot soon.' was the subject. The rest of the email was weird too. Not much information was shared and the dates were going to be in 2 days. Usually you got a week to prepare and plan things. But your Schedule was clear and to be honest you can say no.

So in the two days you scramble to get ready and made sure all your other projects were cleared out. You arrive at the address with probably more gear then you needed. It's just George there though he is awkwardly sitting at a table in the middle of the nearly empty studio waiting for you. He lights up when he sees you and even helps you with equipment. You ask him what the shoot was about and he blushes.

"I understand if you don't feel comfortable doing this. Honestly I wish my agent would have told you right from the start but I need nude pictures taken." He chews his lip nervous. The instant though of naked George with his dick out makes brain.exe stop working. The little longer you just stare at him the more nervous he gets, laughing weakly and rambling about something.

"I can...do the job." You blink back when he starts saying something about 'not worrying about it he can get someone else to do it but he trusts you'. He pauses and smiles relaxing some and smiling relieved at you.

"cool, thank you," he sounded like he wanted to say more but instead just fidgeted.

Clearing your throat you ask how he wanted to do this. He left it up to you. Again you couldn't think properly. Your own blush was surely visible. You look around at the sparse furniture. The large couch would have to work because it was the only thing besides the blankets and the floor. So you tell him the plan and proceed to set up. Usually you wouldn't, a scene would already be ready but this was different. George waited not wanting to get in your way. When it was ready you smiled at him.

"We can start when you are ready, okay?" He nods at you and plops down on the couch shifting a little awkwardly. Your camera was raised as you figured out the best angles for lighting. He was stiff and looked for once so uncomfortable.

"Do you want to do some normal shots to help you relax?" You ask giving him a warm smile trying to help him. He nods pulling off his jacket though.

"Maybe I can take of layers as we go." He says seeming to melt into his usual confidence. It was a good idea. He lounges across the sofa in his short, jeans, and shoes. Looking aloof and kinda reminding you of a cat.

He removed his shoes next, falling into another pose. Legs tucked against him and sprawled over a pillow. He looked so soft even in the slightly tight jeans. Which were the next things removed. George sat crisscross with the giant pillow him his lap and a daring look in his eyes. The light looked amazing spilling over his eyes and pale skin. There was hesitation on the next article of clothing. He settling on the socks instead. Crossing his ankles and popping his knees over the arm of the couch laying back with his shirt riding up his torso. A light whisper of a happy trail peaking out. It took longer for the next piece to so. A blush painted his cheeks. By now you were so focused on actually taking pictures you didn't even think about the situation anymore. His shirt was gone. His hands hiding parts of his chest and his eyes searched out yours. You pause for a moment taking in his figure. There before you was the nearly naked figure of the most attractive person you have ever seen. His lips were bitten red and his dark eyes looking up at you through thick lashes. The pretty pink looked like pastel chalk dusting his body. The pale skin seemed to glow in the bright lights and the many windows letting the natural sun in. Your breath catches when he give you a look that screams come here.

You don't move for a moment frozen just staring. He leans back spreading his legs and leaning back into the couch. His arms flexing as he holds them over his head and back. He is wide open and looked so damn good. You snapped a picture on accident your finger having been playing with the button. You lick your lips and clear your throat. Pushing your attention to the job. You take some pictures working hard not to drool over how god damn sexy he looked and inviting. Oh so inviting.

His hands slide down his body and stop around his waist band of his boxers smirking at you. Teasing the edges down. You gulp watching was the fabric slowly slides down his legs and pools in front of the couch. He is completely naked and standing in front of you. And the first thing you couldn't help but look at was his half hard cock. It twitched before your eyes. The muscles of his thighs flexing as he shifted into a better position on the sofa. Slouched back and looking like a lazy king. His hands gliding over his hips and dancing down his thighs. His eyes staring at you hard. One hand raised and he gave a come here gesture with one finger. Those dark eyes blown wide with the teasing lust. Your throat his dry and your camera is heavy in your hands.

Bitting your lip you move forward. He leans forward and takes the camera pulling you closer by the strap until you were nearly filling into his lap. He smirks and whispers, "wanna have some fun?" You shiver, slipping the strap off and nodding. He set the device down gently on the ground and takes your hips in his hands. He guilds you onto his lap. Your knees on each his of his hips. Those hands of his rubbing your thighs, looking up at your slightly and pressing your foreheads together. His breath smells so good, fresh and sweet like bubblegum.

He captures your lips in a hot kiss. His soft tongue dancing with yours.

While you kiss and relax more pieces of your wardrobe is removed allowing for George to touch you all over. The last thing to go was your underwear. He teases you firm hands pressing your ass and slapping it. You whine on his lap writhing excitedly. Your sex grinds against his and he moans too. The controlled ride of your hips into his was intoxicating. Your lips met and he leans you back to lay on the couch. Dipping between your spread thighs and licking your heat. The brunette sucks and licks at you for a long while your hands tangling in his hair. His slim fingers toying with your entrance. Using his own spit he presses in. A cry left your lips, stars dancing in your eyes and he continued. Your brains as become more empty the more time passed. An eternity later and you felt so fucked out you wanted to cum so badly. He kissed up your body settling between your legs. His hand that had prepped you smeared on the couch. His other hand tapping against your lips. You take them sucking hard and whining when he rubs the pads of his fingers over your tongue. When he removed them the next saliva was used to prep his cock.

The head was pressed into you slowly. Your legs wrapped around his hips and you leaned back moaning the further he pushed in. He wasn't very big but he did fill you perfectly. Tucking his hands under your thighs he lifts you off the couch some and draw his hips back before thrusting them forwards again. Grunting with he force he continues to build up his speed. You grab his thighs rolling your hips into him bouncing off his body as you meet in a slap of skin. The pleasure was maddening, the swell of release was just out of touch but this felt so perfectly good you didn't want to ever stop.

He stopped panted hard and moving you to lay with him, throwing your leg over his hip and the other straight tangled with his. This position hit something new for you cause you to cry out and grab hold of his hands on your hips. He speed up fucking hard and fast. You quivered and called out his name as you felt the swell spill over into creamy release. He followed soon after stilling deep inside and filling you up with a new pressure.

Needless to say you didn't get the pictures you needed.

📷

.......bat.exe has stopped working. HOLY FUCK CAMERA!!! THAT WAS FRIGGIN' AMAZING!!! AND THE WAY YOU DESCRIBE EVERYTHING IN SUCH DETAIL IS IMMACULATE! LIKE I CAN SEE IT IN MY HEAD AND FFFFFFU--

rebooting in progress, please wait. . .

[shesawriter39049]

|Breakdown’s & Bugatti’s| M|

PAIRING: Namjoon x Reader (Ft a hint of Tae & Jin)

About- Namjoon just does what he has to do to keep you ....calm while at a charity gala!  

OR:

CHAPTER 1 : MEET THE KIMS OF NEW YORK 

**WARNINGS: **Semi public sex, Fingering (F receiving), Minimal prep, Light dirty talk, Light spit play, Choking, Spanking, Gags (Makeshift), Non protective sex (Creampie), light overstimulation

WC: 7K (This is a sneak peak so it’s 1.2k)

NON SEXUAL WARNINGS: (Fictional political background)  Hints at recreational drug use (Molly) Brief mentions of death, father issues, and panic attacks/anxiety (All of these topics are super minor but again, out of respect I’m mentioning them) 

The remaining “characters” will be introduced at a later date

This chapter hints at various future plots 

This is almost 2 years old, I reworked it recently 

If you’ve been following me for a while this is the original draft for “Club First Royale” 

FINAL NOTE: I haven’t been active in damn hear a year ( 8 months) So I am posting sneak peeks intentionally! No, not to torture you guys lol but to get my blog flowing again because I’m sure people aren’t really checking in anymore

OT7 ALTERNATING STORYLINES

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

FINALLY, fuck 36737 years later you spot your Kim!

Standing there in all his glory, in a Valentino slim fit navy blue suit, the jacket appearing to have some sort of paisley print, opting against a tie. Leaving his crisp white dress shirt slightly unbuttoned, teasing at his broad carnalized chest as he makes his way from the bar. Heading over to the table, which has an empty seat waiting right beside him with your name written all over it...literally!

Purposely dodging the old lady to your left in a coat that would have PETA ready to throw hands! Gaudy diamonds, terrible Botox, and smelled as if she showered in an entire bottle Chanel No. 5! 

Yeah, no, sorry, not in the mood for another meet and greet right now!

“Joonie” Squeals from your lips once you’re in close enough proximity, his dark piercing eyes cut over to meet yours. A playful smirk tugging on those sinfully thick lips of his, accompanied by those disrespectful ass dimples!

“There she is!” Eyes dripping with warmth, as he ushered you in with open arms ,and in these types of situations, Namjoon felt like home, he was your safe space. “You look fuckin good” The words hushed into your hair in a tenor meant for your ears and your ears only! A hint of something a little more than just friendly playing on his tongue. 

A small little “Thank you” leaves your lips, and if I didn't know any better I’d think the compliment made you a little flustered.

Namjoon was the definition of Ocean arm’s and goddamn if you didn't just love how big this man was! It literally felt like he was hiding you from the entire universe when he has you nuzzled into his frame! The whole interaction couldn't have lasted longer than 20 seconds in all actuality but god you needed it! 

Face flush to his chest, wrapping your arms firm around his waist, letting your eyes flutter shut briefly, a deep slow exhale flooded through your body. Inhaling the musky yet sweet scent of his cologne mixed with his natural aroma, which has grown to become a calming mechanism over the years. 

“You had me worried for a minute…” Placing a quick kiss in your hair, that you would have missed if you blinked but again, your in public soo...

Palms soothing up and down your back gently, as he breathed into your hair , pulling back a little so there was some form of personal space between the two of you.  

“Your late, even for you princess...I know you started early, I got your live(Instagram) notification, so what happened?” Head clocked to the side as he appraises you and fuck, the bass in his voice still has you all types of fucked up! Glancing over your shoulder briefly before leaning up to place a kiss on the hinge of his jaw, that tittered the line of passing as an “innocent” greeting. 

“I’m fine Jonnie it’s nothing, we just got held up in glam.., Ariel was flying in from Miami...we got a late start” Gaze intentionally diverted as you welcomed yourself to his glass of Scotch instead. Damn near inhaling the entire drink as we speak and you hated dark liquor so that alone let him know something was up!  

Merely resisting the urge to smooth out the crease he felt forming between his brows, a dry snort left his lips, rolling his eyes in response to your blatant stubbornness. Nevertheless, always the gentleman, reaching down to pull out your chair so you could take a seat next to him. Mirroring your actions just moments prior, quickly scoping out his surroundings before he brought those plush pillows he calls lips a centimeter away from your ear.

Fuck. 

  “Right, so I'm just going to assume you don’t wanna talk about it right now! Or wait I’m sorry, have you just upgraded to insulting my intelligence straight to my damn face?” 

Brow quirked inquisitively, and you could literally feel every word, tone taking on a hint of seriousness the more he talked. Namjoon licked his lips and the tip skimmed the edge of your ear and I - . 

“For one you smell like an entire bottle of Heidsieck, I can almost taste the nicotine on your tongue and you've been crying I know you. ”  

Pulling back just enough to glare down at you above the brim of his glasses, which he always wore low along his bridge. Eyes daring you to look him in the face a lie again, teasing his fingers through his chocolate locks. Styled in the perfect semi grown out undercut, the top a little on the long side, while the sides tapered into a crisp fade. Sideburns outlining that extremely understated jawline of his! Though you had to admit the yellow gold diamonds dawning his ears were kinda stealing the show right now! 

“So again, do you just not wanna talk about it right now? Or have you forgotten that I have an IQ of 137, and can smell bullshit from here all the way to Gangnam!?” 

You're having very vivid day daydreams of your hand wrapped around this man's windpipe and for once it’s not even remotely sexual! 

Blatantly ignoring the strong twitch within Namjoon’s jaw and simply saying “I’m here, aren’t I!?” Face stoic, tone flat as all hell, in case it wasn’t clear that this conversation was more than over, you opted to eye his bourbon glazed salmon until he got the hint.

 “Oh, for fucks sake! ” Hissed from his lips without a lick of heat behind them, because as quiet as it’s kept ,your lowkey Joon’s baby, which is why he cares to begin with! Picking up a piece on his fork before essentially shoving it into your hand ”Your lucky I can’t have your ass getting sick on me tonight, we still have like, 3 hours left of this bullshit.”

More like he just can’t tell you no, but hey, whatever helps him sleep at night! Sliding his plate in your direction, completely giving up on eating at this point, he knew you needed it more anyway! Finally, starting to feel your mix of poisons hit your system so you knew you needed  to even it out with a little substance. I mean yeah, you could have just ordered your own plate but meh, this was easier! 

Namjoon started busying himself on his phone while you ate, scrolling through a couple contacts until he landed on a contact labeled under “Kookie”.

“Even though you were only late because “Your glam team ran late” There were air bunnies involved, and again you just really wanna choke his ass!  “What are you thinking tonight? He’s actually on his way here right now, but he already has a couple options on him...” 

The question was vague and for damn good reason...considering…

However you knew exactly what he was referring too.., and thank god!

Speaking over a mouth full of salmon, sounding utterly exasperated!  “Honestly, any fucking thing at this point…” 

Namjoon hums thoughtfully, sucking on a Bourbon soaked Ice cube “He’ll be here in 20, I just went with Smartees…always a safe bet...” 

Smartees, candy, Vitamin -E, Molly... Estcasy...it’s all one and the same, just depends on who you ask!

He leans back in, apparently keen on whispering tonight. “Maybe, if your a good girl and eat enough we can split one before we leave...chill you out a little bit. '' Voice thick and heady, lips curling into a grin with a hint of something wicked playing on the ends, as his fingers idly ghost over your forearm. Giving it a light squeeze and regardless of how innocent the skin-ship may seem to the naked eye, you’re well aware of all the underlying innuendos behind it! 

You make a noise of agreement, trying your damnedest to ignore the slight chill coursing up your spine at the pet name. Though before you could even dwell, Namjoon was sliding back in with another update, this one however wasn't as...arousing…to say the least!

“Fox 2’s been waiting for you to get here by the way...since the event was put together by council and all. They've been wanting to talk to us together about the fundraiser, just the same shit as last year.” 

Waving his hand dismissively idly twirling the various pieces of Bvlgari around his fingers, seemingly un-phased while you on the other hand...release the most exasperated huff! Reclining against your seat, eyes rolling to the back of your head in 30 different directions! Yeah, It comes with the territory, you know this, hints Namjoons reaction, or lack thereof!  But fuck you just really weren’t in the mood to do press tonight, It’s literally physically exhausting to pretend that you weren’t just PISSED! 

“Of -fuckin- course they do!” Stabbing your mashed potatoes in a way that's... somewhat concerning… 

“Baby.” It was a warning, though his voice sat barley above a whisper, his tone was crystal! Eyes cutting in your direction briefly before dropping back down to his phone….

You didn't have it in you to argue, there’s no way around this anyway, fuck it!  “What -the-fuck-ever!” Sliding the half empty plate aside “Well, you wanna just get it out of the way now? Because I’m really not in the mood for-”

“Y/n..oh my god! Hi, honey how are you!? You look beautiful as always…” Suddenly there was a human, a human wearing the wrong shade of foundation kissing your cheek. A human by the name of Caroline, one of the local news anchors...clearly her damn ears were ringing.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi guys, that’s all she wrote, well kinda, actually she finished it like 16 months ago lol but that’s all she wrote for now I guess....

**_

_****Love you...see ya soon!!**

***SIDE NOTE, MY FRIEND MADE THE TWITTER EDIT SO DON’T ASK LOL IDK ****

UPDATE: HEADCANONS FOR THE KIM BOYS/OC

  HEADCANONS

[boldlyvoid]

Intro to Criminal Minds: Why They Did It

Criminal Minds x Mindhunter AU

Spencer Reid x Peggy Carr (OC) Part 2: The Case

Summary: Spencer is teaching a 7-week seminar on the most interesting criminal cases, explaining their actions to understand why they took place. Only, not everyone in the audience is a student.

warnings: strangers to lovers, mutual pining, slow burn! flirting, fluff, eventual smut, idiots in love, OC is Wendy Carr and Jason Gideon's biological daughter. mentions of rape and murder (typical canon violence)

word count: 2.2K

ao3

P1

He’s not expecting her to roll out a full map after the waitress clears the food from their table. They’ve been in the booth for barely 20 minutes. Having mindless conversations about their day and small get to know each other questions while they ate.

“So, I brought all this to my dad,” she explained, dropping 33 files on the table as well as 2 spiral notebooks and a handful of pens. “He thinks I have a case, but he’s refusing to look at the evidence because he’s still triggered by it, which I get, but he said you’d be the best at helping me because I really just need a geo-profile consult.”

“How is he doing?”

She’s been waiting for him to ask but she still didn’t know how to answer, no matter how much time she had to prep, “uh, he’s good. He talks about you every time I see him, how often do you talk?”

“We haven’t talked since he almost died, 6 years ago now… yes, it was in 2015,” Spencer says it like it’s nothing serious.

“Oh,” she’s confused about it all. Her father talks about him more than anyone else, always remembering a case or a conversation that he just had to tell her about.

Spencer was his buddy in her eyes. “Here I was thinking he liked you more than me like you’re his favourite kid.”

“I’m not his kid,” his eyes widen at the insinuation that they’re somehow siblings in any sense.

It makes her laugh, she knows he’s interested in her a small amount. She was hoping he would, she’s heard so many wonderful things about him and she remembers just how cute he was back in 2005. Now he’s a man and a mighty fine one at that…

“I take it you’re an only child?” He changes the subject, “you can’t handle the idea of your father having relationships with people your age when you hardly know him?”

“How about you tell me who you think I am and I’ll tell you where you went wrong?” She challenges him rather than answering, she knows he’s good but she wants to see it in action.

Spencer raised his brow, “if I get it right, you’re paying for lunch.”

“Deal.”

He opens her notebook and takes a look at her notes, flipping through the pages reading the words just as fast as her father said he could. It was incomprehensible, but he didn’t read far… he keeps going back to her drawings, studying the pressure and how her mind worked.

“Your mom travelled a lot when you were a kid, and you always went with her. I’m thinking you have a few degrees, at least 3…” he pauses to watch her microexpressions, trailing her skin with his eyes as he looks for anything out of the ordinary. “There’s a doctorate in there but you hate being called Dr. Carr because that’s your mother’s name and it reminds you too much of people asking about her instead of how you’re doing.”

It cuts deep, but he hits the nail on the head and she just blinks. The simplest microexpression that shows him he got it right, his smile is awkward and he’s sorry for it.

“You were homeschooled so you don’t trust people very easily. You have issues with your father that you can’t place because you still don’t think you know him well enough to really have an opinion, and you’re jealous of me because you wish you knew how he brags about you when you’re not around, but he doesn’t talk about you because you told him not to.”

“I specifically told him I wanted to be left out of his life to stay safe, so it’s really my fault that he can’t brag about me. But I still wish someone would,” she admits with a soft smile. “And I think it’s not really jealousy. I’m not jealous of how he brags about his time with you. If anything, I really admire you now.”

He blushes a little, “alright, your turn.”

“You’ve never had a girlfriend before have you?” She calls him out right away. “You can’t take a compliment seriously because no one has loved you deep enough yet for you to believe them. I already know about your parents, I know that you’re scared of forgetting and that’s why you won't stop learning. I think you probably have a bucket list, you’re desperate for something exciting to happen and that’s why you like me already.”

He blinks right back, “touché.”

“I’ll still buy your lunch,” she smiled, and he smiled right back. “And I do have 3 degrees.”

“I do too.”

“I know,” she reminded him. “You’ve been working on that 4th one for the last 16 years.”

“I haven’t had the time.”

She shakes her head as she laughs, teasing him as if she’s better than him because she knows he finds her interesting already, “I had my Ph.D. by 17, as well 2 masters by the time I was 21.”

“3 Ph.D.’s by 22,” he bragged right back.

It had suddenly become a staring contest, “when exactly did your dad walk out on you?”

“I was 10.” Spencer answers. “When was the last time your mom said she was proud of you?”

“Oh, we're going that far, I see,” she laughed, hurt just a little that he dug that deep, “what happened to yours recently?”

“Alzheimer’s.”

“I’m really sorry, I knew about the schizophrenia already because of the fisher king case, that one is the one that still has my dad all fucked up,” she can’t help but rant as she apologizes, placing her hands on his in the centre of the table and he interlocks their fingers like they’ve known each other for years.

“Boston?” He asks her, changing the topic back to getting to know each other without letting go of her hands.

She nods, “Vegas?”

“You knew that already,” he catches her.

“Maybe so,” she blushes at the embarrassment of him picking up on her crush.

“How’d he describe me at chess?” There’s a cockiness behind it that she admires, smiling in response she just shakes her head.

“I don’t play chess, but he says that other than Agent Prentiss, you’re the only person who has come close to beating him.”

“Prentiss?” He looks almost offended at the fact he didn’t know that story.

“You were asleep on the jet, it was right after the trip to Azkaban,” she reminds him.

“Azkaban?” He repeats. “You mean Guantanamo?”

She’s only slightly embarrassed by the slip-up, blushing a deep red as she presses her lips together and squeezes his hand. “My mom calls it Azkaban, she hates it. If it wasn’t for the BAU, she would have never joined the bureau or the government in any way, she’s against the criminal justice system too, so…”

“She’s a woman of science and empathy, I’ve never met her, but I’ve read all her work.”

“So have I,” she’s full of butterflies for some reason as she thinks about him knowing everything that she does, she’s suddenly excited at the prospect of future conversations with him like this isn’t a one-time thing.

He’s still holding her hands over the map, both of them leaning in slightly as they kept talking, it felt overly intimate for a discussion of a case— and they haven’t even started yet.

She takes her hands out of his grip and flattens them over the map, “so I found a pattern, I was asked to look into the rape and murder of a friends sister, and now I’ve found 32 matching cases all over America going in alphabetical order by state, 2 a year since 2005.”

“Are you serious?”

She nods softly, “I’m a private investigator. I hated the academy and simply being in the BAU almost killed both of my parents so I’m not really fond of it, but I need help.”

“How did VICAP not pick this up?” Spencer’s still caught up on the fact this has been happening during his entire career and he had no way of helping. It was very clear by the look on his face.

“Because they’re college-age women getting raped in their dorms, 1 in each state, and men don’t care enough to dig a little deeper when it’s just a little girl who was probably asking for it anyway, right?”

He looks furious, but with her… not at her.

Not like most men, that’s actually exactly what any other guy would have said to her. ‘Not most men,’ they only said that if they were offended; when they knew that they were the exact type of man she was referring to.

He started opening case files then, flipping through everything as she watched carefully, “he always does it the exact same way. It’s every March and November between the 6th and 12th, he’s gotten to the O’s, which means the next hit should be in Oklahoma in exactly 2 months' time.”

“Has there been evidence?” Spencer asks, avoiding eye contact as he both listens and absorbs.

“1 footprint and some random fingerprints at the first few, other than that it’s like he was never there,” she sighs. “This is where I need your help; I’m unsure if he’s attacking randomly or if it’s planned ahead of time, so I brought the map to see if you can make any connection.”

“Alright,” he closes the folder and hands them to her so he can get a better look at everything. “I’m going to need the exact address of each one.”

“I have 32 mini maps,” she says, opening her book bag and handing him yet another folder.

“I’ve noticed they’re in every capital, and it’s always on the east side of the city,” she adds as he spreads them out on the table.

He takes his phone out of his pocket and turns on the flash, turning it face down and holding the sheets of paper over it, “If you look at them over each other, there might be a pattern. We should call my friend Penelope, she’ll be able to digitally do this and find something.”

“Okay,” Peggy nods along, “I really need to know within the week because I’m moving to Oklahoma.”

“What?” He looks overly worried.

“He’s interested in college-age brunettes,” she points at herself. “I’m going to rent an apartment with a sliding door in the kill zone, and I’m going to wait it out. I’ll make sure everyone knows I live alone, I won't make friends, I’ll keep the windows open when I go to the store, I’ll make myself a victim.”

“No, we can get the bureau to send in a team, you don’t need to be in harm's way,” he protests, “I won’t help if I know you’re throwing yourself in the middle of all this. I refuse.”

There’s an underlying panic that she doesn’t quite understand. He’s almost shaking as he thinks about her playing the victim, they stare back and forth at each other softly, eyes flickering over the other’s expression as he also reads her.

“Fine,” she agrees, finally. “But if you’re getting the team involved, I want to be able to have some say in the investigation. I don’t want to be kicked out for just being a PI.”

“On one condition,” Spencer smirks. “You have to teach the BTK seminar with me.”

“Deal,” she smiled. “But I have some conditions too.”

“Anything?”

He was going to regret that.

“We can’t sleep together until we catch the guy— don’t look at me like that!” she catches the way his jaw drops and his eyes glisten.

He’s in complete shock, trying to say words and failing miserably as she stares at him knowingly. “I only said that because I need rules for myself too. We can’t care more about each other than the victims. Solve the case with me and then I’ll have a crush on you, okay?”

“Okay,” he finally finds the words to agree. “Was it that obvious?”

“We held hands for 5 minutes, I’ve thought you were cute since you were 23 and that seminar was a; 'my horse is bigger than your horse' flirting match,” she calls it all out, “I’m just as into you as you are into me already, if not more so because I know way too much about you thanks to my dad and uncle Rossi.”

“Dave knew about you too?” He’s more upset than she expected.

She nods, “yeah, so that I’d be taken care of if anything happened to my dad.”

He is a little upset and she can’t figure out why from what she knows already, “why?”

“You’re so interesting, you and I could have been friends for the last 15 years and things could have been so interesting but you were a secret,” he whispers.

“I was right wasn’t I?”

He nods again, “Gideon doesn’t know about Maeve, but I had a girlfriend who died in front of me before I could tell her I loved her and it broke me.”

Everything makes sense now. The stares, the stuttering, the defensiveness at the idea of her being in harm's way after only knowing her for a few hours. He was desperately looking for someone like himself to prove that he wasn’t going to be alone forever, and he wanted that to be found in her.

“Solve the case with me, then you can learn what it’s like to love someone who loves you back.”

taglist:

@g0lden-cth @doctorspenceryeet @samuel-de-champagne-problems @reiding-recs @ssavanessa22 @spookyspence @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria@reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @calm-and-doctor @blanchardsbk

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ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 10.1k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: filmed sex/voyeurism/exhibitionism as usual, sub!jungkook, dom!reader, pegging, anal play, rimming, multiple orgasms, crying during sex, jk being a good good boy, dom!namjoon, sub!reader, bath sex, ageplay/DDlg, fingering, unprotected sex, pet names, spanking, creampie, aftercare in both cases

dedicated to my sfhs girls, everyone in the villa discord, and jk’s ass

DAY EIGHTEEN

All things considered; you were rather lucky to be sharing a room with Yoongi when you wake up that morning.

The second consciousness returns to you, it brings a feeling of nausea so abrupt that you’re careening off the bed and rushing to bed over the toilet without a second’s thought, body running on survival mode.

You’re not sure what wakes Yoongi - the sudden absence of pressure and heat against him, or the sound of you throwing up all the food and alcohol you’d consumed last night – but it takes mere moments before you feel him gently caressing your trembling body, lifting your tangled hair back off your face.

“Just let it out,” he coos softly as you bend over miserably, the sour taste on your tongue making your stomach turn again, “you’ll feel better after, I promise. That’s it.”

The moment you finally have nothing left to empty out, you collapse sideways onto the cool bathroom tile, hand curling over your stomach. Yoongi gets up to flush the toilet and gets out a spare toothbrush from under his sink, pressing it into your hand already prepped with toothpaste. “I’m sorry,” you mumble lowly, nose running slightly as you sniffle. “I think I drank too much. That green apple soju fucking sucks, too.”

The doctor has the good graces to smile at your attempt of lightening the mood, but it’s strained, waiting for you to begin brushing the acrid leftovers from your mouth before speaking. “You’d better have a light breakfast, okay? Some toast and maybe a cup of herbal tea to settle your stomach. Can you stand? I’ll get you some fresh clothes from your room while you take a shower here.”

Your heart warms at his endearing bedside manner. “I’ll be fine, Yoongi.”

“It’s non-negotiable, I’m afraid,” Yoongi says with a mock sigh. “Come on; you can wash your hair, too. Feeling nice and clean will help.”

Sniffing one last time, you give him an agreeing nod and hunker up on your knees, before standing. God, but why do you still feel so nauseous? That fucking soju. Yoongi must see the discomfort on your face, because he gives your shoulder a squeeze. “Not to worry, I’m sure I have something here you can take which will make you feel better. You aren’t the first person to not handle their liquor in the villa.”

You give him a questioning frown, your throat feeling raw as you clear it lightly. “What do you mean? Everyone seemed okay yesterday.”

“Hoseok texted me,” Yoongi answers with a shrug. “I didn’t see it ‘til after you fell asleep, but apparently poor Tae was curled up with a hot water bottle last night feeling rather sorry for himself. I think he got a little trigger-happy on his Sprite and soju mixers.”

Your brows furrow in concern, your own condition forgotten. “Is he alright?” You mentally kick yourself for not being more attentive to him. The last thing you wanted was for him to feel excluded now that he was voted out.

“He’s fine, I’m sure. Hoseokie and Jimin apparently actually spent the night in the bunk room with him, because both refused to leave. Stranger things have happened, I suppose.”

“Holy shit,” you muse. “If you weren’t so busy filling me like a cream puff maybe we could’ve witnessed that.”

Yoongi’s mouth gapes at your jibe, and you let out a hiccupping giggle when he rushes you, jabbing at your sides. “You little shit! That’s how you repay me after yesterday?”

You chuckle, feeling significantly more cheerful than when you woke up. “I gotta keep you humble, Doctor Min.”

His shoulders jump with a fond huff. “You’re impossible,” he gives in with a begrudging smile. “Now go; shower! I’ll be back.”

By the time you’re downstairs, enjoying some lightly buttered toast and an aromatic peachy-tasting tea - laughing with Taehyung who has slunk downstairs like a viscous goop, slumped on the table sucking on a vitamin table - any concerns or worries about your brief vomiting spell have entirely left your mind.

--

Jungkook is antsy.

He cycles madly between intense eye-contact and complete avoidance of your existence, looking for all intents and purposes like a deer in headlights. You imagine it’s because he wants to do his prompt today, and you certainly could dispel the awkward tension by just asking him if he wants to go upstairs or texting him to dig a little, but where would the fun in that be? You much prefer cuddling with Taehyung and a chunky blanket, pretending to watch The Voice of Korea while you really watch Jungkook squirm instead.

Taehyung sighs wistfully as a contestant finishes with a belted high note, all four judges slamming down their buttons and giving the cameras big reactions once they turn and catch a glimpse of the singer. “I wish I could be on the show,” the masseuse says with another slow sigh.

You grin, poking him in the cheek with a single finger. “Is our puppy a good singer, huh? Do you reckon you’d win?”

“What?” Taehyung asks distractedly, his eyes locked to the screen. “No, I wanna sit in those big chairs and spin around. It’d be so fun.”

Your surprised laugh makes Jungkook jump in his seat, even as he sits on the opposite couch to the two of you and glares intensely at the pages of a comic book he’d stolen from someone, spending far too long on one page to actually be reading it.

Hoseok, who sits completely silently next to Jungkook - extremely strange for the normally bubbly man - is even more suspicious. Every few seconds, he shoves his phone under Jungkook’s nose, before pulling it away and typing furiously.

You had no doubt in your mind that he was giving the youngest contestant salacious tips, instructions, or both, judging by the way Jungkook’s cheeks get hotter with every message.

A lazy day after the drunken entertainment from the day before, the four of you had chosen to collapse onto the couch and stay there, flicking between channels as you idly enjoyed each other’s company. Namjoon had texted the groupchat and put a note on his door warning people that he was studying for an exam for a summer course he’d signed up for. This was the first you’d heard of said course, but his messages had contained several exclamation points, so you knew it was serious.

Jimin was also making the most of his privacy. The only glimpse you’d seen of him at all today was while you and Taehyung were cleaning your dishes. He’d rushed down in a fluffy white bathrobe, covering his face with his sleeve, bemoaning the drinking that had done serious damage to his clear skin. When he dropped his sleeve to bundle some ice into a paper towel, it looked fine to you, albeit pinker in the cheeks and forehead than his bare face had been before, but he swore the two of you to silence and determined he was going to lock himself into his room until he no longer looked like “an evil stepmother.”

Jin and Yoongi were nowhere to be found, though most of the house were almost certain they’d become something akin to fuckbuddies considering how often they disappeared together, and how rampant and shameless their sexual tension was whenever they cooked together for the rest of you.

It had taken a while for Taehyung to bounce back from his hangover, Hoseok fussing over him like a child as Tae clung to you for some tactile comfort. Spending a day by yourself hadn’t really been an option when you’d been cuddling with him for hours, but you were far happier spending some quality time with the masseuse.

It takes no more than three new contestants on the TV show to have their moment in front of the judges for Jungkook to break. Hoseok’s given up on the phone messages, instead whispering directly Jungkook’s ear as the boy clutches the open comic book in front of his lap  so hard his knuckles go white.

Laughing at the flustered camboy, Hoseok loses all tact and stops damping his voice, his natural level loud enough that you can make it out over the garishly aggressive appliance store advertisement on the TV. “Come on, Kookie, it’ll be great!” he insists, Jungkook cringing at the volume. “Switching things up will help your chances for fan favourite too, and surely you’ve done-”

Jungkook stands up abruptly, comic book still propped up in front of his crotch as his cheeks and neck go bright red. “If you like pegging so much, why don’t you do it, then?” he blurts with a cry, before the realisation of what he said aloud hits him. Choking on air, he just about trips back onto the couch in his haste to leave, stomping upstairs like a wronged teenager.

Everyone goes silent, a cheery female voice announcing that Subway’s quality is higher than ever being the only sound in the room. Mouth open, you blink over to Hoseok. “Should I… go check on him?”

“Uh- Yeah, maybe,” he admits, a slight pained look of guilt flickering across his face before he brightens up. “But it’s dangerous; you should take a strap with you.”

You pause halfway through standing up, Taehyung letting go of you and curling deeper into the pile of blankets. “Have you no shame, Hoseok? You humiliated the poor kid!”

Hoseok grins broadly. “He only reacted that much because he liked the idea,” he protests, before leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees. “And what about you, princess? Do you like the idea?”

You swallow, straightening up fully. “I haven’t really thought about it until now, I guess,” you offer up slowly. “I’m not- I’m not opposed.” But even as you say that, you begin to picture it. Jungkook on all fours in front of you, or perhaps spread out on his back, brows furrowed in pleasure, clingy and whiny. Though it was certainly new ground to you, most things were these days, and you’ve started craving fresh experiences, feeling more alive and excited about sex than you’ve ever really felt before.

A lightly huffed laugh leaves Hoseok’s lips. “I’d say you’re a little more than ambivalent, judging by that look on your face. Go upstairs now, princess; Jungkook’s ass needs you.”

You scoff, patting Taehyung’s cheek goodbye before leaving the way the maknae left earlier. Upstairs, Jungkook’s door is open the slightest sliver. A shy invitation.

You knock anyway, calling out his name. When his sullen voice invites you in, you slip inside and shut the door behind you. With his head hanging, shoulders slumped, poor Jungkook looks miserable. “Oh, Gukkie, baby, you’re okay,” you soothe, rushing to his side.

Folding his hands cutely over his crotch, he keeps his head down, but nuzzles against your stomach when you pull him into an embrace, running your hands through the long, heavy black locks of his hair. “‘M sorry,” he murmurs, lifting a single hand to ball his fist in the fabric of your shirt.

Your heart warms at the little action even as it aches for his sadness. “What are you sorry for? You don’t have to be sorry.”

Jungkook pauses for a moment, and you can just about hear the pout. “Embarrassed,” he explains shortly. “You probably think it’s gross.”

“Of course I don’t,” you deny in a soft yet firm voice, still stroking his hair. “Baby, if you want me to do it for you, I will.”

He looks up suddenly, chin propped up on your stomach. “Really?” he asks in hope, eyes glittering like entire galaxies.

You shrug. “I mean, I haven’t used a strap-on before, so it probably won’t be very good, but I wanna try if it’s something that would make you happy, you know?”

Jungkook’s mouth parts sweetly, before he lets out a dejected breath. “I don’t know,” he says with a sigh, letting his head drop off you again. “I still feel really embarrassed. Hobi-hyung was te-teasing me so much.”

You wince at the way his voice hitches and wobbles, like he’s on the verge of tears. “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry,” you coo. “I think he was just trying to encourage you. But if he made you uncomfortable, I can go down there right now and-”

As you start to shift away, a hand shoots out and latches onto your wrist, snagging you in place. “No,” Jungkook interrupts quickly, before turning sullen again, lifting up his head so that you can just barely see his eyes, gleaming with unshed tears. “Can you just stay with me?”

Reaching forward to cup his cheek and bring his gaze up, you send him your warmest smile. “I’ll stay,” you promise, “want me to help cheer you up? I don’t like seeing my Gukkie so sad.”

His bottom lip quivers as he nods, fingers tightening around your wrist, tugging you back to his side. “Yes, please,” he asks politely, voice still so hesitant as his gaze drops like he’s too shy to meet yours, face pressing into your palm. “Want you to make me feel better.”

Your breath hitches when his eyes dart up, just for a second, and reveal a glimmer that isn’t tears so much as mischief. You realise quickly that perhaps Jungkook is pulling on your heartstrings intentionally, luring you in just like he did the day after the fight, when everyone in the house bent over backwards to give him what he wanted. But you aren’t mad; truth be told, every second that passes, you grow more excited about what’s to come. “Of course I will,” you reply warmly. “Can I give you a kiss, baby?”

One thing you aren’t prepared for as you carefully straddle his lap and press your lips against his is just how differently he kisses when he’s in this submissive frame of mind. You’d associated Jungkook with hunger, fierce passion and need. This Jungkook was needy, but in a very different way. Lips parted, he tilts his chin and lets you take over, his fingers curling tightly in the fabric of your shirt, his long hair tickling against your cheeks.

And unlike the more dominant Jungkook that would kiss you until you couldn’t breathe, the camboy now seems impatient, hips shifting under you and whines leaving his throat as he breaks apart, lips swollen. “Will you fuck me, Y/n? I need you.”

Sucking in a breath, you’re nodding before you’ve even really processed his words. “How do I, uh, what should I-”

“The stuff’s in my nightstand drawer,” Jungkook offers up in explanation. The young man bites his lip, looking positively delectable. In a starch-white t-shirt that simultaneously swamps his figure but exposes his delicate collarbones with the v-neck, and his long locks tucked behind his ears, no imagination is required to see how easily he fits into this subby persona. Even as he’s physically much larger than you, and there’s no hiding his thick thighs and broad shoulders, his expression and posture alone convey plenty. “But, um… Could you- could you help prepare me first? I can if you’re uncomfortable, you know. No pressure.”

“I can,” you assure quickly, standing up when he wriggles meaningfully beneath you. “I mean, I want to. Is it, you know…?” You trail off, watching Jungkook scoot himself back so that his feet don’t quite touch the floor. He tilts his head in confusion. “Clean?” you hiss softly, cheeks flaming.

Jungkook freezes, eyes wide and mouth parted in a small o. “I- Yeah, it’s, uh, clean, I-”

“Sorry,” you grimace, “that totally ruined the mood, didn’t it? I’m new to this.”

“You don’t have to, honestly,” Jungkook says with a small voice, fiddling with the loose threads in the rips of his jeans. “I can do it.”

You’re really fucking this up, huh? “No, no, I want to, it’s fine!”

“I swear, I won’t be offended if it weirds you out-”

Without a pause to think, your lips are moving. “Pants off, Gukkie, I’m going to finger you,” you announce in a firm voice, chin jutting forward in your determination.

You hadn’t even intended to use it as power play, more so just insisting what you were okay with, but his reaction is undeniable. Jungkook visibly melts at your command, eyelids fluttering for a moment and shoulders going lax. Even his socked feet turn inwards, the complete posture of submission. The image of it sends heat through you, and you feel alive with it.

“Th-thank you,” Jungkook stutters, chest hitching. “How do you want me?”

Even though you don’t know the least about fingering or prepping, you’re quickly growing addicted to the way he responds to your authority, so you make a split second decision. “All fours, baby. And clothes off for me.”

Jungkook bites down a whine - how you wish he wouldn’t muffle himself - but obeys quickly, stripping all the way down to his socks, toeing them off hastily before getting on his knees. Clearly a position he’s used to, the camboy wastes no time in presenting himself, upper torso flat against the bed and back arched up to expose himself. With a cheek pressed against the mattress to look back at you, his hair slips over and covers his face.

Before he has the chance to huff, you reach forward and tuck it back behind his ear, tapping your finger once on his nose to make him scrunch it, a toothy grin on his face. “Y/n!” he protests with a hiccupy giggle.

“What?” you ask innocently. “I’m just trying to help out, baby. Can I ask you a favour?”

Jungkook’s grinning so widely that his eyes crinkle. “You’re the dom, Y/n, you don’t need to ask favours, you know?”

“Oh, shit, you’re right,” you muse. It’s so easy to forget that the control is yours, especially when you’re a bit out of your depth. Resolving yourself to be more authoritative, you clear your throat and school your expression. “Mouth open, Gukkie.”

Following your command so quickly that there’s an audible sound, Jungkook braces himself up a little with his forearms so that he can face you better with his jaw wide open and tongue lolled out on his bottom lip.

When you place your first two fingers of your dominant hand on that pretty pink tongue, you don’t even have to command him to suck before he’s wrapping his lips around them and hollowing his cheeks, blinking up at you for approval.

You try and use the past couple weeks of dirty talk from the guys to inspire you when talking to Jungkook, using your other hand to comb the hair back from his face again. “That’s it, baby,” you croon, “nice and wet; soak them for me. What a good boy.”

Keening under your praise, still bent over on his knees, Jungkook swirls his tongue and salivates over your digits diligently. It feels strange; the hot wet cavern, the muscle covering every inch of your skin. Your stomach flips in arousal when you begin to tug your fingers out and he pulls off them with a pop, drool on his chin and pupils blown wide.

“Alright, Gukkie, stay there,” you indicate, holding your spit-slicked fingers aloft as you get on the bed behind him. Cock dangling hard between his legs, he’s hunkered down, heels pressed against his upper thighs. You could easily reach him from here, but there’s something rising within you, an urge to play with him a little rougher.

He jumps and lets out a surprised cry when you rain down your other palm on his asscheek in a swift spank, head falling back to the mattress.

“Did I say you could lie down? Ass up, Gukkie,” you spit sharply, satisfaction curling around your ribs as he lifts his hips without delay, back arching beautifully to present himself once again. A roughly hand-shaped pink flush on his otherwise unblemished skin makes you bite your lip. “Colour?”

Jungkook pauses for a moment, fingers fisting the sheets. You fear the worst for a second, but it seems like it just took him a second to comprehend you, because just as soon as the worry rises, he lets out a cute gasp of realisation and spreads his knees further. “Green, so green.”

“Good boy,” you praise, relief clear in your voice. “A single hair out of position without my permission and there’ll be more where that came from.” Though you secretly admit spanking the responsive boy feels good in some odd way, you’d feel a lot better knowing when he’d intentionally stepped out of line, and so giving him a specific avenue assuages some of your potential guilt over the impact play. He seems to understand too, nodding his head sweetly and visibly flexing this thighs to keep steady.

This isn’t usually an angle you’re used to seeing on a guy, but as you gently circle the tight muscle of his rim, you marvel at how Jungkook still makes it look good. Entirely free of hair, ass, thighs and back thick and sculpted, it’s clear the visual is an important thing, especially in his line of work.

You can feel his body go slightly stiff when he holds his breath, but the slightest pressure makes him tremble, his eyes loosely shut as he focuses on pure sensation. Wary of the spit drying off your fingers too soon, you swiftly but smoothly slide your first finger all the way inside of him. There’s resistance up until the first knuckle as he clenches, but once you reach a certain point it’s like his body is letting you in. So tight that you can feel his walls flex, it’s an odd sensation to get used to, but you know from experience that the first intrusion feels odd to receive, too, and that only building up stimulation helps get past it.

For that reason, you don’t pause much before you begin fucking your one finger into him, using your other hand to grasp the flesh of his ass and part him. “Doing so well, baby,” you compliment when Jungkook lets out a guttural, drawn-out whine. Minutely, you feel his hips rock, seeking stimulation in the right place. You know he’s probably aching for his prostate to be touched, but you haven’t the slightest clue on where to find it.

Instead, your next best option is external. Once you draw your first finger out and start to stretch his rim on two, you reach around and under him, hand wrapping around his cock.

Startled, Jungkook goes iron-tight around your two fingers and cries out. You freeze, worried you’ve done something wrong, but he rocks himself back, burying your fingers deeper inside him.

Even in your uncertainty on how to proceed, you know one thing: he’s actively chosen to move out of place.

This time when you drop his length and come back up to spank him, he moans, face going lax and dopey. “Fu-fuck, please,” he breathes, “I’m sorry, I need more.”

“You need more?” you ask, soothing a palm over the reddened skin. “I didn’t realise you were in any position to be making demands, baby.”

Jungkook swallows heavily. “Please give me more, I can take it, please.”

“That’s more like it,” you state proudly, before cringing at how cheesy the words sound to your own ears. Although taking control is fun, you don’t feel as at ease with a filthy tongue like you were used to the others being. Jungkook however, unable to see your reaction, just makes a needy noise in his throat, hotly anticipating your next move.

As you start to move your fingers again, however, they don’t glide like they did before. Unlike a proper lubricant, his saliva has evaporated away, and the dry friction certainly can’t be pleasant.

He’d said the supplies were in his nightstand, but that’s well out of your arm span, so, thinking quickly and not wanting Jungkook to feel uncomfortable, you pull your fingers out gingerly, bend down and spit directly onto his winking hole, some of it disappearing inside as the rest runs down to his balls.

Since he insisted he could take it, you hook three fingers inside him, his hole stretching around you as he groans. There’s so much pressure on your fingers as you plunge inside, the friction aided by your saliva, and you can feel the way he tries to relax himself, clenching periodically.

As much as the spit helped, you become paranoid that it’ll dry out again as you stretch him on your fingers. Still too far from the lube, the thought occurs to you that you could keep him wetter if you just used your mouth.

The thought isn’t entirely unappealing to you. Sure, he doesn’t have the same nerves that make you feel so good when someone goes down on you, but you’re sure he’d enjoy it, and you’re reassured that he’d cleaned himself.

The second your tongue traces his rim, pressing between the tight ring and your knuckles, Jungkook gasps, before letting out a moan so high and keening that you practically salivate.

With your free hand inching around to grip his thigh and steady yourself, you press your chin between his ass cheeks and lap at him, fingers speeding up now that they’re better lubricated.

His hips won’t stay still, but you can’t blame him. From the constant trail of cries and whimpers, there’s no doubt Jungkook is extremely sensitive. Slowly, the thought of stretching him out for a purpose leaves your mind, and you begin to take your time with him, enjoying the feeling and sound of him falling apart from your touch.

You could get used to this; the meaty thighs trembling, the heaving breaths, the moans of your name on his tongue. At one point, your middle finger grazes a slightly protruding spot inside him, a different texture to the rest of his walls. The second it does, he jumps like he’s been electrocuted. Aha.

“Oh, fuck, feels s-so good, please do that again, fuck,” Jungkook babbles hopelessly. Your grip on his thigh quickly morphs from steadying yourself to holding him steady, as he jerks with every repeated stroke of your finger against his prostate.

Unable to respond verbally, you stiffen your tongue and push it deeper inside him as your fingers speed up, all corkscrewing directly towards that sensitive spot.

So noisy that he buries his own face in the blankets, rocking back desperately onto your face and fingers, Jungkook’s pleading and praises are garbled, one long stream of need until he finally lets out one loud, sharp cry and paints the mattress white.

Lifting yourself up to watch him cum, you speed up your fingers to ride him through it, devouring the sight of his red, untouched cock twitching and shooting ropes of cum as his whole body shudders with it.

There’s the undeniable warmth of pride in your chest at watching him cum so beautifully, at hearing and seeing the pleasure you’ve given him. You’d give anything to make him cum at your hands over and over, and in the back of your mind you marvel at how so many things the guys did to you when they dommed you make sense now.

Slowly, he comes back down from his high, chest heaving rhythmically as he catches his breath, going slack. You guide him to roll over onto his back, avoiding the puddle of quickly-cooling cum, and sit beside him brushing back the hair that clings to his sweaty face.

A dopey smile puffing up his cheeks, and eyes hazy, he blinks up at you. “That was so good,” he breathes.

Keeping your voice sweet, you raise a brow. “Do you think we’re done just because you came, Gukkie? I don’t think so.”

His smile falters, eyes regaining some of their clarity. “I- Oh, you didn’t- Do you want me to...?” he trails off, eyes falling down to between your legs, still fully clothed.

Though you’d love for him to make you cum - truth be told, your nerves feel like they’re working doubletime right now, and you know it wouldn’t take much - you shake your head, standing up off the bed. Jungkook whines and sits up slightly as you pull away, but freezes once you begin to undress in front of him.

Unbuttoning your shirt, you feel his eyes follow your movements hungrily. “I never even gave you permission to cum, baby,” you point out. “I also didn’t ask you not to, so I won’t punish you. But you did ask for me to fuck you and make you feel better.” The fabric of your shirt falling to the floor, you leave your bra on and slip off your pants instead. “So I don’t care how sensitive you are or how many times you cum, I’m going to fuck you until you feel so good you cry. Is that understood?”

Where such vulgarity came from you don’t know, but it triggers the right reaction, Jungkook going limp against the bed, grabby hands flexing at the sheets as he nods as quick as he can, one drifting dangerously close to his still half-hard cock. “Please, I wan’ it. Yes.”

“Wait patiently, then,” you command in a cutting tone, discarding your underwear without ceremony, “and no touching.”

He lets out a quiet huff, leg kicking out and hand slipping under his back to stop temptation. You would laugh at the bratty display - or perhaps even punish him for the attitude - but you’re too focused on stepping into the black harness of the strap-on you got from  Jungkook’s nightstand, working out how to tighten the straps and sit it right.

It takes you a moment to get right, but it’s surprisingly comfortable once you get it into place - which probably is the point. Though it’s odd feeling weight extending from your pelvis, the dildo is supported by a leather belt-like strap that runs around your waist. Right on the outer line of each hip, adjacent straps run down, under the curve of your ass and connect to the central one that sits between your legs like panties, albeit narrow and stiffer than fabric.

You’d seen ones with a second dildo facing inwards to go inside the wearer as they fucked someone else, but this didn’t have one, so instead your only stimulation was the slight heat when the leather would drag against your swollen clit. Happy to forgo your own pleasure for the sake of pleasuring Jungkook, you reach in the nightstand drawer again to pull out the lube.

Unlike Hoseok’s travel-sized bottle, the base of the drawer is littered with sample size packets of multiple brands. Mixed in with foil condom packets, you spy oil-based lubes, water-based ones, some scented, self-heating, even one that claims to be strawberry flavoured. Reaching for a basic water-based one, you rip it open and use it to slick up the dildo.

Jungkook watches you raptly, hips wiggling against the bed either in impatience or the effort it takes not to touch himself. Hyper-aware of the appendage that dangles in front of you, and how slippery your hands currently are, you imagine hunkering on the bed without using your hands probably isn’t a very sexy look, so instead you stand to the side of the mattress and instruct him to come to you.

He does so with obvious enthusiasm and anticipation. The earlier haze of his orgasm dissipating, his eyes are alert and his lips are stretched in an unconscious grin. Splayed out on his back, legs dangling on either side of your hips, Jungkook looks so content to hand over his dominance to you that your heart swells slightly at the sentiment of it.

Clearly Jungkook isn’t feeling as soft as you. On the contrary, his cock looks so hard it must be physically hurting him, the tip weeping precum onto his belly as he arches his back to entice you. “Please, Y/n,” he whines, hitching a foot up onto the edge of the mattress to bare himself more fully. “Gukkie needs it.”

Though it’s more your own hesitation rather than any desire to make him beg for it, you can’t deny that the sweet entreating voice is music to your ears and core, and pushing aside all worries you find yourself guiding his opposite leg up with a slippery hand, before lining your synthetic cock against Jungkook’s rim.

Immediately, before you even enter him, he keens, and although you can’t literally feel him rocking back towards it, you watch it catch on the muscle and begin to slip inside, and the resistance can be felt as a pressure against your pelvis where the base of the dildo is fastened.

“De-deeper,” Jungkook makes out with a gasp, his fingers reaching up to clutch at your wrist, and you push past the resistance to drive the dildo inside him, slowly but smoothly. His breath hitches, back lifting off the bed as his body tries to process the intrusion, and instinctively - a word you wouldn’t typically associate with domming - you grip onto his waist to hold him still.

Though your palms and fingers are still slick with lube, you manage to keep them steady on his skin by slightly digging your nails in. Jungkook’s mouth parts in a gulped moan, and you feel the pressure in front of your crotch suddenly increase as he stiffens.

“Green?” you check in quickly, so quick to fear the worst.

Jungkook is even quicker to dispel your worries. “Green, fuck, harder, please,” he babbles, shifting as much as he can under you to spread his legs wider in invitation.

You let out a breath of relief but pair it with a snapped thrust to mask it as exertion. Jungkook lets out a cry of pleasure that sounds more like a hiccup, his body rocking on the bed with the force of it.

It’s hard to tell how intense or rough your thrusts are when all you have is his response and the feeling of the leather base pressing against you to go off, so once you start to fuck him in earnest, you’re sure to pay close attention to him.

Not that you’d otherwise be apathetic by any means. Whether his beautiful reactions are a skill learnt from camming or he began camming because of his reactions, you don’t know, but you think watching him like this could never get old.

His hair’s splayed back on the pale grey duvet like a dark halo, red hot streaks highlighting just how long the strands have gotten. His eyes, when he manages to open them, glitter like constellations and plead like puppy eyes. Though he has the bone definition of a god, gravity works against the strong lines and puffs up his cheeks instead, making him look small and sweet.

With lips so pretty and swollen, he pouts and whines and pleads, teeth poking out to nibble at the pinked flesh when the dildo hits his prostate and he muffles a whine.

It takes a surprisingly little amount of time to find a rhythm. Though you’re certainly inexperienced in the art of fucking someone else, it’s really a very natural motion to make your hips rock up against him. Albeit tiring, you find yourself able to pick up the pace until he’s writhing under your hands, his own nails scratching at the meat of his thighs with the restraint it takes not to touch himself.

Taking mercy on the poor thing, you lift one knee up on the bed to give yourself sufficient momentum to drop one of your hands from pinning him down and wrap it instead around his cock, doing your best to time your strokes together.

Jungkook lets out a low keen and goes stiff, back in a violent arch. “Fu-uck,” he cries, and his face would almost look scrunched up in pain if you didn’t know better, the poor camboy overwhelmed by finally being touched there.

“Does that feel good, Gukkie? Am I fucking you good?”

He nods hastily, bottom lip trembling as your thrusts don’t let up for a second. “Suh-so good to Gukkie,” he confirms in a wobbly voice, “please fuck Gukkie harder!”

Quickly tiring, you don’t know if you even can, but you engage your core like it’s a workout and speed up your hips, the insistent rub of the leather over your pussy lips and clit actually beginning to tighten a coil of pleasure low in your belly.

“Yes,” Jungkook wails when he feels the dildo spearing him quicker and quicker. You use your thumb to press at his slit, dripping precum in obscene amounts as he sobs and bucks between your hand and your fake cock.

Once his thighs start to tremble violently and he can’t seem to take in a full breath, you know he’s close. Steeling yourself for the final lap, you ignore the rub of the leather and the pressure of the dildo base against your pelvis, and focus fully on Jungkook and bringing him to a second powerful orgasm.

“Are you close, baby? I wanna see you cum again,” you request, punctuating it with a squeeze of his cock to make him cry out.

Such a polite boy, he composes himself enough to answer. “Baby’s so close,” he whines. “Gukkie can cum?”

You smile fondly even with gritted teeth from exertion, glad his eyes are scrunched shut with pleasure so he can’t see you melt for him. “Gukkie can cum, baby.”

You make good on your promise for him to feel so good he cries when he reaches that high shortly after receiving permission. Tears spilling over his cheeks, his moan comes out strangled but stuttered and airy at the same time, almost like he’s giggling at the feeling that overcomes him. Barely anything comes out of his cock, already milked from the first orgasm, but his body is wracked with sensation and his lips are stretched in a dopey grin, struggling to catch his breath.

If you were a meaner - or fitter - dom perhaps you’d fuck him past the point of oversensitivity, but as it is, you quite happily come to a stop buried deep inside him, lazily stroking his cock as it softens until he hisses at the contact.

Using the duvet to wipe away the last of the lube and cum off your hands, you lean forward and cup this cheeks to brush the tears away and press a kiss to the button of his nose.

He shivers happily, lashes fluttering, and lets out a hum. “Thank you for taking care of Gukkie,” he whispers, before wincing slightly and correcting- “taking care of me. Sorry, I tend to do that when I’m-”

“You don’t have to explain,” you reply easily, kissing each of his cheeks in turn, tasting the salt of his tears as he giggles again at the tickling feeling. “Did you enjoy it, baby?”

Jungkook lets out a breathless chuckle, chest still heaving. “Fuck, like you wouldn’t believe,” he jibes, throwing a hand over his eyes and heated cheeks when you pull away. “But really; thank you.”

You slip the dildo out of him carefully, hearing him make a low noise in his throat as his hole flutters, empty. Rubbing his thigh comfortingly with one hand - if you knew one thing from being on the show, it was that you needed to shower Jungkook in aftercare now - you unfasten the strap-on carefully with your other. “You don’t have to thank me. I had fun too.”

The crook of his elbow lifts just slightly to expose the glint of his eyes, disbelieving. “You did?”

You beam warmly. “Definitely. You’re so fun to play with, Gukkie,” you praise, “plus, I feel like getting a new perspective has been really enlightening, you know?”

“Ah,” he muses, “entertaining and educational. I’m glad my ass served you well.”

A surprised laugh bubbles out of your throat; the quip a clear sign that Jungkook is returning from that hazy, contented plane of subspace you’ve grown used to. “Better put that on your CV.”

Jungkook sits up, affronted. Two fat drops of cum run down his stomach, quickly drying out once they spread over his skin. “My ass has been listed on my CV as a skill for years, Y/n, I’m not an amateur.”

“Oh, a professional ass man,” you tease, sighing at the release of pressure once the strap-on harness falls off your hips and to the ground, leaving your lower half bare. “Is that why you got on the show, huh?”

The camboy pouts. “I got on for many reasons,” he insists, “I’m very qualified, you know.”

“I don’t doubt that for a second,” you return immediately, and pause. “Fuck. We were meant to be bantering but I’ve just been complimenting you, haven’t I?”

He nods like it was intentional. “Yet another one of my skills.”

“You’re impossible,” you sigh, but even when he convinces you to join him in the shower, the conversation between you flows without a hitch, and your fondness for the boy only grows.

--

In retrospect, you probably could’ve worked out Namjoon’s prompt based on how he treats you that dinner.

Subtlety isn’t his strong suit, but you’re so hungry from earlier that you barely notice the signs. It’s not uncommon for the guys to pile food on your plate, but Namjoon’s repeated insistence of feeding you directly perhaps should’ve been the first flag.

The way he fills your glass of water for you, ruffles your hair, continuously calls you little… Yeah, you blame Yoongi’s delicious fish cutlet and rice meal for not paying enough attention.

Luckily for you - or perhaps for him - an opening appears when you’re cleaning up the table with Taehyung and accidentally fumble a small dish of dipping sauce all over your hands and front.

Immediately, Namjoon as at your side, taking the ceramics out of your hand and tsking gently. “Oh, love, that’s no good,” he coos in a low timbre, “you’ve gotten yourself all dirty.”

You could just offer to go rinse your hands off in the sink and change shirts, but you’re wired up from fucking Jungkook without your own release - the camboy was so chipper at dinner that everyone had surely cottoned on - and so a better idea comes to mind. “It’s running down my sleeve,” you offer with a faux pout, “I’ll probably need a shower to get it all off. Care to join me?”

Namjoon’s brows lift as he surreptitiously ensures no one else is in earshot. With a hand on the small of your back, he leans in and presses his lips against your ear. “How about Daddy gives you a bath, baby girl?”

You suck in a breath, nerves alighting. Oh. You can work with this. Straightening up, you latch onto his shirt sleeve near the cuff and soften your eyes. “Only if you take one with me,” you bargain, “I’m only little, Daddy.”

He pulls back quickly, and were it not for the hot flares of lust in his eyes, it would almost seem like he’d been shocked. “Go to your bedroom then, love,” he instructs, “and no running on the stairs.”

Of course you aren’t really an impulsive child but, as it is, his command  is actually difficult to follow. The urge to clamber up them as fast as you can, knowing you’re finally going to get fucked good, is hard to suppress.

You manage, however, and soon enough Namjoon’s in the bathroom with you, filling the tub. As you wait, toes wiggling against the cool tile in excitement, he unbuttons his cuff and rolls up the sleeve.

“Okay, clothes off, kitten,” he instructs, hunkering over the edge of the tub to dip a hand in up to the forearm, checking the temperature and stirring up the water, “it’s just about ready.”

You obey, tossing your clothes in a growing pile in the corner. Though it’s no bubble bath, he has drizzled some body wash in to give it a comforting scent, floral and sleepy like ylang ylang. When he pulls his arm out, there’s a ring of suds, and spots of water have already gotten onto his shirt. “You’ve gotta hop in too, Daddy,” you point out, smirking when Namjoon visibly falters at the title.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he confirms, shucking off his shirt and pants, “get in first, kitten, it’s all ready.”

The water is divine, a blooming heat that seeps down to your bones, warming you to the core. You immediately see your skin start to pinken, but the water isn’t unbearably hot, and it’s a pleasant flush.

The heat below contrasts with the cool air on your upper back and shoulders, causing you to shiver, but before you can complain you feel the water level rise, Namjoon’s arms wrapping around you from behind.

As you let him lean you back against his chest, you feel his hardness, but neither of you feel the need to comment on it. This is a porn show, and you’re going to fuck soon, sure, but for now there’s nothing better than a hot bath.

“Give me your hand, let’s clean this sticky sauce up, huh?” It isn’t until Namjoon begins to soap up a loofah and delicately scrub away at the black trails of dipping sauce that have run down your arms that you realise just how fantastic this prompt is. If you played your cards right, Namjoon would take care of you and pamper you all evening, fuck you silly, and then presumably put you to bed like a good Daddy. Holding your hands out obediently, you’re quite content to oblige.

“Sit up, kitten,” the academic commands softly with a press to your shoulder. Once the skin of your arms is unmarred again, Namjoon dips the loofah in the chest-level water, pulls it out dripping suds and water, and laves it over your back, making you sigh at the warmth. “Feels nice, hm?”

Your lips stretch in a lazy smile as you recall asking that very question yourself just earlier today. As much as you had fun domming Jungkook, and wouldn’t be averse to switching things up - quite literally - again, there’s no denying that your soul really sings when you’re the one being taken care of, played with, and pleasured. “Really nice, Daddy.”

The loofah gets dipped again, this time sliding over your chest and stomach. Letting your eyes slip shut at the relaxing treatment, Namjoon’s low timbre washes over you just like the aromatic suds of body wash. “I’m glad,” he coos, “I like taking care of you. You’re too little to do it all yourself, aren’t you? Need Daddy’s help?”

“Too little,” you parrot sleepily, “need Daddy.” With every word, with every touch of his large hands on you, you truly begin to feel little. Curling your toes against the base of the tub, you make a low noise in your throat and lean back against his chest again, head lolling back over his shoulder. “Will you give me a kiss, Daddy?”

He smiles at your entreating plea and wide eyes, eyes like crescent moons as he dips his head and presses a chaste kiss to your lips. “All better now?” he checks as he sits the sopping loofah on the side of the bath.

You bite your lip and shake your head. “I’m not all clean yet, Daddy.”

“You aren’t?” he asks with mock surprise, dimple deepening and brows lifting. “Well, that’s no good, is my kitten still dirty somewhere?”

With a single decisive nod, you grab his hand and lead it down until the tips of his fingers brush your folds. “Daddy didn’t clean here, ‘s still dirty.”

You let out a blissful sigh when he cups you, middle finger curling up to barely dip inside you. Namjoon grins. “In here?” Rather than wait for your answer, he smoothly pushes it deeper, massaging at your inner walls. “Alright, kitten, just close your eyes and let Daddy finish cleaning you up.”

A smile graces your lips as your eyes flutter shut again, head comfy in the crook of his neck and shoulder. You could get used to this.

He doesn’t tease you, but nor does he fingerfuck you with intensity or vigor. It’s methodical and diligent, like he really is cleaning you out. One finger quickly becomes two, and his other arm winds around your waist on the other side to roll your sensitive clit, making you moan softly.

Raring to go from unfulfilled pleasure that morning, your nerves go into overdrive, a building wave growing quickly in your belly. When Namjoon adds a third finger, crooking them inside you thoroughly to stroke your g-spot, it takes less than a minute for you to fall apart, thighs clenching tight around his hands.

He works you through it, only stopping when you whimper from oversensitivity, but that doesn’t stop you from whimpering unhappily again when he pulls his fingers out and you’re left empty.

“You’re all clean now, kitten,” Namjoon states, running his palms over your inner thighs to relax them. “Time to get out.”

You sit up suddenly with a pout. “But Daddy!”

Narrowing his brows, you don’t miss the slight twitch of Namjoon’s lips at your sudden outburst. “No buts,” he reproaches, “I don’t want you pruning up.”

You huff, scowling when he deftly tugs out the plug and the water level steadily sinks. “You haven’t even fucked me yet, Da-mmf!”

Namjoon sends you a cutting glare, his strong hand cupped over your mouth. “I should wash your mouth out with soap for using that language, little one,” he warns, “now out of the bath.”

You whine behind his hand, but once he drops it you obey and scramble out of the quickly-draining tub. Your body feels heavier without the buoyancy of water, and you’re dripping onto the bathmat like a drowned rat, but Namjoon pays it no mind, getting out himself with powerful thighs and a heavy cock dangling between them, passing you a towel wordlessly.

You dry yourself off, pout never leaving your face. He’s really just gonna stay hard like that and not fuck you? “Daddy…”

“One more protest and I’m taking you over my knee,” Namjoon says with a sharp tone. “I thought my kitten was better behaved than this.”

You open and close your mouth, unsure how you can get what you want without using vulgar words. Then again, perhaps making him punish you would rile him up enough to fuck you, and you certainly weren’t against some spanking. Sucking a breath in to establish some resolve, you stomp your foot on the bathmat. “You’re so mean, Daddy!”

Namjoon gapes at you, the way you’re bundled in a towel from your chin to your knees, scowling at him. “You want it, don’t you?” he mutters quietly, receiving a small nod in return. Relaxing for a moment, he slips easily back into that position of authority. “That’s it,” he spits, taking you firmly by the wrist and leading you - still naked himself - into your bedroom, “I gave you plenty of warnings but you still won’t listen.”

You squeak as he rips the towel from you and tugs you onto his lap on the edge of the bed. Adjusting you so that your crotch is right above his aching erection, his legs are so long that your toes barely brush on the carpet, all your balance resting on him. This had been the roughest he’d ever been with you, or at least the most domineering, and your mind whirls with how much he’s coming into his element with this prompt.

He gives you no warning before he’s laying his hands on your ass, small pats to warm up the skin before a sudden, stinging strike laces your nerves. You cry out, wriggling in his grip, but he uses one broad hand to link your wrists together in the small of your back, your face pressed onto the mattress as you’re held up fully by him.

He’s carefully merciless, spanking you hard enough that it burns, tears pricking your eyes and lip swollen from when you bite it, but whenever your cries of pain and pleasure turn too much to genuine discomfort, you notice he gives you an extra second of reprieve and swaps out to lighter hits.

“Apologise to Daddy,” he commands gruffly as you sob beneath him, swatting you without pause.

You sniff and swallow before you can compose yourself enough to reply in a wobbly cry, knees buckling and trembling. “Suh-sorry, Daddy, I’m so sorry, I learnt my lesson, ple-ease!”

You could cry when you feel his hand land on you one last time, soft and soothing the stinging flesh. Namjoon shifts, and then you feel light kisses being pressed all the way from your reddened ass up your spine, making you shiver. “Thank you, kitten,” he murmurs in your ear, and gently sits you up, lying you on the mattress.

You hiss when you feel the fabric scratch at your skin, but it’s cool and soothing if you stay still, so you take deep breaths and feel your heart slowly return to normal, Namjoon running his fingers over your now-dry body.

Blinking up at him with what you hope are sweet puppy-dog eyes, you call his name softly to bring his attention to your face. “Are you really not gonna, you know…?”

He grins fondly at your attempt to evade the word fuck, silver hair flopping over his brow as he leans over you. “You took your punishment so well kitten, I think you deserve a reward, hm? Some special time with Daddy?”

You light up, sucking on your lower lip as you spread your legs to bare yourself shamelessly, hooking one foot around his waist so he’s between them. “Extra special time with Daddy,” you insist in a small voice, lip curling now that you’re finally going to get what you want.

With a light laugh, Namjoon centres himself so that he’s facing you head-on, your legs comfortably resting aside his hips. Stroking himself a few times, he taps his hard length against your already-swollen pussy lips. “Relax for me, kitten,” he guides, and you keen as you feel him begin to push inside you.

You try to stop yourself from clenching around him, but it’s been a while since you’ve fucked him, and as usual the biggest cock in the house takes getting used to. “So big, Daddy,” you breathe with a groan, brows pinched together at the stretch.

“You can take it, kitten, you’re doing so well for me,” Namjoon promises, holding you steady and open with a hand hooking your knee up high by his chest.

By the time he’s bottomed out, hips flush against your still-stinging ass, you feel so deliciously full that you can’t breathe. You lay back, eyes scrunched, and focus entirely on the feeling of his girth stretching you open.

“Feels good?” Namjoon checks in, and you nod, wriggling your hips against him to indicate he can move. “Hold on tight, then.”

Even though it’s barely been a day since you were last fucked, it feels like so much longer, and having Namjoon fill you up over and over is so satisfying on a deep level, that you don’t bother muffling your moans, letting yourself clutch at his arms and enjoy the ride.

While Namjoon certainly isn’t the most lithe or experienced member, his cock is a force of nature in and of itself, and this time, with the heat of desperation and the excitement of your altered dynamic getting to him, he fucks you without holding back.

If he’s like this on his third time, you think, he’ll be a beast before the show ends, but then the head of his cock strikes right against your g-spot, and the thought shatters as a cry is ripped from your throat.

“Oh! Daddy, yes, right there!”

He obliges you by adjusting his hips so that every stroke rubs against you just right, and your mind melts, colours and sounds and sensation blurring together in one full note of all-encompassing pleasure.

You cum without warning, not expecting it yourself, and Namjoon curses lowly in his throat as you clench around him. The orgasm is powerful enough to leave you shuddering hopelessly on the bed before going fully slack, drained.

Warm, fuzzy tingles settle in your fingers and toes and chest in the aftermath as Namjoon fucks you through it, not taking long himself to spill inside you. He drops your leg to the side and leans in, pressing slightly ticklish kisses to your neck and collarbone, hands on either side of your chest to keep his weight off you.

“So good to me,” he breathes out lowly, nuzzling your chin up to give him a better angle to sweetly kiss you on the lips, languid and unhurried as he slowly comes down from his own high.

This time when he pulls out of you and you’re left empty again, you don’t complain, too thoroughly fucked to do anything but let out a contented sigh. Namjoon cleans you up, apologising when oversensitivity makes you twitch at the slightest contact, and then washes up himself.

Just as you feel your mind lifting out of that mental space of feeling little, sitting up a bit on his bed and trying to work out if you’d be able to make it to your dresser to put on some pyjamas, Namjoon returns and does it for you, helping you slip into a baggy t-shirt that you like to use as a nightie.

“Are you going to stay?” you ask softly as he lowers the hem over your head, arms slotting through the holes.

“Do you want me to?” Namjoon counters with an edge of hesitation, scratching lightly at his opposite arm, still naked.

You nod, patting the bed beside you. “If you don’t mind.”

Namjoon gathers his clothes and slips them on, not really appropriate for sleeping. Once he sees your look of confusion, he tilts his head towards your bedroom door. “I’m just going to duck out for some comfier clothes for sleeping, are you going to be alright for a moment?”

By the time he’s come back, you’ve already quickly brushed your teeth - hobbling to and from your bathroom like a newborn deer - and slipped under the covers, getting comfortable. Namjoon returns in grey striped pyjama pants and a white shirt, but he has something in his hands.

“You might think it’s silly,” he offers by way of explanation, the mattress springs squeaking as he gets on beside you, “but I like reading before bed, and I thought maybe you’d find it calming.”

With a dubious smile, you look at the book in his hands. It has the clean edges of a cared-for book, with the creases in the spine of a well-read one. On the cover, golden embossed stars and swooping font read The Little Prince. “You want me to read it?”

Namjoon returns your smile, warm and dimpled. “I want to read to you.”

The two of you cuddle together without words, one of his arms wrapped around your back as you lean on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. Propping the small novel up on his stomach, he peers over your head to read.

“Once when I was six years old,” he begins, “I saw a magnificent picture in a book called True Stories from Nature, about the primeval forest. It was a picture of a boa constrictor in the act of swallowing an animal. Here is a copy of the drawing.” He pauses, tapping you twice on the crown of your head to indicate you should look. “In the book it said…”

As he recites the novel aloud, you feel more than hear his voice, a low rumble in your ear like a rushing river or a slow-moving thunderstorm. It’s soothing, lulling you into sleep. His voice wraps around every word like a hug, enunciating each syllable with such care and colour and love, and always pausing when there were photos, even when your eyes slip shut and you begin to drift off.

Slowly, everything fades away. All sound is reduced to that regular heartbeat and warm rumble; all sensations are narrowed down to just the heat of his skin where it meets yours, his fingers lazily swirling patterns on your scalp. All thoughts simplify, the last six words in your brain, I could get used to this, before they wink out to nothing at all, and you sleep.

[adonis-koo]

Blue Spring

| 3 |

↳ Summary: Jeon Jungkook, only well known as the youngest (and hottest) dad at the daycare, he’s got it all, the looks, the sweetheart personality, the body, but here’s what gets everyone- he doesn’t wear a wedding ring. The only problem lies in his fickle one year old daughter that hates just about every daycare worker out there…Well…besides you that is. Which of course leads to Jungkook liking you just as much as his daughter…if not maybe a little too much.

Or in other words…You and Jungkook are secretly crushing on one another but too shy to admit it.

↳ Pairing: Single dad!Jungkook/Reader

↳ Genre: Daycare AU, Slice of life, copious amounts of fluff, a hair of angst, future smut

Word Count: 6k

Previous | Next

The next day came just as quick as the last and just as anticipated Seo Yeon had came to pick Mina up, shooting you a nasty sneer, you did your best to keep a straight face as you watched Mina screech at being pulled away from you, her little arms pitifully reaching for you as fat tears rolled down her face. Her mom ignored her cries as she grabbed Mina’s backpack and left.

Sighing you leaned against your seat before tutting, Jungkook really wasn’t joking about her not liking her mom.

After you had finished shift you planned on grabbing some fast food before heading back for the dorm to study up on your upcoming test, your phone had sudden alerted you to a new text, pausing in the parking lot you glanced at the phone as you furrowed your brows, was one of your roommates going to ask you to get something for them? You had told them if anyone wanted anything to shoot you a text as you were all going to study together but…

You felt a non expect sweat break on your neck at the sight of who it was from.

[Jungkook 06:32]

‘Hey! I was wondering if you wanted to come over? Making stir fry with kimchi and I don’t think I can eat it all by myself’

Nibbling against your lip you tried your best to swallow the lump in your throat, he wanted you to come over….? You had done so plenty of times before, whether it was to watch Mina on the weekend or for movie night, but Mina was always present. Being alone with Jungkook....you wouldn’t lie, you felt a little scared.

Scared wasn’t the right term, you felt safe with Jungkook, but anything could happen when it was just the two of you, alone....Pressing your lips together you felt your stomach growl as you rubbed your forehead, you promised your roommates you’d study with them tonight too...But dinner wouldn’t hurt right? Then you’d go straight back home! Yeah that’s all, you were just having dinner together….alone...in his house…

Before you could talk yourself out of it you were already hurriedly typing before you changed your mind.

[06:35]

‘That sounds amazing omg! You really wouldn’t mind me crashing to steal your food?’

[Jungkook 06:35]

‘It’s not stealing if I’m offering it for free baby ~ See you in ten’

You felt your heart lurch into your throat as your eyes honed in on the four little letters, baby? When had Jungkook ever addressed you by a pet name before? Was that even appropriate after what had happened yesterday? Forcing your phone back into your pocket you pushed your nervousness away as you drove to his house.

Knocking against his door you calmed your breath, dinner! It was just dinner, that’s all it was, just dinner. The door opened wide to a beaming Jungkook, you even felt a little bad at how in the gutter your mind had been when you saw how boyish his expression was, “Come on I just finished up, let’s eat before it gets cold,” He ushered you in as you let out a laugh, hoping it didn’t sound a relieved as you felt, “Sorry for the abrupt text but I’m not used to eating alone,” He feebishly rubbed the back of his neck as you both sat down at the table, “Mina usually has dinner with me….”

“It’s okay I don’t mind,” You shrugged with a tiny smile, timidly tugging on a strand of your hair before beginning to pile the delicious smelling stir fry onto your plate and his kimchi looked to die for, was there anything this man couldn’t do? “I’m sure it’s weird without Mina here, I’m so used to her greeting me anytime I come over.”

Oh god, you hope it didn’t come across like you were only here for Mina! Jungkook only smiled fondly though as he began to eat while he nodded, “Tell me about it, Seo Yeon’s sister is getting married so they’re prepping for the wedding tomorrow, that’s why Mina is over there so it’s just me myself and I the next few days.”

You glanced at your plate as you smiled, you could only imagine her with her hair attempted in curls and a pretty puffy white dress on to match the wedding theme, she’d look adorable, “Uh Y/n…” He suddenly cleared his throat, gaining your attention, looking a little sheepish as scratched his nose, eyes suddenly darting away from yours, “I just...wanted to apologize again for what happened yesterday.”

The anger and frustration you had felt the other day had faded and your heart softened at his meek expression, offering you a tiny smile before suddenly looking back down at his food and attempting to play off his actions by eating more, “It’s alright, It’s not the first time I’ve dealt with a pissed parent before. But…” You pressed your lips together as you looked away, “Let’s not fixate on that, it was just a mistake after all. What about you? I figured you’d probably stay holed up at work to get more of the DLC’s mechanics balanced.”

Jungkook groaned as he leaned back in his seat despite the breathy chuckle leaving his lips, “No, coworkers make me wanna pull my hair out, I was able to fix up over half the melee weaponry stats Saturday but at what cost? Told them they can kindly go fuck themselves next time they fire half of our team.” Jungkook pecked at his food looking a little huffy as you laughed, you thought it was cute in all honesty.

Jungkook had been a little shy when he first told you about his love of video games, but he loved them so much he had turned it into a career as he found he loved the developing side to games as well, being such a big computer nerd had gotten him far up in the design team. You couldn’t help but find it endearing watching how passionately he talked about it.

Dinner had been amazing of course, Jungkook was an amazing cook but apparently his mom and dad ran a restaurant therefore growing up he was always surrounded by amazing cooks and had learned from the best. You could see the pride in his eyes when you complimented on how delicious his kimchi was, only to answer that it was his mother's recipe. Adorable.

Staying curled up against the couch you wrapped the blanket around you tighter, Jungkook had managed to pull your legs over his lap as he leaned in a little closer, the avengers playing and your popcorn had been left unattended on the coffee table.

Instead you felt your throat become a little dry at Jungkook’s arms wrapped around you, you knew he worked out but Jesus, you could feel the definition in his body and it was making your heart thump in your chest. Calm down okay, you’re just cuddling! That’s normal!

“Mmm y’know I’m really glad I finally got the courage to ask you out?” You tried not to tense at Jungkook’s whispered words as he let his nose drop into the crook of your neck, his confession sending a tingling sensation against your spine as he nudged your skin a little, “I just...I don’t know, It's been so long since I’ve felt so connected to someone, it’s nice.”

Your heart felt a little warmer at his words and your body began to relax in his grip even going as far as to reciprocate his nuzzle, your lips pulling into a shy smile as you hummed, “It is, it’s been a long time since I’ve dated anyone. It is nice. Lisa and Chloe,” You paused a little as you felt a bit embarrassed at your confession, “They tried convincing me for the longest time you liked me but…”

Jungkook pulled away from your neck a little, a toothy bunny smile on his lips as he raised his brows a little, “But?” His forehead nearly brushing against yours.

Rubbing your cheek a little your smile became a little shy, “But I didn’t believe them. I just assumed you liked me because I was the only worker Mina liked.” It felt a little silly to think about now, all the times he was sheepish while talking to you, the way his cheeks would tint pink ever so slightly when you brightly smiled at him.

It seemed so obvious despite his rather shy nature, Jungkook’s smile became a little bashful yet his eyes sparked playfulness as he chuckled, “Well it didn’t really help that the hints I dropped were extremely subtle. But we’re here now aren’t we?”

His nose was brushing against yours and you felt that dry patch in your throat return, his eyes were so pretty this close up, they were a deep warm brown, almost like a cozy cup of coffee first thing in the morning or the sweetest last piece of chocolate, they made your heart beat faster and your face flush, “We are.”

You felt your breath hitch at the way his nose rubbed against yours, your fluttering shut as you felt a small hesitation in the gap between you both, Jungkook was the one that determinedly closed it, his lips were just as soft as they looked as they tenderly worked against your own, his hands caressing your face as you leaned into the kiss.

His lips were so addicting, was it really your fault that you had let out a soft whine at the way he nibbled against your bottom, your lips almost quivering if they had the chance before immediately admitting defeat and parting your lips, his tongue pushing into your mouth as he began lathing against your own tongue in dominance.

Your once gentle kiss became more and more heated by the moment as you let out a gurgled whine, one hand shuffling to your waist to help situate you as you climbed into his lap, your body becoming lit with heat and neediness.

Straddling his hips you were only allowed a second to breath from breaking the kiss before he grabbed your chin roughly, lips sealed back against your and his tongue demanding entrance into your mouth once more, meekly parting your lips as you let him have his way, hands greedily grabbing and squeezing at your waist as you whimpered into his mouth, your hips beginning to wiggle against his only to jump slightly at the half hard on you felt.

If your cheeks weren’t hot before they were now at the idea of how large he would be when he was fully hardened, your hips just as eager as you as they continued grinding against him. What you hadn’t expected was a loud phone ring causing you both to jump, Jungkook’s lips finally detaching themselves from yours as you tried to catch your breath.

Digging out his phone you expected him to toss it aside before returning to your needy self, instead he bit his lip as he sighed, “Shit, sorry, I need to take this.” He didn’t seem necessarily happy to take the call but did regardless, “Yeah Seo Yeon?”

What mood had been set had instantly deflated in you as you felt your senses come back to you, suddenly feeling uncomfortable in his lap while he was talking to his ex wife, you felt dirty. Even if they were divorced and Jungkook was free to see you, you still felt dirty, maybe like a second option, “Uh yeah a 1 to 2T should fit her just fine, she’s rather petite though so it might be a little big- you guys can always pin it if you needed too- isn’t this a little late considering the is the day after tomorrow?”

You understood, Jungkook answered because it was for Mina’s sake but...You had already pulled yourself off his lap, his eyes immediately locking to your figure as you mustered a weak smile before awkwardly glancing at your lap, why did you feel like a third wheel when he was only on the phone?

Jungkook hung up only a minute later, as you reached down for the strap of your bag that had made home slumped against the leg of the coffee table, “Ah sorry- they needed to make sure Mina’s dress was going to fit properly.”

“No, it’s- it’s okay...I uh…” You could hardly look at him as you grabbed your bag, a timid yet apprehensive look on your face as you finally glanced at him, “I should go….I promised my roommates that I’d study with them tonight so…”

You could visibly see the way Jungkook’s eyes dimmed, rubbing the back of his neck as he attempted to smile though it looked pitiful and strained, “Yeah- yeah of course! Thanks for coming over, I really enjoyed it.”

“Yeah, it was fun. I’ll see you later.” Was it sad you didn’t even wait for him to say goodbye?

“Ouch, you were that close to doing it and then his ex called?” Chloe stirred her coffee as she cringed, they both looked at you in pity as you groaned, pressing your hands into your face as Lisa stood up at the sound of one of the boys and girls fighting over one playing with the other.

Sighing you rubbed your forehead before glancing back at the table, you hadn’t seen Lisa or Chloe over the weekend and had been dying to tell them in hopes of some sort of advice, “I just don’t know what to do Chloe! I know it’s my insecurity but everytime I think I’m okay with the fact that he’s a single dad and he has an ex wife it just jumps back out again! I mean really, I guess it’s just making me wonder if I really want to be involved in this.”

Chloe sent you a sympathetic smile as she set her coffee down, “I think it’s normal in this type of scenario but honestly babe if you really like him then it’s just something you’re going to have to tolerate, and even be supportive of at times, not in the fact of him seeing his ex, but supporting him wanting to make the effort to keep in contact with her for the sake of Mina.”

Picking at your fingernails you sighed, she was right of course, you did really like Jungkook, he was handsome, he had the sweetest personality and was so boyish and competitive over silly things like video games or that time he took you and Mina bowling and he had to prove to those stupid college fratboys he was the superior bowler. Or that time he did his best Peppa Pig impression to make Mina giggle. Or- You got the point.

But you just couldn’t shake the idea of him and Seo Yeon together out of your head, even though they weren’t together anymore it was clear she was still very attached to him and he still complied even if it was disgruntled, they made a good looking couple. God, you really were insecure, weren’t you? You groaned internally, this wasn’t high school! You shouldn’t even feel like this!

“I know...It’s just confusing right now...I still feel bad, I mean, it was...intense, until she called.” You laid your arms out on the table as you set your chin on them as your gaze flickered to the clock, he was late. Jungkook always dropped Mina off at 7:25, five minutes before you usually arrived, it was already nearing the last quarter of eight am....Maybe he got Seo Yeon to watch her today since she’s such a good mother.

You felt a stroke of guilt click inside you, she was Mina’s mother, she had every right to watch her over you. Why did you feel so jealous all of a sudden? Pressing your lips together you only sulked as Chloe gave you a pat on the back. You waited, and waited, and waited some more but Jungkook never dropped Mina off, no text, no call, nothing, it was Monday, as in the day you’d usually go home with Jungkook and Mina to hang out...Your lips quirked into a frown as you sat in your car...you guessed that were cancelled now huh….

There was always Friday...except there wasn’t. Again, Jungkook didn’t show up with Mina, again throughout the week and you had hoped he’d make an appearance Friday but once again, nothing.

You couldn’t help but feel worry begin to eat away at you, constantly debating with your coworkers on whether you should just text him to ask if he was still alive but you could never fully commit yourself. You had become sulkier throughout the week much to your coworkers sadness.

Staying zoned out half the time when you weren’t refereeing fights, bribing kids into nap time or picking up the room when it was a wreck of toys, you missed him. You really missed him. Your roommates had even noticed and tried getting you to get you out there, to ‘find’ someone else. But you didn’t want to find someone else, you wanted to see Jungkooks stupid bunny smile.

You wanted to watch the way he pinched his brows in annoyance when he ranted about someone at work or the way his eyes lit up in victory when he won a match in Overwatch, or how fond and soft his face became when he watched Mina playing with her stuffed animals.

You wanted all of it. And now you had none of it.

Sleep had become less and less and your thoughts only became more focused on Jungkook any moment you weren’t working or studying, and even then he still lingered in the back of your mind.

Did he go back to Seo Yeon? Was that it? Did he change his mind, she was Mina’s mother, the wife that he concieved her with. What the hell did you know about raising a child anyways? You couldn’t stop your glum thoughts as you rubbed your eyes, setting down your coffee as your coworkers greeted you, another day, another disappointment.

It was better this way, you’d never be the person Mina would need growing up, she’d probably hate you later on and view you like an ugly stepmother. You were pulled out of your thoughts at one of the girls tugging on your shirt while asking if they could use the bathroom, standing up you nodded as you gave a smile, “Of course hun.” Walking over to the gated off bathroom you opened it but not before reminding her to shut the door as she went to try and pull up her shirt which made you frantically tell her to shut the door.

After a moment it registered and she did as told as you sighed running a hand through your hair before a tiny laugh escaped you, kids really had no sense of privacy, did they? You made sure she washed her hands after she swung the door open announcing she was done before letting her back out to play once more. Turning around you swallowed thickly at the sight of black tufts of hair that matched the little girls longer hair braided in pigtails.

Rather than greet them you meekly turned back around, sitting at the train table with a few of the other kids as you smiled, well aware it was dull as you helped build the long train, feeling eyes train on you from far away along with the familiar cries of Mina, “Babygirl look, She’s right here.” You weakly glanced up at the long legs that struggled to walk because of Mina who clung to him with a whine, “C’mon don’t be pouty she’s right here if you’d just look.”

You hated how much your heart fluttered at his playful voice as he scooped Mina up as she gave a delighted gurgle, as if knowing he was right and just wanting to be difficult, sitting down next to you he set her in his lap, he was early today, “See? She’s making a pretty cool train huh?” Jungkook observed as he grabbed one of the trainee pieces, it looked tiny in his hand compared to Mina’s as he gave it to her, she inspected it carefully, letting the wheel roll against her tiny finger as she continued to roll it as if mesmerized.

“Uh hey….” Jungkook murmured, his gaze focused on Mina, you didn’t say anything, only glancing back at the table as you felt that pit in your stomach return again. Tension that had already been present seemed to grow even stronger as Jungkook bit against his lip.

Taking a slow inhale you finally let out a bitter chuckle, your eyes glaring weakly into the three piece train you built as you huffed a breath of air, “You could have just told me you didn’t wanna see me anymore, I-I mean it’s fine. I’m used to rejection y’know? It’s- it’s not like-”

“Woah, hey, hey, hey. I never- Y/n I never said I didn’t want to see you anymore-” “Yeah that’s what I mean-” “No! It’s not like that,” Jungkook cut you off once more as you sighed, glancing back at the train table as you rested your chin against it, monotonously pushing the train back and forth, “Look I’m sorry okay? I meant to text you, I really did but it’s just been crazy. I...I told Seo Yeon, about us. I told her to give me more space so I could spend more time with you and she’s just been,” Jungkook stopped himself from swearing as he cleared his voice a little, “Crazy, said she was going to file for full custody over Mina and that she could take Mina away if she really wanted too, it’s been insane. I just...You could have texted me too, I would have replied in a heartbeat.”

If you didn’t feel bad before you felt even worse now, god you were an adult! And you let something as feeble as insecurity get the better of you, “...I know...I just figured you probably wanted space or something...” It was the truth, in reality, you figured it was probably something akin to that. But now looking back on it of course this was all for Mina, the only reason Jungkook would miss a week of daycare would be for Mina, the way he’d forget to text you to let you know, for her. Jungkook was the most loyal and dedicated dad you had ever met, and you had met a lot.

“Oh sweetheart,” Jungkook sighed, running a hand through his hair as he glanced at your slumped puppy like figure, had you really been moping around the whole week? He felt his heart crumple a little at the sight as he let his hand reach out and stroke through your hair, “Can I take you out tonight when I pick up Mina, I could really use a distraction with everything that’s going on, and I really want to make it up to you,” He finally let his bunny smile tug on his lips, “If you’ll let me.”

“Of course you can.” You mumbled, not taking your eyes off the train as you continued to roll it back and forth.

You could hear Jungkook's honeyed laugh, you missed it’s deep warmth as he fondly stroked your hair, “Then perk up baby, you look prettier when you smile.” There it was, that pet name again that had your stomach sent into a frenzy, a tiny smile tugging on your lips as you shyly glanced back at him, his eyes affectionate in that same way he always looked at Mina, except he was looking at you, letting his hand curve down your head to your chin as he gave it a soft squeeze, “There you go. I need to go but I’ll see you soon okay?”

You nodded as he set Mina on your lap who didn’t even regard her dad as he kissed her forehead, her eyes still trained on the wheel she spun as she made herself comfortable on your lap.

You couldn’t help but laugh at her furrowed brows and how trained her focus was. Your heart admittedly felt a lot lighter and you felt a lot siller. If you stood a chance at all with becoming a part of Jungkook and Mina’s life you’d definitely have to toughen up your soft skin. For them.

The day had gone by surprisingly quick, the only hiccup was Mina whining about naptime, she had tugged on your hand as if trying to get you to nap with her.

Sighing you shook your head, you had admittedly entertained her a lot of days when you watched her at Jungkook’s often taking naps with her when it was time. Eventually after sitting down and reading a story to her she eventually fell asleep.

Craft time went well despite Mina trying to kick away another little girl while sitting in your lap and coloring over your princess picture you had been working on for the past three hours, oh well. Jungkook didn’t come back until around four.

The ride had been quiet though, your figure leaned against the window as you glanced out it, there was no tension anymore, but you knew the quietness wasn’t normal either. Jungkook’s gaze flickered to you a few times before he sighed, pulling the car into park as you noticed the droplets of rain splatter against the glass, “C’mon talk to me, what’s bothering you?”

“I’m not bothered…” You replied, shrugging a little as your eyes fleetingly met his for a moment before dropping once more, sighing as you pressed your lips together to gather your thoughts. Jungkook waited patiently as if knowing you were in thought.

Giving a small sigh your lips quivered a little as you lowered your gaze, “I...I just wanted to apologize I guess…I mean, I’ve just let my insecurity get the better of me everytime we’re together and- and I’m going to be honest with you Jungkook, you’re probably better off finding someone older than me or- or hell I don’t know a single mom or something. Because I doubt I’m equipped to handle any of this. I have no clue how any of this works.”

You felt a certain level of shame wash over you at your words but they were the truth, stepping into Jungkook’s life meant stepping into Mina’s as well and that came with a lot of responsibility you weren’t sure you would be able to manage. And admittedly, you didn’t want to lead Jungkook on if you genuinely couldn’t see yourself committing.

“Y/n…” Jungkook murmured softly watching you delicately, the way you fumbled with your fingers and your gaze had stayed dropped on your lap. You looked oddly timid and ashamed of yourself when you really had no reason to be, “Look, I can understand where you’re coming from,” Jungkook sighed softly, his own gaze falling to the steering wheel as he murmured.

“Being a parent isn’t easy, but nobody is ever truly prepared for it. I know I wasn’t. But I don’t want a single mom, or someone older than you. I like you Y/n.” His hand reached over, encasing yours making you glance up meekly at his warm expression, “And if you don’t want to do this, or be a part of this…” His smile looked a little strained and didn’t quite meet his eyes, as if it hurt to think about, “I wouldn’t blame you. But if you’re feeling insecure just because you don’t think you’d be any good then I’m going to insist you keep dating me.”

You couldn’t stop the ugly snort from escaping you as Jungkook’s lips curled into a mutual smile, his thumb brushing against the top of your hand, “Because I think you’d make an amazing mother, you love Mina just as much as I do. And you’re always so sweet with children, and you’re always considering what others think and putting them first-” “Stop! Stop! Stop!” “- I’m just stating the truth.” Jungkook chuckled as you pressed your hands to your ears repeatedly chanting the single word. Your face flushed and you felt flustered that Jungkook really thought that highly of you.

“And I don’t mean to scare you off either,” Jungkook laughed as you pressed your hands to your face, letting out a strangled noise as he gently ruffled your hair, “I just want to reassure you. I know being with me means being with Mina, and it is a lot of responsibility, but I know you’d be amazing. And even if you feel like you won’t I’ll help you the whole way through. Okay?”

You nibbled against your lip, his eyes were so warm and comforting, how could you ever resist when they were so sweet and sincere? You gave a tiny nod before timidly glancing at your lap. Jungkook had parted his lips as if to continue but a toy had interrupted your conversation, the stuffed bear hitting the window and fussy gurgles from Mina sounded in the back, “Alright, alright we get it you’re hungry!” Jungkook huffed as he glanced back, her tiny lips tugging into a smile as she giggled while clapping her hands as if happy to have his attention back on her.

You couldn’t help the soft laugh that escaped you before you both got out of the car, Jungkook picked her up from her car seat while you made sure to grab her stuffed bear.

Mina excitedly bounced against him as she happily babbled at you with bright doe eyes, her arms reaching out as she leaned her body forward, “You are so spoilt.” Jungkook tutted as he poked her side, gaining a giggle from her as the smile tugged on your lips, letting him pass her off to you as she happily swung her stuffed animal about. You sat down at the table as Jungkook pulled up a booster seat. Mina was always wiggly but having you here must have excited her sense she seemed to squirm even more making her even harder to get sat down.

Buckling her, you smiled softly as her little hand wrapped around your finger, her brows pinching as her babbled slowed as if trying to say something. The sad truth about being a daycare worker was...you had heard kids' first words before their parents ever did...instead of saying something it was mutually agreed to let the parent announce it to you rather than promptly tell them they had been babbling words for days at the daycare if not weeks. Mina however, had yet to speak her first words but she was certainly trying her best.

Chuckling you pulled from her grip making her concentration break as she whined, “I’m sorry honey, we need to order.” You poked her cheek making a giggle erupt from her throat as the smile tugged on your cheek. The waitress seemed delighted at the three of you as she took your order before heading to the front once more.

Spending time with Jungkook like this was much needed, his bright smile and his deep laugh while you both talked about work and who had been annoying, what absurd things you had to deal with because of the kids. Whatever doubt that had been planted inside you seemed to vanish with each conversation.

Mina eventually getting fussy and wanting to toddle around, she was quite independent for only having been one years old. You both had set her down at the little play area before resuming your conversation, “No really, you haven’t dated anyone since the divorce?” You really couldn’t believe it. Jungkook was so handsome and he was such a sweetheart, it was hard to imagine him single for this long.

Jungkook leaned back in his seat, his smile evident as he sighed, running a hand through his hair, pausing his movement to look at you as you began to laugh, “Why is that hard to believe?” You felt your face flush at the confident smirk he sent you, “I’ve slept with a few girls if that’s what you’re insinuating.”

You could hear his throaty chuckle due to your hands covering your face as you felt yourself choke on your words. In the beginning, you and Jungkook were both rather timid, hyper aware of not wanting to mess anything up. But as time continued on Jungkook was the one that seemed to be more confident in his flirting, whereas you would coil away in embarrassment. It wasn’t a bad thing, but his teasing...admittedly did turn you on…

“That’s not what I meant!” You whined as you shuffled in your seat, your eyes jumping to Mina out of habit from being at the daycare for so long as you watched her play before glancing back at Jungkook’s relaxed, yet amused figure.

“Your reaction was still cute,” Jungkook remarked as you glanced away with a scowl making him laugh softly, “In all honesty, I just wasn’t interested in dating for a long time. Like I said, I’ve had a few flings but they were never interested in taking it further, and neither was I. While it may be hard to imagine, I do tend to scare women away when I mention the dad part.”

You leaned your head against your hand, your eyes lingering on Mina’s figure that curiously kept trying to tug the block out of the wall, not understanding it was glued and unable to come undone, she even gave a whine in frustration, “Given the circumstances I can understand why you wouldn’t be interested, given Seo Yeon,” You gave a bit of an exasperated puff of air, “But what changed your mind?” You didn’t want to blatantly ask him why he decided to give things a try with you, but you were interested as to why. What was different about you compared to any other girl?

Jungkook pressed his lips together for a moment in thought before shrugging, “Well I think the most obvious reasoning was when we first met, I went home every day thinking about what the workers told me about how Mina was, and then we met you and she instantly liked you.”

You couldn’t help the tiny smile tug on your lips, feeling your cheeks flush a little, “I was just relieved at first. I didn’t really think anything of it until a few months later when I went to pick Mina up and saw her sitting in your lap. You were rambling about how Mulan's dress wasn’t pink though you thought it was a good color because that was what Mina was using,” Your brows raised and your lips parted his words, his gaze focused on Mina but his eyes were fond at the memory.

“And when I came in she fell off your lap from squirming so much because she saw me. You picked her up while cooing when she bursted into tears...You were the first person she’d let pick her up in a fit of tears besides me...And I don’t know, I guess seeing you both in that moment, seeing your expression when she bursted into tears...It just made me think, and the more I thought about it, the more it just seemed to...fit.”

You felt your face flush as you glanced at him, the loud whine before a sudden screech immediately making your gaze snap to Mina who had tugged against the block before accidentally throwing her weight a little too harshly back making her trip onto her bottom. Fat crocodile tears leaked from her eyes as she looked to you, her little arms stretching out as sobs bubbled from her lips, “Poor baby, what a mean block!” You cooed as you walked over to her, kneeling down, before squishing her sides, “Does Mina feel a little better?” Tears trickled from her eyes despite the little giggle escaping her your fingers tickling her sides making her giggle more, a whine escaped her lips as she stretched her arms up wanting you to hold her, “Awwh c’mere baby.”

You picked her up as she pressed her little head against the crook of your neck as she began to cry again, “So dramatic!” You laughed as you glanced at Jungkook making him laugh as well, letting his head rest against the palm of his hand as he glanced at you both sofly, “She loves making a scene doesn’t she?”

“She probably noticed we were too close and needed to intervene,” Jungkook tutted as he stood up and walked over, poking Mina as he leaned in a little, “Isn’t that right princess? You need mine and Y/n’s attention don’t you?” His voice was high pitched and cooed as Mina sniffled before glancing up at Jungkook’s voice, a toothy smile on her face as she clapped her hands together.

You felt your lips curl into a timid smile as his eyes flickered up to meet yours, his own smile coiling into a smirk making your gaze immediately drop. God he could be intimidating when he wanted.

“How dare you let that slut hold our child!”

You both jolted at the screech from behind you, turning around you were sure your face had drain of any color as your eyes locked with Seo Yeon who looked utterly pissed off. You couldn’t help but hold Mina tighter to your chest, “I should have known this whore was messing with your head!” Seo Yeon sneered as she marched over.

Jungkook immediately stepped in front of you protectively, his shoulders stiff and his jaw gritted, “What? Did you hunt me down to try and take my daughter away? To what? Try and threaten me and my girlfriend?” Your heart was beating frantically with adrenaline as you glanced at Seo Yeon’s glaring daggers.

“I came to see the slut that’s brainwashed you!” Seo Yeon seethed, her eyes burning into your figure as if hoping you’d turn to ash where you stood, you could feel your lips quiver a little as your gaze dropped, “Jungkook we belong together with our daughter! Now get Mina away from her and let’s go and talk this out!”

Jungkook took a step back, you couldn’t see his expression but you imagined it didn’t look pleasant in the least, “Seo Yeon,” His voice was deeper than normal as he growled lowly, “It’s over between us. It’s been over since the divorce. No amount of threatening or begging will make me take you back. I’m happy now and I’m not going to ruin that because of you.”

Seo Yeon’s eyes were brimmed with both anger and tears, her lips quivering but Jungkook wouldn’t even let her speak, “And don’t even fucking threaten custudy over Mina because I will win that battle. If you care about your daughter at all, you’ll fucking let this go and move on.”

“She’s completely fooled you Jungkook!” She nearly screamed, her fists curled up but Jungkook ignored her words, turning towards you to wrap an arm around you, muttering a ‘lets go’. His words suddenly bringing awareness to your surroundings, so many people were staring! How embarrassing, “I won’t let that slut ruin our lives!”

Jungkook practically pushed you out the door, his shoulders tense and his expression dark and brooding. You fumbled with putting Mina in her car seat, quickly buckling her with the fear of Seo Yeon chasing after you both. Sitting in the front seat it was quiet as the rain pattered against the glass.

Neither of you spoke a word and you could feel tension practically crawling in the air with it’s gritty uncomfortable tone. It wasn’t until Jungkook parked in the driveway of his house that you both stilled. The rain had led up but still gently pattered. You wanted to speak, but you didn’t know what to say.

What you didn’t expect was the loud thud to sound in the car, Jungkook’s palm slamming against the steering wheel making you jump as he beat his hands against it harshly, “She pisses me off so fucking much!” You leered back a little, concern written in your eyes as he slammed the steering wheel one last time before his fingers weakly coiled around it.

It was quiet for another moment before you sighed softly, reaching out to let your hand gently grab his bicep, his muscles tensed at your touch and he refused to meet your gaze, “Jungkook, I promise everything is going to be okay.” His muscles began to relax under your grip before he let out a shaky breath.

Your heart practically crumbled at the way his eyes were on the brink of tears, behind his anger was raw fear, fear of potentially losing Mina. He would be devastated. Jungkook couldn’t even bring himself to speak, his lips only trembling and defeatedly closing his eyes as tears slid down his cheeks.

Leaning over you wrapped your arms around him, burying your nose into his hair as you closed your eyes, Jungkook needed you now more than ever, you weren’t going to let your insecurity get the better of you, not now, not anymore, “Everything will be okay.”

Note: I hope you all enjoyed this part! Things have gotten saucy in more ways then one! I am a Lazy™️ hoe so there will be a time jump next chapter but regardless I hope you guys like the story thus far!

[thecenturiestrickle]

Thank you, @edge0fmydesiree, for tagging me in the Six Sentence thing. You're hella sweet for thinking of me.

I don't have six sentences.

BUT.

I do have ~1k words.

Here's a super rough draft of a scene from the corporate au I've been having a dalliance with while omegaverse 4 obsessively checks my iPhone's location, wondering why the hell I'm not home to give it the dicking it craves.

Again, super rough draft. Not even sure if it'll make it in, but I think it hits the tone and dynamic that I want to go for.

Anyway. Liam's the boss who's actually a badass at work but a total disaster at everyday life, and Theo is one of his long-suffering executive assistants (he has two others subordinate to Theo). Also, they might be in love. Who knows. 👀

They stay until 1:00 AM.

The morning after, Liam is fucking miserable. He slept maybe three hours, tops, but he arrives to work at his usual time. When he gets to his floor, Theo is there already--of course--looking like he got a full night's eight even though that's mathematically impossible. His hair is styled neatly with pomade that smells of sweet almonds. His bright white shirt is pressed and tucked in his slacks evenly, the tie Liam got him as a thank-you gift (blue with little pineapples embroidered in white) anchored with a sterling silver Tiffany and Co. tie bar (also a thank-you gift from Liam) in a straight vertical line trailing down the center of his broad chest.

To someone who doesn't know him Theo might look perfectly done up.

But to Liam he seems rough around the edges--eyes just a bit droopy despite the caffeinated moisturizer he knows Theo likes to use after a rough night. There's a faint hint of stubble past his beard line and down toward his Adam's apple where he didn't shave quite as closely enough as he usually does. He smells like the Irish Spring Speed Stick deodorant he keeps in his gym bag instead of the YSL L'homme he wears to work.

When they enter Liam's office Liam realizes that the shaders have been pulled closed and the place is as dark as it can get at this time of day. The couch has been set up with a blanket and a pillow. There is a pile of clothes folded on the coffee table.

"I tried to clear your morning and rescheduled what I can, but the budget meeting at ten is firm," Theo says, looking apologetic despite his neutral tone of voice.

"Theo, this is--" Liam waves a hand at the comfortable looking makeshift bed, the darkened office. He blinks up at Theo's tired face, touched by and grateful for the gesture and hating that he has to turn it down. "As much as I want to--and I really want to, I can't. There's--I need to prep for the--"

Theo steps into Liam's space and slides the jacket off his shoulders, the flat of his palms hot on Liam's skin despite the barrier of starched cotton impeding Theo's touch. Not for long, though, as Theo unbuttons and removes Liam's shirt and Liam finally feels Theo's naked fingers and hands on him. Theo hangs up the jacket and shirt in the discreet wardrobe tucked next to one of the bookshelves, comes back to crouch at Liam's feet to pull off his shoes, one foot after the other. He sets them aside, stands up once more to undo Liam's belt, and as he removes his pants says gently but firmly, "What you need is to sleep. I've written memos for everything on your calendar today. I don't have all the updated numbers, but you could fill those in yourself later. Everything's in your Google Drive and there are hard copies in the folder in the right drawer of your desk."

"Theo," Liam starts as he steps out of his slacks and watches Theo get back up on his feet to face him.

"Try to get some shut eye. Okay? I'll come wake you up in," he grabs Liam's wrist and checks the time on his watch, "two hours and fifty-two minutes." He gives Liam a once over, rakes his eyes over Liam's tank top stretched over his torso, down to his tight black briefs, his black dress socks. Liam's cheeks warm from the scrutiny and he knows he's turning red from his face down to his neck and chest. A strange look comes over Theo's face and Liam notices his hands flexing at his sides. There is a beat of silence. And another. and another. Theo says finally, "I turned the AC down as cold as you like, but I left some sweats here in case you get cold."

"O-okay. Thank you." Liam swallows thickly.

Theo nods. "Try to get some sleep." He leaves without another look back and closes the door quietly. Liam is actually a little chilly, so he reaches for the pile of sweats. He pulls the pants on and leaves the drawstrings alone, letting the waistband sling low on his hips. When he unfurls the hoodie he stops, warmth filling his chest when he sees that it's one of Theo's, the one Liam always likes to borrow. He pulls it on quickly, thinks not idly that he wouldn't mind if Theo hasn't had a chance to clean it, that he's lending it to Liam worn and unwashed.

He settles in and doesn't remember conking out.

When Theo wakes him up later it's with a gentle hand on his shoulder and a parfait cup with layers of granola, fresh blueberries, and lemon curd. Before he can ask for coffee he spies the coffee service tray perched on top his desk. He runs a hand through his hair and checks the time--twenty minutes after Theo said he'd come back to wake him up.

"I tried to give you as long as I can." Theo's fingers combing Liam's hair back into something resembling order, possibly. Certainly nothing like the riot of thunder Liam starts to feel in his chest.

He has to make an effort to breathe normally. "Thanks. I really needed it."

"Ready to work?"

"Hell yeah."

"Good."

He is tempted to dillydally but Theo holds his parfait cup and coffee hostage and refuses to surrender them until Liam at least puts his slacks back on. In ill-considered retaliation he fucks around and tries to get Theo to dress him since Theo was the one who undressed him in the first place, but Theo just raises a single arch eyebrow and eats a spoonful of Liam's parfait, wordlessly threatens to eat another one if Liam keeps it up with his foolishness.

When Nolan knocks gently on the door ten minutes later and opens it without waiting for an answer, Liam is still in his tank top but he's got his slacks on, and he and Theo are passing the small spoon back and forth, fingers touching around the parfait cup between them still only half empty.

[darker-soft-starker]

Starker High School AU, Pt. 2 (Pt. 1, Pt. 3, Pt. 4, Pt. 5)

-----

Peter will admit that during he took an extended moment during his journey home to grieve the loss of his free afternoon, and indeed the impending headaches.

And the rest of his future, if he was honest.

Not that Peter was prone to melancholy by any means, but with this assignment his fate was officially sealed, there was no misunderstanding. He was going to fail this assignment. He was going to, for the first time in his academic career, be forced to submit garbage of a caliber worthy of Tony Stark. It will forever be a black mark on his academic record.

No respectable college is going to accept him after this. In fact, he might as well drop out of school now and hit up Mr Delmar for a job. All of his prep for his MIT application is as good as useless after this. Extracurriculars? Goodbye.

Because it’s confirmed.

He’s doomed.

Swaying with the motions of the train, Peter types a text to Ned, the only person who might provide him with some much needed sympathy.

>  I’m doomed >  paired w/stark for an assignment lollllllllll.  >  help

Maybe Peter could trade with Ned. Maybe he could plead with their teacher, for honest fear of his life and scholastic integrity. He wasn’t even exaggerating. In no known iteration of this universe could Peter amicably work with Tony Stark. It would be like Harry Potter sitting down for tea with Voldemort, or Frodo and Sauron chilling with a pint and a pipe in Bag End. 

It was unthinkable. Implausible. Laughable.

And Peter would laugh, were it anyone but him in this situation.

The feeling is unusual. Never had he found reason in his life to truly dislike anybody before, everyone could be redeemed or given the opportunity for penance. Natasha has said more than once that Peter would offer the devil himself a sandwich if he appeared. 

Tony Stark on the other hand? No sandwich for him.

Well, maybe a slice of bread. A stale one.

While he waits for Ned to responds he catches sight of his injured reflection in the train window, which is admittedly pretty gnarly. Even with his hood drawn up, there was a noticeable berth allocated to him in the busy carriage between himself and the other passengers.

< sux. can I have ur lego hogwarts if u die?

> dude :( pity me.

< lol. so, can i?

Peter sighs.

> sure. Look after May for me, bro. delete my internet history.

< deal. godspeed

Pocketing his phone, Peter wonders if it’s too late to take up praying.

---

By the time he’s back in his apartment his mood has managed to swing back up.

Tony Stark is not going to be the arbiter of Peter’s fate. Hell no. He’s smart, he’s creative and hardworking - it isn’t up to anybody but Peter to determine his outcomes. If he has to do the assignment with Stark then he will. And he will work his hardest. 

If he has to do it sharing the credit with Stark, well, Peter knows a concession when he sees one.

No matter how reluctant he is.

But he powers through it, like ripping off a bandaid. It’s fine! He’s a Parker and he’s come this far in life already against ill, Parker-like odds. What was being paired for one assignment with someone who escaped the nearest hellmouth? 

It’ll be fine. 

Probably.

Not letting himself linger on his fears, Peter clears out his previous plans of going on a YouTube spiral and eating sour gummies until his teeth stick, instead utilising the time to get his foot in and and begins prepping for the assignment. Cursory, preliminary research at first, before the inevitable deep dive begins.

Neanderthal, Peter scoffs, mad all over again. Who is Stark to call Peter a neanderthal? He’s second in his class. He’s a straight A student. He likes school.

And as much as he is moderately skilled in, and enjoys JV, it’s not like he received his scholarship to study at Midtown based on his physical prowess.

The graze on his cheek that stings every time he yawns is proof of that.

Stark can eat his entire ass and choke on it, he thinks darkly, as he continues his research. He doesn’t know the first thing about Peter.

The data is sobering as he delves into job listings and statistics of his projected salary in a three year margin. This is really what his teachers earn? Wow. Depressing.

The contrast of expected salary versus the forecast of steep student loans is disheartening further still.

Teaching quietly slips from second to third on his list of ideal occupations.

Turning on a playlist on his phone, Peter continues to compile notes, amassing a truly gargantuan amount of tabs on his browser. His computer, old enough to be on its’ last teeth, whirrs loudly in protest.

It’s not until his room goes dark that he thinks to check the time.

Ah, shit. It’s nearly six.

Peter pauses. Should he tidy up the apartment?

...Nah, no point in breaking a sweat for Stark.

He continues typing. Then he hesitates, fingers suspended in mid-air. 

But what if Stark sees his unfolded laundry out on the dining table and publicly shames him for his old-but-comfortable Bulbasaur themed boxer shorts?

Goddamnit.

---

A quick, cursory clean ensues and leaves a relatively orderly Parker apartment. No freshly laundered underwear is in sight.

Peter wraps up just a few minutes before six. Right on time.

Taking a seat at the now clear dining table Peter drums his fingers on the surface and waits.

And waits.

And waits.

---

He knows when Tony finally arrives when he hears the sound of a car pulling up outside his apartment block. The riffs of a Roxette remix can be heard playing loudly  from the ground to the seventh floor of his apartment, the bass so thunderous it reverberates the windows all the way up to his floor.

Drumming his fingers on the kitchen table, Peter checks the wall clock again. It’s nearly seven.

Tony’s late.

Not that Peter is particularly affected with surprise that Tony is incapable of following basic instructions, but still. Really? Really?

By the time there is a knock on his door, Peter is already before it, his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face. Every second between Tony pulling up and his ascent to Peter’s floor has him positively fuming. He can’t believe how this day played out. It started with such promise. He had such innocuous, but high hopes.

Clearly, he miscalculated.

Feeling a touch petty, he waits to answer, listening to Stark knock a second and then a third, more insistent time before he rouses enough calm to open the door.

He instantly regrets it when he does. 

Tony’s expression is curious one as he breezes right passed Peter without waiting for further invitation. There’s a smudge of something dark on his brow, his otherwise white undershirt smeared in dark stains.

Peter watches incredulously as the other boy drops his backpack by the door with a thump.

“You’re late.”

He closes the door behind Tony and scowls at the other boys easy posture, hands shoved into his pockets, eyes taking in the apartment.

“I didn’t realise you lived all the way out in fucking Queens. Do you have any idea how bad traffic is at this time of day? Also, your elevator doesn’t work. I just climbed seven flights of stairs, where’s the hospitality?”

“Try earning it.”

The other boy rolls his eyes. “Like it’s worth my time.” He breezes past Peter and slides his leather jacket off his arms, tossing it atop of his backpack in the corner. “Look, I’m here now. Okay? You can unclench now. So, do I get a tour or what?”

“Or what. This wouldn’t have been an issue if we had just started straight after class like I said.”

“Oh I’m sorry,” Tony clutches his hands to his heart before gesturing to the room. “I didn’t realise I was interrupting your busy Friday night, Parker. You got a keg and the rest of the meatheads stashed away somewhere?”

Without waiting for a response, Tony wanders around the living room like a curious child in a new play room. His gaze inspects everything all at once, from peering at up close at the wall mounted photos and hovering his grubby hands over the oddments and knick-knacks speckled throughout the space.

Apprehensive, Peter can’t help but shadow him, afraid he just let loose a hurricane in a china shop.

Without asking, Tony picks up May’s old Magic 8-Ball and gives it a good shake. Peter’s fingers itch to reach over and stop him, but stops himself because then that would require actually making direct skin contact the other boy.

Not worth it.

“Cannot predict now. Huh,” Tony says to himself before placing the ball back in the wrong spot. 

They both watch silently as it rolls precariously close to the edge. 

“Anyways,” Tony helps himself to an armchair, lounging back and spreading his legs wide. “I know your long-term memory is probably as defective as the rest of you, so don’t strain yourself recalling that I had other priorities.”

“Like what?”

“Like literally anything that isn’t being around you,” the other boy grins. “Now, are we doing this thing, or did you invite me over so you could bitch at me?”

“I didn’t invite you,” Peter grumbles, swiping his notebook from the dining table before sitting on the sofa, as far away from Stark as possible. Shifting, he takes his phone from his pocket and opens the notes he’d taken earlier.

“So, I cross referenced some websites and current job listings,” Peter scrolls through his research, adjusting his glasses as they slip down his nose. “Assuming you have no savings, we’re looking at an average of sixty-thousand per annum based on my salary alone. The average rent in --”

“-- Uh, why are we assuming I have no savings?”

"Because... we’re being realistic?”

Tony springs to his feet and paces across the living room.

“Well,” he says, gesturing to Peter, “if we’re being realistic, does having no savings also that mean I have no debt -- or are you paying off two student loans on your salary?”

“I don’t --”

“Do we have car loans? Health insurance?”

“Wait, slow your roll, Stark. I haven’t yet --”

“-- Of course you haven’t. I mean really, Parker, do you ever think ahead? You should try it, we do have a baby on the way, you know.” Tony clicks his fingers and points at Peter. “Oh, names! I want to call it Molly.”

“As in the drug?” 

“No, as in Ringwald. Anyhoo, seeing as only one of us has the intellectual capacity to construct a budget,” Tony gestures to himself, “that would be me, consider maybe that I spent my savings paying off my student loans and bought a car for me and Miss Molly, leaving you with just your own stagnant debt. Happy?”

“Thrilled,” he says through clenched teeth, feeling utterly steamrolled. “But we’re not calling the baby Molly.”

“Yes, we are. Think of all the great nicknames. Hey wait,” Tony pauses in his pacing, “are your parents going to be home soon?”

It was in that moment Peters world narrows down to one, botched cosmic joke.

Turning his gaze heavenwards, Peter prays silently for mercy. What did he do to deserve this. This is all his bad karma come at once. This is the bad place.

“Ah, no,” he replies, eyes widening. “No, my parents are not going to be home soon.”

“Cool. Lucky you.”

Oblivious to Peter’s existential turmoil, Tony resumes his patrol through the living room, picking up a frame on the mantle. It houses an old photo of Ben, May and a young, bespectacled Peter. 

It is one of the more embarrassing immortalisations of his younger self, eleven-years old and grinning widely, bearing his silver braces to the camera as he holds up a science fair trophy, curls wild and untamed.

Oh god. That was exactly what Peter needed on this unholy day - Tony Stark in his living room, witnessing Peter in his prepubescent glory. 

Quick, create a diversion.

“So, as I was saying,” he says loudly, “rent is reasonably affordable with a sixty-thousand budget in --”

“Who’s the babe?” Tony points to a younger Aunt May in the photo.

Peter gets to his feet and removes the frame from Tony’s grasp. He glowers as he places it back on the mantle. 

“No one you would have a chance with. Can you stay focused? Like, are you physically capable of it?”

“Okay, calm down,” Tony holds his hands up in surrender. “You’ve got a lot of anger for someone so vertically challenged, you know that, shortstack?” 

“Focus, dumbass.”

“I’m focused! Let’s see, we’ve established that I am excellent at managing my money. You have a shitty job and a shitty salary, and apparently my imaginary future self has terrible taste in men. So. Have I got that right? Where are we living?”

“Queens. LIC has some one bed, one baths that could be affordable.”

“Uh, rewind. Going to have to eighty-six that - I am not living in Queens.”

Peter stares at him.

Tony rubs his hands over his face and sighs. “Fine, whatever. But I want a Pontiac Firebird in this imaginary life if I have to deal with you.”

“For someone so keen on getting away you’re doing your best to prolong this experience. It’s literally painful.”

“Well, I just like to see you get all riled up, Princess,” Tony grins, leaning back against the mantle and folding his arms over his chest. “You have this vein that bulges on your forehead when you’re mad. Makes you look like a pitbull.”

Peter swallows the particularly acidic retort sitting on his tongue and tries not to let Tony’s words sting. Be the bigger man, Ben used to say. As difficult as it is to channel even a modicum of the mans’ eternal patience, Peter takes a deep breath and reminds himself to stay focused. The less he gets sidetracked by Tony’s fuckery, the sooner it’s over.

He mentions the next part with unease. 

“...Miss Ahn said that we need references and should do field research. Speak to realtors. Ask people who have a similar lifestyle and budget.”

The look that comes over the other boys face is one of unequivocal revulsion. Peter can relate. The thought of having to spend more time with this guy makes his stomach turn.

“Well, Parker, any bright ideas who we can ask?”

The hinges of the front door squeaks before Peter can respond.

Moments after, Aunt May walks into the living room, placing her bag down on the dining table. She looks between the two boys curiously.

“Hey, Pete,” she comes to his side to squeezes his shoulder. “Who do we have here?”

Tony rushes over with his hand outstretched, an eager grin on his face. 

“Tony Stark, ma’am. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Oh, ah, okay, well,” May laughs as he enthusiastically shakes her hand. Her eyes are soft as Tony smiles brightly at her. “Nice to meet you too, Tony. I’m May, Peter’s aunt. Are you... friends with Peter?”

Peter snorts. 

“Definitely not. We just have an assignment --”

“-- Great friends, actually,” Tony talks over him, taking a seat beside Peter on the sofa. To Peter’s utter disgust, the other boy puts an arm around his shoulders, squeezing his bicep encouragingly. “Aren’t we, Pete? Hmm? Best buds. We go way back.”

Peter freezes, feeling the line of heat from Tony’s against his side, the weight of his arm on his body. 

Eyes widening, he feels his skin crawl. 

“That’s sweet,” May smiles, putting her hair up in a loose, messy bun. “Well, I don’t know about you boys, but I’m starving. I’m ordering pizza, Friday special. You should stay for dinner, Tony.”

Tony places his free hand on his chest.

“I would be honoured.”

May looks at Tony strangely before retreating to the kitchen to retrieve the menus.

As soon as she’s out of sight Tony takes his arm off Peter and quickly shifts away from him like he’s been burned. 

“Dude,” Peter whispers, bewildered. “What the fuck?”

“Oh my god,” Tony whispers, shuddering as his face scrunches up in disgust. “I’m going to have to pour scalding hot water on all the places your skin just touched me. Ugh, I feel like I just touched toe fungus.”

Peter slaps his arm.

“What is wrong with you?”

Tony backhands Peter’s arm in retaliation and then shudders all over again.

“Your aunt is crazy hot, okay, I couldn’t help myself. It was an instinctual reaction. Is she taken? C’mon. Vindicate me.” 

“I’ll eviscerate you --”

“-- I mean, clearly she married into the family, she doesn’t share your unfortunate phenotype, but I didn’t see a ring on her finger. So? Yes or no?”

“You’re unbelievable,” Peter hisses as his aunt comes back in. “She’s not available to you. Not now, not ever.”

“But she is available?”

“Don’t even, Stark. You’re like, sixteen. Don’t you have any shame?”

Tony smiles, as she nears. “Not a shred.”

“So,” May waves a menu at them. “You boys happy with pepperoni?”

Closing his eyes, Peter wishes for death.

As fate would have it, he gets pepperoni instead.

-----

If you had ever told Peter that he would be sitting down for dinner with his Aunt and a dirt-streaked Tony Stark, he would have laughed.

And if Peter were outside himself he would probably find the sharing of pizza and soda over their plastic, chequered table-cloth comical -- in that uncanny, Dogs Playing Poker kind of way. But in reality there was nothing funny about the discomfort of having Tony in his personal space or the heavy, suffocating tension that has removed the air from the room. 

The entire time Tony has been hamming it up, cracking jokes with his aunt, complimenting her on the decor, asking what she does for work. Peter doesn’t know if he’s being sweet to May for the purpose of buttering her up, or, given the wealth of his family in contrast to the Parkers, if he’s being cruelly facetious. 

Nonetheless, Peter has felt on edge. It’s disconcerting, is what it is. Every single movement Tony makes, every time he opens his mouth -- frequently to sweet-talk his aunt -- has Peter’s anxiety standing at attention, hyperaware of everything the other boy does.

He’s beginning to feel like a meerkat whose den has been invaded by a lion.

Through the course of a single meal Peter’s attention moves from the sky to the floor. There is no grace or higher power that is coming to save him from this profound, unusual torture. 

So he focuses his hopes to the south, seeing through their tiny, cramped, dinner table, past bargaining. He’s willing to trade his soul to end it all. Surely some wayward being from hell would come to his rescue. 

May has Peter’s chin between her fingers. She turns it this way and that, inspecting his injuries.

“What happened this time, bubby?” She frowns, brow furrowing. “You look like you got beat up.”

Peter, very aware of Tony’s amused gaze on them, gently pulls away from her grasp. He smiles placatingly and picks at his pizza slice. God he’s never going to live this down.

“Training accident. It’s okay, I feel fine. ‘Tis but a scratch,” he brings himself to joke.

“You sure?”

“Yep.”

She leans in to kiss his cheek, carefully avoiding the fresh scabs and injured flesh. “God, you bruise like a peach. Be careful, baby, you’re our money maker,” she laughs. “What about you Tony, do you play football?”

Tony, who is mid way through chewing on a mouthful of pizza, momentarily chokes, beating his chest with his fist to swallow down the obstruction.

“Uh, no,” Tony gulps, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Nope. No recreational sports for me. Can’t.” He gestures to his chest and sighs heavily. “Asthma.”

Peter sips his coke and rolls his eyes, knowing full well there’s a half-empty pack of Marlboro Light’s in the pocket of Tony’s jeans. Asthma. What a schmuck.

“That’s a shame. Do you boys have classes together?”

Unfortunately, Peter thinks.

The other boy seems to have the same thought, as he glares at Peter from over the table. When he picks up his can of coke, he gives Peter the finger outside of May’s eye-line.

“That’s why Tony’s here,” Peter twists his napkin in his grip. “We have an econ assignment together on microeconomics. Teach says Tony’s destined to be on welfare.”

Tony leans in, chin rested on his hand. He addresses May but his stare, dark and odious, rests on Peter.

“Not accurate. Stay-at-home parent, actually. One might say that is the most important job of all. Wouldn’t you agree, May?”

She raises her Coke.

“Hear, hear.”

Tony grins roguishly, the same grin he gave the girls at the lockers earlier. “Petey here was just saying that we should ask you about your experience running a household on a single salary. We’d love to have you as a reference.”

“Was I saying that?” Peter narrows his eyes. “I can’t remember.”

Tony kicks him under the table. The hit lands right in his knee cap.

Wincing, Peter kicks back, satisfied when the other boy bites his lip to hold back a pained groan.

“Yeah, well, not surprising,” Tony says airily, waving his hand. “Hit your head today, didn’t you? Maybe you should get all that damage looked into.”

The napkin rips in Peter’s grasp.

“Maybe you should go f--”

“I’d be more than happy to help with your assignment, boys,” May cuts in.

Whatever snide reply he has in his mouth instantly wilts when he looks over to his Aunt. She looks...pleased. Delighted, almost. Her eyes under the dull, yellow kitchen light seem to get warmer, and her smile is small but softens around the edges.

Instantly, Peter feels like the worst person in the world. Of course May would be the best person to ask. She does so much for him, the least he can do is set his pride aside for one moment to make her feel good about how hard she works for their life.

He reaches over to squeeze her hand, smiling as gratitude swells unexpectedly in his chest.

“Thanks, May. That would be great.”

Across the table, a smug Tony looks like the cat who got the cream. 

Without warning, Peter’s chest goes hot with contempt, his fingernails dig into his palm. He’s not sure he’s ever met anyone he couldn’t like, until now.

I hate you, Peter mouths while May busies herself with rounding up the pizza boxes.

Kiss my ass, Tony mouths back. 

In an instant his expression flips from contemptuous to angelic when he stands and offers to help May clean up.

Peter stands too, sparing a disdainful glance to the floor. Turns out not even the devil was willing to give him a hand.

Natasha was right. It’s going to end in murder.

---

Peter walks Tony to the door after dinner to say goodbye to his ‘friend’. Following him into the hall, Peter closes the door behind them.

“What do you want, Parker?” Tony asks wearily, retrieving a cigarette from his pocket. “I’m trying to make a getaway here.”

Peter crosses his arms over his chest. “Don’t do that with my aunt. I’m not joking, asshole. It’s not cool.”

“Relax, princess,” Tony rolls his eyes, fishing for his lighter in his backpack. “I’m not actually interested. Just trying to get under your skin. Worked, see? You’re easy like that. Hey, why do you live with your aunt anyways?”

“None of your business,” he frowns as Tony holds one hand up in surrender and lights his cigarette with the other. “Dude, you can’t smoke in here.”

“Can’t, shouldn’t, gonna. By the way, you’ve got sauce on your chin, it’s very distracting.”

Peter wipes at it without thinking. When he pulls it away there is indeed a smear of red sauce on his hand.

Tony walks backwards down the hall and exhales a cloud of smoke, waving in a sardonic imitation of a farewell.

“See you Monday, bubby.”

Peter doesn’t bother with a response, too tired from the week, exhausted by this whole darn day, and it’s not like the other boy cares what he has to say anyway. He takes a moment to swallow his anger before he heads back inside, sighing. 

Well, at least he has an entire weekend free of Stark to look forward to.

May looks at him curiously when he reemerges, but says nothing. He considers for a moment about heading to his bedroom and playing a video game to disassociate - but then, suddenly, remembers her smile earlier, and how alone she looks now. A surge of affection hits him right beneath his breastbone.

He checks his watch and then catches her eye.  Tilting his head towards the living room, he says, “Hey. You wanna eat some ice cream and watch some Colbert before bed?”

She smiles just like she did earlier and kisses his cheek. “Sounds nice, Pete.”

Maybe the whole day wasn’t lost.

As May heads to the sofa and switches the TV on, Peter catches sight of the Magic 8-Ball from the corner of his eye. He walks over and gives it a shake.

Outlook good.

*

*

----

tagging: @bylerboyfriends @ravens-starker-stuff, @starker-rays, @ironspiderstarker, @notfor-temporaryuse, @tabbycat1220, @sugarfreecult, @rebel13lion39, @muse-of-gods

[glimmerglanger]

So I’ve been plagued by this since I read mirror AU. For your spice week, how would you feel about obikin sex with an audience? Can be purely for pleasure or a ritual thing or an accident, but like, thinking of Anakin staking a claim in front of Cody in agaptfaa may have awoken something in me? Ditto prime Anakin and mirror Anakin with either Obi-Wan. I know Obes would think it riduculous/primitive but maybe find it hot anyway?

Anonymous said:

hmm this isn’t particularly spicy on its own but it can be added to a spicy september fic? like ur prompts are the ice cream and this ask is the extra toppings haha. but like obi wan’s pale skin being marked up with finger shaped bruises and hickeys and his own flush? bonus points if he’s ‘pleasantly sore’ 🥺

Mmmmm, I like these ideas very, very much! I went with ritual sex with an audience because I’m legitimately so, so weak for that. Marking ended up fitting in very well with this particular plot bunny. Hey, if we’re staking a claim…. No reason for half measures. Established relationship set during the Clone Wars (close to the end, with Anakin’s mental state being frayed).

This is NOT SAFE FOR WIZARDS. No real warnings beyond that. We’ve wrapped up Spicy September Week with this fic! I hope you all enjoyed it! Thanks for all the wonderful prompts! I’ll be posting all the fics over on ao3 to make sure they don’t get lost etc. Hope everyone has a great rest of the week, time for me to get back to prepping for Whumptober!

~~~~~~~

They landed on Tuls on a clear, cool morning, with frost across the ground. Technically, Anakin wasn’t even supposed to be on the mission, but he’d been working with the 212th when Obi-Wan’s orders came through and…

Well. They’d had enough things go wrong for Jedi sent on solo missions from the Senate. He’d decided he ought to tag along, and Obi-Wan hadn’t protested. They’d even had some time to sleep, on the flight to Tuls. Anakin had hoped they might have time for a bit more than sleep, but Obi-Wan had still been recovering from...whatever the kriff had happened to him over Raydonia.

Anakin took one look at the fading bruises all down his ribs, and lost the urge to press the issue. It was more than enough to hold Obi-Wan close while they slept, to pour healing energy down into his skin, hoping to ease as much of the damage as he could.

By the time they arrived on Tuls, most of the marks had faded away. Obi-Wan had stretched that morning, when he woke, and looked down at his side with a surprise written all over his expression. “Feeling better?” Anakin had asked, dropping a kiss against his ribs, and Obi-Wan had smiled at him, looking soft and still mussed from sleep.

But that had been earlier, when it was just them. Obi-Wan looked nothing but professional as they set foot on Tuls soil, met by an entire delegation of tired, stooped humanoids, who looked at them and said, “Thank goodness you have finally arrived, Jedi. There is no longer much time.”

#

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan said, after the Tuls delegation had hurried them along, out of the cold and into a finally appointed meeting chamber. There was a fire crackling in a large hearth along one wall, which was a relief. There was a bitter chill in the air, which seemed odd. Anakin was almost sure Obi-Wan had said that it was supposed to be late spring on the planet. “I was not informed we were on a time-table, but you mentioned--”

“We are very late to bring the spring,” an older man said, rising heavily from a chair by the fire. He was solidly built - Anakin guessed he’d probably been all muscle, once. Time had added a healthy girth around his waist. He wore a crown of dark stone cut through with pale lines.

Obi-Wan glanced at Anakin, and Anakin shrugged. Obi-Wan looked back at the man and said, “And you… require our help, to bring the spring?”

The man nodded. He said, “Forgive my manners. I am King Urtus. And, yes. We need your help, specifically, Master Jedi.” Anakin could feel the relief radiating off of all of these people, even as their leader spoke.

“Ah,” Obi-Wan said, shifting around, loosening his shoulders in a little movement that Anakin wasn’t sure anyone else would identify as the first step towards a fight. “May I ask why? I’ve not heard of such assistance being required before.”

Urtus grimaced, looked to the side, and spat into the fire. “We did not need outside assistance. Not before the Separatist attacked us. The Keeper of Seasons was killed in the attack. Her apprentice…” He gestured to a boy standing to one side; the kid looked to be in his early teens. “Is not yet of age to bring the spring.”

“I think…” Obi-Wan said, as a creeping feeling ran down Anakin’s back, “that you ought to tell us, exactly, how one brings the spring, here on Tuls.”

#

“Are you serious?” Anakin said, after Urtus finished explaining exactly what it was they wanted Obi-Wan to do. He felt a prickle across his shoulders as everyone in the room turned to look at him, including Obi-Wan, who raised an eyebrow for good measure.

“We are quite serious,” Urtus said, as though he had not just suggested that - that Obi-Wan come down to some - some kind of ritual chamber and take off all his clothes and--

“Getting kr -- engaging in intercourse doesn’t make the seasons change,” Anakin said, feeling his cheeks getting far too warm. He, abruptly, didn’t like the way any of the people in the room were looking at Obi-Wan.

Urtus shrugged. “It ever has on Tuls,” he said. 

Anakin looked at Obi-Wan, hoping for support on how mad the entire suggestion was. He got a shrug, instead, and a thoughtful look, as Obi-Wan said, “I can feel the Force flowing through the core of this world. It is possible the seasons have become tied to… rituals, of a sort. And carnal relations are often tied to the advent of spring.”

Sometimes Anakin wanted to shake him. Not everything had to be a science project.

Urtus cleared his throat, before Anakin could point out that now was not the time to get curious about the ecosystem of some new world. “Please,” Urtus said. “It should be nearly summer now. We beg for your assistance with this matter.”

“Why does this have to be Obi-Wan?” Anakin asked, shifting to put himself between them and Obi-Wan, just in case they got grabby.

“We can feel his connection to the Force,” Urtus said, straightening and meeting Anakin’s gaze for the first time. “The planet responds to him, already.” Anakin figured he’d have to take Urtus’ word for that.

And Anakin knew damn well there was no way Obi-Wan was actually going to decline. He’d be full of concern about the fate of the planet and the safety of these people and if it meant him getting fucked on an altar to set things to rights, then so be it. So, it wasn’t much of a surprise when Obi-Wan said, “Of course, I will assist in any way I can.”

Urtus sagged with relief. Anakin felt the emotion vibrating through the rest of the crowd, and fine, he supposed they could make this work. He could help and they’d just get this over with, and-- Urtus said, “We will prepare you and arrange the melee immediately, then.”

The back of Anakin’s neck prickled, even as Obi-Wan asked, “Melee?”

Urtus nodded. “Indeed. To determine who shall have the right to assist you. So you may remove winter’s veil and bring the spring.”

Anakin tightened his grip on Obi-Wan’s arm; he felt Obi-Wan’s emotions shift, some hint of worry entering his feelings for the first time. None of it came through in Obi-Wan’s tone when he said, “Surely, I select who has the...right?”

Urtus shook his heavy head, making a deep humming sound. “No. It must be whoever is touched most deeply by winter, as decided by the Force,” he said, “it has ever been thus.”

Anakin looked over the crowd in the room. He really disliked the way they were eying Obi-Wan, and wondered, if he picked Obi-Wan up and bolted, what his odds were of getting to the ship. Probably not high, if Obi-Wan decided to fight him. Which he almost certainly would.

Anakin blew out a breath, instead, and said, “Is anyone allowed to join this melee, then?” Because, kriff, if it was a fight they wanted… Well. He was more than happy to give it to them.

# 

In the end, the Tuls were agreeable to the idea of Anakin joining the melee. He had no idea what they meant by ‘touched by winter’ and he didn’t really care. He was taken to a chamber to prepare with all the rest of the entrants, while Obi-Wan was spirited off elsewhere. They were only to use weapons with blunted edges, apparently, but that was fine. Anakin had long ago learned how to fight with whatever was to hand.

He cracked his neck side to side, selected a weapon that fitted his hand, and waited, ignoring the chatter around the rest of the room.

It seemed to take an age and a half before the doors were opened again and they were led out, across a frozen expanse of ground, and into a small entryway, directly into the earth. It was dark inside, and warmer. There were steps, leading down, and Anakin followed the figure in front of him, flexing his fingers in and out until they, finally, reached the bottom.

They were… in a large, open space, ringed with seats stretching upward, many of them filled. The walls glowed, faintly. Anakin barely noticed any of that, because, in the center of the… well, the arena, there was a familiar figure.

Someone had taken Obi-Wan’s tunics and left him wearing…pieces of white fabric, tied in bands around his body. His eyes and mouth were both wrapped. There were more bindings around his arms and hands. He was standing in front of a tall lump of stone. Anakin assumed, with a hot lurch of his gut, that this was the altar.

Which meant the Tuls fully expected someone to fuck Obi-Wan right there in the center of this arena and, well. There was no way Anakin was going to let anyone else touch him. He took a breath, adjusted his grip on his weapon, and waited while Urtus made some kind of speech that he didn’t care about.

He shifted his weight from foot to foot, waiting for the moment when the melee started, and then springing into action. The Tuls were determined, he had to give them that. And they seemed to have decided that they didn’t actually care who won the right, as long as it wasn’t him.

They swarmed him, and Anakin snarled. Even with numbers, they were not a match, and he knew it. They had not a fraction of the practice and experience he’d gained, and he knocked them aside, one after another.

One almost cracked him over the back of the head with a cudgel, only to slip on nothing a moment before the blow could land, falling into one of his fellows, instead, and Anakin half-laughed at the feeling of Obi-Wan’s presence against his skin.

The Tuls woman in front of him balked at his laughter, and Anakin took the opportunity to elbow her in the gut, listening to the sound she made as she folded up, flinging himself back into the fight. There was no real strategy to it, it was nothing but a brawl, fierce and vicious, devolving, finally, into a bare knuckled scrap between the last contenders.

Anakin had something of an advantage in that area, and grinned fiercely at the sound his fist made hitting the jaw of the last Tuls standing between him and Obi-Wan. The man had a half a head of height on Anakin, but went over backwards with a satisfying thump.

Anakin stood, for a moment, in the midst of the groaning fallen, breathing hard. His clothes were torn and bloody, he noted. He throbbed from a dozen different places, wounds aching. He tasted copper on his tongue and turned his head to the side, spitting, even as drums started around the room.

He distantly remembered being told about the drums, and grinned, because they meant he’d won.

He met Urtus’ eyes across the arena, nodded, and stalked towards the center of the space. Obi-Wan hadn’t moved, standing there still as a statue. There were, Anakin noticed, as he got closer, clothes wrapped around his knees and ankles, too. His feet were bare on the stone and there were strange tendrils of light winding away from him, out through the stone.

Anakin decided he didn’t care about the light, right at that moment. His blood burned in his veins, his gut full of fire from the battle. He was already hard, when he stopped in front of Obi-Wan and reached out, grabbing the wrap around his eyes and pulling it away.

Obi-Wan blinked open his eyes, so clear and blue, and did not look surprised to find Anakin before him. Anakin grabbed the wrap over his mouth, hoping he was doing an adequate job removing winter’s veil, and Obi-Wan said, quietly, something tense in his expression, just for a moment, “I knew it would be you.”

Anakin shivered and could not stop himself from sliding a hand back into Obi-Wan’s hair and leaning closer, kissing his mouth, aware he was leaving smears of blood behind and - and liking it, liking the way it marked Obi-Wan’s clean, perfect skin. “I think I had some help,” he murmured, against Obi-Wan���s mouth, and felt Obi-Wan smile.

“Maybe a little,” Obi-Wan agreed, and Anakin kissed him again, pleased to know it had been him Obi-Wan wanted with him, here in the middle of an arena, here at this crude altar.

It made his pulse beat faster, instructions for what he was supposed to do jumbling together in his head. The Tuls had been specific about some things, but it was hard to focus on what they’d wanted. He’d needed to - to take Obi-Wan out of these bindings, definitely. 

Anakin could do that, He kept one hand in Obi-Wan’s hair, aware of all the eyes on them. He expected a prickle of anxiety across his nerves, he even anticipated, in a flash of worry, that he would not be able to maintain his current state of interest, not while knowing so many people were watching.

But these people had thought they could have Obi-Wan. Thought they could just use him for their ritual. And he, abruptly, quite liked the idea of showing them all just how wrong they were. He slid his mouth to Obi-Wan’s neck, nipping at the skin and then sucking, hearing Obi-Wan make a loud, surprised sound.

He slid his other hand down, tearing at the white wrappings, careless and rough. He just wanted them off. 

“The altar,” Obi-Wan ground out, his hands freed to come up, to grip at Anakin, pulling him closer. “We need to--the stone is Force-reactive, we need to be on--”

Anakin got the idea. The altar was the size of a large table, rising directly out of the floor. It came up to his thighs, he noted, even as he pulled the last of the wrappings away, grabbed Obi-Wan’s thighs, and lifted him. 

The stone lit up beneath Obi-Wan, when Anakin turned and put him down on the altar. Veins of color shot through it, so bright they were almost blinding. A murmur went up through the crowd, relief and joy, but Anakin barely noted it. 

Obi-Wan lit up, as well, and that was far more interesting. Trails of light stretched under his skin, glowing. He looked like something out of a dream, something magical. But then, he always had. Anakin groaned and crawled onto the altar, falling forward to kiss him, hands all over his skin, warm and soft and perfect.

He left behind smears of blood, marks that showed where he’d touched, and groaned at the sight of it. Everyone on Tuls had wanted Obi-Wan, but he was the only one who got to have this, the only one who got to touch, and he wanted, suddenly and fiercely, for them all to know it.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan panted, tugging at the closures on Anakin’s tunics. They were hanging off of him already, and Anakin yanked the outer tunic off, tossing it aside. He cared little about the under tunic; it wasn’t in his way. He slid a hand down, curled his fingers around Obi-Wan’s cock, and watched the light beneath him shift, spreading away from the altar, out across the arena.

Obi-Wan’s hands clenched at his belt. He made a sound, thick and pleasure-drunk, as Anakin stroked him, setting a fast, brutal pace. He had not patience within him, at the moment, he just wanted. Wanted to watch Obi-Wan’s eyes flutter, wanted everyone in the arena to see what he got to do.

He bent forward, kissing Obi-Wan deep and filthy, the drums pounding around them, almost drowning out the sound Obi-Wan made when he spilled all over Anakin’s fingers. 

“Force,” Obi-Wan panted, and Anakin grinned, rubbing his fingers together and considering. They’d not given him anything to ease the way. He shrugged, decided to make do, and slid his fingers back, between Obi-Wan’s legs.

He found Obi-Wan slick already, slick enough to slide two fingers in at once, and the revelation punched a groan out of him. “I thought,” Obi-wan gasped, deliciously flushed and glowing, “I’d better, ah, be ready.”

Anakin nodded. He felt quite beyond words, aching with so much want it felt hard to think. He wanted, so badly, to stretch out over Obi-Wan like this, to touch his glowing skin and let all the Tuls see how good he could make Obi-Wan feel, show them his beauty, the light of him--

The Tuls had warned them both that they might be...affected by the ritual. Anakin was willing to blame the hot jump of his pulse on whatever the kriff the Force was currently doing, whatever was making Obi-Wan light up, the glow off of his skin chasing away all the shadows in Anakin’s head, leaving him… singularly focused.

The urge to make everyone see swallowed him. Anakin took another kiss, hard, and then rocked onto his heels, batting Obi-Wan’s hands away - he’d gotten Anakin’s slacks open, that was more than good enough - and gripped at Obi-Wan’s hip.

Obi-Wan made a thick sound, surprised, when Anakin dragged his fingers out. His gasped beautifully, his skin all aglow, brighter spots of light at his freckles. Anakin ran a hand over his chest, awed, and then settled his hands, pulling Obi-Wan’s hips just so, gripping tight.

He heard the sound Obi-Wan made over the drums when he pushed in. Around them, the light started picking up colors, purples and pinks and blues, greens, spreading around the room, spreading across Obi-Wan’s skin, like an aurora, a celestial event, right in front of him.

Anakin jolted at the feeling of being in him. It was always amazing; he could have happily fucked Obi-Wan for the rest of his life, but-- Sinking into him on the altar felt like something else, the sensation spreading out to each nerve, clearing his head, leaving nothing but want and need and desire behind.

Anakin needed to fuck him, needed to drive into him, needing to make him gasp and cry out. Anakin gripped him, hard, keeping a hold on him, knowing he was leaving marks behind and - and liking it. He wanted marks, his marks, all over Obi-Wan’s skin, wanted everyone on Tuls and all the other worlds in the galaxy to know that Obi-Wan was--

Obi-Wan’s trembled, light spreading out from him, through the stone, the colors getting brighter, sharper. And Anakin wanted everyone to see, deeply. Force, he loved the way Obi-Wan looked when he was getting fucked, loved the way Obi-Wan’s mouth got soft, the way he flushed all across his cheeks and down his throat.

Every inch of him was beautiful, and Anakin groaned, driving into him as the light curled and flowed around them. He wished he had another hand, to curl around Obi-Wan’s cock, and in that moment saw no reason not to utilize the Force.

Obi-Wan jerked, full-bodied, when Anakin curled tendrils of the Force against his skin, pressure and sensation. Anakin thought he heard his name - it was hard to tell, the drums had gotten louder and his blood was pounding in his ears - and he took it as encouragement.

It felt like encouragement, through Obi-Wan’s emotions, overspilling into Anakin’s head.

He touched and touched and groaned when he felt Obi-Wan quake, come spilling across their skin and the altar and--and something shifted in the air around them, in the presence of the Force through the room. Anakin felt like lightning grounded down through his spine, pleasure and primal want swimming up through him.

He lost himself, for a moment, aware of nothing but pleasure, but needing to fuck into Obi-Wan, desperately, but the sheer joy of spilling within him. Anakin groaned, cock pulsing, and slumped forward, over Obi-Wan’s glowing form.

He held Obi-Wan - almost limp - and buried his face against Obi-Wan’s throat. He sucked hungry kisses against the skin, wanting to leave more marks, wanting to stain the pale flesh, wanting to leave no room for doubt that Obi-Wan was--

Was breathing shakily, trembles moving through him.

Anakin swallowed, hard, wrestling back control of all his riotous wants. He was aware, distantly, of cheering and the brilliant lights filling the chamber. But that all felt far away as he stroked a hand comfortingly across Obi-Wan’s stomach, pressing softer kisses to his skin, and holding him, there on the altar.

He managed to ask, as he got his breath back, “You think that did it?”

Obi-Wan laughed, tilting his head further to the side in what Anakin took as an invitation, and said, “Darling, you may have overshot us right into summer.”

[invisibleinorange]

Swelter Weather

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Bridgerton Rating: M Warnings: None at this point. Relationships: Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington,  Eloise Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington(besties),  Bridgerton Family Dynamics, Eloise Bridgerton/Phillip Crane Characters: Colin Bridgerton,  Penelope Featherington, Eloise Bridgerton, Anthony Featherington,  Benedict Bridgerton,  Portia Featherington, Violet Bridgerton, Genevieve Delacroix Additional Tags:  Bridgerton, Polin

Summary: Colin Bridgerton is weary from travel and decides to spend the summer at the Aubrey Hall. While his initial plans were to avoid his perfect family, he ends up sharing the house with Eloise and Penelope. This is a Modern AU!

Additional Notes:  I still have plenty to write for my other series  but this is the first chapter in the Modern! AU which demanded release today.

There was something about the sweet freedom of being away from the crowded streets of London that Colin loved.  While he wasn’t quite ready for another adventure around the world, he did didn’t particularly care to spend the summer in his bachelor flat alone or at the family home surrounded by his perfect and over achieving siblings with their perfect marriages and lives.  Instead he opted to head to the family summer home in the countryside and it was everything he wanted.

He had fond memories of his childhood here.  Life was far less complicated when he and his siblings had been on fairly even footing.  There was nothing to worry about how they were going to spend their afternoons – hikes, swimming or even the occasional croquet battle.   No one had the same leisure between careers, families or school.

He had spent the last several weeks savoring his solitude and the quiet of Aubrey Hall. There were no schedules, no commitments and most importantly not a single person to bother her outside of the occasion phone call or text from a member of his family. If they were being especially annoying, he would turn it to silence and send them to voicemail until he would inevitable cave and respond because he did actually care about what was going on in their lives.

After a late night of eating takeout and watching a movie on Netflix, he had decided to simply not set an alarm clock for the next day. No one was going to complain about him sleeping in, so he did so. By the time he decided to move from his bed, the sun was already up the sky.  He wouldn’t have forced himself up then if it weren’t for the persistent growl of his stomach demanding his attention.  That was nothing new though. He was always hungry.

He pushed himself up from the comfort of his bed, padding his way down to the kitchen.   If his family had been there, he would have had to make some effort at making himself presentable but by having the house to himself, he could do as he pleased and that included going straight from bed to the kitchen.

He grabbed a frying pan and put on a couple of eggs before popping some bread in a toaster.  He hummed absently to himself as he moved back to the pan, working on properly scrambling his eggs.  He couldn’t quite remember the song but it was probably something he’d heard during his last stint in London at some social engagement or another.

“Colin,”  a voice came from behind, making him nearly jump in surprise at the sudden invasion of privacy.  He spun prepared to fight off the offender with a specula despite the fact he knew the voice belonged to Eloise.

He very quickly remembered his state of undress when he caught sight of not only his younger sister but also Penelope.  His eyes widened slightly and he froze, his face growing red with embarrassment. 

Penelope wasn’t any less pink. Their eyes met and then quirkly averted.  While he quite enjoyed the company of his sister’s best friend this was probably not something that would be on their topics of conversation.  He mentally cursed as his mind processed that over the years, he’d randomly had less than innocent dreams about the girl and a few of them started with happenstance just like this but Eloise was never part of them.  Now was not the time to let his mind linger to far there.  He decided to focus on the Eloise part.  His sister was a safe person to focus on.

Speaking of which, Eloise seemed to be the only person capable of taking action. She covered her own eyes, making a face that made it known that the whole situation was the stuff of terrors before blindly reaching for an apron that hung unused, extending it to her brother.

“Christ,” she muttered. “Cover yourself.”

Colin for his part did use it to cover his front not that the damage wasn’t already done. There was literally no way to escape the situation unscathed and he had no doubt his entire family would know about it by the end of the day. He really needed to go put on some actual clothing but first, well he felt like throwing an absolute hissy fit about the fact Eloise thought she could just show up unannounced.

“Did you think to maybe call before just showing up?

“It’s the family home. I don’t need your permission to show up. Besides, what kind of deviant runs around in the nude?  We need to sanitize the entire house now.”

“People who think they have the place to themselves,” he gruffed.

It was Penelope who came out of her shellshock enough to point toward the forgotten frying pan. “Uh, I think your eggs are burning,” she managed, though honestly it was any wonder the words came out in order.

“Shit,”  Colin murmured starting to turn back to the stove but it was Eloise who stopped him mid-spin.

“No,” Eloise said, reaching for the spatula and taking over the egg prep.  “We’ll finish this. You go find some pants for fuck’s sake. Penelope doesn’t want to see your ass. Right, Pen?”

Penelope was noticeably quiet for a long moment but to her credit she did nod at what Eloise was suggesting. It was probably for the best if he did find clothing. Colin decided to save Penelope (and his sister) from further embarrassment.  He moved past, trying to get to the door. He paused and did a little spin trying to keep some modesty not that there were any mysteries to be had at this point.

“Yes, wouldn’t want to traumatize her like that,” he said toward his sister before nodding, smiling cheekily toward her counterpart.  “Honestly, you can stay but  Eloise is ruining the fun. Try and ditch her before I come back, yeah?”

“I resent that,” he heard Eloise complaining after he left the room.

--

Penelope hadn’t been able to bear the thought of another summer locked away with her miserable family so when Eloise had offered the concept of a girl trip to the Aubrey Hall she’d eagerly accepted. It was only half way through the drive that the other girl had mentioned that they’d have to share the house with her brother.

The mere mention of Colin was enough to make Penelope’s heart skip a beat. She had a crush on him for more years than she could count anymore but he’d never given her any indication that he considered her more than a friend.  He was quite charming though and he was always kind.  When he would come home from jet setting around the world, he always made time to chat or dance with her.

It did very little to discourage the crush.

She had thought that with time and distance it would fade but all it took was a mention or a sighting for the whole dreadful thing to come racing back.  How Eloise wasn’t aware of the crush at this point was beyond her but since it was a relatively mute point he didn’t push it. She and Colin were friends but that was all they would ever be.

The last thing she’d expected upon arrival was for her eyes to be assaulted by full-frontal Colin. It wasn’t something she’d be forgetting anytime soon either.

“I’m sorry about that, Pen!” Eloise told her after a moment as she trashed the now slightly burnt eggs and decisively started over making enough to where they could all eat. It had been a long trip after all. “This stuff happens when you have brothers. At least he was alone not that it makes it any less gross.”

Penelope didn’t want to even think about that him having someone else there.  She nodded though. Eloise did have a point that she could only assume was accurate. She’d never had brothers of her own but she’d heard enough complaints about the Bridgerton Boys that she felt as if the mental picture was accurate.

“It wasn’t that gross,” Pen said after a long minute. “I mean, objectively Colin isn’t hard on the eyes.”

“Well he’s not your brother,” Eloise said making a face that made it pretty clear that she wasn’t interested in hearing how objectively not unattractive her best friend thought her brother was.  Maybe she didn’t know how far back it went and she wasn’t really aiming to ask questions about it but she was aware that Penelope had been into him at points.  She was also fairly sure at points her brother had probably been into her friend as well.  Nothing had come of it though and she definitely wasn’t going to try and encourage it lest it all go horribly bad.

Penelope didn’t push it for her part.

They began to work in silence creating a veritable breakfast feast for three and by the time Colin rejoined them wearing shorts a t-shirt they already had the plates made and juice poured.

“Well you might have invaded my very intimate breakfast this morning but I suppose I can forgive you for being angels who cook,” he said as she moved to take a seat at the table that was far too big for just three.  He did pause long enough to ruffle Eloise’s hair to mess with her before sitting in the end spot between the two girls.

“Someone has to be angelic when you’re clearly Satan incarnate,” Eloise responded stabbing a fork into her eggs and taking a bite.

“Only some of the time,” Colin confessed, laughing as he began to pick away at his plate. He offered a light smile toward their guest.  “Let’s be real, Pen is the only angel at this table. Us Bridgerton come from a long line of demons.”

Eloise made a fake gagging noise at that.

“That actually explains a lot,”  Penelope said after a long moment.

That managed to grab both of their attention, waiting to hear what she might have to say about demons and Bridgerton family members.

“I honestly believe you could be an incubus,” she said after a long moment, eyes directed toward Colin.

Colin nearly choked on a sausage at that, he recovered quickly though and fell into a fit on laughter.  Penelope always had been witty and the fact that she thought that he could be the incubus of the family was laughable. He wasn’t the person that most people thought him to be.  Of course, he was charming and could flirt with anyone but that didn’t mean he actually got anywhere. He couldn’t very well have his older brothers judging him for that though so he let people believe what they wanted to and didn’t go out of his way to correct them.

“You can’t just go around telling people that I’m a sex demon, Pen,” he said conspiratorially barely able to keep a straight face. “I mean, what I do in your dreams is between me and you.  Not everyone gets to survive with their soul intact.”

“You better not be doing anything to her in her dreams or your own,” Eloise said, kicking him in the shin. “My friend is off-limits.”

Colin frowned, reaching down to rub his shin.  He wanted to tell Eloise to mind her own business but before he could Penelope seemed to take it upon herself to handle that.

“Little late for that,” Penelope said knowing that by saying so she was declaring sides in this sibling battle.  Colin couldn’t be more smug about it either. Eloise looked as if she could kill them both.

“I’ll try to behave moving forward but I do hope it was as good for you as it was good for me,”  he said, though from the shit-eating grin on his face it was pretty clear that he wasn’t sorry at all.  Especially when his gaze moved from Penelope back to Eloise.  “Sorry El, I couldn’t help myself.”

“Of course not,”  Eloise said, shaking her head.

If this was how the summer was going to go, it was going to be a long one.

[jusky]

Well Adam, I talked with my mom last night for two hours and things were calmer and I’m feeling slight optimistim. Everything personal and moral aside, my mom's worried about me detransitioning + health effects. I guess at the heart of the matter I know this is the right choice for this moment and regardless of regret, I’m currently digging myself out of a number of ruts I’ve been trapped in. Dude! I hate feeling like a shitty kid. How do you deal with feeling like a shitty kid.

maybe i’ll just answer this one and not your multi-part background and question that i’ve been thinking about since you sent it. for everyone else, sorry you won’t have all the facts but i wasn’t sure how to post the multiple messages and i think you’ll do fine with context clues and general vibe if you even choose to read all of what i’m about to say which let’s be honest you probably won’t. anyway...

you’ll get out of those ruts. you’re going to be fine. and obviously like first off you’re not a shitty kid at all no matter how much it sometimes feels that way. like, i think your concern for them is a clear sign of that. but your bravery with respect to embracing your truth despite the difficulties and your willingness to be concerned about yourself if you visit these parents who might not be able to be supportive in the way you need right now is not being a bad kid--it’s being the kind of person every parent should hope they can raise.

to be honest i have a lot of thoughts on this subject. i’m not big on the idea that we inherently owe our parents all that much. i didn’t ask to be born and wtf for a lot of the years i knew my parents, especially early on, i was just a fucking kid! like the weight of responsibility and what is required of us isn’t automatic. a lot of parents in this world deserve absolutely nothing from their kids. obviously a lot of parents were like constant miracles who are rightfully held by their kids as like givers of something that can never be fully appreciated or paid back. but like it’s important to embrace the specifics of your own relationships. i think that there’s a way in which parent and kid, like, become funny labels and roles and like archetypes that haunt us and that rather than clarify can sort of confuse our perceptions about what we owe each other. sometimes growing up my father would be angry with me and talk about how i had like wronged “the family” and i would be so frustrated. oh is the family mad? ask the family to explain then. because don’t you mean you? or do you mean him or her? like in a way there’s no family, just us. people who can speak for themselves and have various and nuanced senses of what we want and need from each other. i just think the experience of feeling like a shitty kid is sometimes tied up in a framework in which you don’t get to be an equal party or like treated as someone who has the right to control their own life,

i guess this is what i’d say about being the bad kid. i’ve played that part. and i have felt bad about being the bad kid, too. to various degrees of intensity on both fronts at various times over the years. much of that experience is about how i have had a pretty major divide in outlook and expectations and many other things with my dad and stepmom. for so many years i had this deep sense of conflict with them. growing up i felt like i was always the bad kid and that i couldn’t ever fully be myself at all with them and that when they were involved in my life i had to be on guard and that i’d never feel like just being myself was safe. and when i grew up i didn’t like that experience and eventually we stopped talking for like a decade. i just kind of went off grid on them. 

now today we can talk and we can visit. and i can totally feel like myself around them. 

am i still sort of the bad kid? yes, definitely, but it’s kind of ok in my heart and fine ultimately. 

really for me i had to accept that i had to put my own oxygen mask on first, no matter how mad anybody was going to get at me. and then in those years of silence a funny thing happened. i think i began to feel solid enough in myself that there didn’t seem much threat from them anymore? and i think they kind of were humbled by the sense that i wasn’t a sure thing and that they’d rather have the bad kid than no kid. so like yes a shift in power happened for sure but it was also a softening and a kind of acceptance i never expected.

growing up i always had these imaginary battles and arguments and like imaginary trials in my head as if i was prepping for some vague future day where my dad and i would argue it all out ultimately and i’d show him he was wrong and do so so decisively that he’d believe what i believed and change things and everything would be fixed. 

needless to say that’s not how it worked out. instead we never fixed it really. we never sorted out who was ultimately right or wrong along the way. but you know what? it’s still fine. we can still hang out. we can still be a family. i don’t have to watch fox news with him and he doesn’t have to like my choices. there’s still plenty there that’s good. imperfect is fine. even fucked up is fine as long as it’s not hurting you. 

when you feel like a bad kid that’s the pain/worry of disappointing people you don’t want to disappoint. and that feeling can keep certain selfish or shitty impulses in check i think. 

but also the truth about being a real person, an adult who has to take care of themselves and navigate a tricky world, is sometimes you do have to disappoint people. it’s often the healthy and responsible thing to do. and parents--even disappointed parents--would do well to really see what’s happening in those moments so that they realize they’re not dealing with a bad kid, they’re dealing with an adult who is doing what needs to be done. it may be disappointing but it’s not unfair. 

i think you look out for your parents as best you can but you should make sure to look out for yourself even more sometimes. you seek love, health, and reciprocity. you try to proceed with a sense of both care and integrity. 

but mostly forget the guilt. guilt is very limited in terms of how informative it is. as kafka teaches us so decisively, you don’t even need a reason to feel guilty. you often just feel guilt and then start searching for reasons. that’s not where to put your energy with respect to your parents.

i have no idea if anybody else can follow this since i didn’t post the whole initial backstory but i’m really just trying to talk to you and be encouraging. i’m proud of you based on everything i’ve heard and i deeply relate to some of what you’ve said about your parents. it sounds like there might be some good signs now and i’m so glad to hear that.

embrace what’s positive and healthy from them and calmly reject everything else with as much kind patience as the situation allows, but also here’s a tip: reject the unhealthy stuff with a this-is-already-decided vibe, a strictly personal firmness that is declaratory rather than accusatory, you want to say stuff that’s more like “i am not willing to discuss this. i told you i am not comfortable discussing this and i expect that decision to respected.”  rather than like “you always do this” “please stop criticizing me!” or like just generally defending decisions or perceptions you have that aren’t actually up for debate. you get to set those boundaries and that really is that. you get set those lines and not tolerate them being ignored or blurred. you just have to be consistent and clear.

anyway i guess i’m saying to just trust your instincts about the visit, like either way. and just speak clearly about what you won’t be accepting from them because you do get to make sure you’re feeling ok. know what i mean? you’re strong and articulate and their worries will ultimately be calmed by the reality of the future you’re heading into. and i’m sure that beneath the stuff they bring to the table that feels unhelpful they must have a sense of the truth about you. their fears aren’t the reality and you may have to help them see reality by not letting them treat their fears as if they’re real and by i guess just fucking letting them see that the very same poise and sense of self that you possess as you make tough decisions and as you’re communicating with them is going to be exactly what you use to move forward and navigate your future--a future which will demonstrate that they didn’t need to be so afraid all along.

god i hope some of that is helpful or at least maybe makes some sense. please do get at me if you want to talk more about any of this.

[imagine-organization-xiii]

Org XII reacting to s/o wanting to peg them and vise versa maybe as well. Male and or female s/o no pref.

The Xaldin one was written a long time ago because Sam and I both agreed that Xaldin needs to be pegged, but Sam just recently got into a writing mood and decided to finish up these prompts. Give her a big round of applause and get ready for a wild ride - Warning for NSFW

EDIT: @imgonnachangeit - we left out all of the babies from this one, including Zexion. Sorry about the confusion!

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Xemnas

Xemnas would think you’re joking at first, and while he usually isn’t one for humor, would probably give you a deep rumbling chuckle. “It’s amusing to even think-- err- what? You were serious? Hm.”  Upon realizing your request was not a joke, he would actually give it some thought.

At first he probably would not be interested, not because he was afraid, but because Xemnas is not one to give up the control he has. And Pegging would require a lot of trust that, honestly, would be very difficult for him to relinquish. But, with time and a LOT of deep conversation, he might just give in and let you try. (and he MIGHT just like it more than he bargained for)

Xigbar

Xigbar is a man of dubious doings. He usually is up for just about anything. And when you bring up pegging him, he is down. He’s eager. Almost too eager. That man loves anything that can get him off and the power of a prostate orgasm is just too much temptation.

He immediately asks when you plan to do this and if the event isn’t soon enough he’s going to push it sooner. And through all of this, he’s going to try and play it cool. He will act like this isn’t the most important thing to him right now but it totally is.

Xaldin

LISTEN. L I S T E N. THIS MAN. LOVES. GETTING. PEGGED. If his SO is willing to peg him, he is HERE. FOR. IT. We have mentioned before how much Xaldin adores his SO and loves being in their control when in the bedroom, but he just really loves the intimacy of having his beloved having their way with him. If you bring it up with him, he keeps his cool on the outside, but on the inside he is totally thrilled.

His enthusiasm comes less from the act of the pegging itself but more about the trust and intimacy that comes with it. Its slow and passionate and all in all an amazing experience. Every thrust is laden with words of adoration and praise that seem unparalleled in comparison. You feel the lust linger in the air as the passion engulfs you both and it almost feels like you have left this world entirely. While he may not have a heart, something is there and it moves through you both as you rock his world. This is what the poets say when they describe great love.

Vexen

Vexen is a man of vast knowledge and could easily spew a river of knowledge that you never knew or possibly never even cared to know. But you may have found the one topic in this world that he knows absolutely nothing about. And of course, being a man of science as he is, would certainly demand that you tell him, but as soon as you do, Vexen’s face would pale immediately. He would put his foot down so fast, your head would spin. Of course, this was to be expected. You are his S/O after all, and you know the man pretty well, so you drop the one word that you know would change his tune.

“Oh but… it would be such an interesting experiment.” And the moment his ears perk up, you know he’s putty in your hands. He will agree to try it once. For science. And unlike some of the other members, taking things slow in this would be a must. Every touch and motion is slow, careful and tender, so much so that you worry it all is too boring for Vexen, but just as you are about to say something, you hear the softest, most broken moan you had ever heard. The experiment may have been going better than you had expected.

Lexaeus

He doesn’t say much when you ask him, but his expression told you right away that he knew what you were asking. His face darkened from it’s normal color to a deep sunset color all the way up to his ears in a matter of seconds. While Lexaeus isn’t one for words, his reactions are something that always seemed to melt your heart. He won’t reply right away, he might even wait until later that night to give you his answer. But know that when he does give you your answer, he will have thought about every aspect, pro and con, and will probably agree to try it.

At first you go slowly, making sure to take all the necessary steps, but soon you both get really into it. For you, taking charge allows you to choose the pace as you go, and for Lexaeus, not having to control the pace means that he can stay still and not worry about hurting you which allows him to relax and enjoy the love making even more! It’s a win-win for you both!

Saix

Your initial mistake was asking him during the day. He is much less agreeable during the work day; too much to do and even less time that he can spend in personal manners. You ask anyway.  The first word that leaves his lips would be a “what?” that comes out closer to a growl than a question. He heard you, he just wants you to see if you’re brave enough to ask again. And of course, you do. And he immediately replies with “No.” before walking away. Went as well as you could expect.  Like Xemnas, Saix is not one to give up control of his body easily. You bring it up to him again at a later time, but this time, you have a serious conversation about the prospects of what you were suggesting.

You take time to discuss how it would happen, what the preparation would be like, and every detail imaginable. You would think it would be sexy to talk like this, but something in Saix’s demeanor seems to make it sound more like a business transaction than something fun. But at the end, Saix agrees, which is something you did not expect. It seems he trusts you more than you expected, which is actually kind of nice. And when it happens, it goes the exact way you had discussed. No surprises. But something inside you gets a little thrill as he snarls into the pillow. You feel a power that surges through you as you tame this savage beast. And you absolutely love it.

Axel

He almost spit takes his drink as you ask him, choking on the water and air a moment before pulling himself together. It’s not that he doesn’t approve of your suggestion, but more that he didn’t expect you to bring it up, and so directly at that. After his coughing fit subsides, however, he asks you a few questions. Do you know what you’re asking? Are you prepared? Do you know how to do this safely? And of course, you’re no fool, you’ve done your research. Nd after talking out the basics, Axel is pretty fucking game. He’s not eager as some others would be, but he is curious about the experience.

He even jokes about it the entire time. And when you actually get into it? Oh boy is he vocal. Not just in the moaning and whimpering, but the sass on this boy is astounding. He seems to love goading you on to fuck him harder more than the sex itself. But of course, you can’t seem to resist the little sounds he makes, as each one passes his lips, a little shiver runs through you. Soon you tease him if only to wipe the smirk from his face and he folds instantly, begging for you to get him off. Needless to say, it was a fun time for all.

Demyx

Demyx all but screams when you bring up pegging. His voice even cracks a little bit when he replies. You can tell however that he’s really nervous about you bringing it up, so you start to backtrack a little bit and try to pull back on the offer. You tell him it’s okay if he isn’t comfortable with something like that, but when you do, Demyx says he would rather think about it on his own. Of course, to Demyx,  “thinking on your own” really just means turning to the one person he knew he could trust with sex advise; and that would be Xigbar. And of course, when asked about pegging, Xigbar laughs in the poor boy's face but also advocates it immediately, going off about how great a prostate orgasm is and basically doing all the sales work for you. So guess who comes back more eager than ever?

Well, when you get to it, you can still tell that Demyx is nervous, so it takes a lot of prep work and trust building before you can actually get to the main event. And of course, it’s fun, but it becomes increasingly clear that this kind of sex is just not Demyx’s cup of tea. So you both are proud of yourselves for trying but go back to making love the way you love best. No shame in not liking something after trying it!

Luxord

As soon as you ask, a smug grin appears on Luxord’s face. He was always a debaucherous man, and a rather huge fan of anal, this much you knew already. But it seemed that anal in his end was very well on the table and you didn’t even know. He is pretty much down instantly, but certainly tries to downplay his readiness with some of that smokey british charm of his. Running a hand over his platinum hair, he chuckles. “Well, my dear. I am most certainly amenable to that.. But I didn’t think you would be so eager…” he would purr into your ear in that way that gives you chills. And once you are prepares and ready, the sex is pretty freaking fun.

Since he normally enjoys anal, Luxord is a bounty of information and tips to help you do a better job, and he is one hell of a teacher. And it isn’t always you on top, but instead a long night of passionate lovemaking in all sorts of positions and means. It ends up becoming one fantastic night. 

Marluxia

Oh Honey YES. You are not the first to be enjoying his forbidden garden and Marluxia is more than agreeable to play. He isn’t so eager that he is jumping up and down, but you can tell by the way that his eyes light up that he is thrilled to bits that you brought this up. On the night of, you can already tell that he spent a lot of extra time that way, preparing himself for you so that you could get right to the nasty. And boy, do you two really enjoy yourself.

While his prep work and effort is nice to see, you do take a little extra time to prepare him yourself before making love to your sweet rose. The sex almost feels like it is happening in a movie; everything just seems to go perfectly, and the love in the air mingling the scents of rose oil and bergamot sends you both into a tizzy of ardent affection. It’s all absolutely perfect. And Marluxia makes some of the most melodic sounds you had ever heard in your life.

Larxene

Larxene is pretty fucking down to peg anyone and everyone. If you want to peg her, she is also open to it, but she definitely wants her turn. So you strike a deal. You can peg her if she can peg you in the same way. It’s just equal exchange, baby, and Larxene is all about equality if she can benefit from it. The sex is pretty great, though whenever you top, she is all power bottom energy, telling you exactly where and how she wants it. And well, you can listen to her, or you could be in for getting in trouble later.

Oh but when SHE TOPS, LARXENE TOPS WITH A POWER YOU HAVE NEVER WITNESSED BEFORE. The girl straight up goes on a power trip that may as well get her off more than the sex. And you know what? You’re good with that. The way she makes you feel when you’re under her care is out of this world and when its all over, you both are so tired all you do is curl up together and relax