#do these two interact only once? yeah. do i care? no lol

[luchaaa]

working hard, hard at work, (hardly working)

[mister0ctopus]

Server Room (6)

series - jeon jungkook

Pairings: IT!JK x Reader

Summary:  Your new IT guy is quiet and shy. But when you accidentally caught him doing something in the server room, while moaning your name, you just had to pretend you didn’t see that, right?

Ratings: 18+ ONLY! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Warnings: Explicit language, Mature Contents

Au/Genre: Office au, Mini Series

Word Count: 4.5K

a/n: drama and revelations incoming! thank you for waiting, my dearest friends! please be kind to this chapter, I swear the next one is coming VERY soon :)

as always, I love hearing your thoughts, theories, unhinged reactions, whatever lol. I love you all!!! Y’all are the bestest!!! 💜

🐙 Masterlist / Thoughts?Asks?

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

This is the ultimate middle finger to your father.

It’s right there in your inbox, glaring at you—a promotion confirmation email.

Your father, the man who was never present in your life. The one you once craved validation from as a child. That craving eventually twisted into repressed anger, then dulled into apathy. 

But emotions aren’t linear. 

They move like waves, anxiety washing over you one moment, grief pulling you under the next, mourning a man you never even had a relationship with.

Shame he's dead now (may he rest in peace), because there’s no one left to shove this achievement in the face of.

But why does it feel like you've just swapped one kind of emptiness for another?

Maybe it's because, despite everything—the resentment, the bitterness, the years of proving him wrong—a part of you still wanted him to see this. 

And now that he's gone, there's no one left to witness it. 

You sigh as your thoughts shift to something else.

The cabin trip.

It's been a week since that interesting trip.

There's still that tension between you and Jungkook, something unspoken, but lingering. You haven't seen him in days. Either you're too busy, or he's avoiding you, because when you grabbed lunch with the group yesterday, he didn't show. 

Busy, Yoongi said.

"Did you know that zoning out can mimic a light form of sleep? It gives your brain a mini recharge."

"Huh?" You blink and turn to see Min Yoongi perched on your desk, quietly chuckling to himself.

Speaking of the devil...

"What random trivia are you spouting now, Yoongi?"

"I've been calling you but you're zoning out again," he says, flicking your forehead. "What are you thinking about? And don't say work, I know your face when it's non-work thoughts."

"Oh? And what does that face look like?”

"Like you have feelings."

"I do have feelings."

"Yeah, sure. We call it rage."

“It’s called RBF, Yoongi,” you deadpan. “You should know. No one RBFs harder than you.”

"Hey! What are you talking about? That was a long time ago. I'm soft now." Yoongi grins smugly, arms crossed like he’s daring you to argue.

You squint at him, tilting your head. "You do look soft today… I wonder why." Your eyes scan him as you try to pinpoint what makes him seem extra soft and sweet today.

Yoongi just watches you, his grin widening, like the answer is right in front of your face.

"Oh! It’s your shirt! What do they call it? Boyfriend look? You look so boyfriend today!" you exclaim, pointing at him. "Yellow really suits you! But I already told you that!"

You had mentioned it once—casually, in passing—not expecting him to care. But, surprisingly, he’d started wearing more pastels, especially blues and yellows, instead of his usual blacks and whites. 

Yoongi smirks, brushing the tip of his nose. "Yup, that’s me."

"Yup! Soft and squishy, like milk bread. Look at this—" You reach up and squish his cheeks, fingers digging in while he tries to dodge.

"Yah—!" He flails, bumping his elbow on the divider with a thud.

"Ow!" he whispered through a pained breath, and the two of you stifled your snickers, struggling to keep quiet in the office.

Then, like a shadow peeling away from the wall, Jungkook appears. Sharp features set like stone, gaze locked on Yoongi.

“We've been waiting for you in the conference room, we couldn’t start without you." he says, voice cool, calculated, and without so much as a flicker of acknowledgement toward you, he's gone.

The air stills but Yoongi was quick to his feet.

"Oh, shit, yeah." Yoongi jumps. "Weekly team meeting." He shrugs before following Jungkook.

Confirmed: Jungkook is avoiding you.

So... which is it going to be?

Are you going to ask the question “why”?

Or is Yoongi right again?

"Like you have feelings."

Yes. You do. Because apparently, being ignored after being fingered kind of stings.  

News of your promotion spread like wildfire within your group, and Taehyung wasted no time organizing a "quick" celebration to toast to your well-deserved success at Dino's.

So right after work, everyone gathered in the familiar bar.

"Where's Jungkook?" Jimin asked Taehyung.

"He said he’s got something lined up."

"Bullshit. More important than this celebration?" Allie quipped.

"Yeah, he said he couldn't move it ." Taehyung answered.

"Move what?" Jimin pressed, this time directing his question more toward Yoongi.

Yoongi shrugged. "I don't know, he didn't tell me exactly. Something about an art exhibit.”

"Art exhibit? Man of culture. By himself?" Taehyung muttered as you all headed out of the building and started walking.

"Nah, I think it was with someone," Yoongi said casually, but Taehyung’s head snapped to him.

"Wait, like a date?!" Allie covered her mouth in mock shock.

"I don't know," Yoongi drawled, clearly tired of the interrogation. "He didn’t tell me, okay? All he said was it was hard to get tickets for that– not a ticket, so I assumed he's not alone."

"Ohhh... okay," Allie hummed dramatically, dragging out the words. "I thought he was avoiding YN."

Taehyung smirked. "Yeah... actually, that’s what I thought too."

"What? Why?" you shot back, already regretting engaging.

"I mean..." Taehyung shrugged. "He was acting a little different toward you after the cabin trip. We knew at first, he was a little shy around you, then he warmed up. But now he's straight-up dipping on us after I teased you with Yoongi."

"Taehyung, jeez! Love your theories. How do you come up with this stuff?" You shook your head, nearly laughing.

"I have eyes." He pointed to them dramatically. "And hear me out, okay? I swore you and Yoongi would eventually hook up or, I don’t know, just get together at some point. It was only a matter of time!" His voice pitched higher when you rolled your eyes.

"Bro," you groaned, shaking your head.

"I mean, why not?" Taehyung pressed. "You’ve been friends forever, you're both single—"

"You and Allie are both single. Jimin’s single. Why don’t you all date each other?" you shot back.

"Come on, you know what I mean! You and Yoongi go waaaay back," Taehyung pressed. "You like older men. Yoongi is older. And Yoongi likes… well, actually, I have no clue what his type is. But one thing I do know?" He pointed at you. "He’s not warm and soft with everyone—but with you? He is."

Yoongi, who had been quietly sipping his drink beside you, finally let out a low chuckle. You turned to give him and Taehyung a deeply unimpressed look before elbowing Yoongi. "You could jump in and shut this down, you know."

"Nah, I’m enjoying this," Yoongi smirked.

"People can have purely platonic relationships despite the years, you know?" You rolled your eyes, exasperated.

"I could date you, Allie," Jimin chimed in with a charming grin. "But we all know you like tall guys… and sadly, all I’ve got going for me is a great ass."

Allie paused, and shamelessly checked him out. “Hmm… fair point.”

"Alright, enough about Jimin’s ass," Taehyung snickered before turning back to you. "Anyway, I swear I thought—thought—Jungkook had a little crush on you. Just a gut feeling." He shrugged before smirking. "Though I’m not sure if he’s your type… I do know you like older men. Probably those daddy issues at work."

Yoongi nearly choked on his laugh, coughing into his sleeve. "Wow."

"I know how much it matters to you... I know that you got daddy issues," Taehyung sang the now-familiar song by The Neighbourhood with a grin, dragging out the lyrics like he always did whenever this topic came up.

"Thanks for the psychoanalysis, Dr. Kim." you muttered. The waiter arrived with your orders, and you were relieved when the conversation finally shifted to your promotion and what it entails, instead of your… issues.

The week flew by faster than you expected. Starting Monday, you’ll be stepping into your new role, and it  involves traveling to client sites whenever they expand or open new branches. It’s exciting... and exhausting just thinking about it. 

Which means less regular office hours, less desk chats with your friends. Your schedule will now revolve around client demands, and while that’s a win for your career, it’s kind of a loss for your social life.

So you made sure to clear your Saturday night for the company’s annual awards event—a night that’s less about trophies and more about mingling with stakeholders, VIP clients, and colleagues over cocktails and dancing. If there’s one thing your company excels at, it’s throwing a party. People go all out, dressing to the nines like it’s the Met Gala—and honestly, the break from the usual 9-to-5 grind is refreshing.

“Okay, which one do you think?” Allie asked during your coffee break in the pantry, shoving her phone in your face. Two mirror selfies—one in a sleek black gown, the other in a white halter dress—stared back at you. “Which one is better? Which one’s giving more classy old Hollywood vibes?”

“Hmm…” you tapped your chin. “Both are stunning, but the white one? That one pops against your skin tone. Very Marilyn Monroe on the red carpet.”

“Oh my God, yes! I was thinking that too!” Allie beamed. “Ok, sold! White it is!”

“You got your outfit sorted?” she asked, sipping her coffee.

“Yeah, kinda. I’m stuck between this emerald green dress with red lips, or this black velvet dress I’ve only worn once.” You shrugged. “I’ll try them on later and send you pics to pick.”

“Yesss! Fashion show in your apartment, I can’t wait!” Allie wiggled her brows excitedly.

“Oh gosh,” she groaned, glancing at her phone. “I’ve got a Zoom meeting in, like, two minutes.” She shot you a kissy face before speed-walking back to her desk.

You chuckled, watching her go.

Yeah… you were going to miss them.

You stand by the water dispenser, zoning out as your water bottle slowly fills. The faint hum of the refrigerator fades into the background, your mind drifting somewhere far away.

Then footsteps pull you back to the present. Someone’s entered the pantry, but you don’t bother turning around. You keep your eyes locked on the water bottle, watching the steady stream.

“Oh my God, you’re so funny! I can’t believe you don’t play golf! I feel so silly asking you to join us!”

A sweet, high-pitched voice cuts through the quiet pantry.

“Yeah?” A low chuckle follows. A familiar one. “No, I don’t.”

You grit your teeth. 

Jungkook.

“You should let me teach you,” the girl coos. “I’m a great teacher.”

“I bet you are. I’ll check my schedule and let you know.” His voice is so casual, so maddeningly smooth, you roll your eyes right then and there.

Ugh.

You stare at your water bottle, still filling, taking its sweet time like it’s savoring your misery. You glare at the bubbling stream like, WOW, WATER. AMAZING.

Almost full... just a little more…

When your water bottle finally fills, you grab it quickly and turn to leave. 

Almost made it. Almost.

“YN! Oh hi!”

You stop dead.

“Congrats on your promotion! Well deserved!” Ria from Marketing beams brightly.

“Oh. Thank you! Appreciate it!” you reply, smiling politely.

Jungkook’s eyes are on you now. He’s leaning against the counter, one hand lazily gripping his coffee cup, watching you with that same unreadable expression he’s been wearing since the cabin. 

But his gaze drags down your frame, slow, deliberate, before flicking back up to your face.

Worse? 

He looks so damn good  in his gray shirt, sleeves pushed up showing his tattoos. A silver chain resting at his collarbone, glinting obnoxiously. 

And his hair? Pushed back. 

Your pulse jumps, and before you can think better of it, you flash him an equally fake smile.

“Well... gotta go! Meetings!”

You spin on your heel, your heels clicking sharply down the hallway, each step punctuated with purpose, and you swear you can still feel his eyes on you.

What’s his deal? Seriously. It's really starting to bother you. 

The black velvet dress won.

Allie’s excitement was instant when you sent her the dress options, but the shrieking voice note she sent after seeing the black one? Iconic.

“OH MY GODDDD! THAT’S THE ONE! YOU LOOK INSANE—LIKE, WHO EVEN ARE YOU?”

And honestly? She wasn’t wrong.

The black velvet dress hugged your curves perfectly, its sleek straps framing your shoulders and revealing just enough skin to feel sultry yet refined.

Your hair fell in soft waves, paired with your favorite black stilettos, a smoky eye, and a bold red lip. It's a perfect balance of sexy and classy.

There’s no way you’re not showing up tonight. Your gorgeous friends are going to eat it up—no doubt about that.

You can’t wait to soak up their energy. You need it to carry you through the many jet lags that’ll inevitably drain you in the days ahead.

The moment you stepped into the grand hotel ballroom, your eyes immediately landed on Jimin and Taehyung. They stood near the corner, chatting with a small group. Jimin, effortlessly ethereal in an all-white suit, and Taehyung, impossibly dapper in a dark green suit only he could pull off.

Noticing you, they smiled warmly and waved. You returned the gesture, motioning toward your assigned table before weaving through the bustling crowd.

Impressive. 

The event felt grand. Crystal chandeliers glowed above, and the room buzzed with lively chatter. Waiters in sharp uniforms moved smoothly between tables, serving cocktails and hors d'oeuvres. Your company had clearly spared no expense, and judging by the laughter and clinking glasses, everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves.

You found your table easily enough—a circle of familiar faces from your department. Four men occupied the seats, and their collective glance flicked your way the moment you approached. A quick once-over, followed by polite nods. Not exactly welcoming, but not hostile either. Just... guarded.

You were used to it by now. Ever since your promotion to Senior Manager, there has been an undeniable tension. You were younger than all of them, but you'd earned the role. From your first day, you'd outperformed expectations, closing deal after deal and driving major revenue growth. Your promotion had been inevitable, yet still a bitter pill for some. While they remained professional, you could sense the discomfort that lingered beneath the surface.

"You look good, YN," Peter chimed in, one of the younger members of the team. Of all your teammates, he's been the most friendly. His voice carried a lightness that cut through the awkward air.

"Thanks, Peter. You don't look so bad yourself," you replied, offering him a small but genuine smile.

"Oh, thanks! Feels nice seeing everyone all dolled up," he added with a grin. His excitement was contagious, and you couldn’t help but mirror it.

"Yeah, I know! Everyone looks amazing tonight." You turned to Mr. Hoang, one of the quieter and older members of the team. "I love your suit, Mr. Hoang."

He blinked, clearly caught off guard. "Oh... thanks," he said, a bit stiffly. "My wife picked it out for me."

"She has good taste. You look great," you replied warmly. His expression softened, and you knew your effort hadn’t gone unnoticed.

Socially, you wanted to be closer to your team. 

Professionally and strategically, you knew it was important to be on good terms with everyone. Tonight felt like a chance to break some of that tension, even if just a little.

The microphone at the front crackled, pulling your attention to the stage as the host greeted everyone.

You scanned the room, searching for your friends. Since you were from different departments, you were all scattered across the venue, but you hoped to find them soon. With the host still presenting something on the screen, you decided to slip away to the washroom.

As you weaved through the crowd, your steps faltered.

Yoongi and Jungkook were walking toward you.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

It was offensive how good they looked.

Yoongi was effortlessly refined in a tailored gray suit, his hair brushed neatly, exuding his usual air of quiet confidence.

But Jungkook…

…was a goddamn problem.

Dressed in an all-black suit that fit him like sin, his dark hair fell in a perfect mess. And then, as if the devil himself had crafted him, there was the lip ring, gleaming under the ballroom lights, a stark rebellion against his otherwise pristine look.

What the fuck?

How is this legal?

He looked like trouble wrapped in temptation, and it was unfair how someone could look like that.

“Damn, YN, you clean up well,” Yoongi teased, stopping in front of you.

You blinked yourself back to reality, clearing your throat. “Well, you don’t look bad yourself, Yoongi. I barely recognized you.”

Jungkook, on the other hand, said nothing.

No. He just looked.

A slow, deliberate once-over—eyes dragging down your body like he was memorizing every detail—before finally, finally meeting your gaze again.

And then a tight-lipped smile. That’s it. No words. No reaction. Just that.

Wow. Okay???

You forced a polite smile in return, barely masking the fluster creeping up your spine. You turned back to Yoongi, pretending you weren’t internally combusting, when—

“Miss YLN! Great to see you. I’ve been meaning to catch up now that I’ve heard of your promotion! Well deserved! I’ve got a proposal I’d love to run by you.”

You turned to see an important client, beaming at you expectantly.

“Oh! Hi, Mr. Yamamoto! Yes, let’s grab some drinks and chat,” you replied smoothly, flashing him your best professional smile.

And with that, you excused yourself from the two gentlemen before tearing yourself away, resisting the overwhelming urge to glance back.

Your cheeks hurt from smiling.

Seriously.

Hours of being dragged from one conversation to another with important clients and VPs had you trapped in endless small talk. Ironic, considering you worked in sales. Socializing felt exhausting, but you liked knowing their plans and goals while sipping cocktails. You liked knowing your cards.

Your phone buzzed relentlessly. As expected, everyone was looking for you.

Allie: yn we've been looking for you, are you seriously working rn? Jimin: we’re here at the bar now. Taehyung is already tipsy Taehyung: im not. jungkook made me try sangria and its seriously so good.

The mention of Jungkook’s name made your spine straighten.

Seriously, what was Jungkook’s deal?

Was he weirded out by the cabin hookup?

Bothered that Yoongi saw?

Or maybe it was when Taehyung started teasing you with Yoongi?

Or all of the above?

You hated guessing games. You never had time to overthink stuff like this, you didn’t have the emotional bandwidth for these mind games. Whatever game Jungkook was playing now, it was frustrating, and awkward.

But fuck, all you can think about is how good he felt.

How his body pressed against yours. How his touch burned your skin.

It’s crazy how you’ve never wanted anyone like this. 

Like a craving.

Something darker and primal, demanding more, demanding everything.

You needed air. 

Excusing yourself, you made your way to the balcony you’d been eyeing all evening.

The crisp night air kissed your face, and you drew in a deep breath. Freedom. Solitude. You stepped into the corner for privacy—until a shadow shifted.

You froze. Too late.

Peter's smile stretched lazily when he recognized you.

Your posture softened, but you were still guarded.

"Oh hey," he said, voice light and easy. "Didn’t know you’d come here."

"Hey," you greeted, still caught off guard. He seemed drunk, but harmless—cheeks flushed pink from the drinks, tie loosened, swaying slightly.

"You okay?" you asked, more out of politeness than concern.

"Oh yeah," he chuckled. "Just needed some air. Long night, huh?"

"Yeah, I better get back," you smiled, turning back toward the party.

"Bet it's tiring," Peter added, voice quieter now. When you glanced back, his smile had thinned, and his eyes lingered on you a little too long.

"What do you mean?" you asked..

"You’re always working your ass off," he muttered, stepping closer. "Don’t know how you do it."

He reeked of alcohol, but something in his tone made you pause.

“We all work hard,” you said cautiously. “It’s a tough job.”

Peter scoffed. “Yeah? I wonder what other jobs you’re willing to do.”

Your stomach turned. Oh, fuck no. You were not doing this.

Snickering, he inched closer, his breath hot and sour with liquor.

You weren’t about to entertain this. Turning away, you took a step back toward the party.

"You’ve been kissing clients' asses all evening. Bet that’s hard for someone so... stuck up," he sneered, voice darker now.

"I suggest you stop coming near me. You’re drunk," you warned firmly, still walking.

His hand shot out, clamping around your wrist. His grip was tight, fingers biting into your skin.

"You’re brave to act all high and mighty when you know your friends will protect you. Do you fuck them? Is that why they’re willing to risk their jobs for you? Maybe that’s why they all stick around, yeah, hoping they’ll get a turn."

"What the hell are you talking about?" You yanked your arm, but his grip tightened.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about." He slurred.

Your patience snapped. “I don’t,” you bit out. “You gonna tell me, or are you just gonna keep wasting my time?”

His lip curled. "Such a stuck-up bitch. You walk around acting untouchable, as if you’re better than everyone. No wonder you piss everyone off. Think Yoongi’s your knight in shining armor? Bet you spread your legs for him like the desperate little tease you are. Yeah, bet he pounded you so good he didn’t care about almost getting fired."

"For the last time, I don’t know what you're talking about. Let. Me. Go," you spat, wrenching your arm hard. His grip tightened painfully, and your pulse spiked. His hot breath hit your face, and you realized how dim and isolated the balcony was. Panic gripped you. He was stronger, faster, and clearly unstable.

"I think she said get the fuck off her."

The voice sliced through the tension like a heavy blade. Both you and Peter snapped toward the sound.

Jungkook.

You couldn't see his face. His solid frame was backlit by the grand hotel lights—but you knew that voice. 

Firm. Clear. Furious.

In three strides, Jungkook closed the distance. One hand clamped around your arm—Peter’s grip still locked tight—and Jungkook’s other hand shoved Peter so hard he staggered back, nearly tripping over his own feet.

Peter snarled, but Jungkook didn’t even look at him. Without a word, Jungkook yanked you behind him, placing his body like a wall between you and Peter.

"Touch her again," Jungkook bit out, "and you won’t see the fucking sun tomorrow."

You swore the entire world tilted when Jungkook finally turned his head, pinning Peter with a stare so ice-cold it could burn.

"You want to try me? He chuckled, amusement lacing his words. "Please, go ahead." His voice was too calm, too controlled. The kind that comes before a storm.

Peter swallowed hard. His eyes darted to you, then back to Jungkook, and whatever stupidity had driven him to this point finally died.

Smart choice.

Everything blurred after that. One second, Jungkook was throwing more venom-laced words at Peter, and the next, his fingers were locked around your wrist, dragging you away.

You barely registered the cold night air as he led you outside. The ground beneath you was uneven, the gravel crunched beneath your heels as you struggled to keep up with his long, and urgent strides.

"Jungkook—wait," you stammered, breathless.

He didn’t stop. His grip on your wrist stayed firm, fingers locked.

"Stop, I said STOP!" You yanked your hand free, stumbling back a step. Jungkook halted in his tracks, turning sharply, his eyes startled and almost guilty.

For a moment, he just stared. His expression was softer than before — gone was the sharp anger he'd shown with Peter.

Now, his eyes flickered with something else.

Concern? Hesitation?

His mouth opened like he was about to speak, but he closed it just as fast.

“What the hell was Peter talking about?” you pressed, voice rising. “Yoongi? Almost getting fired? Do you know something? Tell me!”

Frustration bubbled inside you. You hated feeling like a fool when everyone else seemed to know something you didn’t.

“That guy… Peter,” Jungkook muttered, “he’s not someone you should trust, obviously, I should’ve warned you, just didn’t know how. He was friends with… well, the guy Yoongi had problems with.” 

You shot him an exasperated look, one hand flung out in a gesture for him to continue. 

His voice lowered, cautious. “They had some kind of argument, and things escalated. The guy got fired, and Yoongi got suspended for it.”

“Okay? I don't understand. What does that have to do with me?”

Jungkook shifted uneasily. “Yoongi... I think Yoongi should tell you. It should come from him.”

“What difference does it make?” you snapped. “He obviously told you, and you know, so just—god, this is so frustrating.” You ran a hand through your hair, heart hammering.

“He didn’t,” Jungkook admitted quietly. “He didn’t tell me... I just figured it out.”

“Figured what out?” Your voice rose again, and a few heads turned. Irritated, you grabbed Jungkook’s arm and pulled him behind a tree for some privacy. “What the hell is going on?” you demanded, voice low but now shaky. “Tell me what you know, for Christ’s sake.”

Jungkook exhaled deeply, dragging a hand through his hair.

"He caught that guy—the one who got fired—with deepfake videos of you on his computer."

Your breath hitched. You knew nothing about this. Who else knew? Did everyone know except you?

"The guy’s computer crashed, and when Yoongi fixed it, he found folders, pictures of you. Nothing explicit, just random shots from the office…but it was creepy enough that Yoongi reported him right away." He exhaled sharply, jaw tightening. "Things… got heated when Yoongi confronted him."

“When did this happen?” you asked, your voice quieter now. Your heart pounded so loudly you could barely hear yourself speak.

“Right before I started,” Jungkook said, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. His brows pulled together, eyes scanning yours carefully. “Remember when Yoongi said he was taking PTO? The one where he went on a fishing trip with Jin?"

You nodded. Of course you remember that.

"It wasn’t a vacation…" He continued, his voice low and softer now. "He was suspended. He, uh, punched the guy. People saw. Management had no choice.”

So what, I’m the only idiot who didn’t know?” Your voice shook in anger, humiliation, disgust. “Everyone else knew? And I’ve just been walking around like some clueless dumbass while they all pitied…hated me behind my back?”

Jungkook’s head snapped up, shaking quickly, almost desperately. His teeth sank into his lower lip like he was physically trying to stop more words—more confessions, more revelations—from slipping out. “No. I don’t think a lot of people know. Yoongi told no one.”

“Then how did you find out?” you pressed, your voice firm.

A beat of silence.

“I hacked the HR files,” Jungkook muttered, almost sheepish.

Your hands curled into fists. 

You needed to talk to Yoongi.

Now.

Because what the fuck?

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let me know if i missed tagging you! again, thanks for waiting and reading :)

[kissenturine]

𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐔𝐒 satosugu x m!reader — 2.3k words, not proofread, minors do not interact

TO NOTE: 3some, reader deepthroats geto, ass eating (idk what this called lol), fingering, penetration lol, mentions of a toxic ex, gojo and geto might come off as kind of manipulative-ish (barely), orgasm denial (once)

KAI SAYS: hi again....

“Oh, darlin’, your ex finally dump you?”

“Yeah…”

“Ok, we’ll be there in a few, ‘kay? I’ll pass the phone to Suguru now.”

You sniffled, nodding your head absentmindedly despite the fact that you knew neither Gojo nor Geto could see the motion. It didn’t matter though. What did matter was that they cared. More than your ex — who just dumped you for some random chick — did.

“Hey,” you heard Geto’s voice on the other side of the phone. “I’m sorry. Me an’ Gojo’ll hit up the store to buy your favourite, we’ll be there in a bit.” You could hear Gojo in the background, complaining, and it made you giggle softly.

“Thanks,” you whispered, “don’t take too long though. I want to see you two.”

You could hear the shuffling on the other end as Gojo presumably snatched the phone from Geto. “Yeah, I bet you do,” He said almost jokingly. “We do wanna see you too though so we won’t keep you waiting for too long.”

“Promise?” You whispered softly.

“Promise,” Gojo responded.

You grinned for the first time in a while. Gojo and Geto — your best friends — you could always rely on them to cheer you up, somehow. They were everything you needed. Kind, funny, successful, handsome, they were everything, and they meant everything to you.

The three of you met in high school, and now the three of you are in college. Together. Your eyes were always drawn to whichever one of them you’d see in the halls passing by and you craved their attention whenever you were with them. And, a lot of the time, they gave you what you craved, constantly showering you with gifts and taking you out.

It was… amazing. Gojo and Geto were amazing.

Your ex managed to get between that, unfortunately. But, now that your ex was gone, you hoped they’d still treat you like they did before. With love, and laughter, and with tender and caring touches… You missed them, really.

You smiled softly, collapsing against the plush of your bed that was now dirtied with crumpled tissues from your crying. As you stared at the roof in thought, the familiar sound of the door unlocking and opening reached you. Gojo and Geto were the only ones you’d ever given keys to your apartment to, meaning it was them.

You sat up brightly, greeted by the slam of your bedroom door slamming open. Gojo stepped in first, smiling wide as ever, and then Geto followed soon after, his hair not even pulled up into his usual bun.

“You guys actually came…” You whispered, almost choking on unshed tears.

“I promised, didn’t I?” Gojo grinned at you, dropping the plastic bag filled with groceries by the door as he leapt onto the bed and wrapped his arms around your waist.

“We couldn’t just leave you…” Geto added, moving to sit beside you. His hand found yours, intertwining your fingers together. He gave you a gentle smile and you felt your chest go warm.

“I… I really appreciate this,” You said softly, eyes slowly shifting between the two of them. “Y-You’re the only ones that didn’t leave,” You continued bitterly, still sad and angered about your ex.

“Oh darling,” Geto sighed, tilting you to lean against his chest with Gojo still pressed against yours. “We would never.”

Gojo nodded his head. “In fact, I — we are tired of pretending we don’t—” Geto’s curled fist met the top of Gojo’s head swiftly. Gojo winced. “Geto.” He whisper-yelled. “I thought we would—”

“I said we wouldn’t, remember?” Geto whisper-yelled back, though you were confused as to why they wouldn’t just speak to each other since you could hear them anyway.

Gojo groaned, an arm leaving your waist only to be thrown up in defeat. “What I was trying to say,” he glared at Geto, “was that we’re done lying that we don’t like you.” Gojo’s grip on you tightened and so did Geto’s hand on yours. “You keep datin’ all these shitty guys — no offence — but me and Geto think…” he looked over at Geto, “that we could treat you much better, doncha think?”

Geto nodded his head while you went into a state of… shock? You knew you felt something for the two, but you never considered yourself attracted to them like that. “I— I don’t know guys…” You whispered. “I do love you, but I don’t know if it’s like that.”

“Well then, there’s only one way to test that now,” Geto said, his lips pulling into a grin.

“And that is…?” You questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“We—” Geto started.

“We fuck, of course!” Gojo interrupted, his grin even wider now.

Your jaw dropped. They wanted to fuck — have sex, of all things — to see if you liked them back. “W-Wha…?” You mumbled, at a loss for words. “Is that really what you— what we should do…?”

“Well…” Gojo drawled. “Maybeee we might just want to fuck you but—”

“Don’t say that!” Geto grumbled, smacking Gojo’s head again.

“Ow! Ow! Fine,” Gojo grumbled, finally relenting. “Look, ok, we really like you. Me and Geto — we've liked you for years, ok?”

Geto nodded. “We would never want to do anything that would make you uncomfortable or anything like that, so if you don’t want to, we don’t have to.” He smiled softly at you, bringing a hand to trace your cheek.

“I…” You said hesitantly. “I do think I feel something for the two of you, but god you guys, I’m scared. If I do like you back, what’s to say you won’t leave me like my ex did.”

Gojo heaved a sigh, pressing his face into your neck. “We would never,” He whispered softly.

“And if we did, you can just get Toji to beat our ass again,” Geto mumbled. You knew he hated Toji so to see that he was joking about the older man… Well, it had to mean something.

“Ok.” You said, steeling your nerves, and slightly surprised at yourself for how little convincing it took for Gojo and Geto to convince you. “Ok, let’s do this then, I guess.”

You could see Gojo pull off you with a wide grin. “Oh, you’re not regretting this, trust me.” And then you’re flipped over, lying on your belly with your face flat on the mattress. You felt your legs get lifted, your hands scrambling for purchase to find balance — and eventually landing on Geto’s thighs as you looked up at the black-haired man.

Eventually, Gojo positioned you with your knees bent and your ass up in the air while Geto just smiled down at you. “Ah, you’re so cute like this, you know?” He whispered in a soothing voice. His hand threaded through your hair before lifting your head by the strands and forcing your arms to prop yourself up for balance.

“He was always cute, Suguru,” Gojo said and you could hear the smirk in his voice. You felt his lithe fingers trace the edge of your shorts before yanking them down, an audible tear filling the room.

“Gojo!” You scolded, half embarrassed and half turned on. Your hands quickly darted back in a desperate attempt to save yourself some dignity because of course today was the day you decided to go commando — no boxers yay! — and of course, you somehow ended up with Gojo having a full view of your ass. “....Don’t look.” You muttered, hands covering your hole. You ended up face-first in Geto’s crotch after moving your arms out from under you and you could feel his boner against your cheek.

“Baby, I’m gonna be doing a lot more than just looking,“ Gojo grinned. He moved, his hands grabbing at yours and prying them away easily. You gave up on keeping some decency with a pathetic sound — which made Geto’s cock twitch against your face.

Gojo’s warm breath fanned over your ass and before you could even process it he was licking a wet stripe against your hole, forcing a muffled sound from your lips.

“Don’t do that,” Geto groaned softly and you looked up at him with wide, confused eyes. Do what??

“Fuck it…” He grumbled, his hand fishing through his pants to pull out his cock. You blinked. Ah shit, he was big. “Come on darling…” He murmured, his voice back to his sugary sweet and soft tone. “Suck, darling.” He requested. You watched in awe as he fisted himself a few times before tapping his leaky and flushed tip against your lips.

Hesitantly, you wrapped your lips around Geto’s tip, sucking softly. At the same time, Gojo’s tongue pushed past your rim, a finger of his following soon after. Shit. You moaned instantly around Geto’s shaft, your arms fumbling under you once more and you fell, forcing your throat to constrict around Geto’s whole length with your nose now pressed against his pubes.

“Fuck…” He whispered softly. “You’re really good at this…” His hand went through your hair as he slowly lifted your head, your tongue forced to drag along his underside, tracing a vein, before he abruptly thrust his hips up. Geto’s tip knocked against the back of your throat while Gojo’s finger curled right against your prostate, forcing a wet, muffled cry from your lips.

Your cock twitched pathetically, hanging uselessly between your legs and weeping copious amounts of pre all over the bed. “Please,” you tried to say.

Gojo curled his finger again and again, rhythmically thrusting his tongue in and out of your hole. Geto, on the other hand, just kept you in the same spot, lips wrapped around the base of his cock as you stared up at him pleadingly.

You needed more of it. More of anything. More of Geto fucking your mouth, more of Gojo’s tongue — it didn’t matter.

Gojo’s fingers continued to curl inside you, hitting your prostate over and over until you were practically seeing stars, eyes rolling back as Geto occasionally thrust up and into your mouth. Your hips rocked against Gojo’s tongue, desperately chasing your climax. You were close, so, so, so close.

And hell, Gojo could tell you were close. He sped up his ministrations, forcing your toes to curl and your body to twitch and shake. Wanton moans and cries left your lips — all muffled by Geto’s thick length.

You felt your tummy tighten as your hips pushed back — as far as possible — desperately chasing your orgasm. You were so close! And then, Gojo pulled away, his mouth pulling off and his fingers sliding out of your hole.

“Why?” You cried, almost delirious as Geto pulled your wet lips off his dick. “I- I was so close!”

“Tell us, then, if you want it so bad,” Geto whispered, his hand wiping the drool off your lips. “Do you love us?”

“I do!” You sobbed, leaning desperately into his hand. “I do, I do, I swear!”

“Promise?” Gojo questioned from behind you.

“I promise, I promise!”

“Good.” He didn’t even give you a second to breathe because in the next second his tip was lined up with your desperate hole and he was thrusting his dick into you. You sobbed in relief, only for half of it to get caught when Geto’s dick once again pushed into your mouth.

Gojo’s thrusts were brutal, the pace was much too fast and much too harsh but god you didn’t care because it felt so good when his tip knocked against that one spot inside you and when Geto’s shaft would stretch your lips so nice and wide when he started to match his pace with Gojo’s. Geto grabbed your hair, lifting your head for better access as his thrusts started to become faster and faster.

The only sound left in the room was your muffled cries and the wet sound of skin meeting skin in a desperate chase for relief. Your hands managed to land on Geto’s thighs, curling and scratching through the fabric of his pants.

“You close darling?” Geto grunted from above you, his hand curling even tighter in your hair, Yes, you were close again and you wanted to cum so badly it almost hurt.

Your eyes squeezed shut as your toes curled. You clenched around Gojo’s dick, your moans getting louder and hoarser around Geto’s. “F-Fuck…” Gojo stuttered and Geto groaned in front of you. “You’re fuckin’ good at this, you know right?”

You didn’t have the energy to respond, merely letting your back drop into an arch as your hand reached down to tug at your cock.

“Ah-ah-ah!” Gojo taunted, slapping your hand away. “No touching. You’re only gonna cum ‘cause of our cocks. Ain’t that right, Suguru?”

“Correct,” Geto grunted, thrusting his hips again and again. He stopped for a moment, before spitting right onto where your lips were wrapped around his shaft, a wide grin on his face as he started his pace again.

“Damn, you’re dirty, aren’t ya?” Gojo questioned. He spread your cheeks, following Geto’s example and spitting right on your hole where his dick disappeared into as he thrust quickly. That was the last straw for you.

With a muffled sob, your body twisted and shuddered as you came, shooting thick ropes all over the bed under you. Your body was still convulsing when Gojo and Geto came shortly after. Geto’s hand pushed you all the way down onto his dick, holding you in place as you felt his warm seed coat your mouth while Gojo thrust until he was buried to the hilt before he came, flooding your insides.

“That was good, wasn’t it?” Gojo cooed, pulling out slowly and settling beside you and Geto.

“I-It was…” You muttered, voice still hoarse.

“Good,” Geto whispered, helping you sit up between them.

You smiled almost bashfully, grinning at the two. “I do… love you guys, you know?” You said.

They both smiled at you, Geto kissing your right cheek and Gojo your left.

“We know.”

© KISSENTURINE. do not translate, plagiarize, edit, or repost

[thelov3lybookworm]

Bets

Summary: being bet on was not in Y/n's plans for the year, nor was being confessed to.

•○●⛦●○•

Word Count: 2080

Warnings: none honestly, except ic placing bets on yn and luc, and luc eavesdropping lol. kinda a crackfic 🤭

A/n: based on this request. it took me like over a year to get to it, but i love it hehe. lucien.exe is my fav to write 😚

(not proofread we ride like men 💪🏻)

ANYWAY ENJOYYYY 🥳

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

"So... Lucien?"

Y/n flushed, dropping her gaze onto the apple she was peeling for Nyx as Feyre fed him the tiny pieces of fruit.

"Yes."

Y/n could see Feyre grin, even as her eyes stayed focused on the fruit.

From next to Y/n, Nesta cut in. "How long has this infatuation been going on for?"

Y/n finally raised her eyes, glancing once at the knowing smile of Mor before she turned to Nesta. "Since he came to the Night court."

"So are you going to do anything about it?"

"I... don't know. Should I?"

Nesta sighed. "What do you like about him?"

Y/n swallowed, thinking. "He’s so kind. He is caring, and he’s just got these gorgeous eyes." she leaned back, her eyes floating away from her friends and fixated on the window, her lips tilting in a smile.

"Even the scars?" Feyre had a glint in her eyes that Y/n could not understand, but she ignored it.

"Especially those scars. They’re so beautiful. They are a testament to his bravery and everything he’s survived."

"Okay okay that’s cute and all, but" Nesta huffed, not interested in Y/n’s speech about his bravery. Y/n was not surprised. "What about his muscles? Surely you’re not that innocent to not have fantasised." Y/n could feel the smirk in Nesta’s voice, and she huffed.

"That is mean of you. I am indeed very innocent and nice minded."

Mor snorted. "Yeah. Not one of us believes that."

Y/n rolled her eyes, turning to Nyx. "You believe me, right?"

The little toddler, despite not understanding, raised his fist, babbling nonsense happily. Y/n smiled, running her hand over his fingers gently, her mind going back to Lucien.

The very first time she had interacted with him, she had fallen for him right then and there. She said as much to her nosy friends, reminiscing.

Y/n had taken up the job of taking his dinner to him, as he was still getting adjusted to the sudden relocation. Feeding people was something Y/n loved immensely, so she had made the dinner that night after asking Y/n for Lucien’s favourites.

He had opened the door when she knocked, brows furrowed, and she had smiled at him. "Dinner for you."

Lucien had nodded then, opening the door wider to take the tray from her. To be polite, he had also asked her to come in. Y/n contemplated, but agreed, wanting to get him to trust them, to show him that the inner circle wished no ill will.

The two had sat and talked for hours, and with each word he spoke, Y/n’s admiration for the male grew. The way he seemed so eloquent, so knowledgeable. He had a curious soul, and Y/n figured he liked to learn new things.

"Thank you for the dinner. Whoever made it must have some sort of magic, because this is one of the best foods I've ever had." He had mumbled, his lips forming a small smile.

Y/n had only blushed, ducking her head. "Don’t thank me. I hope you liked it. I made it."

His eyebrows had risen in surprise. "I didn’t- mother, it was delicious."

Y/n giggled, taking Nyx from Feyre after he pushed away a piece of apple for the third time. "He was so nice to me, even though he had every right to hate me. I guess my infatuation started then."

"That does not seem like infatuation to me, you know." Feyre said, smirking.

Y/n’s cheeks reddened, and she ducked her head to Nyx’s, trying to hide it. She was right, it was no infatuation. It was love, plain and simple.

Nyx giggled, his fist wrapping around Y/n’s hair and tugging. She gently pried it away from him, pulling him close to her. "Maybe. But can you blame me? He’s such a great person."

"Handsome too." Nesta piped up, making Y/n laugh.

"That too. But he’s kind, and to me, that is the most attractive thing about a male. He reads too, loves poems. Which makes me love him a little more."

Y/n glanced up helplessly, wondering if she would ever get the confidence to say these things to him. And then wished she hadn’t looked up, because looking past Nesta, her gaze met with the same mismatched gaze she had been praising a few minutes ago.

He stared back at her, looking as embarrassed as he felt. His eyes remained wide, his cheeks reddening with each moment he continued to hold eye contact.

"Oh Mother…" Y/n whispered to herself, feeling herself burn, feeling like she was caught stealing cookies. "I need to go." She whispered to no one in particular, handing Nyx to Feyre quickly before winnowing off.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Lucien had never thought, not even in his dreams, that he’d get confessed love to on a random friday. Almost, technically confessed to.

He had had nothing to do all day, and so he had accepted Cassian’s invitation to join him and the other two illyrians for some drinks. The evening had gone exceptionally well, with the four males laughing like never before, discussing sports and gagging when any of them talked about what was going on with their mates and romantic life.

Well, except for Lucien, of course. He didn’t have a mate. And he was not complaining, as he did not have the lack of females flinging themselves onto him.

But still, he couldn’t help but acknowledge that having someone to hold at night and love at all times would be a nice thing.

Rhysand had Feyre, Cassian had Nesta. Azriel and Gwyn had recently found out about their bond and were going to accept it soon, from what Azriel said. He was putting it off for when things would feel right, for when he deemed his preparations special enough to be worthy of his mate.

And Lucien wondered, how would it feel, to have that kind of love, that kind of awareness of another being that was made for him. To have someone’s very soul intertwined with his.

But he also wondered, what would it feel like to choose someone to love, someone he chose to spend his life with. And when he thought about that, only one name came to his mind.

Y/n.

If he had to choose, it would be her. He already had what he assumed was infatuation with the female. The way she spoke, her voice, her wit, her smartness. The way her eyes always lit up when talking about something she loved, it mesmerised Lucien. The way she hated doing something physical, be it training, or climbing too many stairs. It was amusing to find her groaning and huffing when Cassian even mentioned doing an extra hour of training.

He knew almost everything about her. From the way she liked her coffee to her favourite books, he knew it all. Had read those books so she’d have someone to discuss it with too.

The only thing he didn’t know was whether she reciprocated his feelings. But he didn't have to wait longer to find out, as the moment he stepped into the River house, he heard her voice, giggling along with her friends, talking about him.

He had frozen in his spot, his eyes moving to the smirking face of Rhysand, and then he’d heard Feyre asking Y/n about his scars. He knew she was aware of his presence, and her still asking the question, sounding like his scars were something Y/n wouldn’t have liked, it made Lucien sad. He hated those scars as it was. If Y/n didn’t like them, Lucien would likely have a breakdown.

But then he heard Y/n’s response, and he knew Feyre asked the question for his own benefit.

He had begun to blush the longer Y/n spoke, her voice giddy and filled with so much love. When he couldn’t stand there and be the object of the illyrian males’ amused and teasing glances, he stepped into the living room, his gaze quickly finding Y/n.

He didn’t look at him at first, so busy smiling and cuddling Nyx. The boy too seemed to love the attention he was getting, giggling and babbling happily as he fisted her hair. Y/n pulled him to her chest, and it made Lucien melt on the inside the way Nyx melted into her chest.

He almost wished it was him she was hugging, and then immediately he felt like an idiot for trying to compare with a baby.

And then she had met his gaze, her face flushing as chagrin stole across her eyes, and she hurried to hand Nyx back to Feyre and winnow away before Lucien could say anything.

Oh, but how he wished she hadn’t.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Y/n’s pov.

Y/n hid away for two full days before Lucien finally came knocking on her door. She had hoped he would leave her alone, but alas, he knew all her secret hideouts.

She cursed herself for showing him all of them like an overexcited toddler when she found herself staring back at him once she opened the door.

"Lucien." she mumbled in greeting, moving aside to let him into her home. It was almost on the outskirts of the city, the surroundings quiet and peaceful. It was part of the reason she had bought it, to be able to turn her mind off and just exist when her friends got too much to handle.

Lucien smiled, walking in and settling down on the couch. "It took me long enough to find you. I must admit, I was going crazy trying to figure out where you could be after that night."

Y/n covered her face, embarrassed. She hadn’t expected him to talk about that evening so early on in the conversation.

His soft laugh drew her from her self deprecating thoughts, and she parted her fingers to look at him. He stared back at her, his eyes soft and that beautiful smile on his lips. He looked so carefree, like some sort of burden had been lifted from him.

"Y/n, I came here to tell you… I like you too. A lot."

She blinked, surprised. But instead of explaining himself, he stood, wrapping his fingers around her wrist and tugging gently. She let him pry her hands off her face and push her to sit onto the couch, her eyes fixed on his hands because she was too shy to meet his gaze.

He kneeled in front of her, holding her hands tightly in his. His gaze was fixated on their connection, but Y/n knew that he was paying more attention to her than what he looked at.

"I’ve been wanting to talk to you about it for quite some time now, but I always stopped because I didn’t know whether you liked me back."

Y/n raised a brow. "You must be blind, then, because everyone could tell I did."

He laughed. "Well, apparently they all could, if they had bets going."

Her mouth dropped open as he glanced up at her with a small smirk. "They- they bet on us?"

He nodded. "Mor, Nesta, Feyre and Rhys won."

"I have so many questions."

He moved to sit beside her. "The girls said that we’d be confessing before spring. Rhys would never go against Feyre, so he too forced his way into their group."

Y/n snorted. "Typical Rhys behaviour."

"Cassian threw a fit after you left, saying that was not a confession. But he had to pay up because Gwyn, Az and Amren already did at dinner."

Y/n huffed, leaning into his side. "This is stupid. Never imagined I would be bet upon."

His arms wound tight around her without a moment’s delay. "Neither did I, but here we are."

The two sat in blessed silence for a moment, before Lucien decided to shatter it. He leaned in, his breath hot at her ear as he whispered, trying to be sultry.

"So. My muscles? I heard you fantasize about them."

"I also fantasize about killing you sometimes. Wanna hear about that?" Y/n snapped, glaring up at him even as her cheeks burned.

He only laughed, unaffected by her scowl, and closed the distance between them. First, he pressed his lips to her cheek. Then her eyes. Forehead. Nose. Then finally.

Finally, he kissed her.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

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[silverzoomies]

Angels

peter maximoff x reader

warnings: peter being a goober, he watches porn for like half a second, it's highkey a stranger things crossover, my dialogue is goofy as hell

word count: 5,240

a/n: had a lot of fun with this one !! a while back, my buddy @quickandsilvers (now deactivated, and i can't find their new acc) requested a fic where he works in a video store and makes a fool of himself. i think i strayed from their prompt a lot, but i hope they don't mind. sorry about the stranger things crossover !! it happened naturally while writing it, and i couldn't stop thinking about steve and peter interacting. lol

Like a responsible adult, Peter spent the span of an entire month “studying” for his GED final. His rapid fire attention span made focusing a tough feat, even past his years of high school age hyperactivity. Which was the very reason he had to study so friggin hard for his GED in the first place. Peter never graduated high school. And because he never graduated high school, he didn’t really know what real studying was. “Studying” for him mostly entailed speed reading, once or twice over. Before he called it quits and bolted away to do…Peter stuff.

He was honestly really proud of himself for sticking it out, though. Much to his mother’s most pleasant surprise. Peter carried a perfect attendance streak through all his classes. A wildly stark contrast to his self proclaimed, unmatched ditch streak back in high school. In hindsight, that wasn’t something worth boasting about.

But all his hard work and bonafide effort proved supremely disappointing…when he flunked the final anyway.

Peter’s chest ached, as though someone tore his heart out, stomped on it, then double tapped for good measure. In a fit of unbridled frustration, Peter raced across the entire planet to burn out his rage. His blood boiled hot in his veins. After circling the globe about a gajillion times, he finally skidded to a stop. Somewhere in Indiana.

His clothes were all tattered and covered in holes. Burned from supersonic force. The soles of his favorite shoes turned to ash, crying smoke like a bonfire. Painful blisters littered his feet. But in his defeated haze, he couldn’t find the energy to care. Barefoot and blistered, Peter walked to the nearest payphone, his head tipped back in shame.

He could only imagine how devastated his mom would be.

It broke Peter’s heart, knowing he’d have to call her and ruin her day. After she promised to take him and his sisters out for a celebratory dinner. All you can eat Chinese! - she said. Being on the receiving end of bad news was one thing. But delivering said news to one’s mother - after an entire lifetime spent letting her down? That sucked unimaginably more.

At the payphone - after tossing his desecrated shoes in the trash - Peter hesitantly brought the handset to his ear. Deep breath in. Now, breathe out. He leaned against the glass of the phone booth. Over the line, his mother’s voice lost all liveliness. And a moment later, Wanda took over instead, sounding majorly peeved off. She threw all kinds of accusations at him - Did you even try, Piet? I thought you were taking this seriously! You said you studied! You totally dashed mom’s hopes!

Peter rolled his finger through one of the holes in his Queen shirt. Mannnn. Friggin sucks. He got that one from the totally sick Hot Space Tour. He even took Wanda with him, and they had the most righteous time. With her so disappointed on the phone like this, it hurt to recall any fond memories. Peter pinched the bridge of his nose. He tried cracking a half-assed joke to lighten the mood.

“Soooooo…no Chinese tonight then?”

Yeah, nah. Sis didn’t take to that one too well. Peter hated arguing with her, but the two spat back and forth for about five minutes. Peter bumped his head against the glass as his stress ran up to mach ten. Gathering whatever patience he had left - a microscopic amount, at this point - he apologized, told his sister he loved her, and hung up. Once he stepped outside of the phone booth, he heaved a long groan.

Peter’s fingers twitched at his sides. Taking a quick glance upward, he noticed a nearby video store. A Family Video, nestled in a strip mall next to an arcade. Narrowing his eyes, Peter chewed his lip in contemplation.

And he made a supremely stupid move.

A millenia passed since Peter gave into his klepto compulsions. Maybe old habits die hard, as they say.

At the Hawkins PD, the chief lingered nearby in a rickety, metal chair, a cigarette dangling from his lips. The night seemed to drag for eons, as Peter paced barefoot in restless circles…within the confines of a lonesome jail cell. Since Hawkins was such a small town, hardly any of the feds were familiar with the X-Men. Mutants were a rare commodity. They sooner thought Peter was a hobo the chief picked up off the street.

Come next morning, Peter got an earful from Chuck. Thankfully, the generous prof forgave Peter for his colossal fuck-ups. He even paid Peter’s bail. And while the speedster felt even more sick with guilt because of it; he was grateful he wouldn’t have to spend another second in nowhere town Indiana.

Tormentous boredom aside; for some reason, the place gave Peter the creeps.

Falling victim to his own compulsions proved a major setback on all fronts. After Chuck chewed Peter out over the phone, he broke even more bad news. Apparently, the Family Video manager made a major stink about Peter’s thievery. Even called in a complaint to Xavier’s school. The guy went so far as to blame mutants for their “dishonesty.” A completely baseless generalization. All because of some dumb knucklehead’s reckless behavior.

Chuck convinced the asshole to let Peter off the hook. Only if the speedster made up for it by working a summer’s job at Family Video. A short-term punishment. At least until Autumn, when Peter got another shot at his GED. The professor basically grounded Peter from X-Men stuff. Awesome. Heck, technically, he grounded him from the mansion altogether. Cool beans. Thumbs up. Hunky dory.

Hell no. Peter was an adult. Not a teenager who needed to be disciplined after disobeying papa’s orders. He didn’t even really have a papa. In fact, papa disappeared off the face of the planet just a few years back.

Peter digressed. Whatever, right? Grown men messed up all the time. So what if he made a few minor missteps on the road to personal development?

And he would’ve argued these points, had something in Chuck’s honest voice not guilted him into silence.

Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to wear a stupid vest or anything.

The sweltering hot month of June.

Quicksilver should be out kicking ass, causing trouble, stealing hearts (playing video games, tampering with tech, being a total nerd).

Instead, he found himself leaning on the counter of a Family Video register in Indiana.

Peter had never worked an everyman’s retail job in his life. And holy smokes, was it slow. The days ran slower than a sloth in cement shoes. At any given moment, Peter swore he was nanoseconds away from dying of boredom. Literally. Call him melodramatic, but the monotony of day-to-day living sucked the speedy soul out of him. Only a few weeks passed since he “joined the Family Video team.” But all he ever did was idle behind the counter like a chud, gorging on snacks and watching MTV.

Whenever the news reported another X-Men victory, achieved without the help of the team’s one and only speedster; Peter felt the urge to run around the globe again. All he wanted was to shake off his temperament until his legs gave out. But alas. His feet stayed planted on freshly mopped linoleum, in the confines of VHS rental hell.

On the flip side, at least his new shoes were still intact.

Peter spent his days doing mind-numbing activities like reorganizing shelves, sorting movies by genre, and mopping floors. Playing with the label maker was kinda fun. Totally not even a little boring. Nope. Peter never daydreamed some psycho might rob the place, just so he’d have an excuse to be Quicksilver again.

Why would he? When he could play with that sweet label maker.

Yawn.

Thankfully, he wasn’t completely alone. Not that he minded much either way. Solitude and Peter went together like Han Solo and Chewy. But another guy worked the same shift as Peter. Some dude named Steve, with great hair and a metric fuckton of pins all over his vest. He swore up and down, his friend Robin insisted he cover himself head to toe in them. Because something something “chicks totally dig a guy with accessories.”

Peter never met Robin, since her hours were all jacked up. But judging by the Rainbow Brite, Care Bear, and Garbage Pail Kids pins all over Steve’s vest; Peter knew she had to be pulling her pal’s leg.

Which…alright. Cool. He could respect that.

Steve was a decent enough guy and super chill to talk to. He got along great with the group of hellions who always came in, looking for nerdy flicks like Clash of the Titans. Peter once spent a whole afternoon debating Star Wars logistics with them; arguing whether or not Ewoks had any justifiable place in Return of the Jedi. But, come on, those fuzzballs were kinda cool.

And Peter refused to admit he had a few Ewok figures in his collection back in Westchester.

Neither Steve, nor his munchkins seemed to have any qualms about mutants. The only thing he ever bitched about was Peter’s effortless ability to stay in tip-top shape.

“It’s so bullshit, man.” He blatantly complained, “You can pig out on Twinkies all day and still look like that. What does your metabolism run on? Jet fuel?”

Peter’s beady eyes darted swiftly back and forth, across the pages of Lord of the Rings. One of Steve’s little minions gave the speedster a used copy. Worn at the edges. Barely held together by the spine. Peter hadn’t read a real book by choice since middle school. As he skimmed through it at a remarkable pace, he spoke through a creamy bite of Twinkie.

“Flux Capacitor.”

Shame. Sucks for Steve. The dude was obviously good looking. But he somehow fumbled his attempts at flirting with cute chicks. Not to mention, his opportunities came so few and far in between, with Peter there to steal the show. And while some small-town ladies had a tendency to scrunch their noses and sneer at the presence of a mutant - others recognized him as a hero. One of the X-Men. On the rare chance a cutie walked in with her besties following along; they sometimes whispered amongst each other.

"Isn’t he with the X-Men?” “Oh my god, he is!” “Which one is he?” “I think he’s the fast one.” “How fast is he though?” “Oh, he’s, like, so mega fast. Like a speeding bullet on legs.” “Whoa. He’s kinda cute.” “What do you think his calves look like?” “I like his hair.” “What’s he doing here in Hawkins?” “Do you think he’s undercover?” “He looks so ripped.”

Chewing his gum and secretly listening in, Peter cheesed a grin from ear to ear like a doofus. And he soon fell into a shameless habit, letting awestruck girls cop a feel of real, superhero muscles and speedster calves. Hard as vibranium, vascular like Commodore 64 wiring.

What?? Give him a break! Back in Westchester, girls never gave him a second glance.

The endless quiet and steady pace of everyday living drove Peter up a freaking wall after a while. A month in, he felt himself going stir crazy. Peter continuously thought about zipping out for a quick run. One whole second tops. Just to make a break for a slushie at the gas station down the street. Steve even swore he wouldn’t rat Peter out if he bailed and came back. Cuz, like, seriously…who would notice?

But in the back of his mind somewhere, Peter heard Chuck’s voice. A guilty reminder to slow his roll. Stop and smell the roses. The speedster had his impulses, sure. But he wasn’t so weak willed. Peter knew, deep in his heart, he could do better. Hell, he was better. A true master of self control. No problem-o.

Except…he totally wasn’t.

Hand to god, Peter was, and would always be a colossal jackass.

He affirmed this brutally honest fact with himself the first time he met you.

That night, the store seemed like a barren ghost town. Not a customer in sight. Most of the town’s locals were out having fun at a traveling carnival. Steve even took the day off to chaperone his hobbit posse. He stopped by just to give Peter his pin-covered vest, and left his esteemed colleague to stew in his own boredom. Wasting away behind the counter, restless as ever; Peter dreamed of carnival funnel cake.

And why not sneak away for a quick sec? Just to grab himself something sweet. He liked to think he earned it.

Peter zipped to the carnival, paid for some funnel cake, tied Steve’s shoelaces together, and returned to the store in a flash. Leaning comfortably back on a metal stool; he stuffed his gullet with fried delights. Sweet, doughy goodness. Powdered sugar coated his fingers and dusted the corners of his mouth. Peter kept his legs hiked up, dirty sneakers crossed on the countertop. Whatevs. He’d wipe ‘em down before he closed up shop in two hours.

His lidded eyes gaped lazily at one of theTVs hanging from the ceiling. Peter shamelessly watched a wildly inappropriate porno. A filthy flick he snatched from the restricted section and popped in. Partly out of boredom. Mostly out of morbid curiosity. Angels of Passion. Peter sat through an hour of hilariously raunchy scenes - all featuring steamy, angel hanky panky. Talk about divine intervention. He snickered to himself as heat pooled in his cheeks.

A blonde bombshell gyrated her hips in some dude’s lap, rolling her bush, bouncing to the beat of a catchy, unidentifiable song. Her explicit moans echoed lewdly over that earworm of a tune. Jesus, she was really going for it. Looked like she, uh…liked it, actually. Blood in Peter’s cheeks rushed south at warp speed. He felt a familiar tightening in his groin. With funnel cake crammed between his powdery lips, he adjusted himself in his jeans. Smearing powdered sugar carelessly over his crotch.

And he nearly choked to death when a voice he didn’t recognize called his name.

“Wow. Quicksilver? Is that you? Whatcha watchin?”

Oh. Oh, it wasn’t just his name name. But his hero name. Peter whipped his head around, his dark eyes widening as he met yours. Brows raised. Gazing humorously at him as though he were a bozo. Just his luck. A random customer - a very cute customer - picked the most optimal time to walk in. And there he was, the X-Men’s famous speedster; covered in powdered sugar, cheeks puffed like a chipmunk, Care Bear and Rainbow Brite pins all over his vest, a stiffy in his jeans, a nasty porno playing in the background.

What a huge lamebrain, you probably thought.

Peter blinked, and so did you. Time seemed to stretch in a long, awkward moment. Someone should honestly just shoot him and be done with it. From his perspective, an hour passed before he got his shit together. But from your perspective, he was there in a second. Leaning casually over the counter on his elbow, his other hand on his hip. The TV blared reruns of MTV music videos, with Madonna singin’ loud. The very same TV you caught him watching dirty movies on - just for the hell of it. Purely for entertainment’s sake, mind you.

And bizarrely enough, your expression held no judgment.

Furrowing his mercury brows, Peter wiped the last trace of powdered sugar from his lips. He cleared his throat and gave you a careless nod of his head. Stay cool. Stay collected. It wasn’t like his mom caught him with his pants down or something. He put on his best customer service smile. A grin so fake, his dimples vanished into hiding. Time to get the ball rolling before he lost whatever dignity he had left.

Peter hated Indiana. Like, really hated it.

He spoke fast, the words tumbling past his lips at the speed of light.

“That?Thatwasnothing.” Peter blurted out, his mouth running a hundred miles an hour. His fingers tapped anxiously on the countertop. Your curious gaze flicked down to them, before looking into his coke-brown eyes again. His face erupted in flames as he kept rambling, punctuating each sentence with an uneasy laugh, “I wasn’t watching anything. Just some lame religious documentary. Y’know. A real snore fest. I swear, I was this close to takin’ a nap.”

You laughed.

No lie, he wasn’t expecting you to laugh like that. The sound sliced through the tension in the air, catching him off guard. Peter’s breath caught in his throat. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. His forced smile curled up involuntarily, revealing his dimples for real this time.

“Yeah? Huh. For some lame documentary, you looked pretty into it. I’m surprised you heard me at all.”

“Eh, you’re not wrong. Puts a whole new meaning to goin’ heels to Jesus, doesn’t it?”

You let out another laugh, and your voice cracked. Blush creeped over your face from the neck up. A surge of shyness overtook Peter. Running a hand up through his hair, he searched for any words to say. And then he remembered he had a job to do.

“Anyway. Sorry. Can I help you with something?” Peter smoothed out his (Steve’s) vest, brushing powdered sugar from it like pesky snow.

“No biggie, dude. Just wondering where your horror section is.”

Peter arched his brow, “Horror, huh?”

With a cheeky smirk, he disappeared, leaving a swift gust of wind in his wake. You gasped a small peep. Pressing your hands to the counter, you leaned forward as though you were looking for him. He took the opportunity to admire your ass from where he stood between the aisles. Politely, of course.

“They’re over here.” The speedster called from his spot, keeping himself nonchalantly propped against a stand of horror mags. Your gaze flitted down to the Walkman hanging at his hip. His easy going stance made you laugh yet again - man, you made him feel like the king of comedy. You made your way to the horror section. Peter kept his eyes on you while you glanced over the tapes, “You lookin’ for anything in particular, orrrrr…”

“Nope, just looking.”

“Just looking. Got it.” Peter clicked his tongue, nodding, “Cool. Well, if you need any recs…I mean, I’m kind of a movie aficionado, so…”

“Oh, you are, are you?”

Aw, you actually humored him.

“Pfffbbt. Yeah. My twin sis is, like, super into sitcoms and stuff. But I’m the movie guy of the family.”

“And what kinda movies do you like?”

Peter didn’t miss a beat, “Star Wars, definitely. But I like Bladerunner too. ET. Robocop. Alien. Oh! Rocky’s awesome too. Scarface. I can do a crazy good Tony Montana impression. Clint Eastwood movies are cool. Conan the Barbarian. Can’t get enough of Arnold. And I’m not sayin’ Flash Gordon’s my favorite, but-”

You gaped at Peter like you saw him get hit by a car or something. He stopped himself short, pausing as he named off movies on his fingers.

“What? Not a fan?”

“Not a fan of wh-”

“Flash Gordon?”

“Is that what you said? I didn’t understand a single word of that, dude!”

Oh. Guess he got a little too amped up. The apples of Peter’s cheeks turned pink. Scratching the back of his neck, he sheepishly laughed.

“Sorry, uh…lemme start over…I like Star Wars.”

“So do I! I love Star Wa-”

Peter raised his head, fixing you with a squinty eyed, analytical look - mostly playful. He quickly cut you off again.

“What about Ewoks?”

“They’re like little teddy bears! What’s not to love?”

Points for you, cute, mystery babe.

“Oh, bitchin’. Yeah, uh-”

And like a huge doofus, Peter leaned a little too hard against the magazine stand. It tumbled to the floor as he knocked it over unintentionally. Catching himself, he flashed his teeth in a humiliated smile.

“Uh…I totally meant for that to happen.” He clarified.

Even though you laughed yet again - and sounded so, unfairly cute too - Peter vanished to the restroom to smack himself in the face a few times. Returning only to clean up the fallen magazines. Another microsecond later, he appeared behind the counter. At the register again. His summer hellscape. Purgatory.

And for now, after making such an ass of himself, he’d leave you be. Let you come to him.

You eventually did.

“Just these.” You muttered bashfully, sliding a few tapes across the counter.

Peter glanced up to look at you every few beats. Tapping away at the keypad, his agile fingers danced across the keys with finesse. And despite the speed at which he normally worked, there was an unmistakable lag in his movements. Almost deliberate. He took special care as he typed your information and logged your rentals. It was as if he prolonged the interaction on purpose, drawing out everything at a leisurely pace.

Very unlike Quicksilver.

You eyed the pins all over his (Steve's) vest.

"Nice pins." You said.

"Thanks. Care Bears are the shit."

You held back another giggle, covering your mouth to conceal it.

“Say, uhm…forgive me if I’m being too nosy. But what are you doing all the way out here in Indiana, Quicksil-” You paused, tilting your head innocently to the side. Your eyes squinted into thin slits as you read his nametag, “Peeeter? Peter, yeah.”

Peter flashed a lazy, cat-like grin, snapping his fingers and throwing a finger gun your way.

“Bingo, you got it. But, yeah, everyone else calls me Quicksilver. Except for the oldies who have no clue who I am. It’s insane being recognized sometimes. Cuz I’m just a glorified track-and-field star who ended up a wage monkey, I guess. The job sucks ass, honestly.” He chuckled, leaning against the counter, resting his weight on an elbow, “As for what I’m doin’ here? It’s top secret X-Men business.”

“Ooooh! What, like…some kinda covert op-”

“Covert operation? Yeeeeeaaaaaahhh…nah, I’m totally messin’. Let’s just say I got into some trouble and this is my punishment.” Peter chuckled softly, glancing at the films you picked out. His eyes widened as he scanned the titles, letting out a low whistle, “H’oooh. Some pretty gritty stuff here. These are brutal. Blood, guts, limbs flyin’ all over the place. You tryin’ to give yourself nightmares?”

“Eh, it’s all fake anyway. Just cheesy, dumb fun.” You giggled, taking the horror flicks from him. A jolt of electricity shot through him as your fingers brushed his own. The contact was brief, but it left a flutter in his stomach he couldn’t shake. Parting your pretty lips, you teased, “They’re way more interesting than any lame, religious documentaries.”

Peter raised a brow and gave you a bemused look, your playful comment catching him by surprise. He crossed his strong arms, restlessly tapping his finger against his bicep.

“Mhm. But that “documentary” had some pretty hot angels, not gonna lie.” He joked. Peter smirked, his eyes flickering up and down, giving you a quick once-over. He snapped his fingers again, keeping his tone casual, “Hey, speaking of, are you gonna be wingin’ it back to the pearly gates anytime soon? Or are you stickin’ around for a while?”

Aha! So, you weren’t immune to his natural charm. Your eyes shot open, your blush sending a righteous wave of satisfaction buzzing through him. Peter pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek and wiggled his brows. His confidence soared beyond the stars. Shrugging off any remnants of awkwardness, he eased himself back into a state of carelessness. You broke into another cute giggle fit.

You scratched the back of your neck, looking bashfully down at your shoes.

“Nice save. I think that one actually made me blush.”

Peter blinked laxly, drawing out a satisfied hum. 

“Oh, yeah, it did for sure. Looks cute on you. What can I say? I aim to please.”

A warm smile graced his face as he slid you the last tape.

“Flash Gordon?” He asked.

If you blushed any more, you’d probably explode.

“I couldn’t keep up with the way you were talking…but you mentioned that one. You said it was one of your favorites, right?”

Peter’s heart skipped a beat.

The banter between the two of you seemed to flow so naturally. Time lost all meaning. And as the minutes passed and you said your goodbyes, moving towards the doors; Peter’s foot tapped at a frenzied pace. A powerful urge to chase after you swarmed him like a pack of angry bees. He knew he wouldn’t be staying in Indiana for much longer. Only a month more, at the most. But, man…there was something about you.

Ah, screw it. Act now, face the consequences later.

A fwip, and Peter materialized before you at the doors. You stumbled back and erupted in another surprised squeal. His hands instinctively reached out, grabbing your shoulders to steady you before you fell.

“Sorry! Sorry. Uh, any chance you’d wanna stick around for a while longer? It’s just so dead here tonight. We could kick it back, chill, and hang. And fingers crossed, I promise I won’t make you watch any weird, religious docs or nothin’.”

Miraculously, you agreed. Peter couldn’t believe his luck. And he spent the remaining few minutes of his shift, along with the rest of that night, hanging out with some cutie he met on a whim.

Maybe Robin was right. It was the vest, wasn't it? Chicks were totally into guys with accessories.

The impossibly hotter month of July.

Some might call Peter a little irresponsible. And true to form, he was. But you were legit the most fun thing to happen to him in months. Up there with the bitchin’ funnel cake he swiped from the carnival, the same night he met you. He hadn’t stopped thinking about it since. Both you, and the funnel cake.

Carpe diem or whatever.

In the cramped shadows of a video store supply closet, Peter pulled you oh-so-close against his body. Hot as hellfire. His heartbeat ran on bubbly fumes of anticipation. Peter’s chapped lips confidently claimed yours, a moment after you gave him a bashful peck and confessed the cutest thing ever-

“Pleaaaase don’t go back to Westchester!! I really really like you. I think you totally rock. I’m gonna miss you too much if you leave.”

D’awww. You were all soft on him. Your pouty lips and innocent eyes made his chest warm and tingly. Peter never imagined someone could win him over so easily. But after the front doors chimed, and you walked into the store wearing a Grace Under Pressure shirt - of which you told him you wore only because he got you into Rush; Peter thought he heard wedding bells. But, oh…wait. No. The doors chimed again.

Peter felt his resolve instantly weaken around you. Whatever aloof front of speedster confidence he held onto seemed to melt away. Mostly. Partially.

In the closet, he grinned into the kiss, tasting your giggles on his tongue as he coaxed you into something deeper. You were such an undeniable sweetheart. A ray of sunshine, casting light on the most boring summer of his life. Clinging bashfully to his intense kisses, you followed the motion of his tongue. Your own tongue raveled delicate threads with his. Overzealous, he tangled those threads in frantic knots. Peter breathed the softest groan, running strong hands down your back and just above-

Passionate rock songs rang out love ballad riffs in his head, and the music halted to a disappointing stop when - all at once, a veil of blinding light washed over you both. Moment ruined. What asshole would even dare? You pulled away from his kiss, but an eager Peter chased your lips. He only stopped himself once he noticed a figure looming in the closet doorway. Steve looked unamused, holding a broom and dustpan in hand.

“Can I help you?” Peter sarcastically quipped.

“Really, man? Really?” Steve scoffed, cheeks pinkening. Clearing his throat, his dark eyes shifted. Away from the couple getting a little too cozy. He stated in a matter-of-fact way, “FYI, you’re still on the clock, yanno? Jesus.”

“Jesus? I’m flattered, Harrington, but you can just call me Peter.”

A soft snicker erupted from your swollen lips. Your small hands curled shamefully into Peter’s work vest, narrowly avoiding the band pins stuck in the fabric. Ultimately, you failed to keep your giggles at bay. Peter always had a way of making you laugh til you cried. His own hands rested just above your booty, a centimeter away from some spicy grab action. Damn you, Steve. Damn you. Teasing an indignant sigh, Peter reached out to lazily snag the door handle.

“Ever heard of knocking?” He joked before easing the door closed, sealing your cute chuckles inside.

The icy cold, freeze-your-balls-off month of January. Post New Years.

Bundled up in a warm, turtleneck sweater and matching, black jeans; Peter cozied up next to you on the sofa. At his mom’s place, Wanda was perched comfortably on the floor. She kept her back against the foot of the couch close to Peter. In one of the loveseats, Lorna sat with her legs tucked under her. A blanket draped over her small frame. The faint hum of infomercials in the background went ignored, as Peter fell into a long winded info dump about the Lord of the Rings.

Peter’s mother padded into the room from the kitchen. A hand-made shawl covered her shoulders, knitted by Wanda and given to Magda as a gift. Carrying several glass bottle sodas, she passed one out to each of her kids before delivering the last one to you. Magda breathed a chuckle. She noticed the way you narrowed your eyes, as you struggled to follow Peter’s speedy rambling. His family seemed to have no problem keeping up. They understood every word, without asking him to stop and reiterate.

Lorna rolled her eyes affectionately. Wanda gazed up at her brother like he held all the secrets of the universe - and she wanted the details on every single one.

When Peter’s rambling eventually ceased, his mother asked him if he had any plans for the future. He poked inside his empty box of chow mein with a pair of chopsticks. A bit embarrassed, Peter grinned. Now that he finally scored his GED - he knew exactly what he wanted to do. He just hadn’t told anyone aside from Wanda yet. She patted Peter on the knee. A gesture of encouragement, pushing him to open up. With a timid sigh, he confessed - he wanted to teach at Xavier’s.

He got a big ol’ hug from mom for that one.

When she left for work, Peter snuggled up on the couch with you and his sisters. You were all crammed in like warm penguins on a chilly night. Until Peter randomly pushed himself out of the pile. He stumbled forward, checking his watch. Waving his soda in your face, he winked.

“Babe, hold this for me? I almost forgot I wanted to do something.”

Before you could ask, he zipped away and returned in a nanosecond. Peter threw himself into the cuddle puddle.

“Where’d you even go?” You asked, scooting aside to give him more room.

Peter snatched his soda and shrugged, lazily smirking.

“Dropped by Family Video. Tied Steve’s shoelaces together.”

[always-andromeda]

˚₊‧꒰ა 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 ໒꒱‧₊˚

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⟡ Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ⟡ 5064

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ⟡ It's Emmy night. And your infamous ex-boyfriend is stirring up all kinds of trouble for you.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ⟡ Hi ho, everyone!! This piece is for Gin's ( @wannab-urs ) Dom That Middle Aged Man Campaign 2025!! I'm cutting it incredibly close but I actually ended up having a lot of fun with this one. It started as a smaller oneshot but quickly grew bigger and bigger until hey, whaddya know, Roman Roy is making a little cameo. Blame @strang3lov3 for that lol. Her writing for Roman has made that brain rot really settle in and I needed an asshole boyfriend for this one soooo uhhhh yeah. He is in there!! Anyhoo, here is the full masterlist for the event!! Hope y'all enjoy!!

𝐰𝐚𝐫��𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ⟡ smut (minors, do not interact), minimally edited lol, a tiny bit of angst, no reader description given aside from reader wearing makeup and being able-bodied, one minor suicide joke, toxic relationships, shaky descriptions of the goings on of award shows (sorry, I do not keep up with them well enough to know everything <3), mentions of addiction, infidelity (reader is in a PR relationship, shoutout to Roman Roy lmao), oral, heavy mommy kink lol, pegging, some fluffy aftercare, reader is a fucking mess, dieter is a fucking mess, it's all chaos, nothing else I can think of but feel free to let me know if anything else should be added!!

“Sure you’re going to be ready in time?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Roman pops his head into the hotel bathroom. “I dunno, isn’t that a woman thing?”

“It is if you’re a misogynist.” You say before blotting your lipstick.

“Or a realist. Veeeery fine line, babe.”

You roll your eyes. Part of you wishes Roman had never been nominated.

Outstanding Lead Actor In A Drama.

When you were younger, awards shows always seemed so exciting and glamorous. Sometimes they still are. But as you built up your career and were invited to more of them you had come to realize that they were little more than glorified circle jerks. Sadly, being Roman Roy’s costar and girlfriend obligated you to attend.

You wish your publicist had booked a separate room for you so Roman wouldn’t wind you up. At this point though, you were counting the days until you no longer had to be joined at the hip. Once awards season was over you could move on from this chapter of life. Maybe you’d hide away for a while. The thought keeps you from going completely insane.

The car ride to the theater is quiet. Roman scrolls through his mentions on Twitter the whole way. A few times you assure him that it’ll be alright, that he worked so hard that he’s sure to win. None of that reassurance matters.

He’s been glued to his phone since the nominations dropped. For almost two whole months it’s been a shitshow. One minute he’s stressing about what he should say for his acceptance speech and the next he doesn’t give a shit. A few times he floated the idea of skipping the event altogether. That usually only happened when the D word came into the conversation.

Dieter fucking Bravo as Roman liked to call him.

Roman hates a lot of things. But god, he really hates Dieter. Roman’s young. He’s talented. And Dieter is…well…Dieter.

“How the fuck did that washed up prick get a nom? Asshole finally managed to find someone in the academy desperate enough to fuck him.” Roman said when he first learned that he’d be competing with Dieter. You’d ignored the pointed insult in that outburst. It wasn’t the comparison of talent or rap sheets that heated Roman up so much as the fact that you and Dieter weren’t strangers. Before he turned it all to shit, you and Dieter had dated for one tumultuous year.

Roman cares for you about as much as you care for him, that much you’re sure of. It’s the optics that bother him. It’s the fact that for almost two months, almost every Twitter user talking about him makes the assumption that Roman Roy is just a stepping stone. That you’d soaked up every bit of clout dating Dieter Bravo could give you. And that now you’d jumped to the next big thing in line.

While some folks called you a slut and a number of other awful names, some raised you to the status of feminist icon.

“‘Sucking and fucking her way through the Emmy nominees.’” Roman read to you one night in disgust. “”What a girlboss.’ Are you seeing this shit? They’re saying you’re probably going after Jeff Bridges next. You better not fuck Jeff Bridges. If you fuck Jeff Bridges, I’ll fucking hang myself.”

You try not to care too much. If being with Dieter had taught you anything it was that the media thrived off of acknowledgement. If you responded to the accusations, every outlet would release an article about it. And then another one about the backlash. And then another one about the backlash to the backlash. Then they’d roll shitty banner ads over the whole thing and call it journalism.

Not even you, yourself, gave that much of a shit about your own sex life. You’d much rather mind your own business than feed into their interest, thank you very much. 

It’s why you couldn’t wait to get the carpet walk over and done with. It’s the closest thing to a goddamn parade and Roman’s desire to cut your prep time short has you feeling less than your best.

You’re in your own head, watching Roman get his picture taken by the paparazzi flash mob, and dreading your turn to join in when you’re rudely interrupted.

“He looks like he’s enjoying himself.”

You almost agree until you turn to look at who had just spoken to you.

Dieter fucking Bravo. And he looks fucking gorgeous.

You can hardly remember the last time he looked so put together. His wavy hair is gelled back, accentuating the stray silvers that he finally seems to be letting grow out. He wears a white shirt that’s buttoned up to the neck. The solid white collar is framed by a black sweater. And for once he’s not wearing pants that are too tight or too baggy; these ones are just right. The look is simple but graceful, perfect for a star settling into middle age. If things were different, you’d kiss his stylist with tongue and maybe give them a handjob for blessing you with such a glorious sight. Pressing your nails into the palms of your hands, there are a number of things you think to say.

What are you doing here? How dare you? What the fuck is wrong with you?

But none of them sound right. None are befitting of such a glamorous night either.

So you settle for replying coldly, “Are you not?”

Dieter snorts and you melt upon seeing the crinkles by his eyes in full force. “Are you kidding? I’m shocked they even invited me. Who’s dying to wheel out the washed up old guys for shit like this?”

“Thank god we’re in Hollywood; the mecca for washed up old men,” you scoff.

If Dieter acknowledges the joke, you don’t hear or see it. Your eyes are glued to Roman, afraid that if you look back at Dieter again they might just pop out of your head.

Roman 

Out of the blue he asks, “He isn’t even nice to you, is he?”

It’s a question that makes you scoff and roll your eyes. How dare he? He goes away for a few months and after two years of image fixing he thinks he has any right to ask that? The old urge to swing around and give him a piece of your mind strikes you again. As the cameras flash, you become very aware that even at your place at the periphery of the carpet, a snapshot of you arguing with your ex would make a great TMZ article.

You mumble, “What he is is none of your business.”

“I was nice to you,” Dieter says, then repeats to himself, “I was nice.”

You retort with a laugh, “When you weren’t high off your ass.”

“Don’t pretend you weren’t either.”

Like you need to be reminded of how hellish it was trying to be with him and subsequently get over him. You remember taking old gifts he’d given you to the secondhand store. You remember deleting almost every trace of him from your phone. You remember the nights you struggled to stop yourself from making contact again. It had been a long, uphill battle to wash away the single most chaotic year of your life and you weren’t sliding down it again.

“We’re not having this conversation again. I hated myself when I was with you. And I’m not going back to that place. I’ve worked too hard for you to come crashing in and ruining that.” You say it more to yourself than him. 

With that, you’re ushered over to Roman where you pose with him. And you almost manage to give a genuine smile to the masses.

When you’re finally seated in the theater, the night rolls on with the typical fanfare. You give your prescribed reactions; cheer when your show is called for an award and smile when you notice a camera near you. A few times Roman leans over to mumble some snotty joke about whoever’s on stage and that deep, cynical part of you manages to laugh at them.

At the very least, it makes him less nervous. That’s how you justify it to yourself.

He’s in the middle of another wisecrack when the woman at the microphone pulls Roman’s attention away. “I’m proud to announce the nominees for Lead Actor In A Drama Series.”

You don’t bother watching the giant screen as clips of the nominees play. You already know damn good and well who’s up on the platter for this one. Instead, much to your dismay, your gaze is trained on Dieter. 

He’s a row ahead of you and about a dozen seats to the right so you only get a sliver of his profile. From the bits and pieces you get of his bobbing head, his jaw looks tense. In the silence that precedes the announcement you notice just how age has settled upon Dieter. With his hair a little longer and head held high he looks just like the man you once saw within him. It suits him well.

“And the Emmy goes to…”

Some small piece of you peers out from the shadows of cynicism and your lips curl into a soft smile. As uncomfortable as he seemed to be amongst this crowd, Dieter finally looked well; he looked hopeful.

“Roman Roy!”

Turning back towards Roman you expect a kiss, a squeeze of your hand, some sort of acknowledgement that you’re right there beside him. Anything. But he’s standing and walking towards the stage before you can even say a word.

Normally you treasure your alone time. This time though, the empty air truly feels depressing.

Part of you wishes Roman had come back to the hotel with you. But another part of you is grateful you won’t have to listen to his gloating. Or his “celebration”, as he called it. 

You can’t stop replaying the moment over and over again. The way your breath seemed stuck in your throat as you watched him deliver his bullshit acceptance speech. He shed a genuine tear when thanking his mother; you’d known him long enough to recognize his shreds of sincerity.

For the most part, however, he’s performing. After all, that’s what got him the award to begin with.

Knowing that there’s a camera capturing your reaction you plaster on a toothy grin. While Roman plays the part of the humble award winner, you play the proud girlfriend though you feel more like a prop than his costar.

None of it matters either way. At the end of the night, you knew that Roman’s speech would be clipped and reposted thousands of times online. Maybe then he’d get the validation he seems to have been craving his entire life.

That’s why he decided to stay at the afterparty, you figured. Maybe it’s also why you were already seeing clips of him at said afterparty proclaiming with a smug grin, “Suck it, Bravo.” Validation from his peers. The why of it all didn’t matter either. You’d had enough of pathologizing the men around you for one night. 

Well. Almost enough.

The thought of Roman’s absence departs and Dieter’s presence worms its way back into your mind.

You’d never had a proper sendoff for your relationship with him. Instead you got stood up on a night he was supposed to meet you for dinner. That night you vowed you would no longer drag him out from a drug induced haze. You went nuclear; blocked him, stopped going to his house, revoked his access to your apartment building.

Through the grapevine you heard that he’d finally crashed out a few months afterwards and got shipped off to rehab. Then from there it was close to silence. The post-Dieter life was calm, if a bit predictable.

You pick up your phone from the nightstand and go through your blocked contacts until you find his name. And after nearly two years of being Dieter free you invite him right back into your life.

You half expect the message to go ignored. He might not even have the same number anymore anyways. Right as you’re about to block him again out of pure embarrassment, you see those three telltale dots pop up on the left side of the screen. They ripple for a few seconds before a reply appears.

If he were in front of you, you would’ve rolled your eyes. You quickly type out a response.

You can practically hear the shock Dieter must’ve experienced in how the message stays read for a solid two minutes before he answers again.

Of course, you wanted to scream. I missed you so bad that I binged the entire series and then looked up fanfiction of your character afterwards.

Just like before, the message stays read for a few minutes. But this time the typing dots on his end disappear and come back a few times. You end up laying your phone facedown on the bed so you wouldn’t throw it across the room. Eventually your ringtone chimes and you pick it up again.

Your stomach drops about a thousand miles down an awful pit of guilt until your memory slows it down. As much as his big brown eyes might suggest it, Dieter isn’t some helpless puppy dog. How many times had he fucked you over before? How many times did he force you to take care of his messes? And how many times did you grin and bear it because you loved him? Maybe it was nostalgia. Maybe it was the need for some sort of closure. Or maybe it was the fact that you weren’t going to go through another night ignored and alone. But you impulsively type and send another message.

And much to your surprise, Dieter replies immediately.

From the second you pull Dieter into your hotel room you feel alive again. His lips are against yours and your stomach soars at the way he lets you deprive him of oxygen. You missed him more than you had even fathomed. You missed his eagerness. You missed the way his hands went straight to your ass. You missed his tongue. God, you could suck on his tongue right then and there and die happy.

The muffled groan he lets out when you tug on his hair reminds you the hotel room door is still partially opened. It hits you for a split second that someone easily could’ve followed him here. By morning the media could be all over whatever happens in this room tonight.

Dieter pulls away for air. As he cups your cheek and gives you that classic mischievous smirk he says, “Hi there.”

And suddenly…you don’t give a shit. Not about Roman or the media or your publicist. You’ll deal with the consequences later. Probably. But for now, it’s all Dieter fucking Bravo. And for once, that was a good thing.

Breathlessly, you command, “Get on the bed. Now.”

Dieter hadn’t felt this antsy since his last stint in rehab. With the way he was practically crawling under his skin he was surprised he made it to your hotel in one piece.

It would’ve been quite a headline if he had. Oscar Winner, Dieter Bravo, Dead at 45 After Losing Emmy. If only those leeches could see him now. The headline would probably read Oscar Winner, Dieter Bravo, Naked and Ass Up On Ex-Girlfriend’s Bed.

It hits him that he has no idea where your boyfriend is. For all he knows this is some sick joke you and him devised just so you could kick him while he’s down. Did you still despise him that much? Taking a mental inventory of everything he did when you were together…it was a possibility.

You didn’t even ask if he was busy. For all you know, he could’ve been out drowning his disappointment with as many prescription pills he could get his hands on. That’s what the old Dieter would’ve done. Old Dieter would have answered your texts between lines in the bathroom before speeding to your hotel room. New Dieter was watching reruns of X-Files in his bathrobe when you rang. Yet he still came running anyway.

He realizes that he probably always would.

Dieter’s swirling mind is soothed by your lips leaving kisses along his shoulder blades. Your fingers dance down his spine, creating waves of shivers in their wake. He stifles a contented hum. Can’t show his cards yet; can’t let you know that he’s just as pliable as he used to be for you.

He suspects you know it anyways when you purr, “You remember your place so well.”

Quiet. He stays so quiet he can hear a pin drop. Hell, he can practically hear your lips twitch as you observe him.

As he got older, Dieter found less and less joy in being watched all the time. Those greedy eyes only see him as prey. And tonight was another one of those reminders that no matter how much he tried he’d never again be the promising young actor the world had once adored.

But you liked him. You saw him for exactly what he was and you liked him. Even more, you rewarded him.

“Do you want to be good for me?” You ask tentatively.

He’s heard you say similar things more than a hundred times. Now they sound less like an invitation and more like a test. You’re testing the waters. As if him being naked on your bed wasn’t enough confirmation that he wanted you. Then again, you’ve always been that forgiving; always given him second, third, and fourth chances.

He lifts his head just enough so you can hear him clearly when he confirms, “Yes, please.”

With that, the weight of your body over his is gone. When you order him to flip over a minute later you stand before him with a familiar instrument. Judging by the size and color, he knows it isn’t the same strap you used to use on him, but it’s a welcome sight nonetheless. It’s a soft pink color with ridges that shine in the warm lamplight. He guesses that it’s likely between six and seven inches. But it’s the subtle curve of the cock that has his mouth practically watering just looking at it. Already he can’t help but imagine it inside him, reaching that spot only you were able to.

“You’re lucky I happened to pick this up the other day. Otherwise you would’ve been stuck with my fingers.” You say with a pout.

Dieter thinks for a second that you’ve got an odd idea of what qualifies as a souvenir but brushes the thought away. He blinks hard and swallows thickly. “I would’ve been fine with that,” he mumbles.

You climb back onto the bed and settle between his legs. Then you inch forward so close that he could kiss you again. Your breath is warm on his face when you whisper, “Bullshit.”

You plant a kiss on his cheek before continuing slowly, “Don’t think I forgot how much you love getting stuffed to the brim. You used to love sucking on my cock before I fucked that perfect ass of yours. Do you want that again, baby?”

He nods quickly.

“Then sit up a bit for me.”

Dieter does as he’s told and you straddle his chest. His hands find purchase around the soft flesh of your thighs. You shake your hips and the dick wobbles ever so slightly. The bulbous tip teases his lips.

“She’s pretty, isn’t she?”

“So fucking pretty…” he breathes.

Stifling the urge to take it all at once, he settles with some experimental licks. His tongue runs down the ridges along the underside. It’s firm but not rock solid; it feels almost like the real thing. A shudder runs through him imagining the thing inside him. He feels his own cock twitch.

“C’mon, you can do better than that. Get me all wet, baby,” you encourage.

Dieter’s lips part tentatively, allowing you to shift your hips forward and nudge your cock in. You moan as if you can feel the relief of his warm mouth around you. Something in his stomach fizzles at the thought of you getting off on watching him be like this.

“That’s it, take it…take it…” 

He looks up, wide-eyed, and sees you gazing back with similarly entranced eyes. Your chest heaves gently as you breathe, drinking in the picture of him beneath you with your cock almost halfway in his mouth.

Dieter ventures further, pushing your hips towards him, allowing him to take another inch. You take that as a sign to slowly start thrusting.

“Good boy,” your voice is velvet as you fuck his mouth. You set a reverent, rolling rhythm, trying not to overwhelm him with the length. Despite the normally submissive position, he feels held, loved, though he tries not to get his hopes up.

He remembers this all too well; the sway of your hips and the small sighs you let out. Judging by those sounds, he guesses that you’re probably a mess yourself. His vivid imagination pictures the slick folds between your legs just begging to be squeezing him. God, how he used to make you whine and sob. But you could make him do the exact same.

“Think it’s as wet as it’ll get, huh?”

His agreement is muffled by the instrument itself and you giggle before removing it from him.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replies.

He folds and spreads his legs instinctively, though from a combination of age and lack of practice, the movement is a little strained. To ease his muscles he plants his feet on the mattress and grasps the sheets in his balled fists. In other words, he’s prepared to hold on for dear life if need be.

The seductive tone in your voice turns a bit more serious. “I’m gonna start slow. And if it hurts or you want to stop at all, you better let me know, okay?”

Dieter nods.

“Hey, I’m not playing around. I don’t want to hurt you. I need to hear you acknowledge that if this is too much you’ll tell me. Alright?”

This time he clears his throat, looks you dead in the eye, and responds, “I will. I promise. I trust you.”

You let out a shuddering breath. And it makes him realize that even with the confident demeanor, you’re likely nervous too. It strikes him that you probably haven’t done this in a while either. It makes sense that Roman wasn’t brave enough to take a cock like yours. Lucky for him, Dieter was all too willing to take the bullet in this instance. Suck it, Roy.

You prod at his hole with your tip, dipping it in and out about an inch to test the waters. As relaxed as Dieter is, he knows he’s out of practice. Fucking himself after you left had always felt a bit awkward. He desired the connection more than the feeling; your low voice coaxing him along the path to pleasure and cradling him in your arms when the journey was done. Doing it to himself always left him feeling a little emptier than before so he tended to avoid it.

Though it’s slimmer than the ones he was used to you using, it still takes a minute for him to become acquainted with the fullness of your cock again while you start to slide further in. There’s never really been anyone else he’s trusted without fear that they’d run to their social media with all the details.

You’re the only one who knows just how he likes it. With a few slow, deep thrusts you know exactly how to draw a few sharp gasps from him. You know it’ll make him whine when you dig your fingers into his hips and praise, “You take my cock so well, baby.” 

Once the stretch of you feels a bit more tolerable he gurgles something akin to encouragement.

“You’re just aching for my cock aren’t ya’, sweetheart?” you tease, your confidence slowly returning.

“Pleas– please fuck me,” he moans.

“What’s my name?”

That’s the easiest question of them all. “Mommy,” Dieter blurts, “Please, mommy.”

The name seems to activate you, 

“C’mon,” you pant, “I want the neighbors to hear how good you’re getting fucked. Let them hear you, baby.”

He has no trouble with that. If there is indeed someone in the room next door, he knows that they’re getting the performance of their fucking lives. Strings of his incoherent babble paired with the bang of the headboard against the wall. 

“You wanna touch yourself now? Can mommy see you touch that pretty cock of yours, huh?”

Without another word, Dieter’s hand flies to his neglected dick. Even the slightest bit of pressure from his fist around the base nearly makes him sob. He’s so desperate to relieve the throbbing need in his belly that he begins pumping at an almost brutal pace. Mere seconds before he feels like the cord is about to break, you lay your own hand over his and stop him abruptly.

He lets out a sharp breath through his nose in defiance and is about to protest when you chide,  “Ah, don’t get greedy, baby. Go nice and slow so mommy can really watch you.” You let go of him and continue, “It’s been so long since mommy has seen you come hard. And we’re going to make that happen, we have to be patient. Can you do that? Be patient for mommy?”

He nods feverishly.

“Say it.”

“Yes, mommy.”

Dieter tries his best to pace himself. He tries to time each drag of his fist with the drag of your cock inside of him. His body sways with the movement and if he didn’t feel so on edge, he thinks he could probably fall asleep like this; being fucked into oblivion by you.

He can’t even remember the last time he’d felt so warm and wet and safe. Probably since the last time you were on top of him.

His lidded eyes meet your expression. A few drops of sweat have formed on your forehead. You bite your bottom lip and you stare down at where your cock disappears inside of him. True to your word, you watch him slowly milk his own cock. And he swears that between small grunts he can hear you moan softly.

A bit of pride bubbles in Dieter’s chest knowing that you still crave this the same way he does. You’re just as fucked as he is; just as far gone. And he finds himself starting to slip farther and farther down the pit too.

“F-fu-u-ck– I’m so fucking…sofuckingclose–” he pants. That familiar rush of pleasure in his abdomen threatens to spill over. He knows he’s only got a few seconds until he lets go entirely. He doesn’t wait to be told to ask first. He begs, “Please, please, please, let me cum…holy fuck–”

You’re breathing so hard and so focused on hitting him just right that it takes a moment for you to gather yourself enough to respond. But you do. And Dieter is on the brink of sobbing when you whine, “Go ahead, baby. Make a fucking mess of yourself.”

Those words are the green light for him to fuck his fist a little faster, urging forward that long awaited release. Dieter’s back arches. And with your cock still sliding in and out of him, the slightly altered path makes him see the fucking heavens. God bless the Emmys. God bless the Television Academy. God bless Roman Roy. God bless whoever invented that beautiful, curved, pink cock. And God bless you, his favorite angel, for fucking him onto paradise’s doorstep with it.

Ropes of his thick spend shoot across his stomach. As your thrusts and his movements slow, each spurt begins to slowly spill over his fist. He milks every last drop of cum that he can from his softening cock; you wanted a mess, after all.

Dieter groans when you eventually pull out of him. Closing his heavy eyes, he allows himself to feel just how completely spent he is. Every one of his limbs are jelly. Exhausted but contented jelly.

Soon afterwards you pad away to the bathroom, likely going to retrieve a towel and straighten yourself up a little. When you return and begin to clean up the last hour’s work, he can’t help but notice your expression.

Your jaw is slackened and soft. You part your lips as if in pride at the result of this impulsive act. Though you’d been firm before, you were still so gentle with him. Your melodious hum fills the room with a comforting atmosphere. He missed this. He missed you.

When you both finally settled in bed, it felt as though little time had passed between this tryst and the last. There’s a comfortable silence as you brush a few strands of his hair away from his face and tuck it behind his ear. Your hand lingers for a moment on the side of his head. You hum and press your lips to his for a soft kiss.

Amongst the tangle of limbs, one of his legs is nestled between yours. For a second he wonders if you two hadn’t cleaned up as well as you thought until it hits him that the wetness on his thigh is from you.

He breaks away with urgency and you give him a confused expression. “I’m sorry. Do you want me to-? I think I can get hard again. Just give me a minute to-”

You sigh and hold him, keeping him still. “Dee, it’s okay. You don’t need to do anything.”

“Are you sure? I can go down on you if you want.”

“Hey, what did I say about being greedy, huh?” You laugh. “I’m too tired anyways.”

Dieter’s heart sinks until you continue, “We can do that tomorrow. Before breakfast? How’s that sound?”

He pulls you closer to his chest and chuckles, “I can do that.”

“You sure can pencil that into the schedule?” You tease.

“Oh, I’m not missing that appointment. Trust me.” With a hard swallow he admits, “Been waiting for that opening for a long time.”

Your voice reverberates against his ribcage when you reply, “Me too, Dee. Me too.”

Please consider commenting and/or reblogging if you enjoyed!! Love ya!! 💛

[hausofwoo]

strapped | park seonghwa

pairing: seonghwa x afab reader

word count: 612

warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, literally just a pwp blurb, seonghwa sucking a strap on, sub!seonghwa, begging, finger sucking, hair pulling, use of petname (sweetheart)

author's note: i had the thought of seonghwa sucking a strap-on pop into my head and i had to write it out asap. very short but juicy! there will be plenty more sub!seonghwa fics from me but here's just a little taste....

seonghwa is so desperate to please you.

he sits on his knees on your shared bedroom floor, hands tied behind his back and head tilted back, looking up at you standing over him. his skin is glistening with a sheer layer of sweat and his hair is a ruffled mess from all your pulling and tugging. he’s free of all of his clothing, but his erection throbs in need.

“please,” seonghwa begs. “i’ll do whatever you want, just please touch me.”

“not yet, sweetheart,” you say, running your fingertips along the side of his jaw. his eyes are fixated on you with pupils completely blown. you place your fingers on his soft lips, prompting him to immediately open and take them in his mouth. he runs his tongue along your digits before sucking on them, eye contact persisting. you replace your two fingers with your thumb, prying open his mouth so he can take your strap.

“do something for me first, baby,” you say, watching as he lays his tongue flat for you. “suck.”

you guide your strap’s tip to his mouth, and he takes it eagerly. his plump lips enclose around the tip and gradually takes the length. he reaches the base of the strap, deep-throating it. he hums in satisfaction. he continues to bob up and down, sucking. he’s making a fucking mess, with spit covering his lips and dripping down his chin. he doesn’t seem to care anyway, with his muffled moans filling up the room.

he pulls off the strap completely, a string of saliva still connecting to his lips. he drags his tongue on the underside, making his way back to the tip before taking it into his mouth again.

yeah, maybe getting your strap sucked doesn’t physically stimulate anything for you, but seonghwa loves putting on a show for you. he loves to be degraded by you, to feel pathetic under your touch. something completely takes over him, and all he can do is follow your every order. he’s like a puppy; just so fucking eager. you love it too, being able to control what he does. it comes so naturally for you to push him around, and it only makes it ten times hotter when you notice it makes him twitch.

you grip his hair, pushing his mouth as far down on the strap he can go. his eyes roll back and he lets out a loud moan onto the toy. you yank him back off, watching his half-lidded gaze up at you as spit spills out of his swollen red lips. the saliva drops onto his crotch, right on the tip of his aching cock.

“oh fuck,” he groans, knitting his eyebrows together. his hisses, partly from pain, and the other part from pleasure. this whole time, during the teasing and the foreplay and now while giving your strap head, he’s been painfully hard. you haven’t touched him once, and it’s starting to feel excruciating. he lifts his hips, thrusting his leaking cock into the air, searching for some sort of stimulation. he squirms under your hand, leaning his head back and whining. he looks back up at you with probably the most pathetic look you’ve ever seen.

“you want me to touch you, don’t you, baby?” you say, moving your grip from his hair to caress his face.

“please,” seonghwa says, tears welling up in his eyes. his hips continue to thrust in the air slowly, cock twitching. “i’ve been so good…”

“you have been good, haven’t you?” you say. “let me take care of you…”

a/n: guys don't hate me i know it's short!!!! i was on vacay in chicago to see ateez and it gave me inspo and i had to write it out before i lost my mind. i have another fic in the works rn but i wanted to release this so u bitches had something while u wait lol

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[tojiscrack]

wherever you are right now, good morning/evening/night… that was a mouthful, but i’m not sure how else to start this.

it sounds serious, i know, it’s not, don’t worry, but i like being dramatic, haha, you know me ;) i have a small announcement to make — i say ‘small’ ‘cause it really can be done in one or two short sentences, but i’d like to give you some context and reasoning because i care about every single one of you reading this, all 470 of you, and i’d hate to leave you without an explanation.

i’m mainly addressing my LL (liar, liar) readers, ‘cause i seem to have a big following and a large number of people who interact with me because of that piece of work, but this also goes out to the very few people (and i’m not being dramatic when i say very few people, lol) who are loyal readers of SOANO (start of a new obsession).

i am going on hiatus.

yeah, i know, boo, tomatoes, the story was just getting started 😠 , etc, etc.

and i apologise.

genuinely, from the bottom of my heart, i’m truly, deeply sorry.

you’ve been forced to tolerate my extremely sporadic updates that were only just starting to get better (some updates would come weekly, whereas others would take two more weeks, but never an entire month like before). i really am sorry. i know what it feels like to enjoy a story and then be left on a cliffhanger (of sorts?) when the author goes on a hiatus — mini or not.

i think this long message will answer most of the questions you have in mind, the first being ‘how long will you be on hiatus for?’. and i do have a straight answer for that:

five months.

i know, it’s a lot. again, i apologise. i can’t apologise enough, but let’s keep the questions going.

the one i know you’re all wondering — why am i going on hiatus in the first place?

just to be clear (for those of you who have genuinely become close friends with me through interactions) i’m alive, healthy, and well! i’m not falling out of love with writing, i’ve not fallen out of love with LL or SOANO (no matter how slow the updates for the latter seems to be) and i’m not feeling pressured by writing either of these stories for you all!

the reason is quite simple… school :/ exams. MAJOR ones.

when i started writing SOANO, i was around 15 years old (give or take a few?) and i had no major exams at all to focus on. halfway through writing SOANO, i was met with my first set of important exams at 16. for those of you who are not british and/or not aware of the uk education system, GCSE’s are the exams that dictate which sixth-form college you go to. college, as in, not university-college, but the last two years of high school (junior + senior year) that are the only two years of sixthform/college.

when i started writing LL, i was in my first year of college at 17 (this time last year), and so the only ‘major’ exams i had were mock exams that would prep me for my university predicted-grades. i am now in my second (and final) year of college, and the exams during may and june will dictate the rest of my life. that includes which uni i go to, whether i’ll even go to uni at all, what course i’ll take at uni if i do end up going, etc.

you get the idea. these are important exams. the most important ones that i’ll ever have to sit this year, and starting tomorrow, i have 130 days to turn my very-average-grades around to three A’s (or perhaps two A’s and a B) to get into my desired uni.

unfortunately, i can’t do that if i spend most of my time writing up very lengthy chapters for you.

why can’t i split my time accordingly, even if it means going back to the once-a-month updates? because i am so incredibly, stupidly behind on content for the courses i’m taking right now that i can’t even afford to waste 30 minutes on doing anything other than praying and studying. that’s just the sad truth of it.

again, i’d like to apologise for the inconvenience. i’ve received so many lovely dm’s from so many of you (and i answer every single one, you know that) and in the conversations that many of us have had together, a lot of you use the story (LL) as a safe haven, an escape from your own messy school lives, almost in the same way that i use it to escape my messy school life. some of you have mentioned that you pull all-nighters simply to reread it all as if you’re reading it for the first time. a few of you have mentioned how this story was an escape from the tragic events of canon, which was exactly what i intended for it to be like during the planning process, and i’m still so overwhelmed and flattered by the growing love i’ve received from both old and new LL readers.

will the story be temporarily taken down?

absolutely not.

i considered it for a time, but after acknowledging those comments i mentioned above, i decided that what’s left of LL right now (170k+ words divided in 10 chapters) can still be a safe haven for you whenever you need it. i also knew that i wanted everything to look the same for when i’d return in late-june of this year. leaving it up would also mean that newer readers (future readers) would join the family too, and we love a full house ;)

will i still be active on tumblr during the hiatus?

yes! maybe not as frequently as before (like answering messages in my inbox every day) but i’ll definitely be active enough to get through any messages, comments, asks, etc, within the span of a week for sure. you can still tell me about your shitty day in my inbox, you can still vent to me about an encounter with a guy you hate in my dm’s, and you can definitely still send in silly things about LL or SOANO. i’ll still be active, it’ll be like i never left, only, without the fortnite-ly (not a word, i’m well aware) updates.

LL’s one year anniversary is coming up in a couple of days, and i wanted to release a new chapter in time for it, but looking at my exams and how much cramming i’m already going to have to do for it without writing on top of that… i reluctantly acknowledged that it just won’t be possible.

i think i’ve addressed everything… this is a little awkward now, lol.

once again, i apologise for any hurt or inconveniences i might’ve caused, but i myself don’t enjoy the idea of not writing for 5 months any better than you probably do. 0-0 i enjoy writing, it never felt like a chore to me, and i’m going to miss it during the next 5 months that i’ll be spending alone, grinding overtime like hermione granger…

please wait for me, my little liars <3

love, mother hen sumaya

[hana-no-seiiki]

Hi! I’m the one who asked about Cat Villain! Reader theme lol. It’s nice to have a person to think as same as me, anyway civilians probably confusing about how all 4 Robins so fond of the villain but they still have that kind of rivalry to them, at least in civilians’ views. STILL

I’d like to add another trailer song that I often use when rotting over cat villain! reader

Eula’s theme is such a good one for heists/a little tango with the bois.

I feel like the general public have a general clue as to the relationship of cat villain! reader and the robins

purely because some of the guys (*cough* Jason *cough*) has fucked them in public, and as much as Gotham is unsafe at night, and no matter how many measures the boys put to protect you, there will always be fanatics that’ll witness everything you guys do.

of course, the damning info is mostly kept in small circles due to the miraculous power of ‘paying people to take shit down’ the Waynes have but a lot of fans have headcannoned and could sometimes build an entirely accurate version of your relationships.

tim was definitely one of your top fansite keepers before he became robin (even though it wasn’t his main focus). he most likely influenced a very uh… ‘sasaeng’ type of attitude in your fandom. which wasn’t regulated well until he realized his mistakes. nowadays, he makes sure your fans are more tamed.

sometimes i imagine cat villain! reader to be a celebrity, less known in america and mostly abroad (bonus if you guys aren’t from there to begin with, so your popularity can just be focused on or around your home country) that is until they were suddenly seen with Dick Grayson in public. you two were very much young and not careful.

people know you as that person that dated Dick, and is now extremely close with his brother, Tim. Definitely scandalous. The only thing stopping Damian from being labeled as one of your conquests is that, dude only realized his feelings recently and he usually approaches your civilian form as Robin. why? Damian’s just a show off, but Robin can be a show off without being seen as arrogant. he’s just doing his job

you have your fair share of villain friends you enjoy hanging out/sleeping with. some of them do you favors in exchange for a night. mostly because they know it’ll piss off the Batboys and throw them off their game though it does come with the risk of being beaten down to death.

i also think it’d be funny if in civilian form as a celeb, cat villain! reader just likes to profess their ‘undying love’ to Bruce 24/7 and how he totally slept with them once and their heart has been taken since. just like to be a menace and cause more chaos with people accusing them of using his kids.

when you found out tim protected your image and generally surveyed posts about you 24/7 you got into a little argument cause you wanted the world to breakdown about your identity and the shit you’ve done

and last but not least, the only reason you haven’t been cancelled to non-existence is cause of your large donations to charity and very humble living. sure, you liked to troll the universe in its entirety but in the end cat villain! reader main purpose is to help the needy. you’re most likely one of Bruce’s biggest investors (again, just to be a little shit)

you’re a little shit yeah, but you’re the batfam’s little shit.

OH! and you like visiting Jason’s grave even after he came back. partly due to missing his old self, but it also assists with keeping his identity unknown with how often you guys are together.

bonus: you’ve interacted a fair bit with the batgirls and duke. by that i mean you’ve bullied them all at some point that it has become almost a christening ritual for you to be a menace to each member.

[peacheeeliz]

005. wooyoung's emojis (1.5k wc)

blue = twitch chat

red = among us chat

milfhos: thought you weren't going to play this game again 😒😒

"Haha, so did I," You sigh. You were currently talking to chat, waiting for everyone to join the lobby. "But Yeonjun thought it would help Yunho and I 'work it out.' Yeah, okay."

Back when Among Us was really popular, the four of you played only that and nothing else. Always hopping into lobbies with each other and fellow streamers, screaming at each other during meetings, or simply doing tasks and remaining unbothered. You guys were the big Among Us streamers of Korea, all until it lost its popularity. After that, you all went into your own different directions and haven't touched the game since.

heartzfrombora: wait but i like how the war is going

"Right!" You exclaim, letting out a laugh. "He just doesn't see this stuff the way I do," you exaggerate, placing your hand on your chest with a sly smile.

strwchaos: I'm loving the yucloudz interactions tho idc if you guys 'hate' each other

Your eyebrows scrunch together at that last comment. "You know I still don't understand this whole yucloudz thing. But, I guess I've never understood ship names," you shrug it off. "But! I can get behind one ship name: Twocloudy."

strwchaos: some people just really like the interactions between you two and created a shorter name that's easier to say lol

strwchoas: i do think some weirdos are actually shipping you two tho... so be careful

milfhos: wtf is twocloudy

"Me and Giselle, obviously," you say, but your chat is just more confused. "Cloudie and Aeri. Aeri. Air-y. Get it?" You laugh, but now your chat is just disappointed. "What? I think it's great, you guys don't know what you're talking about."

faepurity: i'm telling giselle you said those corny ass joke

gigigibaby: i love you but no..

strwchaos: i'm leaving

You laugh again, eyeing the game's lobby to see if anyone else has joined. It looked like everyone else had joined, so you turned deafen off to hear the chaotic jumble of everyone talking over each other.

"Why are we playing this again?" Taehyun groans. "I thought the Among Us life was behind us."

"I thought so too, but I also thought it'd be a nice way to bring us all together again," Yeonjun responds, his eyes busy setting up the settings of the game.

"Was the empires server not enough for you?" Ningning asks next. "God, I don't remember anything about this game. I'm going to die first."

"Yeah, well two specific neighbors don't know how to behave," Yeonjun continues. "Well, one neighbor. The other is just innocently naive."

"Hey," Yuyu pouts. "You were my teacher, man. You should've taught me how to not shoot people with a bow."

You laugh, actually agreeing with Yuyu for once. "He's got a point, Junnie."

"Oh, you shut it," he responds, rolling his eyes. "Okay, I was just thinking we play for a couple of hours? Does that sound good for everyone?"

"Seems excessive, but sure," Giselle answers, sighing. "I better get imposter first, I want to kill Y/N for her stupid Twocloudy name."

"They already told you?" You exclaim, laughing.

faepurity: I TOLD YOU I WOULD

Before you could say anything else in the lobby, the game starts, and everyone turns deafen back on. You wait nervously for your role to be revealed, letting out a breath of relief when you get the Crewmate role.

You run around in your little bean body, simply doing tasks and ignoring everyone else. You stick by Winter and Beomgyu for a while and do a few tasks together, so you know they're clear. Lights are sabotaged and you try your best to stay together, until Hyuka's body is found.

"Okay, motherfuckers, who killed my child?" Yeonjun's voice is serious, despite the fact his 'child' was only killed in a game. "I walked into electrical to fix lights, and the report button popped up instantly."

"You didn't look to see who else could've been there?" Soobin questions, eyebrows furrowed. "The killer could've been in there, man."

"Well, for one, the lights were out," Yeonjun states, finding Soobin's accusations suspicious. "And two, lights were sabotaged. Someone could've walked in there at any minute and found me with a body, doing nothing but wiggling if I didn't report this body."

"Well, Beomgyu, Winter and I have been together this whole time, so we're good," you say, glad to be cleared.

"Yuyu and I were together for a hot minute there," Sungchan explains. "Buuut, I did lose him in electrical just before lights were sabotaged..."

"Wait, what, no," Yuyu exclaims, flustered by the implied accusation. "I split off from you before going into electrical, and I stayed behind to watch cams."

"I did see that the cams were on before lights went off," Taehyun adds. "But that could've been anyone."

"No, it was Yuyu," Giselle states, sticking up for her cams buddy. "We were in there together for a bit until lights were called."

"We don't have a lot of information, so let's just skip," Soobin says, voting instantly.

"Remember, guys, there's still two killers out there," Yeonjun says, voting as well. "So be careful."

Everyone votes and the meeting has passed.

"Who the fuck voted for me?" Yuyu exclaims.

"I've got my eye on you, man," Taehyun whispers, before everyone deafens and gets back to the game.

You stick with Beomgyu and Winter again, continuing tasks, hoping to get a task win. It takes a while for another meeting to be called, and when it does, three more people are dead: Giselle, Ningning, and Taehyun.

"Oh my God, guys," Yuyu starts, almost out of breath. "It's Sungchan, I swear to God, it's him. I watched him kill Taehyun right in front of my eyes."

As Yuyu rants, Sungchan just stays silent before he votes. A famous Sungchan tactic to leave the decision-making to everyone else.

"Look, he's not even saying anything," Yuyu continues. "It's him, guys, I swear to you."

Yeonjun is next to silently vote, but he doesn't stay silent for long. "Yeah, I totally watched Sungchan do medbay earlier, sooo. And we've been together this whole round."

"I was also in there when Sungchan did medbay, so, bye-bye Yuyu," Giselle says sweetly, quick to vote out her old cams buddy.

"You do not have to tell me twice to vote out Yuyu," you laugh, voting instantly.

Within seconds, everyone has voted, and Yuyu's little bean body floats out across the screen and into space. The next round starts, with only one imposter left.

"I'd like to see the last imposter get the rest of us all on their own," you tell chat, letting yourself finally stray away from Winter and Beomgyu. You had to at least give the imposter a chance; plus, you were bored now that all your tasks were done.

milfhos: i can't even tell who it is man

strwchaos: are you kidding it's so soobin

faepurity: idk it could be giselle and she sold out yuyu to make herself look innocent

You're too busy walking laps around the map to pay attention to chat, running into your friends every now and then. You find Beomgyu and Winter again at some point, dancing together under the cameras as Yeonjun watches from security.

You eventually break off from them again, heading back to the cafeteria to see if any bodies were hiding in the top half. But, of course, trying to be a good crewmate would just bring you bad luck as Soobin finds you up there and is quick to kill you.

You stare at your screen with a shocked expression despite already having your suspicions towards him. You accept your fate, flying around as a ghost to keep an eye on your friends until the chat beeps in the corner.

yuyuhoes: at least i didn't kill you :)

cloudiey/n: 凸( ` ﾛ ´ )凸

mysticaeri: omg that's so cute

yuyuhoes: i can't take you seriously with that emoji omg

cloudiey/n: i can't use wooyoung's emojis leave me alone

yuyuhoes: wtf is wooyoungs emojis

cloudiey/n: i've said too much

As you close the chat, your body is reported and another meeting starts. It seems Sungchan was killed sometime after you were, as his name pops up with yours.

"I found her up in cafeteria," Yeonjun says, not having much information about this find.

"It must've been there for awhile because we haven't seen her since we danced on cams," Beomgyu shares, voting as soon as possible.

Winter joins him silently, letting out a quiet giggle as she does. Yeonjun follows suit, voting quietly as well. This leaves Soobin confused.

"You guys are so creepy, I hope you know that," he lets out a sigh, almost accepting fate. "Can you at least explain?"

"Well, Beomgyu, Y/N and I were together almost the whole round, so we're all clear," Winter starts. "And Yeonjun cleared Sungchan against Yuyu earlier, sooo."

"Ah, fuck it, fine," Soobin says, voting. "Not like I can plead my case now."

The other three laugh as Soobin's body flies off into space, ending the game as a Crewmate Win.

"Okay, that was actually fun," you let out with a light laugh. "I don't mind playing for a couple of hours now."

synopsis ⤏ you're trying to peacefully build your starter house on the empires server when your neighbor so rudely (accidentally) kills you, starting the biggest war on the server just one day in.

prev / masterlist / next

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ taglist is closed!

[gudfornuthin]

The Baker and the Ballerina

Chapter four

Pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader (au)

Summary: The reader tells Farah about her interaction with the hot baker. Frank drops by with some fresh treats.

Word count: 1.4k

Series warnings: slow burn, cliché tropes, mentions of PTSD, mentions of abusive relationships, (eventual) smut, violence

A/N: this is the most committed l've ever been to any story I've attempted to write lol, so I thank anyone who is reading and enjoying. I'm proving to myself that I can stick with an idea and see it through. Feedback is as always appreciated :)

"Did you say anything else?"

"Not really, we just introduced ourselves and then left it at that."

Y/N and Farah are walking down the street together after having a brief lunch break while the latter had the time to spare. It'd only been two days since the brief interaction between Y/N and Frank, and since then Farah hadn't stopped bugging her about it. When she said she wanted to live vicariously through her friend, she wasn't kidding. While Y/N continues telling her that the conversation was nothing special, and not worth all this fuss, Farah chooses to ignore her and continue grilling.

"What'd he smell like?"

Y/N scrunches her brow. "What?"

"I bet he smells amazing, like cinnamon and sugar cookies-"

"Yeah, don't think I'm gonna sniff the guy I just met-"

"Was his voice deep and slightly husky?"

"Farah-"

"Oh god," Farah grabs her friend's arm. "Don't tell me hot baker has a nasally, whiny voice."

Y/N stops walking, a headache beginning to form. From lack of sleep or Farah's incessant badgering, she isn't entirely sure. "Okay, you've had your fun, but can we drop this now? I had one conversation with the guy, if you can even call it that, and it's done. Over." She's about to continue walking, but stops once more, turning to her friend. "And like I keep telling you, his name's Frank."

"Frank," Farah rolls her eyes. "Kinda disappointed. I was hoping for something like Grayson, or Adonis, or Alexander."

"Jesus, his name's fine. It suits him."

Farah smirks slightly. "Sorry, didn't realise you'd be so defensive over the name of the guy who you definitely don't care about."

The pair continue walking, Y/N deciding not to give Farah the satisfaction of arguing back. She has no interest in Frank. She doesn't need to defend herself over it. Sure, he is good looking, and if things were different, she knows she'd be fighting off anyone who so tried to get between them. The second he made eye contact with her; she was prepared to drop everything and jump on him right in front of anyone who walked by. But she didn't, and she won't. Because relationships are difficult, and speaking from experience, Y/N doesn't want to go through the same hardship again. It's better this way. That's what she's trying to tell herself anyways.

Farah notices her friend's quietness so moves her thoughts to something else. "How're the workers getting on at the studio?"

Maybe not the best topic to pick, as Y/N cringes, finding it hard to hide how she feels about it all. "They're a lot slower than I want them to be. And the bill only seems to keep adding up more each day."

"Absolute bullshit," Farah chooses not to hide how she feels at all. "Why don't you stand up to them, it's not like you're some shrinking violet. Tell them how you feel."

Y/N shakes her head. "No, I don't wanna cause arguments or start confrontation just because they're not quick at their job. They want it to be perfect, and so do I. For now, I'll be patient."

Farah shrugs, deciding not to fight back on this, as the pair turn the corner and head towards the studio. Y/N spots a tall figure standing outside the entrance to the building, an apron wrapped around their waist. Speak of the devil. Just seeing Frank makes her heartbeat faster. Why? How can a random guy she's spoken a few words to have this effect on her? This is bad. Or maybe good. It's difficult to say at this moment.

Y/N is ready to grab her friend's arm and drag her in the opposite direction. Unfortunately, Farah has other plans, as she too spots Frank and sucks in a dramatic breath. She picks up the pace, rushing ahead of Y/N before she has a chance to stop her.

"Oh god," Y/N mutters under her breath as she tries to catch up with her over-excited friend.

She makes it over to where the pair stand, as Frank's attention is now on Farah. They shake hands and introduce themselves to each other, even though the woman already knows far too much about the baker.

"She hasn't stopped talking about you," Y/N catches the end of Farah's sentence, assuming it's directed at her.

"Oh really?" Frank teases, looking over at Y/N and smiling slightly.

She smiles back, her eyes glancing down and then back up to the man in front of her. "Farah's the one asking so many questions about you." She notices the paper bag gripped loosely at his side. "So, uh, anything I can do for you?"

Frank waves her off, holding the bag out towards her. "Nah, just saw the builders over here again and thought l'd come by, drop some things off for ya."

Y/N takes the bag and looks inside, the smell of freshly baked goodness wafting into the air. A similar mix of pastries and sweet treats like the ones she bought the other day.

"And I put one of the cookie dough croissants in there, 'cause I know you like them so much," Frank continues, rubbing the back of his neck, almost appearing shy.

Y/N can feel her cheeks heating up, the gesture affecting her more than she realised it would. He's just being nice, stop reading too much into it.

"She also really loves raspberry muffins," Farah butts in, decidedly ruining the sweet moment.

Y/N rolls her eyes, but Frank just laughs. "I'll keep that in mind." He looks up as the noise from the open window catches his attention. "So, how's work on the studio doing?"

Y/N goes to reply, but Farah once again cuts in, knowing her friend will play the situation down. "It's a piss take."

Frank huffs in jest and Y/N slaps her friend lightly on the arm.

Farah shrugs her shoulders. "Well it's true! They're taking advantage of you."

"I'm sorry that's happening," Frank responds.

Y/N tries not to make a big deal about it. "She's being dramatic, honestly it's fine."

Frank isn't convinced. He hasn't known her for long but can't help but feel angry on her behalf over the way she's being treated.

"Well hey, if you need help, I can have a word with them," Frank says. "I'm not afraid of being an asshole."

Y/N laughs slightly. "Thank you, but I promise I'm good."

They stand there for a few extra moments, just smiling at each other. Farah clears her throat, sending a knowing look to her friend.

Y/N holds the paper bag tight. "Uh, I'll let you get back to work. Thank you for these, you really didn't have to."

Frank nods. "No problem, you need anything else just come over, David and I'll help in any way we can."

They bid goodbye, as Frank heads to the bakery and Y/N and Farah enter the studio building.

"Nothing there, yeah right," Farah snorts. "I was drowning in the sexual tension."

Y/N scoffs, placing the paper bag on the table. "What sexual tension? He bought stuff over and then left."

"Oh, please," Farah continues. "He gave you free pastries and made sure you knew your favourite was in there. And then told you he'd 'have a word' with the workers that are bothering you? That man wants you bad."

"You need to stop reading those dark romance novels," Y/N replies.

She sets everything from the bag out on the table, feeling prepared just in case the workers want anything. The cookie dough croissant is wrapped separately. Y/N places it down, then spots something scribbled on the side of the wrapping. A phone number, and Frank's name next to it with a smiley face.

She doesn't notice Farah standing behind her also reading the scribbles. "He wants you!" she exclaims, making Y/N jump.

It's not a big deal, that's what she tries to tell herself. But as she takes her phone and inputs his number into a new contact, the fluttering in her stomach is hard to ignore. She types in his name, along with a small croissant emoji next to it. She sends out a quick text, just so he has her number too.

'Bakehouse 31 has a new regular - Y/N :)’

- - -

Taglist: @nialhero-blog @luvrgirlsworld @britt217 @solstararis (apologies if some tags didn’t work)

[pumpkin-spice-serval]

TADC Episode 4 Predictions

I made these November 9th and shared them on Instagram, they're slighly outdated post-trailer, but I thought I would post them here anyways :D I'll put in orange any new thoughts I had as of the trailer today (btw I had a hunch that this would be the Spudsy's episode due to the whole TADC café thing). I'll also put my new predictions at the bottom:

Caine makes an adventure where the humans have to work at “Spudsy’s” and serve NPC customers (seems I got this one right)

Puts Gangle in the “manager” position (this one too)

Zooble decides to join the adventure for once, perhaps? My thoughts are maybe this is because Zooble is closest to Gangle in the circus, and Gangle wants some moral support from Zooble during this adventure because of her big role, and they oblige (Zooble is part of the adventure and it seems Gangle interacts with them in one of the scenes... so! This might be right! Abstragedy shippers rejoice!)

But yeah I really do have a hunch that they have a good friendship and we will see that in this episode

Gangle uses her power as manager to give Jax the worst possible tasks/jobs, Zooble is very entertained by this and eggs it on, thus Gangle gets a bit carried away (I still think this might happen lol)

Jax snaps and goes to tell Ragatha about the “figurine thing” (nothing about the trailer shows this coming up, but we shall see)

My theory is this is something harmless albeit a bit Tumblr-coded LOLL she probably has mini figures of all the circus members and role-plays scenarios with them, like ships, or her whacking Jax or something, and one time Jax walked in on it and used it as blackmail

I feel like maybe Jax and Ragatha will get into an argument during this episode as a sort of prelude to their two consecutive episodes–I think their characters are heavily linked to one another and we will get more foreshadowing of that in ep. 4 (I was talking about a more serious argument, this might happen, but it seems the episode is very Gangle centric so I might be wrong)

Zooble apologizes to Gangle at the end of the episode, for getting caught up with harassing Jax vs. actually being good moral support, Gangle forgives them of course

Updated Predictions:

Gangle seems to have a very different personality in this episode. She also seems to go through a little bit of an emotional crisis. I have always wondered if Gangle is some type of neurodivergent (numerous possibilities here from social anxiety, to long term depression, to autism, etc., I definitely feel there's something there) and may be "masking" her true self because she's scared to open up, especially because of Jax. That's why she's so nervous without the comedy mask, it's like a security blanket to her, and it also may be why Caine gave her a new mask, trying to help but instead fuelling her issues with self image and giving her a toxic positivity issue.

Adding onto that, I think that's why we may see her having a mental break during the episode, and perhaps confiding in Zooble about it, feeling like a failure or like no one cares about her or would like the real her. Zooble, feeling out of place themself, would definitely be the type of person to comfort Gangle, if in a more calm and pragmatic way.

I noticed Gangle getting into a possible argument with Ragatha, of all people, in the trailer. I also think Ragatha has a sort of fake positivity to her, not in the manipulative sense, but in the people-pleasing sense, and the denial sense. She is trying to cope by being as upbeat as she can but that can only go so far. We can see her suffering with burnout, and Gangle definitely is not helping. I think that Gangle will be a sort of foil for Ragatha in this episode, showing her that being too positive and chipper can cause other people around you to feel worse, not better.

Caine has a "suggestion box" in the trailer, and it seems like it's filled to the brim. I think, as a B-plot, we will see Caine have a bit of his own identity crisis, stressing over the fact that there's so many things the digital circus members want to be done differently by them, and he'll be in a frenzy to figure out how to fix it. Definitely some good potential for his development here!

Finally, I think we will get some more insight into Zooble in this episode, through the lens of Gangle. I already discussed this a little, but I feel like it's implied that they're friends in the trailer (although I have an abstragedy bias, so I could be wrong). I think Zooble may open up more about their identity and insecurities in an attempt to help Gangle work through hers.

Well, that's my analysis and predictions, I hope you enjoyed reading them!! :D

Kit

[pannman]

ACE ALASTOR WEEK DAY 6 MIXED SEXUALITIES SHIPS DAY

Radioapple

CW: big miscommunication, Lucifer oversteps a little but doesn't mean to, Alastor struggling with his sexuality, old men arguing lol

Alastor only agreed to this because Charlie begged. Not that he cared for Charlie at all it was just getting annoying. Normally he would've happily agreed to cook dinner for the hotel but with the angels coming down for a peace meeting Charlie wanted everything to be perfect. And Lucifer wanted to avoid being seen as much as possible so he offered to cook. But then Charlie had absolutely horrendous idea that if the two of them combined their talents dinner would be positively divine.

So she begged Alastor to set aside his differences and cook a large meal with Lucifer. Lucifer would clearly do anything to avoid interacting with heaven. So much so that an entire day spent with Alastor didn't sound as bad. Alastor wondered just what had heaven had done to make Lucifer fear them so much

Once in the kitchen Alastor insisted Lucifer handle dessert and he handle the main course. "I can cook more than just sweets" he huffed. "Oh I'm sure. I'm sure they'll just LOVE your pancakes drenched in butter and syrup. This maybe a hotel but we're certainly no bed and breakfast. I'm going guess our esteemed guests will want something with a little more sustenance" he replied. "More sustenance... more sustenance yeah right" Lucifer mumbled but got to work on desserts

Delightful. He was cooperating. Not very happily but Alastor figured he'd take it. Alastor busied himself cooking up some more high class meals foie gras, beef wellington, boiled lobster, tomato basil salmon and a fresh kale salad. Meanwhile Lucifer was baking cream puffs and macarons and a large red velvet cake. It looked like dinner was going to be a masterpiece. Hopefully if all went well they wouldn't have to go to war again. Though Alastor enjoyed the bloodshed he had gotten badly injured and wasn't remotely interested in letting that happen again

Alastors conjured up a shadow holding two of the finest wines in either hand. Red wine in one and white in the other. Alastor grabbed the red wine and waved his shadow away to show he had made his choice. Before turning and running right into Lucifer holding a large bottle of white wine. "What? No, no. White wine. They're Angels. They don't want your bitter earthy red. They prefer white" Lucifer said. Alastor grew irritated. "White is too acidic. Besides I can already tell mine is more aged." He argued. "They're wearing white. What if they spill their wine on their clothes. Red will stain worse" Lucifer argued back.

"You are insufferable! I've been here longer than you. I know what I am doing. You're only here because your precious daughter is allowing you a role here. Nobody asked for a nepotism daddy" He said. Lucifer scoffed. "Did you just call me a NEPOTISM DADDY?!?" He yelled. "I didn't think you were deaf as well as stupid." Alastor sneered. "Alright thats it! you've been taking shots at me from the very beginning! What's your problem with me!?!" He got right Alastor's face and Alastor refused to back down. "I just think Charlie deserves better than a father who never calls her unless he needs something. You seem to be the one with the problem." He responded. "I hate you!" He yelled in his face. "I cannot stand you in slightest either!" Alastor screamed back.

"Then why are always right by me!?!" Lucifer raged. "Maybe I like tormenting you! Maybe I like seeing your blood boil! Maybe I think it's cute when you are angry!!!" He yelled but immediately recoiled. He turned red as the wine in his hands. Lucifer looked as shocked as him. "C-cute?" Lucifer stuttered. "I meant-I meant amusing..." He tried to back pedal but it was too late. Lucifer's flustered face turned into a smug grin. "So thats what's been going on!" He leaned into Alastor who backed up until his back hit the counter. Lucifer continued "I guess being the devil I can't help but have that effect on people. But I won't lie. You're capable of giving me... temptations" he leaned in face inches away once again only this time he had the edge on Alastor. "I-i don't-"

Lucifer cut him off with a kiss. Alastor didn't hate it. He had thought about what it would be like to kiss someone. And embarrassingly he often pictured it being with Lucifer. However when the kings serpent like tongue slipped in, it grew far too much for him. He pushed him off immediately. Lucifer fell back onto the counter across from him and looked confused before immediately filling with shame. "I'm sorry... I thought.... I'm sorry..." He disappeared leaving Alastor filled with conflicting emotions

He hadn't hated the kiss until it got heated. He actually liked the intimacy of it until Lucifer began to want more. Realistically how could they ever work? A relationship would certainly go poorly. He couldn't see himself becoming physical with him but surely Lucifer would want that. And he could never satisfy him if that was a priority. Alastor finished up the meal and the dessert. The dinner went well. Charlie told Alastor to tell her dad that she was very proud of him and thankful for his help. Alastor chose not to tell her about what happened nor that he had to finish everything up

Alastor sat on his sofa in his room with a half drank glass of whiskey thinking deeply. Suddenly there was a knock on his door. Alastor answered. And sure enough it was Lucifer. "I owe you an apology. I... I owe you a thousand apologies. I don't know what came over but it wasn't right. And I shouldn't have left you to do the rest of the cooking yourself." Alastor allowed him in. "It's quite alright. Everything went smoothly. The princess wanted me to tell you she said thank you" he replied. "But about the kiss... I'll admit I find you attractive and when we argued I thought that... you felt the same. I thought you were just nervous or flustered. I tried to be confident and take charge because it's not one of my strong suits but I went too far. I'm sorry" he sounded extremely guilty. He genuinely believed he had taken advantage of him somehow.

Alastor appreciated his openness. "I enjoyed the kiss Lucifer... until it got sexual. I... don't enjoy those type of activities. It's true I find you attractive as well just in strictly a romantic nature. I'm sure a relationship without sex wouldn't be of any interest to you..." He admitted. "What makes you think that?" Lucifer asked. "You-You want me to be able to satisfy all your needs yes?" Alastor asked with surprised.

"I've been satisfying my own needs ever since Charlie's mother left. Relationships are about more than just sex Alastor. I would never base my feelings off of whether or not you wanted to get physical. If that's something you're uncomfortable with I would never pressure you into it. I want to be with you Alastor. But promise me you will be open with me about your boundaries. I don't ever want to make you uncomfortable again" he said

Alastor had never thought anyone would open to a relationship like that. Especially someone who felt sexual attraction unlike him. He wasn't even sure if there was anyone out there like him. But now he didn't mind as much. "I suppose I could give it try. I promise I'll be honest with you about what I'm comfortable with" he said. Lucifer smiled at him. It was a stark contrast to earlier when he looked about ready to wring his neck with his bare hands. But it was quite amazing how feelings have changed with just a little open communication.

"Sooo... you wanna cuddle? Or whatever you wanna do I'm down" Lucifer said awkwardly. Alastor chuckled. "Cuddling would nice...". They both lied down on sofa. Alastor big spooning Lucifer and wrapping his arms around him. Alastor quite enjoyed this. He couldn't help but think about all the wonderful things they could do together. "Say, Lucifer. When do you want to inform Charlie" Alastor asked. "Hmm... you know what would be fun. If we pretended to hate each other still for a little while. Every now and then slip in a comment about the other's attractiveness only when one of the hotel member can hear so they freak out and question what they just heard" Lucifer suggested.

"You really are a mischievous snake!" Alastor exclaimed... "I love it!"

[miyukisu]

No Regrets .ᐟ

❤︎ | Sometimes it's just better to give in... (2.2k wc) ╰ feat. Miyuki Kazuya (DnA) x afab!reader

tags - vanilla for once lol, dry humping, pussay eating, unprotected (tsk tsk), situationship!Kazuya, afab reader, no Y/N

MEGA MASTERLIST

minors do not interact

“Did you regret it?”

His question hung in the air for longer than he would have liked. His eyes bore into your skull—much like it did last night before he leaned in and captured your lips in his.

A heat of the moment thing that you both swore wouldn’t happen again because you agreed to take it slow. Excruciatingly slow, he would think.

“Not at all. Did you?” You asked back.

“I did,” he replied almost too quickly.

You opened your mouth to speak, but was quickly cut off by him. “I regret it ‘cause now I can’t stop thinking about how much more I wanted to do to you.”

He said it so matter-of-factly that it threw you off. But his desire wasn’t lost on you.

“You want me?”

“God—yes. What do you think?”

You could only respond with a weak shrug. “You’ve never really shown—y’know? Moments of weakness or whatever you want to call it.”

A self-deprecating laugh escaped him before he calmed down with a sigh. “My self-control must be top-tier, huh? You think I’m some sort of saint?”

“Well, no.” Far from it—really.

He leaned back on the couch, closing his eyes momentarily. His hand came up to his face to rub his temples with his thumb and ring finger. “I want you so fucking bad,” he said, eyes still closed as if it would retain any semblance of discipline he had left. “But I respect you and I don’t want to rush a good thing.”

He slowly turns to face you, eyes fluttering open.

“So you’re really just holding back?”

“Mhm…”

“But—what if I want you so badly too?”

He swore he could hear something snap within him. His eyes widened for a fraction of a second before whipping his gaze away from you. “Fuck.”

Kazuya buried his face in his palms, annoyed. Not at you—never at you. But why would you say that to him now of all times?

“Should I have not said that?” You asked.

He looked at you slowly and incredulously. In his head, he called it for what it was—a stupid question.

“What do you think?” He asked back.

“No… but you’ll still hold back, right?”

Kazuya grumbled. “Yeah, I will. I promised I’d do things right with you.”

Then, silence. You let his words sink in, while he had to think about things other than how good you’d look beneath him. But he had to admit it was hard.

The ticking sound of the clock only reminded you of the prolonged tension between the two of you.

Tick… tock… tick… tock…

It could be so easy—you just have to scoot closer and kiss him again like you did last night.

“Kazuya?”

With the way he looked at you—you’d assume he was thinking of the same thing. He had that all-too-familiar hunger in his amber eyes.

“Yeah?”

Time seemed to pass slowly, but before he knew it, you were crawling to him. You were met with no resistance at all when you cupped his cheek and pulled him in. Your lips fit in his like a puzzle. It was warm and overwhelming.

One thing led to another and you were already sitting on his lap. His large hands firmly grasped the flesh of your thighs as your own hands squeezed his biceps. You were both anchoring yourselves for what was to come.

It became heated too quickly. Hips were rolling and hands were all over the place. A respite from the impromptu make out session was followed by him breathlessly groaning in your ear.

You briefly glanced down and caught him adjusting his pants—already aware of the predicament that he was in.

You both knew that there was no way he’d be able to hold back now.

As if to distract you, he searched for the sweet spot on your neck—carefully planting kisses from your jaw down to your collarbone. He was careful—precise. He bit and suckled, wanting to leave a mark—claiming you as his.

“I thought you’d wait?” you teased between gasps. His grip on your waist tightened for a moment before he unlatched his relentless lips from your neck.

“And I thought you’d behave yourself,” he retorted. “Only an idiot would pass up on this.”

He easily lifted you and flipped your positions before pinning you against the sofa. His lips met yours once more, practically sucking in all the oxygen you had.

He was so greedy—so selfish. But you asked for it when you pounced on him.

He only needed one hand to gather both your wrists and hold it above your head. You were so helpless beneath him, slowly unraveling.

Though, he wasn’t doing any better. The slow and wanton drag of his pelvis against your thigh made your mouth water. His growing erection beneath his sweats was palpable. Kazuya was humping you like it was his last day on Earth. He’d hate to finish in his pants, but he couldn’t resist it anymore.

“Always imagined you beneath me…” he admitted. His eyes were half-lidded—dazed and softer than it usually looked.

You pressed your thigh against him and caused him to suck in air through his teeth. “You can do whatever you want with me.”

Kazuya clicked his tongue, lowering his head. “Shit,” he murmured. “Don’t say that. I’ll come too soon.” He had to bury his face in the crook of your neck to calm down. His hot breath against your skin sent shivers down your spine.

“I don’t wanna come yet,” he whispered in your ear. His lips—wet from kissing you—brushed the shell of your ear. “I wanna come inside you. Can I? Please?”

His words were enough to earn a soft moan from you. The sweet sound sent a jolt straight to his core and you felt him twitch against your thigh. He was so close to going over the edge, but desperately fought it off just for the chance to feel you like he always dreamed of.

He let go of your arms, trusting that you knew what to do next. Kazuya pulled you by the arm to help you sit upright. The two of you moved in-sync—removing your shirts at the same time. But he was faster; he made sure of that. His hands were soon making quick work of the clasp of your bra and in seconds you were bare in front of him.

Kazuya moved in haste—pinning you back down on the sofa with his weight. He took a nipple in his mouth while the other he rolled between the pads of his fingers. 

“Slow down,” you pleaded between breaths. Your fingers wove into his soft brown hair, tugging his locks slightly. He groaned against the flesh of your chest. “I warned you, didn’t I?” he reminded you before latching on to the other bud then, letting it out with a pop. “I told you once I started—I won’t be able to stop.”

His hand left your hardened nipple, grazing your stomach and eventually ending up at your core. The knot in your stomach tightened, threatening to come undone at any moment. A strangled moan spilled from your lips as his thumb pressed against the sensitive bundle of nerves.

Your back could only arch so much as he kept his larger frame above you. His mouth and fingers worked in tandem and you were certain he could feel the dampness quickly forming on your thin shorts.

He licked one last strip over your bud. “Fuck. Wanna eat you out. You’ll let me do that, right?” Kazuya began trailing kisses all the way down your abdomen, preparing you for what’s to come. “I’ll make you feel so good—make you scream my name. Wanna hear that so badly.”

His kisses stopped at the navel. His fingers hooked at the waistband of your bottoms and he swiftly pulled them off, discarding the garments somewhere in the room. Kazuya gave himself a chance to admire how wet you became for him. If he weren’t already kneeling—he would’ve fallen to the floor at the sight alone. So pretty, so wet, and so inviting—all for him.

He wasted no time and dove head first, pressing a desperate kiss on your mound. With the strength you had left, you propped yourself up on your elbow—only to be faced by such a lewd sight: his calloused hand was keeping one leg open while his head rested against the other, lazily licking up stripes on your slit.

Then, your eyes met.

The harder he pressed the flat of his tongue against your cunt, the tighter he held your thigh. It would definitely leave a bruise later on. But the pleasure outweighed the pain. He started suckling on your clit, his movements deliberate as always. He zapped out any strength that remained and you fell back onto the sofa—an absolute moaning mess for him.

The sweet sounds that filled the room urged him to go on—to be messier with it. He began darting his tongue in and out of your quivering hole, not minding how harshly you pulled on his hair. If anything, it pushed him to set a faster pace. 

Too dazed to realize it—Kazuya let go of your thigh, opting to palm the tent in his sweats. It was so painful and leaking. As temporary reprieve, he pulled his length out, slowly stroking himself while he ate you out. Not once did he slow down. 

You couldn’t even warn him in time as you came right on his tongue. He diligently gathered your slick, cleaning you up. Kazuya waited for you to at least stop shaking before he pulled away. Through your droopy lids, you could see how his lips glistened with your essence.

He coaxed out another strained moan from you as he slapped his heavy length against your clit a couple of times. He was drunk on pleasure as much as you were and he was simply moving by instinct—doing whatever feels good. And him rubbing his cock back and forth on your cunt was the best thing he felt so far.

One hand was planted firmly next to your head, grounding him from the immense pleasure. He groaned, snapping his head up to face the ceiling with his eyes screwed shut. His hips moved frantically—his tip nudging your clit at every push. Your nails found purchase in the firmness of his shoulders.

Carelessly and frantically, he continued to thrust his hips until his tip eventually dipped in your hole. You groaned in unison—surprised by the newfound sensation. Kazuya even had to stop for a bit and gather his bearings. 

Shit. I almost came, he thought.

He took a deep breath and tried to push in more of his length. “Fuuuck…” he drawled out. “Relax, sweetheart. It’s too tight.”

Your chest was heaving, making words impossible to form. Seeing you all fucked out already—he took matters into his own hands, leaning more into you and forcing you to open up more for him.

As he sank the rest of his length in, his chest met yours, pressing you into the sofa. His groans spilled directly into your ear, intensifying your arousal. 

“Can I move now? Shit. I need to feel this.”

Your arms wrapped around his neck, keeping him in place. He took that as your seal of approval, pulling out completely and slamming back in. Once he knew you could take it—he pounded into you relentlessly.

Soon, your incoherent blabbers and moans bounced off the walls of the room. Another orgasm surged through you—white and blinding. His jaw clenched, feeling you flutter around him. But it still wasn’t enough for him.

He waited so long for this and there was no way he wasn’t going to make the most out of it.

For a moment, he slowed down to grab your legs, placing your calves snugly on his shoulders. Kazuya leaned back down and resumed the frantic pace he set earlier. He put you in the meanest mating press right after you just came.

“C’mon… you can do one more for me, right? You’re my good girl. You can do it.”

To motivate you, he pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead. It was a far cry from the brutal thrusts he was giving you. At this point, he was desperately chasing his own high—wanting release. 

“I’m gonna come,” he whispered. His fingers became tangled up in your hair as he held your head—almost protectively. His entire body enveloped your smaller one. 

“Come for me,” you said before wrapping your legs around his waist. He thought his body would give out from what you did.

But he soldiered on, pistoning in and out at a consistent pace. But soon his hips began to stutter. In a few more thrusts, he painted your insides with warm ropes of his seed. He groaned loudly in tandem with your desperate pants.

It took a while for either of you to catch your breaths. He was still snug inside you, wanting to feel every last pulse you have to offer him.

©miyukisu do not repost/reupload/translate any of my works on other platforms

╰ author's note WOW WHAT DO YOU MEAN I POSTED AGAIN

[ahgasegotarmy116]

Hie hie hie!

I had a just take it req (if you are taking any now)

I wanted a real real sweeet the fluffiest fluff of how jk interacts with baby while still in the tummy 😭.

Like talking to the baby bump.

It would mean alot to me!

Thankyouu😭🩷

Haha hieee

Yeah I'm always taking requests for all of my stories! It just depends on how long it takes me to get back to them lol 😅

Okay okay lemme see what I can do 🤭

~~~~

"Come on Honey, the baby doesn't come for another two months. I'm sure we'll finish up the nursery with plenty of time to spare" Jungkook says while he watches me pace back and forth, trying to figure out where I want everything and measuring all around to make sure that it'll fit.

"I know but I really want to get this done now so I won't have to worry about it anymore" I say, looking at all the boxes that we've had in here for the past few months.

"Can you at least take a break? Watching you run around this room all day is making me tired so I could only imagine how exhausted you are" he says, his eyes going wide when he see me try to pick up something a little heavier than I should be carrying and rushes to grab it.

"Everything would be finished sooner if you helped me out" I mumble and he rolls his eyes, placing the box where I wordlessly ask him to. "I've asked you if you wanted my help about four times today and you told me if I asked you again you would make me sleep on the couch for the next three days" he says, crossing his arms and cocking a brow at me.

I quite any comebacks I might've had and laugh awkwardly, "Right I uh, I forgot about that" I say sheepishly scratching the top of my head.

He walks over to me and cradles my face in his hands, placing a chased kiss on my lips, making me melt into him. "You wanna take a nap with me?" he whispers against my lips and I smile, nodding my head and holding out my hand so he can lead me to our room.

He helps me down since it's gotten harder and harder for me to do simple movements that I used to take for granted but he makes sure to take care of everything I need even when it comes to little things like this.

"Thank you Honey" I say and he leans down to give me a kiss before rounding the bed to get on his side.

Once he's laid down next to me I expect him to turn this little nap he offered into something else but he decides to lay his head on my chest and place a hand on my belly.

"What are you doing?" I giggle and he shushes me playfully. "Can't you see I'm trying to have a meeting with our baby?" he says and I don't take offense since I love it when he does this so I just run my fingers through his hair while he does as he pleases.

"You know Mommy has been working day and night to get your nursery ready right? That's why your cozy little place in there has been moving all over the place today" I laugh at his cute little daily update with them, it's always my favorite part of the day.

"I told her to take it easy but she won't listen to me" he whispers and I wack him lightly on the shoulder and he flinches as if I had hurt him.

"See, you feel that? I try to tell her to rest and take care of herself and this is the thanks I get? I think you've been giving Mommy too many hormones lately" he teases and I roll my eyes but go back to playing with his hair.

"Mommy keeps telling me that she thinks you're a boy but I think you're a girl. We wanted them to tell us at first but we thought it would be even more special if we found out when you got here" he says and I get even more excited, remembering our little promise to each other.

"Between you and me..." he says, lowering his voice a bit and I hold my breath so I can hear this next part. "I secretly hope you're a boy because I have a bet going with your aunt but don't tell Mommy" he whispers right against my tummy as if that would muffle his words enough.

"You guys made a bet?" I scold him, "I told you not to tell her!" he whispers, playfully scolding the baby in turn as if he wasn't the one that blew his own cover. "Well I wanted to show solidarity with you so I made a bet that we were having a boy but your sister is convinced we're having a girl".

"That logic doesn't even make sense" I say and he laughs as if it was completely logical. "Well this way I'll win either way" he says as if that explains everything, turning his head to now face me, practically smothering himself in my boobs since I'm carrying so high still but he's not complaining.

When he sees that my face is still scrunched up in confusion he sighs and explains himself. "Well if it's a girl then I'll have to pay your sister but I'll still be right since I really think she's gonna be a girl. But then on the other hand if it's a boy then I win the bet and get to support you and your intuition" he says as if his logic wasn't ridiculous.

"Whatever you say Daddy" I tease, leaving him with his face all scrunched up, trying to decide on what he's gonna do next.

"Nope" he says and turns his head back towards my bump. "What do you mean 'Nope'?" I ask, surprised that he's not taking the bait. "I've gotta get used to you calling me 'Daddy' in front of the baby now so I'm practicing self control" he says and I scoff in disbelief.

"I got her back for hitting me" he whispers back to the baby and I huff before trying to sit up. He moves faster than me and switches to hovering over me, keeping me there in protest. "Why are you leaving me?" he asks, clearly offended that I would even think about getting out of bed.

"You promised me a nap" I say and he laughs, "You can nap". "Not like this" I say, referring to not only what he was doing but also the position I was in. "Oh...right" he says and sits back, his head drooping.

"Plus I thought you meant...something else" I say and he chuckles before looking back up at me. "Oh so you wanted a spicy nap huh?" he says, teasing me with the ridiculous term he's coined.

"Why do you always have to call it that?" I whine, placing my hands over my face so I can hide my embarrassment. "Because I love watching the way you react to it" he says while hovering over me again, kissing my neck making me let out a shuddering breath but he stops as quickly as he starts and I scowl at him.

"What are you doing? I ask and he looks down at me with a teasing smile. "Didn't you say you wanted to get the nursery done today?" he points out and I huff, knowing that I should probably get back to that.

"We'll have more spicy time before bed" he reassures me and gets up so he can start helping me up as well. "You're no fun" I slouch and he caresses my face again, placing a kiss on my forehead.

"You gonna let me help you now?" he questions and I nod, dropping my resolve in wanting to accomplish it on my own.

"Come on, the sooner we finish it the sooner we can finish what we started" he says as he watches me walk out, checking me out before slapping my ass, making me yelp.

"What was that for?" I whine and he laughs and rubs the area as a fake excuse to comfort me when all he wants is to grab my ass. "That was for teasing me earlier" he smirks and I roll my eyes at him, "Come on let's just go" I say and I let him walk into the nursery first, slapping his ass as he does.

"Did you just...?" he says in disbelief and I smirk back getting exactly the reaction I wanted. "Yeah, so what? What are you gonna do about it?" I taunt and he chuckles walking up to me and places a hand on my belly.

"Just wait until we get this baby out of you Bunny" he taunts and my teasing nature dissipates, knowing exactly what he means.

He smiles at me, satisfied with my reaction and turns back to the nursery to assess what needs to be done while I'm left standing in the doorway, visions of what he might do to me flooding my mind and he calls out to me to break me out of it.

"You gonna help me?" he asks and I clear my throat and shake my head. "On second thought I might actually need that nap you mentioned earlier" I say and he laughs.

"Okay Bun well go lay down and wait for me while I finish this up" he says and when I try to protest he cuts me off. "Bed" he finishes leaving me sighing and doing as he says but by the time he's finished with the project he took on in the nursery I'm already fast asleep.

He smiles and gets in bed, cuddling up next to me and leans down to quickly say a little hello to the baby and to tell them to let Mommy rest for a bit and then settles in behind me, spooning me and holding me close.

These are the moments I live for. Just our little family of three, cuddled up and in perfect harmony. "I love you" he whispers in my ear before he settles down for our very well deserved nap.

"Love you" I mumble having stirred awake a bit. He chuckles and places a kiss on my shoulder before slowing his breath in sync with mine and soon we're both fast asleep, dreaming about our little one.

~~~~

I hope that was fluffy enough for you hehe please let me know what you think! 💜

[ihopesocomic]

See something funny

When I watched My Pride I always thought Feather was just Nothing's step-brother

Makes sense, son of her step-father, that's her step-brother

But then I watched your review on it and yall kept calling him her cousin and I went???? No that's her step brother

Until I realized, no he IS also her cousin, her mom and his mom are sisters AND I DIDNT KNOW

They did SUCH a bad job with establishing basic character relationships that I didn't know that Powerstrike and Waterhunter were sisters.

HOW DO YOU EVEN DO THAT THERE AREN'T MANY ADULTS IN THE PRIDE AFTER SHARPTONGUE DIES

Powerstrike and Waterhunter literally never interact it's hard to tell if they even know each other????

Like in IHS you can instantly tell the relationships between Clever, Careful, and Vicious and you can tell they're sisters because omfg they actually talk and interact like they know each other!!!🫨🫨🫨

Like you don't even need to make Waterhunter speak but just let her interact with ANYONE????

She feels like a such an outsider you can hardly tell that Nothing, our main character who she lived with and who grew up with her around, EVEN KNOWS WHO SHE IS

lmao yeah, we've got a lot of comments that are all 'you keep calling Feather her cousin when he's not, he's her little brother: this just proves you didn't watch the show properly and your whole argument is void!' and we're just there snickering because we know...

In some twisted way, nobody knows the ins and outs of this show like we do. We didn't study it for six months without dotting the i's and crossing the t's. We didn't ask for this. We could've become well versed in French or some shit but instead we became experts in My Pride lore. It's a curse. lolol

The only thing I think I messed up was calling Kyoga a 'god' once or twice but, in my absolute defence, she did transform into a literal god at one point so I don't know what the hell else I was supposed to call her. lol

But the weird thing about Waterhunter is that she was actually supposed to have lines and she did have a VA. The lines were just cut for whatever reason. I'm willing to suspect that Tribble probably found the notion of having a voiceless character quite funny but it just made her a big ol' waste of space. A lot of nonsensical things seem to happen just so Tribble could have her weird inside jokes (i.e. Nothing have that weird ass steak thing on her face, Feather randomly disappearing in the middle of the Nothing vs. Fire battle).

A lot of characters could've been combined here. Powerstrike and Waterhunter. Farleap and Feather. Maybe even Silentstalk combined with them two for good measure. There was also no reason for Quickmane and Proudmane to be separate characters either.

But thank you so much, anon. I think another thing that helps is that Cat also designed the three sisters to actually look related too. Powerstrike and Waterhunter not only do not remotely resemble each other but neither of them resemble their mother either. Which is weird because I don't recall Cow of the Wild having this issue. - RJ