#especially with whats going on with my friend and their protests in brown uni and them getting arrested

[ilynpilled]

Glad you're alive and well. We need u in the wars to come

what wars lmao 😭😭

[casuallyawkardd]

Dating Hobie Brown

Pairing: Hobie Brown x GN!Reader

Summary: My personal headcannon of what it would be like dating Hobie Brown. Includes how you met, got together and etc. 

Warnings: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, death and violence

A/N: Idk how old Hobie actually is, but I always pictured he was like nineteen so don’t @ me when the NSFW comes out. Also I didn’t mean for it to come out as sad as it did?? So sorry I guess 

Meeting

Your mother is the captain of the police force. Growing up, it was just the two of you and because of this your mother made sure to raise you right. Making sure you said your ‘please’s and ‘thank you’s, got good grades in school, didn’t get involved with the wrong crowd, etc. etc. As you got older, you learned just how hard your mom worked to make sure you had a good childhood, a good life, and so you made sure to do as you were told. To be her perfect, little baby. 

However, it was hard to make sure you grew up in a ‘good’ environment the older you got. Especially when you began to understand that not everyone saw your mom as the hero you saw her as. The political environment of London was unstable, protests and riots becoming more and more frequent. Sure, you agreed that the government was corrupted and people abused the power they were given, but when you started seeing signs that trash talked the captain of the police force, you couldn’t help but take it personally. Yeah, there were some bad people out there, but your mother was not one of them. 

Being the kid of the police captain makes you a walking target and you find that out the hard way. One night, as you’re walking home from one of your uni’s night classes, some extremists decide to back you into the nearest alley. They weren’t like the usual protestors who would shout at you while you walked down the street, these were the kind that were in it for the rioting. More about making a scene than supporting a cause, practically looking for an excuse to do some damage. 

You have no intention of making it easy for them, mama didn’t raise no bitch. They shove you and you shove back even harder. They get in your face to spit insults, you scream some right back. It’s a back and forth that goes downhill quickly, four against one being painfully unfair odds. 

Before you get your ass kicked, your savior arrives. You recognize him immediately; the ripped jeans, leather jacket, the red mask with a spiked mohawk, you’re taken aback as you watch Spider-Man pummel your antagonizers and yell at them to ‘fuck off!’ Now it’s just the two of you in the dark alley and you don’t know how to feel. On one hand, he did just save you from getting your teeth knocked in. On the other, the guy was the bane of your mother’s existence, practically the ringmaster of every protest and riot in London that makes her lose sleep at night. 

”You’re the captain’s kid, ain’tcha?”

“Can’t let a lovely face like yours get broken, eh?”

He’s...charming, his fingers gently grasping your chin as he assesses the damage. Even offers to take you home, which he doesn’t even give you the chance to say yes or no to as he’s already walking you down the street. While there’s a certain allure to him, he’s also a thorn in your side. Teasing you, making up antagonizing nicknames, by the time you make it to your apartment building you’re sure he’s just doing it to spite you. For once, you go against what your mother taught you and don’t thank him as you slam the window shut.

“What? No kiss goodnight?”

Meeting...Again

When you two cross paths again, it’s not when he’s Spider-Man. One of your friends from your creative writing class drags you out to the pub. Saying it was a crime you had been eighteen years old for six months and had yet to have your first drink. The bar is loud, filled with the type of people your mother would kill you for hanging out with. It seems your friend had neglected to tell you this particular venue was a dive bar. A dive bar that was frequented by bikers and freedom fighters. 

You don’t notice him, but Hobie recognizes you instantly; a smirk making its way onto his face as he strolls over. You’re tucked into the corner of the bar quietly sipping on some drinks, your friend having long since ditched you to talk to someone who caught her eye.

“Hiding away are you, love?”

The voice is familiar, making you turn to face him instantly. Where you’ve heard it is a little trickier to place. One quick up and down of the man now leaning against the bar has you stiffening. He’s practically the definition of what your mother has tried to protect you from for years, telling you that people that looked like him were bad news. Yet it seems your attempts to dissuade him are futile, in fact Hobie almost seems to enjoy the banter. He says one thing, you turn your nose up at it. He responds to your insults with vaguely flirty comments and chuckles when you go hot under the collar. 

He finally gets you to crack when he brings up music. It’s your passion, your life, hell it’s what got you a scholarship to even get into uni in the first place; tuition being well out of your budget. While it’s no surprise your tastes in music differ, it’s more about how he talks about music. You learn he’s a musician too, that he believes it’s not just about ‘finding a good beat’; how music can touch the soul if done just right. That it’s something that can unite the unlikeliest people.

It surprises you, in a good way. Has you thinking there’s maybe more to him than meets the eye. You say as much, Hobie teasing you about how ‘you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover’, which has you rolling your eyes. He’s not wrong though, the more he talks the more you want to listen. Not just about music, but the little details of his past, his beliefs, ideals and even his little quirks that he brings up organically in the conversation. What’s even better is how he matches your interest with his own, pulling out every little detail about yourself he can. 

You don’t realize it’s gotten late, a quick glance at your phone showing you had missed a concerning amount of calls and texts from your mum. Drunkenly, you stand and stagger, the drinks you had been sipping on, that Hobie so generously kept buying you, starting to pack a punch. Large hands hold you steady, Hobie offering to walk you home. You tell him no, the slur of the word causing him to guide you out of the pub regardless. 

You never thought walking home from a bar could be this fun. The fuzzy feeling in your head making you giggle and stumble down the path, Hobie following along and indulging you and your drunken bantering. When you do finally get home, you dread the idea of encountering your mother in your intoxicated state. Not to mention the fact you were accompanied with a ‘ ‘delinquent’ ’, your mother’s words not yours, like Hobie. The final decision is to crawl through your bedroom window, demanding Hobie give you a lift. The suggestion has him grinning ear to ear, tall stature lowering into a crouch and longer finger intertwining to give you a step.

“So there’s a little rebel in you after all, eh?”

Getting Together + “Dating”

The two of you becoming an item happens before you even realize it. You had been going about things under the guise of friendship, that is until one of his friends brings it up. A harmless little comment really, telling you that your ‘little boy toy’ was causing a ruckus yet again and might need someone to reel him in. It perplexes you, said friend beginning to tease you for playing coy. When you finally do fetch Hobie and apologize on his behalf, they give you a knowing look as you and your ‘boy toy’ head out for the evening. 

Suddenly you’re very aware of the way he grabs your hand when guiding you through a crowded room. Fingers laced with yours for a better grip and using his body to shove people aside to give you a clear path. The gentle kisses on your forehead when he tells you goodnight or on your knuckles when he’s trying to apologize for something. How his forehead touches yours when you listen to one of his favorite cassette tapes, your eyes closed to focus on the music while he watches you softly mouth the words to the song. The proud look he gets on his face whenever you do something out of your comfort zone, followed by him saying ‘I told you so’ when you end up liking it. 

“Nah mate, I don’t do labels.”

Is his response when someone flat out calls him your boyfriend. He says it simply, bluntly and you try to deny the sting in your chest when he does. And yet you hold your tongue, suppressing your comments with the bitter taste of beer. The routine you’ve begun now feels full of falsehoods. Spending the day between home and uni classes to keep up appearances as the ‘perfect child’; evenings at small pubs and Hobie’s flat where you finally get to unwind and take a break. What were his intentions? Was he like this with other people? Is what the two of you have not as special as you had thought?

The thoughts swirl through your head as you begin your walk home from the pub, yet another part of your new routine. Although this time, rather than Hobie and you walking side by side, air filled with chatter and quieted laughter, tonight he’s a few paces behind you. Not by choice, rather you seem to be refusing to speak to him, picking up the pace whenever he tries to match your stride. Could he easily close the distance with his long stride? Sure, but he knows when to not push your boundaries. 

He’s had enough by the time you arrive at your apartment building, a familiar, large hand wrapping around your forearm and pulling you to him. He’s not mad, barely even upset, just confused why you’re acting so differently. Usually you liked his calm demeanor, it seemed to balance out your high strung one, but right now it infuriates you. How does he not get it? Swerving the goodnight kiss, you head up to your flat to put this night behind you.

 After about a week of you declining invites and giving him the cold shoulder, Hobie decides to come to you. He tries to be respectful, giving you space for reasons he has yet to understand, but that doesn’t mean he can’t watch you. It’s not creepy...he’s just making sure you get home safe, watching from the building across the street from your usual route home...it’s not weird, right? Right? 

He can’t stand it, shooting a web and swinging to land gracefully in front of you. Or he tries to, his boot got caught on the concrete and he had to stumble to a stop. Since when has he been this clumsy? You stand dumbfounded, not recognizing him when he’s in his Spider-Man suit. He doesn’t even remember he’s in the stupid thing until he’s halfway through his rantings; talking about how ‘uncool’ it is to be avoiding him and how he thought of you as more mature than this. That he can’t fix the problem unless you tell him the problem.

After a moment of awkward silence, the look of recognition flashes across your face and he’s ushering you into the nearest alley before you can blurt out his secret identity. Stuck between Hobie and the brick wall, you’re forced to fess up to why you’ve been so distant, Hobie refusing to budge until you do. You can’t even look him in the eye as you spill every thought you’ve had over the last week. Talking about how you have feelings for him, but hate him for making you like him. How you don’t care if he feels the same, but you do care that he acts like he feels the same. That it’s not fair he gets to decide what can and can’t be a label and if he’s not your boyfriend then what is he? That it-

Hobie cuts you off as he leans in, lips pressing tenderly against yours. You hesitate before leaning into it, his warmth surrounds you as his arms move to wrap around your back. You realize you missed his touch, the contrast between the coolness of his piercing and the comfort of his lips on your skin. When he pulls away, he continues to hold you close, hand coming up to hold your face, a calloused thumb stroking your cheekbone. 

“I’m not into putting a label on things, but I’m into....this. I like what this is. I don’t need a stupid label to tell everyone I like you and you like me cuz the only people who need to know are you and me. Innit that right, love?”

You point out that while it’s touching he feels that way, there might be a hole or two in his idea. The two of you decide to compromise so the next time someone asks, you tell people you’re ‘exclusive’. It’s not a label, it’s an adjective, totally different.

Future

You two met before the spiderverse, before Hobie even knew what a canon event was. If he had, he might’ve prevented his next one. Your mother’s death came during a flurry of incidents. For you, it was her finding out about Hobie. As expected, she was furious when she found the two of you saying your goodbyes through your bedroom window. The fight that ensued between you and her was monstrous . You’d always been a good kid, her perfect, little angel. You’d grown to hate that word. Perfect. What’s the point in being perfect if you can’t live your life? Have a little fun?

She blames Hobie for your change in tune, forbidding you from ever seeing him again. The bubble of anger swelling in your chest bursts and you tell her ‘no’ for the first time. Scream it at her actually. That you’d done everything she asked for your whole life and that you weren’t going to give up the one thing you did for yourself. That it wasn’t a crime to like someone like Hobie, that there was more to him if she would just give him a chance. Your mother refuses to listen, dismissing you to go to your room. Reluctantly you comply, but not without shouting a final ‘I hate you!’ as you slam the door. 

Hobie, while frazzled by the little bit of the argument he’d witnessed, has his own problems brewing. He’s caught wind of Kingpin, the rumor being that he’s working with Osborn once again. This time, he’s gotten his slimy hands on some illegal weapons that’ll give the police force the upper hand against the freedom fighters. He’s on the scene, but so is your mother, who had left after your fight when she got tipped off. Hobie can see she’s alone, most likely being too impatient for backup like she usually is. 

Everything happens too quickly, hissing whispers between him and her as he tries to tell her to ‘bugger off’, her saying she’s not going to let some kid get hurt while playing hero. Huh, she’s never called him a hero before. Hobie doesn’t get to dwell on the thought before they’re spotted, bullets and gun powder filling the night air. Some webbing takes care of Kingpin’s goons, but the bastard is able to get away as usual, but not without delivering the final shot. 

The eyes of Hobie’s spidersuit widen when he sees the blood leaking down the front of your mother’s uniform, instincts drawing him to her side to help her lie down. Emotions stir uncomfortably inside his chest, this is a cop; not just any cop, but the leader of the swine that call themselves the defenders of the people. And yet he’s applying pressure to the wound, holding off the inevitable because right now she isn’t the captain of the police force, she’s a mother. Your mother. 

Her last words are ingrained in his mind, ‘My baby...I can’t leave my baby.’

You’re confused when you see him in your living room, quietly but urgently saying that he has to go before your mother catches him, unaware she’s not even home. That she wouldn’t be coming back home. Routine and structure is embedded in your being, the idea of your mother’s death coming ‘too soon’ or that ‘you wouldn’t get to say goodbye’ have never crossed your mind. And yet it’s your reality. Your mother doesn’t get to retire and die of old age and the last words you said to her were ‘I hate you.’

“She knows you don’t.”

Hobie tries to comfort you, holding you close despite your resistance. In all honesty, you don’t know if you want to be left alone or never want him to let you go, so you settle for what he has to offer. Hobie doesn’t say much else, partly because he doesn’t know what to say and partly because he thinks all he can do right now is hold you and let your tears soak the front of his suit. 

As morbid as it may sound, your mother’s death came at a convenient time. Your first year of uni had wrapped up the week before, so it hurts less to withdraw. At least you were able to wrap up one year. Whether or not you’ll go back isn’t on your mind, but deep down you know you will. It’s what your mother would’ve wanted. 

You’re grateful for the support system you have, a few uni friends who still keep in touch after you leave and the friends you made through Hobie. While their ‘I’m sorry for your loss’s and ‘I’m here for you’s are comforting, Hobie is the one who’s truly there for you. 

Hobie’s the one who lets you move in with him when you can’t stand being at home, everything there reminding you of her. Hobie’s the one who brings you your meals when you forget to eat, the water you have yet to drink. Hobie’s the one who asks you to play a song he likes, his excuse being that he likes it better when you play it, but you both know it’s his way of making sure you don’t abandon your passions. Hobie’s the one who carries you to bed when you fall asleep to home videos, tucking you in and placing the baby blanket your mother made you on top. Hobie’s the one that heals you, even if it’s only a little. Even if there’s still more of you to make better. 

In terms of marriage and kids, they aren’t things either of you talk about. You’re young, you have a lot more ahead of you. Hobie reminded you of that. That sometimes life doesn’t follow a ‘routine’, that sometimes it’s better to live day by day with the ones you love. 

Tags:

@khaleesihavilliard @graysonshaven​ @qiaipia​ @3zae-zae3​ @thedevax @erissco​ 

[subbykboys]

the bad boy’s secret | chanyeol

↳ pairing : badboy!chanyeol x reader

Genre ➞ bad boy AU, fwb AU, college AU, smut

Warnings ➞ sub!chanyeol, dom!reader, bondage, oral (m. & f. receiving), edging, unprotected sex, riding, mild dirty talk, mild degrading, creampie, face riding, cum eating [ sorry not sorry ], reader is in denial , overuse of the word please

Word Count ➞ 8.2k

chanyeol is a bad boy with a nasty reputation. he’s sexy, mysterious, and entirely untouchable. well... to most people, that is. to you, on the other hand-- he’s something else entirely.

posted ; 6.04.20

there was an angry chill in the air. it bit at your face and hands as you strode to the campus lot where your car was parked. all around you, brightly colored leaves fell to the earth as strong gusts of wind broke them free of the branches they so weakly clung to. they blanketed the ground in shades of vibrant reds, tempting oranges, and dull, blotchy browns. 

it was actually really beautiful. you'd always been a fan of the cool undertones of fall. especially the reds. ugh, red was such a gorgeous color. practically everything you owned was red, or some varying shade of it. it was just so sexy and dangerous and— 

"(y/n)!" you were snapped from your inner thoughts by a barking voice. 

quickly, you averted your eyes from the ground and onto the face of the girl walking beside you. her name is Mina, you're pretty sure. you grimaced at her irritated expression, realizing you must have zoned out again. getting lost in your thoughts at inappropriate times was a pretty frequent occurrence for you. 

"huh?" 

she scoffed in disbelief, eyes narrowing, "where's your head at? i've been talking for a solid five minutes and i'm pretty sure you stopped listening six minutes ago."

you chuckled, scratching the back of your neck as an apologetic smile touched your lips, "sorry. i was just thinking about the leaves." 

"you're so weird." 

you didn't know why she felt comfortable saying that to you. you weren't even friends. at least, not by your standards. maybe acquaintances. maybe. 

and that was only because you happened to have the same afternoon photography class and just so happened to sit next to each other. you supposed in her pea sized brain that was enough to qualify for a friendship. but you had standards. and she was god damn rude. 

regardless, you didn't have the energy or patience to start any sort of altercation. so you shrug, head bobbing lazily in agreement. 

"i know."

that seemed to satisfy her as any remaining glimmer of annoyance was swept off her features with one last eye roll and replaced by a light grin, "whatever. hey, there's this party at my boyfriend's frat house tonight and you should totally come." 

"no thanks." was your swift, concise rejection. but of course, that was not enough to satisfy her. 

"what? why not?" her tone demanded an explanation that you really didn't feel like giving. 

sighing heavily, you kicked a pebble across the sidewalks. "parties aren't my thing." 

that was maybe half the truth. you actually did like parties. just not frat boy parties. they were like beacons for girls with low self esteem and insecure rich boys with superiority complexes. they were loud as fuck and made your head ache. not to mention they reeked. apparently, a lot of guys didn't learn in high school how to put on deodorant. your preference stood with more low key parties, with a more controlled number of attendees and some chill drinking. maybe getting a little baked if you were in that vibe. 

"you can be such a buzzkill," she groaned loudly, head rolling back as she stomped her foot childishly. you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. 

"i know." 

"do you ever just let yourself have a good time? like ever? we're in the prime of our lives for god’s sake!" and there she goes again with the 'prime of our lives' bullshit. please. maybe this was the best life would ever be for her, but you had other plans. 

"i have to finish an essay for my business class." no you didn't. 

"but it's friday! you have all weekend to finish it!" why was she trying to argue with you? you'd already said no, so why was she still trying to convince you. spoiler, you weren't about to change your mind anytime soon. 

"i prefer not to put work off until the very last minute." also a lie. 

"(y/n)," she whined, "come on, i personally think it would be pretty healthy for you not to spend another friday night pent up in that little apartment of yours—" 

all at once she was cut off by the distinct roaring of an engine. both your gazes shifted towards the road ahead of you, watching as a flashy red motorcycle came tearing down the street. an excited gasp exploded from your–barely–acquaintance's mouth while a low groan escaped yours. 

fantastic. just what you needed. your daily dose of—

"Yeolie!"

you winced as she squealed his name, waving energetically. you silent prayed he'd just keep going. but of course, he didn't. his bike came to a gradual halt in front of the sidewalk you stood on. it purred as he planted his feet securely on the cement. 

now this next part you could almost see happening in slow motion. 

he reached up with his leather glove clad hands, pulling off his sleek black helmet to reveal a pair of thick, pink lips, a sharp, defined nose, charcoal black eyes, and a head of silver locks. you could practically feel Mina swooning as he swung his head to the side, effectively flipping his hair like some kind of wannabe fetus Justin Bieber. it took less than a moment for those dark eyes to fall on the pair of you, and a slow smirk to crawl across his face. 

Mina immediately rushed up to him (all too energetically for someone who already has a boyfriend, mind you), squeaking out sweet greetings as her touchy hands found purchase on the sleeve of his leather jacket. 

what was up with him and the leather anyway? it was only on shockingly rare occasions that you witnessed him donning something other than his signature black leather outfit, decorated with silver zippers and complimented by a thick chain around his neck and a single silver earring. how much cheesier could he get? 

you'd think after high school, people would be over the whole 'bad boys are so hot' thing. 

apparently not. 

because at your uni, Park Chanyeol was hot shit. every girl and every guy wanted to get their hands on him in one way or another. he was dangerous, sexy, mysterious, hard to get. he rode a blood red motorcycle and smoked blunts behind the main building for god's sake. 

he was the definition of a cliche. but it seemed you were the only person that could see through his whole charade. 

"(y/n), don't be rude! come say hi to Yeolie!" Mina suddenly whipped around, waving you over. 

this bitch— 

the corner of your lip twitched in a subtle sneer, but, ever the pacifist, you obliged, slowly moving to stand at her side. his irritating smirk widened upon your approach, tongue swinging over the corner of his lip as his eyes dropped to do a brief once over. 

"Chanyeol," you grunted with a less than enthusiastic tone. 

"(y/n)," was his swift reply, voice as deep and smooth as ever, "wonderful seeing you again. you look as happy-go-lucky as ever." 

the sarcasm was palpable. 

"yeah well, it seems i just can't contain myself with you around," you bit back with just as much satire, lips curling dryly. 

"i'm flattered," he all but cooed, head tilting downward as his teeth latched onto his bottom lip. 

he stared boldly into your eyes, and you stared right back with just as much fire. 

"um... do you guys, like... know each other?" 

"no."

"yes."

you both responded simultaneously.

confusion plastered itself across her face, eyes jumping back and forth from your face to his. a taunting smile tugged at the corners of his lips, "we actually went to the same high school, isn't that right, (y/n)?" 

you huffed in annoyance, shoulders slumping, "yeah. we did." 

"and you never told me this because…?" 

because you weren't close in the least and you hadn't even told her when your birthday was let alone about your high school life. 

"didn't seem like important information." 

she gaped at you in disbelief, "anything regarding my Yeolie is important information!" 

was she trying to stroke his already colossal ego? if his head got any bigger, it might just explode.

Chanyeol’s grin broadened at her statement, and you silently groaned, knowing exactly what was coming before he even opened his mouth, "yeah, (y/n). anything regarding me is important information. so why didn't you tell her? trying to keep me all for yourself? how greedy of you." 

"please." you scoffed.

Mina glared at you sharply before plastering an innocent smile across her face and twirling a strand of her platinum blonde dyed hair. "ignore her, Yeolie. i was actually wondering if i'd be seeing you at Jake's party tonight?" 

"wasn't planning on it," he admitted, and Mina pouted, lips puckering, over dramatically whining in protest. suddenly, his eyes shifted to you, that stupid smirk touching his features,  "but maybe if a certain buzzkill was attending... i'd be more tempted to make an appearance." 

buzzkill? oh, you. 

"i'm not—"

"of course (y/n)'s coming! wouldn't be a party without her!" Mina rushed to cut you off, throwing an arm over your shoulder and yanking you into her side with a grip tight enough to bruise. you looked at her like she was crazy, brows furrowed, eyes wide, lip raised in a disgusted sneer. but her hold was enough to squeeze the air out of your lungs and steal away your ability to refute. 

Chanyeol’s brows jumped in surprise, an amused grin spreading across his face, "really?"

"wait, no—"

"yes! i was surprised when she agreed, too! but guess she's finally breaking out of her shell!" you were going to kick her ass if she kept cutting you off. 

"well isn't that great to hear." there was a mischievous flicker in his dark eyes, a look you knew all too well. 

"so... you'll come?" she asked hopefully.

"sure." you were annoyed at how easily he agreed. he was still smirking smugly as he began pulling his helmet back down over his head. shooting you a wink and a two fingered wave, he spoke again, "see ya tonight." 

with that final word, he was speeding off down the road, tires kicking up dust and pebbles as they spun. 

as soon as Mina's grip loosened from around you, you were ten feet away, swiftly walking in the direction of your car. "(y/n)! wait!" she cried out, running after you in her five inch heels. you didn't slow down in the least. 

"i'm not going, Mina," you said sternly, not even bothering to look back at her. 

"b–but i told Chanyeol—" 

"no." 

"please?"

"not. happening." 

⋄⋆⋄

you ended up going. 

not because you wanted to, of course. but because Mina decided it was necessary to show up at your apartment and quite literally drag you out. she was surprisingly strong for such a small person, and fiercely persistent. she'd even gone the extra mile of forcefully applying makeup to your eyelids and lips. that's not to say you didn't put up one hell of a fight. but conflict was never your strong suite, and you eventually ended up going pliant under her ministrations. 

unsurprisingly, it was just as you expected it to be. loud. stinky. and filled to the brim with horny bastards looking for a quick fuck. you'd been there for all of ten minutes and you'd already gotten your ass grabbed six times. slimy assholes think it's acceptable to touch someone without permission. all the more reason you didn't want to stick around for long. 

not to mention, Mina had ditched you the minute you walked in the door to suck faces with her fuckboy boyfriend. since then you'd been gravitating from room to room, searching for the best place to sit without being squished by a horny couple practically dry humping against you. 

luckily, you found your solace upstairs in an empty bedroom. the music was muffled the moment you shut the door, the stuffy air that smelled of sweat and marijuana also clearing out. finally, you could breathe. 

you spotted a candle and lighter on the bedside table, and quickly moved to light it. the dull, soothing glow that filled the room, splashing light across the walls made the headache that had begun to swell at your temples ease up. exhaling softly, you fell back onto the neatly made bed, body relaxing into the soft duvet. 

but of course, your moment of tranquility was short lasting. 

because before you could so much as shut your eyes, the door was opening, and a painfully familiar voice was purring, "there you are~ i've been looking all over for you, (y/n), you sly girl." 

"fucking hell," you growled under your breath, propping yourself up on your elbows to face him properly, "what do you want, Chanyeol?" 

he gently nudged the door shut behind him, before walking over to where you lay. "isn't it obvious?" he murmured, leaning forward to press his hands against the mattress on either side of your ankles. 

"spell it out for me." 

he chuckled softly, knees meeting the bedding as he began to crawl upwards, until his face was hovering over yours. even you couldn't deny how beautiful he looked up close, with those big, dark eyes, boyishly grinning lips, smooth, tan skin... 

"i," he began, nose nudging against your cheek, "want," his lips feathered over yours, "you." 

a dark chuckle rolled off your tongue as you met his hooded, lustful gaze. "you we're so greedy last time... and still... you couldn't get enough," you replied smoothly, voice deepening as your desire for him grew. 

"what can i say? i'm insatiable." 

you scoffed, the corners of your lips curling as you lifted your head slightly, leaving only the tiniest of spaces between your mouth, "i don't think you deserve it." your whisper caressed his lips all too temptingly. A chill rolled down his spine, eyes fluttering as he felt himself falter briefly. 

"maybe i don't... but i can earn it..." 

now that caught your interest. 

a smirk touched your features, "and how might you do that?" 

he bit his lip, trying his best to subdue a grin, "by doing whatever you ask of me." 

"you willing to take that risk? after that little stunt earlier? i might just decide not to go easy on you." your voice was taunting, but the challenge and threat were very real. 

"i can handle anything you give me." 

you raised a brow, amused by his naive confidence. then, in the blink of an eye, you had him underneath you, pinning his wrists to the mattress above his head. the action had been so sudden that he could only gasp in shock when his back collided with the bed. you stared down at him with dark eyes, the tip of your tongue sliding over the corner of your mouth. 

"you sure about that, big boy?" 

he inhaled deeply when your head lowered to the curve of his throat, lips just barely grazing over that sensitive spot. "most definitely." he let out breathlessly, eyes fluttering as he tilted his chin back, offering himself to you. something dark alighted in your eyes, a sinister gleam in your smirk as thoughts of how you could absolutely ruin him flooded your mind. 

"you're going to regret saying that." 

you didn’t offer him the opportunity to respond before your lips crashed down on his. he let out a muffled sound of surprise at the sudden action, but quickly relaxed beneath you, returning the kiss eagerly. 

see? you much preferred Chanyeol when he wasn’t running that big mouth of his. he was always so much more fun when he was choking on desperate moans and trembling uncontrollably under your touch. 

truth about the infamous Park Chanyeol? he was a bitch. 

in fact... he was your bitch. 

it started back in high school. when you were the chill girl who wasn't too well known by anyone outside of your friend group, and when he was the untouchable bad boy that everyone drooled over. 

to keep it to the point, you'd both attended a mutual friend's party your senior year, got wasted, and hooked up. 

but, it wasn't what you'd expected it to be. no, because you'd expect Chanyeol to be the kind of guy to pin a girl (or guy) down and dominate the fuck out of them. but the moment your voice took on an authoritative pitch, he was putty in your hands, whining and moaning and begging... it stirred something to life inside of you that you had no idea was there. 

and it was good. really good. so good, in fact, he came running back to you within the next week practically begging for more. and shit, you gave it to him. he was one of the first guys you'd dominated like that. it was empowering, controlling a guy as big as Chanyeol was. it was an addictive sensation. 

but you'd made it very clear from the beginning that it was going to be nothing more than sex. it wasn't romantic, you weren't friends, and you had no intention of getting to know him on a deeper level than his body. though, he seemed suspiciously intent on worming his way into your life one way or another. the boy was relentless. luckily, you were equally as stubborn. a match made in hell, aren’t you? what a spectacle. 

you drew away from the kiss at the feeling of his tongue prodding at your lips, a low whine following soon after. you scoffed softly at the sight of his pouting face, “so needy.” 

“you can only blame yourself.” he shot back easily, eyes already hooded and darkened with lust. excitement glimmered within them as you reached down between your bodies, fingers slowly undoing his belt. 

“is that right?” you murmured, not breaking eye contact for a single moment, a lazy smirk resting on your face. he swallowed, trembling pupils jumping noncommittally from your intense stare down to where you were making easy work of his belt buckle. 

“i— yes.” you don’t think he knew what he was saying yes to, his mind already becoming a muddled mess from the promise of what the night had in store for the two of you. his rationality had a nasty habit of hopping out the window whenever you got him in this position. 

“what are you hoping happens tonight, Chanyeol?” you asked softly, slowly pulling his belt from the first loop of his jeans. 

he swallowed thickly, head beginning to swing back and forth is slow swoops. “i– i don’t—” his voice broke off with a strangled whine as you allowed your fingertips to caress ever so gently over the ever growing tent in his pants. 

you raised a brow into a questioning arch, stifling a smirk of amusement at his already flustered state. “it’s a simple question.” 

his cheeks pinkened. “i just… want you.” it almost came out more as a question than a statement, words shy and hesitant. 

“want me to what?” you pressed. 

“to… to kiss me.” his gaze fell onto your lips, his own parting. 

“kiss you?” you repeated, tone on the verge of taunting. “asking for a lot there, aren’t you, sweetheart?” 

you were teasing him, but he didn’t seem to mind, blinking slowly as he dragged his tongue over the pink swell of his thick lower lip. “want you to touch me…” his voice lowered an octave, deep, lustful eyes looking up at you intensely. 

“where?” 

“everywhere.” he replied without missing a beat. “anywhere. just— just want your hands. or your mouth. i’ll take anything that you give me… but you already know that.” 

you really loved the sound of his voice when he got like this. it was softer than cotton and smoother than silk, rumbling so deep in his chest that you could almost mistake it for purring. it spilled off his lips like the thickest, sweetest honey, so lush and lovely, dripping with shameless desire. something about it was so soothing. and the sounds he made were even better, his guttural groans and melodic moans were nothing short of symphonies. and you were the conductor. 

chuckling, you smirked down at him. “you’re right. i do already know that.” he gasped as you suddenly yanked his belt completely free. “now be a good little bitch and grab onto the headboard.” 

he eagerly complied, capturing his lip between his teeth as he watched you bind his wrists above his head. his eyes slowly dragged over your face, drifting over the length of your neck, following the smooths swells of your chest beneath your black tank top. a low groan slid from his lips as you pressed your hips forward slightly, just barely grinding against his growing erection. his eyes snapped up at the sound of your soft laughter. 

“my eyes are up here, sweetheart.” you hummed, pulling his belt taught before looping it around one of the vertical wooden bars. 

“and beautiful eyes they are.” he grinned up at you in that boyishly charming way, shooting you a playful wink. you scoffed, hands drifting down to rest on his firm chest before one raised to grip his jaw, tilting his head upward. lowering your own head, you allowed your lips to caress teasingly over his. 

“maybe i should gag you, too. keep that pretty mouth in check,” you mused, dragging your thumb slowly over his full lips, “but unfortunately i think i enjoy the sound of your voice almost as much as you do. especially when you're moaning my name. god it’s so hot.” 

you almost growled as he took your finger into his mouth, moaning softly around it. you swooped down, swiftly replacing your finger with your lips. the kiss was deep, rough, and hungry. distracted by your weaponized tongue, he didn’t process that you were unbuttoning his jeans until they were being pushed down his thighs and your hand was gripping his arousal through his thin black boxers. 

“fuck, (y/n),” he groaned deeply into your mouth, arms gently tugging against their restraints. you dragged your lips away from his, face lowering so that you could suck your mark onto the expanse of his neck. he sighed blissfully, hot breath rushing over your ear as he subtly rolled his hips, body temperature rising steadily. you bit down on his collarbone, hands pushing up under his shirt to feel at his toned, well built torso. he was so hard, muscles rigid and protruding, so warm to the touch. 

it was rather amazing. a guy as big as Chanyeol, as strong and as confident, could easily get the upper hand over you if he wanted. he could flip you over and pin you down without so much as breaking a sweat. but he didn’t. he let you pin him down, tie him up, dominate him, mind and body. he allowed himself to submit to you, to be taken by you: slowly, quickly, roughly, gently, he didn’t care, but dammit he enjoyed every second of it. and if that didn’t give you a rush of power, then you don’t know what could. 

goosebumps rose across his honeyed skin as you pushed his shirt up to fully expose his tight body to your ravenous eyes, a chill rolling down his spine when you lowered your mouth to latch onto the smooth swell of his pectoral. he moaned quietly, back arching as you peppered kisses down his abdomen, slowly shifting lower, lower, lower… until your face was level with his bulge. 

a sound of excitement flooded past his lips, his breathing becoming rapid and deep. “really?” he asked hopefully, voice breathless and light. a slow smirk crawled across your lips and you chuckled at the way he jolted with a moan when you pressed a slow kiss to his clothed arousal. 

“really.” you hummed in confirmation. “you said you wanted my mouth, didn’t you?” 

he frantically bobbed his head. “yes. yes, god yes. please.” you almost laughed at his shameless display of desperation. he let out a deep, strained groan as you flicked your tongue over his clothed erection, head falling back. 

“ah ah, eyes on me, baby.” you scolded mildly, squeezing his thighs in warning. he lifted his head without argument, face flushed and glistening with faint perspiration, lip caught in a tight grip between his teeth, brows furrowed. 

from your viewpoint, he looked rather beautiful: arms bound above his head, exposed chest rising and falling dramatically with each deep breath, messy silver hair falling flawlessly over his hooded, lustful eyes. 

and he in turn was also quite taken by how perfect you looked between his legs: smirking lips hovering right over where he needed them most, dark, penetrating gaze making his body tremble with an unspoken need. 

your fingers slipped under the elastic of his boxers, slowly easing them down his thighs until his length sprang free. “there he is,” you murmured, tongue dragging over your lower lip as you admired him, long and thick and swollen, precum spilling over his hot, red tip. he shuddered in delight as you traced your finger over a vein. 

“(y/n)…” his usually deep voice was pleading and airy, hands curling into tight fists above his head, “please.” 

you smiled up at him innocently before delivering a teasing kitten lick to his sensitive tip. he whined softly, hips twitching as his need for you increased tenfold. 

a slightly more sadistic side of you rather enjoyed watching him squirm. perhaps it was that hidden part of you that wanted nothing more than to tease him into oblivion with insubstantial caresses and borderline torturous kisses until he was writhing helplessly and there were tears spilling from those beautiful big brown eyes. 

however, a larger part of you craved the sight of his stunning, fucked out expression. the one where his face glistened with sweat, thick pink lips swollen and red from being ruthlessly and relentlessly attacked by those pearly whites, puppy dog eyes hooded and fluttering, fighting to remain open against his mind's desire to just melt completely into the pleasure coursing like hot lava through his veins. that was the face you wanted to see more than anything. 

a broken moan flooded from his gaping mouth as you fastened your lips around his tip, the taste of his salty precum immediately lathering your tongue. he trembled as you hummed lightly around him, mouth silently forming the words ‘oh god’ as the vibrations sent sparks of pleasure shooting through his body like static shock. 

“feels good, (y/n),” he whined weakly, stomach tensing, “feels so good.” 

your response was to thrust your head down and as much of him into your mouth as possible. he cried out, hips snapping up at the feeling of your gentle sucking. you were quick to pin them back down, a warning glare darkening your gaze. 

“‘m sorry—,” he slurred, panting heavily, “i’m sorry.” he was quick to submit, fighting against the painfully strong urge to fuck himself up into your warm mouth and forcing his quivering body to go pliant beneath your ministrations. satisfied for the time being, you dragged your tongue from his base to his weeping head, tracing slow, taunting circles over his most sensitive place. 

a broken moan was all he could manage as his cock twitched tellingly, precum spilling down his throbbing length. you fixed your lips back around his tip, sucking gently. his thighs trembled at the sensation it sent shooting through his veins, a breathless ‘oh’ pulsing from his pink-bitten lips. 

“(y/n)— (y/n), if you keep doing that—” the warning was clear, but you wanted to see just how close you could bring him to his release before stealing it away last second. it was always fun to watch how hard he came down from his high when he was denied of it. it was delicious, the way he gasped and trembled, shuddering hips desperately seeking out more frictions, but never receiving it. he was so cute when he got like that. 

“you gonna come, baby?” you cooed, replacing your mouth with your hand and shifting upwards so that you could look directly into his eyes. you wanted to be able to see the look in his pretty brown eyes when you stole away his release. he whimpered, head bobbing rapidly as he caught his lower lip between his teeth. 

“please.” 

you only offered a low, contemplative hum before a wicked smirk struck your features. “not yet.” 

a sob broke from his lips as you drew away from his throbbing dick, his high stolen only moments before it could come crashing down over him. his hips bucked, desperately seeking the friction you so cruelly denied him of, but finding nothing but empty air in place of your warm touch. his muscles trembled, broken pleas spilling from his quivering lips. 

“(y-y/n), no— please,” he gasped out, arms tugging against the sturdy binds, fingers aching to touch you, grab onto you, hold you. 

you hushed him with sweet words, pressing a soothing kiss to the cut of his jaw, hands massaging the bulk of his muscular thighs and holding still his stuttering hips. 

“fuck– i hate it when you do that.” he cursed weakly, glassy eyes peering up into yours. 

“no you don’t.” you chuckled softly, brushing his damp bangs out of his face in an unexpectedly tender gesture. 

“you’re right, i don’t.” he relented easily, the corners of his lips curling subtly. 

a sudden silence fell over you, and it took you a moment to realize that he was looking at you with those eyes— the ones you knew all too well. the ones you’d told him plenty of times to drop. because those weren’t the kind of eyes you were supposed to look at a fuck buddy with. those weren’t the kind of eyes that just anybody could be on the receiving end of, most definitely not you. 

“don’t look at me like that.” you warned, hardening your expression. 

“i can’t help it.” he breathed. you felt your stomach twist. damnit. 

“then close ‘em, Park. before I decide to blindfold you, too.” 

it seemed your threat wasn’t very well received, as the smile adorning his features only expanded, the corners of his eyes crinkling endearingly. 

“that doesn’t sound too bad.” 

a dry laugh burst from your lips. “god, you’re so fucking submissive. how has nobody else untangled your little ruse, hm? acting all big and tough on the outside when all you really want is to be tied up and fucked like a horny little bitch. am i really the only one that’s got you figured out?” you hummed thoughtfully, tracing your fingers down his throat and caressing his collarbone. 

“you’re the only one, (y/n).” 

for some reason… you had a strange feeling that that sentence held more meaning than you were willing to decipher.  

“you tell all your little side fucks that?” you taunted, disguising the slight tremor in your chest with a dangerous smirk. 

he shook his head, gaze not wavering for a moment. “there’s no one else. only you.” 

fuck. you needed him to stop talking. so, you did the one thing that always did the trick: shoving your fingers down his throat. he let out a muffled sound of surprise at the unexpected intrusion, a sound that easily melted into a low moan, his tongue immediately getting to work lapping at your digits. 

“you talk too much.” you murmured, taking him off guard and eliciting a low groan from the back of his throat as you ground yourself down on his naked length. “you came to get fucked, didn’t you, sweetheart?” 

he eagerly nodded his head, hips nudging up excitedly against your own. 

“thought so.” you chuckled. 

through wide, glassy eyes, Chanyeol watched you push yourself upright, straddling his thighs. just as he was about to ask what you were doing, you grabbed the hem of your tank top and peeled it off over your head, discarding it onto the floor, your pants fast to follow. 

“fuck. you’re so beautiful.” he groaned deeply, ravenous gaze raking over your nearly naked form. you smirked at him cockily. 

“i know.” 

a surprised laugh erupted from his lips at your blunt reply, eyes glinting with something akin to admiration. “as you should.” 

smiling to yourself, you swiftly climbed back on top of him, not wasting any time before grabbing hold of his throbbing dick. he let out a breath of appreciation at the contact, biting at the inside of his cheek. every muscle in his body tightened as you teasingly traced his tip over your clothed heat, his precum slickening the thin fabric. 

“are you wet?” he asked weakly, voice so airy and strained that you almost missed it. 

grinning devilishly, you toyed with the elastic. “do you wanna find out?” 

“yes,” he all but hissed out, muscular arms straining against their secure restraints, “fuck— yes, please.” 

“mmm, you sound so hot when you're desperate to get fucked.” you groaned softly, nudging your underwear to the side in order to slip his head through your hot arousal. he shuddered at the sensation, his pupils blown wide with lust as he watched you tease not only him but yourself as well with fleeting caresses of his needy length against your burning core. 

“(y/n).” his deep voice had become little more than a breathless whimper singed with molten desire. you felt your pulse jump at the very sound of it, your own want for him swelling with every passing second. 

Chanyeol let out a broken gasp as you sunk down on him, cursing weakly as you took him in inch by inch. a low hum vibrated on your lips at the blissful stretch, hot tendrils of pleasure igniting throughout your body. 

“sometimes i forget just how good you feel inside of me.” you breathed out heavily, peering down at his already fucked out expression with a coy smirk. 

“i could never forget.” he moaned, roughly biting his lower lip. a slow, deep grind of your hips had his head of unruly silver locks tossed back into the plush pillows, an unsteady groan of your name filling the hot, heavy air surrounding you. 

“fuck, go faster.” 

he realized his mistake only when your fingers were pressing into the length of his throat, all motion ceased. “is that how you ask for things?” you asked, voice dangerously calm. 

he was quick to shake his head, eager to right his wrong. “please. please go faster.” 

“that’s better.” 

a rough sob is pulled from his flushed throat (which you’re almost certain will be raw tomorrow morning) as you fuck yourself down onto him. the pace was fast, hungry, rough. his back bowing off the mattress, hips pulsing upward, desperate to meet each thrust half way. 

“(y/n),” you almost moaned at the sight of his body rolling beneath yours, muscles flexed and trembling, toned arms straining against the tight hold of his belt, the leather biting pretty red marks into his wrists, “i wanna touch you— please let me touch you. let me feel you, baby. you know i can make you feel good.”

his begging caused a playful grin to draw itself across your face. “should i?” you murmured thoughtfully, rolling your hips in slow, controlled circles. a low, throaty moan vibrated in your chest as he thrust himself up inside of you, just barely brushing over that perfect little spot. 

“i can be so good for you. please… let me be good for you, (y/n).” 

“well when you say it like that…” you sighed, feeling any remaining resolve come crumbling down. 

excitement ignited in his dark eyes, and he watched with bated breath as you reached up, getting to work on freeing him from the binds. 

the very moment the belt fell slack, releasing his hands, they were on your skin, eager and impatient, tugging you down into a heated kiss. it was messy and rough, all biting teeth and lashing tongues. not that you minded much, it was always fun reminding him who was in charge, one way or another. 

his wandering hands eagerly explored the expanse of your body, squeezing, pressing, pulling. and you let him have his fun, let him push the limits, testing your boundaries with every curious prod and trembling caress. 

it was only when you felt his fingers pressing into the swells of your ass and begin guiding your movements that you drew the line. it took all of a few seconds for you to have his wrists pinned down on either side of his head. 

you pulled away from his lips was a disappointed sigh, tongue clicking. “still no restraint, i see? i’m disappointed. i thought you said you’d be good for me, yeolie? was that good?” he all but whimpered, his head, too muddled from pleasure to form coherent words, shaking remorsefully. “no… that was very bad. bad boy, yeolie.” 

his dick throbbed so hard inside of you that you could’ve sworn he’d almost just come. 

a scoff of both amazement and disbelief escaped your lips. “you like being called a bad boy?” 

how ironic. 

color flushed into his cheeks, embarrassment shining in his big, glassy eyes that were now refusing to meet your gaze. 

“look at me.” 

he gasped as you purposely clenched around him, thrusting your hips back until he was balls deep, successfully forcing his attention onto your face. you grabbed his chin securely between your thumb and forefinger, and lowered your head to the point where your lips were just barely brushing over his. his pupils were blown and trembling as they met yours. 

“you wanna be my bad boy, baby?” 

his jaw fell open, a thunderous moan breaking from his chest. 

“yes.” 

“say it.” you all but growled, tone leaving no room for argument. 

at this point, he was too lost in his own desire to feel any real shame. 

“i wanna be your bad boy.” 

a triumphant smirk curled onto your face, and you rewarded him with a gentle kiss to his quivering lips. “you gonna come for me, bad boy?” he was already bobbing his head frantically before you’d even fully gotten the question out. you chuckled sadistically at his unabashed desperation. “should i let you?” 

“(y/n), please— i don’t think i can— fuck.” he panted out, voice shuddering and breaking as you fucked yourself down on him at just the right pace to keep him teetering dangerously on the edge without completely throwing him over. you bit your lip, pleasure exploding like firecrackers in your veins as he thrusted into you. fuck, if he didn’t stop hitting that spot… 

his hands curled into tight fists where they were pinned to the mattress, dull nails biting smooth crescents into his palm. noticing this, you took it upon yourself to weave your fingers through his, holding his hands in an unexpectedly tender display. only because you didn’t want him to accidentally hurt himself… that was all. 

but, perhaps it was a mistake. 

because that look returned to his eyes with vengeance, his features melting into bursting admiration and unspoken emotion. this time, you ignored it, too gone in your own pleasure to spare it a second thought. that’s what you convinced yourself of, anyways. 

he was pulsing intensely against your slick walls, twitching cock threatening to erupt at any given second. you could tell he was fighting to hold himself back, the veins in his throat growing prominent from the strenuous effort. it was admirable in a way, how desperately he wanted to please you, even if it meant denying himself of the greatest pleasure of all. you’d encountered very few men with that kind of will power. so you couldn’t help but to respect it when you saw it in Chanyeol. 

“you look like you’re about to explode.” you taunted breathlessly, lips pulled into a lust hazed smirk. “it’d be cruel of me to tell you to hold it, wouldn’t it?” 

he whimpered helplessly, obviously not sure which answer would satisfy you and which would coax you into further torturing his already wrecked body. 

you offered a rasping chuckled. “you’re lucky that i’m feeling rather generous today.” 

something between a sob and a moan are thrown past his lips as you slam yourself down on him, purposefully squeezing your walls around him. he cries out your name desperately, imploringly. you know he can’t hold back anymore, no matter how hard he tries. his body was going to come whether he liked it or not. you felt in the way he throbbed and twitched inside of you, heard it in the way he groaned and sighed, saw it in the way his eyes rolled, body shuddering uncontrollably. 

“come.” 

and he fucking did. 

his body stalled, back arching off the bad, hips sputtering up in sharp, quick thrusts, the sound of skin on skin contact resonating through the room. you cooed, relishing in the way he quivered and keener beneath you, mouth gaping silently for a few moments before growling moans finally broke through, rumbling so deep in his chest you could have easily mistaken it for thunder. 

you let him fill you up, painting your walls with his release, knowing damn well your intentions once he was finished. 

“that’s it, baby…” you cooed, releasing one of his clenched fists to caress his feverish face, tracing the lower line of his plump lip, swollen and red from his relentless biting. 

“oh! look at that. you made a mess, sweetheart.” you purred, smirking wickedly as you watched his arousal drip out of you and onto his now half hard cock. he moaned at the sight, cursing under his breath. “I think it’s only right if you clean it up.” 

his eyes snapped up to meet yours, excitement immediately burning with his hazy, blown pupils. that was your boy… always eager to clean up after himself. especially if it meant he could put his tongue and lips to proper use. 

“fuck. ride my face. wanna taste you. wanna make you come.” he groaned breathlessly, freed hands reaching down to grip at your thighs, tugging at them impatiently. 

you chuckled at how eager he was, happily obliging. you climbed up, repositioning yourself to hover over his flushed face, caging his head between your thighs. his fingers pressed into your hips, pulling you down and into reach of his greedy tongue. you couldn’t help the sigh that slid from your lips at the first contact, eyes fluttering at the feeling of his tongue dragging hungrily through your come soaked folds. 

“that’s right. eat your come, baby. lick it up.” you breathed out heavily, fingers weaving through his damp silver locks. 

he moaned against you, the vibrations sending chills rolling down your spine. it was like white hot electricity in your veins when he rolled his flattened tongue cover your clit, a sharp moan erupting from your throat. 

“fuck, just like that. right there.” you panted, hips grinding down against his skilled tongue. “you’re so fucking good with your mouth, yeol.” his determination spiked at the praise, lips encircling your clit and sucking purposefully. 

pure euphoria rushed through your veins, head falling back as your grip on his hair tightened. his rapacious hands danced across your body, fingers pressing hotly into your skin, obviously not having learned his lesson the first time around. though, you weren’t too keen on correcting him. especially not with the fire his touch was igniting across your body. 

your hips stuttered as his tongue pressed inside of you, lapping at you hungrily. “tastes… so good…” he groaned brokenly against your arousal, hooded eyes devouring the sight of you falling apart above him. 

if there was one thing Park Chanyeol loved– it was being the cause of your pleasure. 

snagging your lip roughly between your teeth, you meet his searing gaze, your walls clenching around his invading tongue at the almost unbearable intensity of it. 

“you like it?” you moaned, feeling yourself begin to climb your way towards release. he nuzzled against you, nose pressing against your clit as his tongue teased your entrance. 

god… if you didn’t know any better you’d say he was trying to suffocate himself. knowing Chanyeol, he’d probably consider it the perfect way to go. perhaps you would have laughed at the thought had it not been for the molten pleasure numbing your mind and senses.

“i’m gonna come.” 

at your breathless declaration, Chanyeol is quickly replacing his tongue with two of his fingers, fucking them up into you steadily while his mouth gets to work on your clit. it feels so good… you’re numb to pretty much everything else but the feeling of him, the sight of him. 

and you find it’s just that that finally sends you tumbling over that ledge: the sight of those beautiful brown eyes, dark and eager, burning with unspoken emotion, pooling with crimson seduction. he’s breathtaking. 

you shift off of his face carefully, a hazy, satisfied smirk settling across your face. 

“what a filthy boy.” you purr softly, more so to yourself than him, delighting in the sight of his face, glistening from a mixture of both his and your own release. his lips curl upwards at the corners, sinful tongue peeking out to drag over them and savor the lingering taste of you, a low hum of appreciation rumbling deep in his chest.  

his hands don’t leave your hips as you carefully lift yourself off of him, offering some much needed support for your still shaky legs. you flop down on the mattress beside him with a soft ‘oof’ and shut your eyes, taking a moment to catch your breath and gather your scattered wits. a few moments of silence pass, before your brow twitched in irritation. 

“stop staring before i smack you.” even with your eyes closed, you can feel the heat of his gaze on the side of your face. 

he chuckled unabashedly, not all too torn up about being caught. “sorry. i can’t help myself,” he paused, “you’re just so beautiful like this.” 

sighing, you roll your head to the side, eyes fluttering open to meet his. “what’d i say about calling me beautiful?”  

he pouts, looking like a scolded puppy. “not to say it after sex.” 

“that’s right.”

“but it’s the truth!” 

“Chanyeol.” you groan, throwing an arm over your face. 

he huffs in annoyance rolling onto his side and propping his head up on his palm. “what’s so wrong with me saying that you're beautiful?” 

“you know exactly what’s wrong with it.” you grumble, shooting him a pointed glare, one he is quick to return. rolling your eyes, you turn away from him. “i’m too fucked out to try and argue with you right now so can you just drop it?”  

one of his arms snakes over your waist, and you inhaled sharply in surprise as he tugged you into his chest. 

“Chanyeol—”

he was quick to disregard your warning tone, nuzzling his face into your neck. “i like to cuddle.” 

“you know—” you began, scowling as he cut you off a second time. 

“i know what we agreed to but come on… a few minutes won’t kill you.” he grumbled, low voice raspy with exhaustion. 

the slight tightening of his hold around you told you that he had no intention of letting go any time soon. your features twisted into a scowl, eyes staring blankly up at the ceiling. 

but your resolve to remain unphased wavered. 

because, for a moment, you let yourself feel the warmth of his body against yours, allowing yourself to melt into it. it was a strange sensation, the comfort it brought you… the security. perhaps it was the aftermath of your orgasm. or maybe the exhaustion from a stressful week. or maybe something else entirely… regardless, you found yourself relaxing into him, into his hold, into his warmth. it wasn’t something you could really control. and even if you could, you weren’t sure if you would do anything different. 

minutes passed. maybe two. maybe five. maybe twenty. you weren’t really sure. you could hear the muffled music still pumping through the speakers somewhere downstairs. dull footsteps and low voices passing outside the door every now and again. the soft glow from the still candle flickered soothingly over the pale walls. 

a strange sense of calm had settled over you at some point. you weren’t sure quite when. all you knew was that if you listened hard enough, you could almost hear the steady beating of Chanyeol’s heart. his breathing had become slow and heavy, warming the side of your face with every exhale. 

“are you…” you swallowed, throat unexpectedly dry, “are you asleep?” 

you were met with silence. 

sucking your lips into your mouth, you slowly turned your head. your heart faltered in your chest. “geez.” you muttered softly, a faint smile touching your lips. 

he was knocked out cold, cheek smooshed up against the pillow, lips parted and puckered out, hair cast across the white pillowcase, a few locks stuck on his eyelashes. you lifted your hand carefully, gently brushing the silver strands out of his face. your fingers lingered on his skin, caressing ever so lightly over his cheek and jaw. 

“beautiful.” 

it took you a moment to realize that that word had just come from your lips. you jerked away like you’d been stung, eyes wide, and heart suddenly racing. 

shit. 

you were so fucked.

[athena-is-a-chaotic-lil-shit]

Getting back at writing, is, well, hard. My grammar and vocabulary and basically everything is messed up so I apologize in advance for that. It's been, almost a year ever since my last written fic. That time I was still crazy with Kimetsu no Yaiba and the KyoTan ship. I'll post it some other time ^^.

Anyways, I present to you my attempt in making a plotted work from a random thought that came over me this morning.

Pairing: Tai'chi Kashharzol (Orc) x Pearl Blackbell (Human OC/Reader)

Warnings: Basically none. Except for some curse words.

UD 01/10/21: Cleaned and revised some parts! Tried my best, hope it was enough.

•

Of Ice and Blood

Part 1

Quick backstory and some details I left out in the main work.

It was in summer, 28th of July, when Pearl Blackbell turned 19. She left her home and moved closer to the university she’ll be going to. She rented an apartment about five blocks from the school. Albeit small, it was cozy and proper, having what she needed: a kitchen, a decent-sized bedroom, a small living area with a worn but comfy couch, and a bathroom.

When she was younger, her parents started training her in martial arts and the use self-defense weapons. They needed to make sure she knew how to protect herself against assaulters and dangerous people, she was after all, their only child and baby girl . They want their daughter to be strong, both inside and outside, by the time she sets out on her own and leaves home.

Her favorite self-defense weapon was brass knuckles, despite her parents’ protests. She enjoys punching nasty people and feel the crunch of their bones beneath her fists, especially racists, sexists, bullies, and the lot. The main reason why she got into detention multiple times.

Painting it with a ruddy color, she keeps it in her person, no matter where she goes. She has two, one is for extreme situations, while the other has only two knuckles. It stills maximizes the damage dealt but it is relatively less dangerous than the full dusters. The second one is usually a spare, though she rarely uses it.

She also occasionally carries a pair of retractable nunchucks, which she designed to be hidden within her regular baggy clothes. Her father had trained her vigorously with them and she even bested him in a match before she left for the city.

Selkoth, the city of marvels.

Distant sounds of buzzing cars reached my ears as I opened my eyes and blinked away the sleepiness, the light shining from the spaces in my curtains rather helping, together with the warmth it brought to my chilled tawny skin.

[Start of the actual work]

I fully woke up as I registered the sound of my phone alarm, shortly getting up to prepare when I realized what day it was.

Monday, the first day of my college life.

I stepped into the bathroom and took a quick shower, knowing I bathed thoroughly last night to save some time today.

Time management is key.

I dried myself down, turned to my closet and started putting on the outfit I picked out the night before.

Prioritizing comfortability over appearance, I wore my favorite orange cotton shirt, my blackish-blue hoodie (that had been stained with blood some time ago, but don’t worry, I know how to clean out blood. Mama raised no fool.) over it, together with a pair of black skinny jeans. And of course, tight black sports bra and boxers, even mentioning my underwear yes?

I looked over to my mirror and it was—

Simple. And I loved it. The more simple it is the better.

'“Keep a low profile over there, sweetie. Don’t get into fights when you can help it okay??? We already taught you and prepared you to the best of our abilities. Promise to us that you’ll stay safe, and healthy. Okay? And don’t forget to call sometime.”' I sighed, remembering my mother’s words.

"Yes mama, I will.”

With a smile, I did my hair and went for a tight Dutch braid, it going down between my shoulder blades and ending a little above my waist. I ran to my kitchen to eat breakfast, satisfied with my look.

I eat fast okay

Backpack, check. White sneakers, check. Phone and keys, check. Airpods on, playlist shuffled, I bolted out of my apartment and jogged all 50 blocks to school.

Exercise is always important, and what other way to utilize time for exercising than to do it while heading to your destination, right?

I snickered.

As I made my way to the university, I saw bizarre creatures and monsters of different sizes, coexisting, and interacting with humans. Even so, I noticed other people’s disdain and bitterness towards them when I passed by. My nose is awfully sensitive to scents that sometimes the ones their body releases tells me what they feel at the moment. It’s all science, I guess. I was made extra susceptible to these, so I wear a mask everywhere and every time I go out just to partly block most of the smells.

My first day at a university open to everyone across the country gets my blood pumping with excitement. To think that I’m going to study at Ernestine State University, the Ernestine State University!

I first heard about the uni back when I was a child. News broke out about Victor Ernestine, committing suicide by driving his car off a cliff because he couldn’t accept that his daughter was one of the major leaders who made the unity of all people, of all races, possible.

Dramatic.

Months after Mr. Ernestine died, all his properties and riches were passed down to her daughter, who took over as the new founder of the university and rebuilt it to accommodate everyone, no matter the size and shape.

The strictly all-human school, renovated, reshaped, and repurposed, was now the first university to open its gates to everyone in the country of Yundomia.

I’ve always yearned to get to know other species in this world. I didn’t get the chance previously because my parents sent me to an all-human, local high school. Which sucks. I hated how everyone had a certain hatred for the other races, especially orcs. They keep talking about how they are wild beasts and savages that aren’t meant to be in society.

They treated them like animals that are void of emotions and intelligence.

Come to think of it, I mostly fought with humans who were either racist, bullies, bastards trying to hit on me, or a mix of all of them together.

I chuckled, remembering how many times I got counseled on not punching people in the face.

High school was pure torture, being a human-exclusive campus making it worse, considering how everybody smells so horrible and the principal was an egoistic dumbass I was a hair away from gutting him. My poor nose.

But now I’m done with that! I’m starting anew in this school, in this city. Perhaps make some friends along the way.

Which is kinda problematic.

I’m not the social type. I tend to keep things to myself and hardly open up to anybody. I wanna make at least one friend that isn’t human! Or just, one good friend. I didn’t have or made any friends in the past since people tend to shun me out just because I can tell how they are feeling and find it creepy.

Or they’re afraid to get punched in the face.

Entering the campus gates was like stepping into another world. I was met with the sight of humans and monsters walking together and conversing! It was nice, and I don’t get to see this much often.

I walked around and took in the landscape of the campus. It was huge! And beautifully designed to have a great number of trees and plants, while also having space more than enough to accommodate every student going to their respective classrooms.

I was minding my own business and it was all serene, until some bastards pushed past through me and knocking me to the side. I stumbled but didn’t fall. I was gonna say something, but I shut my mouth. I didn’t want to cause any trouble on the first day for goodness’ sake. So I brushed it off and went straight to the gym for the orientation.

*************************************

The orientation was, intriguing. The dean seems nice, though I couldn't smell him from where I sat. There's also a student council made up of both humans and monsters which is a good sign. The student council president was a Minotaur with a dark brown coat and horns curving front and pointing up. The vice-president was a male student who looked decent enough. The secretary was an elf. The treasurer, a dwarf. And the rest were humans. I couldn't scent any of them to tell me what they were feeling at the moment, but the Minotaur looked uncomfortable, his hands behind his back, body going stiff when they were introduced to the freshmen. There was a larger numbr of humans than monsters, which was expected. I also noticed how both were grouped, a white line in the middle of the gym separating us from them.

Maybe to avoid any misunderstandings?

We were informed that today will be for introductions to your classmates and subject teachers so there will be no lessons at all. Hooray!

I was walking to my first classroom when a damned familiar smell attacked my nose. I stopped to stand for a moment and adjusted my mask. I looked around to spot the one emitting it and of course, saw a human. He looked, well, the typical playboy cool boy who used too much body spray on himself.

Not wanting to stand there like an idiot and prolong my suffering, I speed walk to my classroom and planned to sit at the back hoping no one would notice or ask why I’m wearing a mask.

That's always what they ask first. Not my name or how I was doing.

I expected to find no one inside since it was still early, but I was startled to see a massive orc sitting at the back looking out at the window. He was wearing a dark gray knitted sweater that was hugging his hulking frame very…well. Along with what looked like thick cargo pants and black boots.

He turned to look at me when I let out a small yelp, greeting me with his piercing, blue eyes.

Beautiful.

The orc had long, braided, jet-black locks. Two of them had distinct beads that trailed down from the side of his face and down to his chest, the rest of his hair behind him braided with intricacy and tied and ended halfway down his back.

I was pushed out of my trance when a person entered and crashed into me, swearing under my breath that it was intentional, nearly making me plant face-first on the trash bins if I hadn’t changed my footing at the last moment.

“Watch it, bitch, you’re gonna ruin my make-up,” she snapped.

Wow. She dared to call me that and not apologize like I’m the one who shoved her. Just wow. Usually at this point, I would have planted her face on the floor, but I stopped myself.

Low profile! Low profile Pearl! You’re in college now! You definitely don’t want to get suspended on the first fucking day of class now do you?? Keep it together.

Straightening up, I walked towards the back and sat beside the orc. Whose gaze fell on me, curious, when I wasn’t looking.

I made myself settled in my seat before the professor came in.

There were other races in my class. A blue tiefling sat three rows in front, wearing a casual outfit. A black-haired elf who looked and dressed clever, a row away. A cute pink pixie on my far right. A satyr wearing glasses, two seats in front of me, and a female lizardfolk a seat from of the pixie.

"Are you...alright?"

I almost jumped from my seat when the orc beside me spoke. I couldn’t help but admire how deep his voice was. I tried not to appear flustered, my mask helped with that.

“Uh…yes?”

The orc regarded me for a second before continuing.

“You were pushed earlier.”

Oh. He saw that?

“Oh, yeah, I’m okay.” I smiled at him. Then I remembered he can’t see my face. But I hoped the crinkling of my eyes gave it away.

“I’m Pearl, by the way.” I reached out my hand to him, socializing not my best suit but at least I tried.

He paused for a second before taking it into his bigger one, engulfing mine and shook it slowly. I was again, surprised by how gentle he was.

“Tai'chi.”

Interesting.

“Nice to meet you, Tai'chi.”

He lets go of my hand when the professor started talking up front.

“Nice to meet you too, Pearl."

***************************************

Thoughts? I am wide open for constructive criticism :D

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Check pinned post for latest chapter updates💕

[tardis-stowaway]

Ten years after the Not-pocalypse, Adam Young, age 21 and recently graduated from university:

-Works in a crappy retail job and lives in a tiny, crappy flat in London

-The crappy flat has no sound insulation, so he’s always hearing the absurd amount of movement from the people in the flat above and the really loud but not quite intelligible conversations from the people in the flat next door. It’s a long way to the nearest public park, and he misses the green of home.

-Is not all that good at his customer service job, with the exception that if a customer is irrationally angry about something, he says he wants to make sure he understands the problem and repeats their complaint back to them with this look in his eyes, and they universally back down and often apologize. His coworkers love him for it. Everything else is just drudgery.

-Single, despite his best efforts. Okay, maybe not his best efforts, but some efforts.

-Knows that his childhood was uncommonly idyllic at least partly due to his powers. He’s not entirely sure how his life went quite so off the rails lately.

-Maybe his powers have faded gradually since he rejected his destiny, or maybe it’s just that on some level he absorbed the expectation that being in one’s early 20’s means being broke and a little lost, and the expectation made it happen whether he wanted it or not.

-Or maybe he just should’ve chosen a more employable course of study at uni instead of comparative religion. In his defense, it seemed relevant to his life.

-Spends much of his free time on climate crisis activism. He’ll be damned (ha) if he stood against the forces of Heaven and Hell, the Four Horsepeople of the Apocalypse, and his own birthright to preserve the continuing existence of humanity on the Earth only for humans to blunder into destroying themselves unintentionally through greed and shortsighted decisions.

-He’s been doing this since he was twelve, when Brian sent the Them’s group text an article about the group Extinction Rebellion with the caption “named for us?? :)” Adam had laughed, then actually read the article. Within a week he’d convinced the Them and a dozen of their classmates to show up at the next town council meeting with a list of sustainability demands.

-No matter how many civil disobedience events he takes part in, he never seems to get arrested. Adam suspects it’s his supernatural entity privilege. Pepper says it’s probably mostly that he’s white and great at charming his way out of trouble.

-He’s still friends with all of the Them, but they don’t live especially close together. He does have a flatmate, an American who Adam met at uni.

-At this point you, a genre-savvy reader of much Good Omens fic and meta, are probably seeing the word “American” and thinking that Adam is flatmates with Warlock Dowling. For once, you are wrong. 

-Adam’s flatmate is Jesus.

-Not Jesus Christ, but a young man named Jesus Dominguez, pronounced the Spanish way (like hay-soos).

-Jesus is from Southern California, and he talks more than a little bit like a surfer stereotype. He’s got warm brown skin, shoulder-length dark hair in perpetually-mussed waves, and a little beard. He’s kinda leaning into the look  to mess with people, but it’s also the same style found on at least a third of the other male-presenting hipsters in London.

-When he learned that he was going to share a flat with someone named Jesus, Adam called Crowley and Aziraphale. He’s never been gladder that he stayed in touch with them, because he NEEDED someone who understood how the Antichrist and Jesus sharing a flat sounded like the setup for a joke or a sitcom. Crowley did indeed laugh out loud, then told Adam that as a fellow lapsed member of the forces of Hell, he could personally recommend sharing quarters with a heavenly adversary. Aziraphale just muttered “oh, stop” at Crowley.

-Adam moved to London because it was easier to get to the important protests there, and because he was curious. He spent the first six months desperately homesick for Tadfield. The city was so crowded but somehow he still felt so alone, other than Jesus.

-Then a midnight fire-alarm in their building sent him and Jesus into the streets along with dozens of their neighbors. Adam finally met the people in the flat above theirs who made all that moving around noise. They were an older couple who took ballroom dancing lessons at the senior center and liked to practice at home. Mrs. Kapoor tried to teach Adam how to foxtrot right there on the pavement in the middle of the night. He stepped on her feet, but since he was in bare feet and she’d actually taken the time to find shoes it wasn’t a big deal.

-Meanwhile Jesus was finally talking to the loud young men from next door. By the time Adam wandered over, Jesus had learned their names (Leon, Seamus, and Nazim) and secured an invitation for the two of them to come over to watch Saturday’s football match, and to join their next D&D campaign (“just no more  paladins,” said Nazim). Adam looked forward to finding out whether it was the D&D or the football that was the cause of more yelling.

-As the evacuation stretched on with no hint of either actual fire or clearance to go back inside, the building’s children began to get fussy. Adam found a coin on the ground (successfully picking it up, because Crowley didn’t make it to this neighborhood very often) and proceeded to distract them with stage magic.

-He initially learned stage magic from Aziraphale, but he’s better at it than the angel ever was. He hardly cheats physical reality at all. The kids love it.

-When the fire department finally gives them the clearance to go back inside, Adam’s stomach rumbles. “Is anyone else hungry?,” he asks, to a chorus of agreement. It’s too late for any nearby takeout, but Jesus chats with their neighbors about options.

-Jesus enlists Adam’s help in going from flat to flat gathering ingredients from everyone, and before long they’re serving fish tacos and grilled cheese sandwiches to a small crowd of pajama-clad people. It’s 2 am, but everyone is smiling, or at least has contentment at the edge of their yawns.

-The next day, Mrs. Kapoor brings Adam and Jesus a spider plant cutting, because she thought their flat looked too bare. Adam texts a picture of it to Crowley and receives back lengthy instructions on watering, pot size, soil, and the most effective threats for the species.

-Five months later, the local planning council has an intense debate about why crime rates in one neighborhood have dropped by 75% since their last meeting. They each try to claim credit for their pet civic projects. Actually, it’s because Adam Young has started to love London, or at least his nook of it.

-Buskers soon realize that certain tube stops are generating far more tips than they ever have before, with no obvious demographic shift accounting for the change. The common ground is that these are the stops on Adam’s commutes to work and his activist meetings. He can only occasionally spare a tip himself, but his enjoyment of the music is contagious.

-Even after the breakthrough, not every day is good. On a late summer day that just happens to be the anniversary of the day the world didn’t end, Adam comes home from a protest fuming.

-“Dude, you okay?” asks Jesus, looking up from his guitar. (Jesus sometimes goes to protests with Adam, but not usually the ones where they’re planning on breaking laws. “I’m a brown-skinned foreigner, man. Do you think I’ll get away with what you get away with? I’m not ready for that yet,” he says, and Adam can’t argue.)

-“The media barely showed up at our event, probably because it was about a million degrees and even though that’s exactly what we’re protesting, nobody wants to be out in it. Six of our people passed out from the heat and three got arrested. They still didn’t arrest me, but I got pushed over and cracked my phone screen. On my way home, some drunk on the tube vomited on my shoes. Our green jobs bill still doesn’t have the votes in Parliament, and have you seen the latest news on the Antarctic ice sheets?” Adam kicks off his shoes, then collapses dramatically onto the futon and groans.

-“Sounds rough,” says Jesus.

-“I should’ve just ended the damn world when I was eleven and I had the chance. Would’ve been quicker,” Adam mutters.

-Jesus gets up and goes to the kitchen. He brings Adam a beer. “You don’t mean that, bro,” he says.

-Adam sighs, accepting the beer. “I suppose not.”

-He drinks his beer. Dog, now grey-muzzled and slow, shuffles over to curl up at his feet. Adam pulls out his phone, which is cracked but still seems functional. He’s got a text from Aziraphale.

-“Dear Adam,” the text begins, because Aziraphale might have finally deigned to learn to text but he steadfastly refused to adopt its stylistic conventions, “I hope that you have returned safely from today’s protest. I’m very proud of your continuing efforts, and though he won’t admit it I know that Crowley feels the same. Please write back at your earliest convenience. Fondly, Aziraphale”

-Adam texts back to reassure the angel, who will doubtless pass it on to Crowley, then he texts similar reassurances to his parents and to Mrs. Kapoor upstairs. He’s still figuring out this adulthood thing, but he’s got a lot of parental figures looking out for him. His Infernal Bio-Dad isn’t one of them, and that’s the way Adam likes it.

-Through the open window comes the sound of music blasting from a car stuck in traffic below. Freddie Mercury and David Bowie are singing:

And love dares you to care for the people on the edge of the night, And love dares you to change our way of caring about ourselves.

-He turned down the chance to rule the world, and he’d make the same choice again, but he still feels a certain proprietary responsibility towards the planet and its inhabitants. His father—his real, earthly father—didn’t raise him to shirk responsibility, and he’s not one to cave under pressure.

-Life is hard, people are mostly idiots, and the world is coming apart at the seams, but it’s his messed up life and his idiotic people and his beautiful, half-broken world.

[twokinkybeans]

Jar Of Dirt Chapter 4: Baby Boy [Starker Fanfiction NSFW/18+]

Kink/Sexual Warnings: Daddy Kink, Praise Kink, Pet names, Name-calling, slight verbal humiliation, anal fingering, hand jobs, oral sex, edging. Other warnings: There's an argument, Peter hits subdrop, Peter crying, confessions & feelings, they talk it through.

All Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10 ... Masterpost (More to come!)

---

Chapter 4: Baby Boy Tonight’s the last night before Peter has to leave for college again after break. He knows he should go and he will, but it’s always so hard to let go of Tony after spending so much time with each other. They were practically glued together. They’d always ghost behind each other in the lab or when they were in the kitchen. If they were watching a movie on the couch, Peter would always be curled up in Tony’s arms. He belongs there. With Tony. But he has to go to school. He not only owes it to himself, but also his friends and Aunt May, whom he’d promised he’d get a degree before becoming Spider-Man full time.

“One day, you’ll be too old to be Spider-Man. Where are you gonna work then?” Peter can still hear his aunt say it and the memory always makes him chuckle. “For Mr. Stark, duh!” But, Aunt May was right. A degree is always handy to have, especially if you have the richest man in the world funding every lecture, every book, heck, every eraser that he uses. Why not go for it? As much as Peter doesn’t like to take money, having a scholarship is his only way of getting an adequate education. Besides, he gets to come to the Tower every weekend, so that’s when he and Tony get to make up for the lost time. They’re sitting on the couch, watching Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest. However, Peter’s more occupied with Tony trailing his hands up and down Peter’s body absentmindedly. It doesn’t tickle, yet it’s enough. The boy’s been hard since they sat down and he doesn’t care if Tony notices or not, but after one and a half hours into this film, he’s squirming.

“Mr. Stark?” He whispers, causing the man to look down at him through half-lidded eyes. “Hm?” “I wanna get the jar.” A bright gleam appears in Tony’s eyes at Peter’s words. “You wanna get the jar.” He repeats monotone. Peter nods. “Mhm!” He takes Tony’s hand off his body and starts kissing it. Palms first, then his fingers, one by one. “Don’t you?” He asks, feigning innocence as he flutters his eyes, wetting Tony’s index finger quite lewdly with his tongue. “What’s gotten into you, boy?” Tony asks with a smirk as he moves to sit upright, bringing Peter along with him. “Last day here, Mr. Stark.” He leaves one feathery kiss on the tip of Tony’s middle finger before moving away from him. The older man nearly protests, but catches himself. “I know what you’re doing, Peter.” A playful shimmer appears in Peter’s eyes and he quickly gets up to rush to the jar on the counter. “I just want to play!” Peter exclaims, not knowing the word means something entirely different to Tony. It makes his cock twitch in his pants. “Hoo, boy,” he mumbles under his breath before getting up. Peter twists the lid off the jar and presents it to Tony.

“It’s… Your turn again, right?” Tony nods. “If we keep track, then yeah.” He moves to put his hand in the jar, but hesitates. Peter notices. “Everything okay?” Tony clears his throat and nods sheepishly. “Yeah, yeah, just building suspense.” Peter doesn’t buy it. Tony’s hand starts playing with the pieces of paper again, much like he did the first time. Peter glances at the jar and that’s when he realizes what Tony’s doing. There’s a slight discoloration to Peter’s pieces of paper, from traveling back and forth to uni with his notepad. They’re slightly more coarse too. That means the bright, smooth, white papers are Tony’s. And he keeps picking up his own pieces and immediately letting go of them. He’s cheating. “Hey!” Peter exclaims, pulling the jar back slightly. “No peeking, no feeling! Just grab one!” Tony’s eyebrows go far up and he takes a deep breath. “I’m trying to spare you, kid.” “No sparing. Just grabbing.” Peter’s stern voice sounds adorable. Kid’s not great at giving orders.

“Fine,” Tony groans. “Just hope I won’t regret this.” He aggressively rummages through the jar with his other hand covering his eyes. He suddenly stops and pulls out his hand, presenting it to Peter. “Here,” he says. “You read it.” Peter’s fingers gently graze past Tony’s as he takes the piece of paper out of his hand. Peter places the jar back on the counter and Tony finally uncovers his eyes, praising the stars that he managed to grab one of Peter’s. He gets to make the boy feel good again. At least… “I don’t think you’re going to regret this one,” Peter says with a mischievous smirk. “Daddy.” Tony gulps and needs to grab the counter to stay upright. “Excuse you?” “You think I didn’t notice?” “I don’t know wha-” Tony has to pause to clear his throat and collect himself. “-at you’re talking about.” “A couple days ago… I jokingly called you that nice, short, little word that’s on this piece of paper.” “And I thought you were sweet,” Tony huffs. Peter presses his lips together into a cheeky smile. “Oh, but I am, daddy.” “Kid-” Tony warns. Peter turns the piece of paper as he saunters closer to Tony, putting the roughly scribbled down word right in front of Tony’s eyes. His mouth goes dry.

Daddy.

“I just liked the way you flushed when I said it. Figured I’d put it in.” Peter now stands against Tony, who’s leaning his entire weight on the counter. The boy presses himself to Tony’s thigh and slightly shakes his ass, causing friction and making himself moan. The sweet noise shoots through Tony like a missile. “Daddy...” Peter drops the piece of paper and looks up at Tony with his big innocent-yet-not-so-innocent eyes. “Tonight’s about you.” “Fuck, kid, you’re ruining me.” Peter’s hands crawl up Tony’s chest and start unbuttoning his shirt. With every opened button, Peter presses a kiss on the skin that bares. “I will be such a good boy for you tonight, if you make me.” The corners of Peter’s mouth curl up and he moves up to kiss Tony on the lips, briefly. In a bold action, his hand quickly roams down Tony’s body and he grabs the hard-on, clearly evident in Tony’s pants. The man is having a hard time keeping himself together and he gasps. The boy doesn’t break eye contact and flutters. “Make me, daddy.”

Tony growls low in his throat and he grabs hold of the front of Peter’s shirt. “Oh, aren’t you the prettiest little tease, baby. You’ll be begging for me.” He pulls him in for a rough kiss, his cock painfully hard in his jeans. Peter gasps into the kiss, overwhelmed by Tony’s lustful response. He loves it. Loves how he seems to have found a weak spot in the ever so put-together billionaire. He lets Tony turn them around and get pushed against the wall. He whimpers, bucking his hips forward to try and seek friction against Tony’s upper leg. “Uh-uh, that’s not how this works, baby.” Tony’s voice is deep and dark against his neck, the hot breath making him break into goosebumps. “What’s your color, at this moment?” “Green, Sir.” Tony sucks in a sharp breath. “And if I want you to kneel right here and suck me?” “Even greener,” Peter grins. “Kneel for daddy,” Tony chokes out. Noticing how weird and good it feels to finally say it out loud. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t jerked off in the shower thinking about this just a few weeks ago. And then again a few days ago. And maybe a couple of times in between.

Peter drops to his knees, looking up with those big, beautiful brown eyes. Tony licks his lips, slowly unbuckling his belt and dropping it to the floor. Peter shuffles a bit closer, his hands trailing up Tony’s legs. “Can I help?” “Yeah, undress me, baby.” Peter nods eagerly and moves his hands up even further, undoing the button and pulling the zipper down. His fingers curl around the waistband of both Tony’s trousers and his underwear and he looks up expectantly. Tony nods and the boy slowly pulls down Tony’s clothes until they hit the floor. Peter’s eyes can’t break away from Tony’s throbbing cock. His mouth salivates, knowing it’s going to have a snack soon. “What are you waiting for, boy?” Tony cocks his head with a grin. “You’ve seen it before. Go on,” he coos. “Have a taste.” Peter opens his mouth, eyes still not tearing away from Tony’s dick. “Tonight you’re going to have to earn to be called my good boy. Work for it, Peter. I know you can.”

That’s all it takes for Peter to wrap his hands and mouth around Tony’s dick. His lips leaving wet sloppy kisses on the head, while he jerks off the billionaire. “Is that all you got?” Tony hisses. “Baby, you can do so much more. Make me feel it. Make me feel you.” Peter takes the challenge and takes Tony in his mouth as far as he can, hollowing his cheeks and pressing his tongue up the shaft. Tony bucks at the sudden increase of stimulation and shivers run down his spine when Peter tries to speak with Tony’s cock in his mouth. “Ye- Daddy.” Peter works faster and harder and it’s not long before Tony’s knuckles turn white as he grips Peter’s hair, tugging and pulling at it to set a good rhythm. His panting starts to become erratic, as are his slight thrusts. Peter feels Tony’s dick twitch in his mouth. He must be close. Peter wants to make him cum. He wants to make his daddy cum. He sucks as hard as he can and when he accidentally grazes his teeth over the shaft, Tony’s eyes open wide and he orders with a gasp. “Stop!”

Peter stops immediately, looking up a bit startled, immediately wondering if he did something wrong. Tony lets out a breathy sigh and he caresses the boy’s cheek. “You’re so good, but I don’t want to come just yet. I want to do something new instead.” Tony pauses, smiling at the curious glance that’s given to him. “If you want to do it as well, I would love to have you on your hands and knees on our bed-” Tony whispers, lifting Peter’s chin up a bit higher. “-and then put my fingers inside that pretty body of yours.” “Fuck, you serious?” “Watch your language.” Peter’s eyes go dark at the memory of the conversation they had a few days ago, only this time, Tony is literally asking for Peter to repeat it. “Yes, daddy.” “That’s right. Now, would you like my fingers inside you, baby boy?” Peter just nods, his eyes sparkling in anticipation. Tony helps him get up and gives Peter a playful smack on his ass as the boy stalls in the hallway. “Go on, baby.” “Hmmm, one day I might want you to do that again.” With that, Peter runs towards the bedroom. Tony is certain now, this boy will be the death of him.

It doesn’t take long for their clothes to be discarded at Tony’s side of the bed. Peter is on his hands and knees, looking back over his shoulder as Tony rummages through the drawer of his nightstand to find the bottle of lube. The boy would be lying if he’d say he isn’t nervous. He is. Tony has… Teased him, down there. But they haven’t done this before. He wants to, God. He’s been having the filthiest dreams about it. It’s just that now that it’s about to happen, it’s a bit scary.

“I… Tony, will it hurt?” Tony freezes on the spot and then turns around fast at those words. Peter is looking at him, his eyes filled with worry and Tony curses under his breath for not thinking about how much of a virgin Peter still is. “No, baby. Fingering will not hurt you. I mean, it could if not done properly. Believe me,” Tony says, his fingers trailing across the smooth surface that’s Peter’s bicep. “Only pleasure awaits.” “I trust you,” Peter’s voice comes in a few seconds after and Tony swallows. “Good boy, letting your daddy take care of you.” Peter moans in response and Tony grins at him. Damn, Peter is just perfect for him. This had been one of the kinks he’d been scared for most - hence the reason he didn’t put it in the jar. He’d been terrified the kink combined with their age difference would be considered too pervy. However, Peter seems to be very much into it and that makes Tony feel so light-headed in the best way possible. It’s almost a dream.

“I’m ready,” Peter whispers, taking Tony’s silence for hesitation. Tony collects himself and scoots closer to his lover. He uncaps the bottle, squeezing a good amount of lube onto his fingers, and then also dripping some on Peter’s ass. “Oh, shit, that’s cold.” “M’sorry.” “N-no, I like it.” Tony looks at the boy’s beautiful ass, it’s perfectly shaped, really. He can’t wait for the day when he can finally bury himself deep inside of it. He’s patient. And he loves fingering, actually. He wonders how susceptible Peter will be for the pleasure of it. He slowly traces his lubed fingers down, using his other hand to hold his hips tightly. Peter shivers, arching his back right away. “Relax, baby boy,” Tony breathes as he uses his index finger to circle just around the tight opening. Slowly, he adds some gentle pressure and watches how the tip of his finger slides in. Peter gasps, clenching around it. “Shhh, that’s okay, you’re doing so well for me already.” Tony waits until the pressure on his finger is released, then sliding in just a bit further. God, how he missed doing this for someone. The tight heat, the trust that comes with it. He takes his time, pushing his finger all the way inside.

“How’s that?” “S-Strange, but I think I like it.” “Oh, you do, uh? Now, how’s this?” Tony whispers, curling his finger as he tries finding Peter’s prostate. It doesn’t take him long to locate it, Peter cries out startled, his hips bucking forward. “Really good, fuck, how come we never did this before?” That’s exactly what Tony wanted to hear, so he touches it again, the needy, desperate sounds falling from Peter’s lips going straight to his cock. The boy is clutching the sheets, his upper body lowered down onto the bed. His cheeks are clearly flushed, his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth slightly open. “Can you, uhm…” Peter groans, his words stuck, “-use a second finger? I want to really feel you fill me up.” “Oh yes, yes baby. One day, I’ll fill you up with my dick, uh? Would you like that?” Tony growls as he pulls back slightly, only to add another finger, slowly moving them apart inside of Peter to create some more stretch. “Very much, daddy.” Peter’s already seeing stars. He’s never done anything like this before. He’s never said anything like this before. His cock throbs and he arches into Tony’s touch even further. “-Want it so bad. Want you to fuck me as hard as you can.” He hides his face in the sheets for a second, before taking a deep breath. “Claim me, d-daddy. Make me yours.”

Tony grunts, moving his free hand towards his cock to give himself some sense of relief. He closes his eyes for a moment, squeezing himself tightly. Imagining that’s Peter. He doesn’t stop fingering the boy, increasing his pace. Peter is muffling his sounds against the sheets now, his moans going stronger all of a sudden. Tony’s eyes open up again, and he sees Peter is stroking himself hard and fast.

“Oh no, baby. Get that hand off yourself right now.” “But, daddy-” “No, you either shut your mouth and stop stroking yourself, or I’ll take my fingers right out that pretty hole.” Peter whimpers, reluctantly letting go of his aching hard on. He feels like he’s so close. Tony’s fingers inside him are the best feeling in the entire world and he just wants to find that sweet release so desperately. “I’m so close, Sir,” Peter chokes out. “Please, please can I come.” “Oh, you beg so nicely,” Tony groans, his voice dark and filled with lust. Seeing Peter losing himself is making him feel so many things. “Just a little longer, I’ll make it so worth it, I promise.”

Tony grunts, stops stroking his own cock before he won’t be able to stop himself from coming too soon. He’s close too. Dammit, this boy is fucking with his head so good. He grabs the pillow that’s right next to Peter’s side, and pulls it underneath the boy’s hips. He slows down his thrusts, his fingers no longer curling down. “You’re gonna hump that pillow till you’re bordering the edge. No cumming just yet, and no stopping too early. I want you on a 9 out of 10, alright? Show me how much you want it, and maybe I’ll reward you.” He notices the way Peter fists the sheets even tighter, the blush creeping up his neck now too. But he doesn’t miss how Peter clenches around his fingers and slowly shifts his knees backward so his groin is touching the soft, silken pillow underneath him.

Peter feels slightly embarrassed, but fuck, that’s turning him on even more. Besides, he’s so horny. He just needs the stimuli, and if this is how he can get it, he will. He swallows, slowly starting to move his hips back and forth and gasps at the sparks igniting deep inside his stomach. “D-Daddy,” he groans. “Like this?” “Fuck yeah, that’s it. Little faster, make yourself feel good, honey.” That’s all the encouragement he needs to pick up the pace, pushing his hips down with a bit more force and rolling them with an arched back to create just the right amount of friction. He can’t help the desperate sounds falling from his lips. This feels good, perfect. Way better than he could’ve imagined. Tony’s fingers start speeding up again as well, hitting that sweet spot over and over again.

“Oh, look at you, Peter. Aren’t you gorgeous like this,” Tony breathes out, moving faster and faster, eliciting more breathy groans from his lover. “You’re so desperate. You like this, don’t you? Like following daddy’s orders like a good little boy.” “Y-yes!” “You close? Do you want to make a mess, coming all over the sheets?” Peter nods to that, admitting that fuck, yes, he’s getting close. His entire body is filled with the intense desire to release. He’s aching for it. His mind is spinning, disregarding everything that’s not Tony’s demanding touch. “I-I’m at a 9, Tony. Daddy. Please.” “Stop moving, lift those hips up baby.” Peter listens, though it takes every last bit of willpower he’s got left. He gasps as he arches his back even further, his butt sticking up in the air. His cock is throbbing, screaming at him to keep going. More touch. More friction. He needs it. But he will listen. He’s good. He’ll please Tony, he trusts him to not leave him hanging like this.

“Oh, yes, that’s it baby. You’ve done so well, I’m so proud of you.” Peter responds with a soft whine. He can feel tears prickling in the corners of his eyes. Tony licks his lips, shifting closer. His free hand moves around Peter’s waist and without warning he grabs the hard, leaking cock. Peter cries out, throwing his head back. “You’ve earned your reward. You don’t have to hold back anymore. Show daddy how good you feel.” He starts pumping fast, no remorse. He wants to make his boy cum. Wants to hear him scream for Tony. “Go on,” he growls. Peter whimpers, his fingers pulling the sheets so hard he’s afraid he might tear them. He can’t help himself. His entire body is drunk on adrenaline. “Ruin my sheets.” Tony’s hand moves up and down relentlessly. Then, his thumb flicks right across the tip and Peter screams, ripping the sheets apart as he comes, spilling himself all over them. He can’t breathe. White flashes appear before his eyes and his hips buck up and down uncontrollably. He’s shaking, his body giving out as he goes limp underneath Tony’s touch.

“That’s my pretty boy,” Tony whispers gently. He looks down at the boy who’s still panting fast and shaking with pleasure. He feels his heart tug in his chest. He doesn’t think he’s ever made Peter come this hard. “You okay, honey?” “Y-Yeah, just… I…” The boy doesn’t know what to say, he’s immensely overwhelmed with everything. Tony is careful as he slowly withdraws his fingers, only to lean over Peter and wrap his arms around the shivering body. “You cold?” “A bit… Mostly just sensations,” Peter manages to get out. The poor boy looks so tired. “Here, lemme help.” Tony moves onto his knees and gets off the bed, scooping the boy up in his arms and kissing the top of his head. “Let’s get you in the bathtub.” He helps the boy climb down into the tub and gets the warm water running. He strokes Peter’s cheek. “I’ll go change the sheets so we can take a nap once we’ve got you cleaned up, ‘kay?” Peter nods absentmindedly and closes his eyes. Tony dries his hand on a towel and makes his way back to the bedroom.

He scoffs proudly when he sees what Peter’s done to his bed. He might as well toss those sheets out the window. There’s nothing left of them. Donating them would be an insult to the charity. He pulls all the bedding off the giant king. He replaces them with a beautiful dark blue linen. Peter had once mentioned the natural fiber fabrics are easier on his senses when he’s sleeping. Anything too chemical or plastic-y made him itch slightly. The first few nights with his new powers, he felt like he couldn’t breathe in bed and it took him ages to find out why. It always irks Tony he didn’t find the kid sooner. Peter had to go through the physical changes all by himself and he’s still suffering some of those repercussions. Tony will do anything he can to make Peter feel as safe and as comfortable and as cared for as he can.

Tony finishes up making the bed and he grabs the ruined sheets from the floor to throw them in the trash. Suddenly, a wicked thought creeps up on him. He grins and tosses the sheets in the hamper. He wants to keep these. Call it a memorabilia. The first night daddy made his pretty boy rip the sheets from pleasure. Tony pulls a face. The thought reminded him of his own dick, still throbbing. He’s going to have to take care of that when Peter’s out of the shower. Speaking of… The boy’s taking longer than he usually would. Peter’s all about quick showers and he’s been in there for at least ten minutes at this point. Tony’s eyebrows rise to his hairline, the thought of Peter having fallen asleep under the stream of water causes him to rush to the bathroom. He knows Peter can’t just drown like that, his spider senses wouldn’t allow him to. But still. He needs to keep his boy safe, that’s the whole fucking thing he was just thinking about. When he gets to the door, he hears a faint sniff and his heart sinks.

Peter’s… Crying?

Oh no.

Tony gently opens the door about a quarter of the way, not immediately walking in. “Kid?” He asks quietly, testing the waters. Peter sniffs again, not replying. Tony peeks his head through the door and he could burst into tears right then and there at the sight. His blue balls long forgotten. Peter sits on his butt under the stream of warm water. He has his knees pulled up to his chin and he’s hugging his legs, resting his head on top of them. His wet hair sticks to his face and his eyes are red, tears mixing with the water flow. “Hey, hey.” Tony walks in and squats down next to the bathtub, not daring to touch Peter, wanting the boy to reply before invading his space. “What’s going on?” Peter slightly turns his head to look Tony in the eyes. His brows are curled up into a pleading frown. “Tonight was supposed to be about you.” His voice cracks as he speaks. His eyes squint slightly, blinking away the shower water and his tears. Tony’s heart sinks to his stomach. He musters up a half-smile, and cocks his head as he reaches for Peter to tuck his hair behind his ear. “Oh, Peter, it was. You were so good for me.” Peter jerks his head away from Tony’s caring touch, leaving the man to pull back his hand, slightly hurt by the rejection. “Then why am I the one who just had the most intense orgasm in the whole Tower? Why are you the one who’s still hard?”

Tony sucks at his teeth, not immediately sure how to reply. “I-” Peter’s voice shoots up a few octaves and he has to look away to collect himself before continuing. “I wanted you to feel good tonight.” “Baby,” Tony sighs, sitting up on his knees to bend over the side of the bathtub. “You have no idea how good you made me feel tonight.” Peter hides his face in his arms, curling up into himself further. “But you didn’t come.” His voice sounds muffled. “I know you’re just gonna jerk yourself off when I get out of the shower like you almost always do.” “Peter.” Tony’s voice is slightly more stern now and the boy immediately looks up at his mentor. “What?” Peter protests. “I’m right!” He scoffs. “Why won’t you let go for me? Why am I the one who has to let go all the time? I want to see you lose your composure. I want to feel you lose your rhythm cause you’re so desperate to release. I want to hear your loud, obscene moans. I want you to come for me!”

Tony stares at the boy, flabbergasted at the sudden burst of words. “Peter, I-” “And you wonder why I’m insecure? About all of this? Wonder why I’m scared you’ll get bored of me? I rarely get to touch you the way you touch me. If I truly am the sub you say I am then why won’t you let me help you feel good!” He hides the bottom half of his face in his arms. “I don’t want to dom. I just want to please you. And I feel like I’m not good enough to make you cum. Your own hand is apparently all you want for that.” “Peter, no… Hear me out, please.” Tony clears his throat. “My pleasure comes from making you feel good. There’s nothing in this world that gets me harder than your voice whimpering my name. But I’ll admit-” Tony shrugs. “I get carried away.”

Tony stands up and steps into the tub with Peter, sitting down opposite him. The few drops of water that hit him are cold to the touch. “I have this stupid drive that makes me want to make you come. Harder than the last time, preferably. It makes me neglect my own needs and once you’re completely spent and fucked out I don’t want to take advantage of you. I’d never forgive myself if I did something to you that you can’t handle or aren’t ready for. I don’t want to force my bright green upon your fiery red. Just cause I need to keep going doesn’t mean you’re able to and I’m not using you like that. Ever. Full stop.” Peter stares at Tony with a pout, sniffing away his tears. “But why go to the shower to get off? Why not stay with me. Make me watch you come?” His lip trembles. Tony’s not liking where this is headed. Peter’s confronting him with things he’d rather not confess. “I want to stay composed around you. I want you to know that I’m always in control. That I will always take care of you.” “You take care of me when you come. And you are in control of me. Always. Because I let you. Because I want you to.” Peter repeats his earlier question. “Why do you get off in the shower, Tony?” “It’s-” Tony looks away for a second, taking a deep breath, trying to find the right words to say. “I’m embarrassed.” Peter’s eyes go wide.

“What?”

“You heard me, kid.” Tony sucks at his teeth. “You’re this young god-” Tony vaguely gestures at Peter’s body. “-splayed on the bed for me to worship. Any other man would also draw a thousand orgasms from that pretty body of yours before even considering getting off themselves. I’m this pervy old man with kinks that are used in conversations to laugh about. I get back pains when I’m tossed around the room. When everything was still vanilla, it didn’t matter that you saw me come cause it felt amazing, yes, but it’s not the kind of cumming I do when I’m doing kinky stuff, yaknow? Now, with this jar, all these kinks… I’m losing myself and I don’t want to do that while you watch. And quite frankly, I hate the way I look when I come. Especially when someone as pretty as you preceded me.” “I think you’re hot,” Peter says without hesitation, biting his bottom lip. “And selfish.” Peter twists himself until he’s sitting on his knees, leaning forward towards Tony, who moves back a little, until Peter’s on all fours. “Keeping all your dirty little secrets to yourself. It’s not fair.” Tony cocks an eyebrow. “All those dirty, little secrets are in that damned jar,” he huffs. “We’re gonna get to them soon enough.”

Peter clenches his jaw and stares intently into Tony’s eyes, their faces mere inches away from each other. They’re both still naked and the streaming water now bounces off Peter’s butt. “No more jacking off in the shower after we make love,” he mutters. “Give me your pleasure instead. Not the generic dude on that ugly shampoo bottle. Promise me, Mr. Stark.” Tony hesitates, knowing damn well he can’t get out of this. He’s never broken a promise he made with his boy and he’s not planning to. Ever. He takes a breath. “I promise…” He starts. Peter groans, knowing there’s a ‘but’ attached simply from the way Tony said it. “But only up until we grab shower sex from the jar.” Something stirs inside Peter. “Deal,” he whispers. Tony smiles and moves to stand up. “Great!” He pauses halfway on the way to stand up straight with a serious expression on his face. “I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like you’re not good enough, Peter. You are the opposite, trust me. I do not deserve you.” “Thank you,” Peter replies quietly. His hand stops Tony from stepping out of the bath. Tony looks down at Peter, puzzled. “Daddy.”

Tony’s eyes go wide. The name causing his half-hard dick to stir back to life slowly due to the heavy conversation. Tony smirks and cocks his head, looking down at his boy, still on three limbs, holding Tony’s leg with his fourth. Gauging how Peter's feeling right now. “Tell me, sweet boy. What do you want?” He knows he hasn’t been fair to his lover. But he’ll make it right. He can give Peter what he wants. What the boy deserves. Peter slowly moves to sit up straight on his knees, as high up as he can. His eyes are now at level with Tony’s twitching dick, staring hungrily at it, and he sighs content. “I want you to stop holding back. I want you to say everything that goes through your mind when we do this. No filter. And…” Peter shivers, staring at the throbbing cock that’s just out of reach. “I want to finish what I started.” “Oh, do you?” Tony grins. “Well… Good boys ask permission.” Peter’s eyes shoot up to look into Tony’s. They’re dark. Filled with lust. “Daddy.” His whine is a mere whisper. “Wanna make you feel good, please, may I make you feel good?” Tony lets out a long, low growl and inches closer to Peter. He slowly sways his hips side to side, relishing at how Peter follows Tony’s dick right in front of him, with his eyes. The boy licks his lips and God, Tony’s drunk on lust. “So hungry for my cock, aren’t you, sweet thing?” Peter’s jaw hangs slack, mouth opened slightly and he nods slowly as he follows the tip with his big brown eyes. “Want to taste me? Suck me dry like the cockslut you are-” Tony freezes for a second, afraid he went too far, but to his surprise, Peter moans. “Yes, daddy, want all your cum, I’m your good boy, I’m your slut.” Peter chokes out, stressing every word to let Tony know that yes, this is what he wants.

Tony nearly bursts right then and there and he swears as he grabs Peter’s head with both hands. He leans down slightly to growl into Peter’s ear. “Then take it.” He tugs at Peter’s hair. “Make daddy cum.” He stands up straight again and Peter doesn’t hesitate. To Tony’s surprise, the boy’s mouth goes past his twitching dick and starts sucking at one of his balls. Tony bucks his hips and lets out a moan. Peter’s hands find Tony’s cock and he starts pumping while he wets Tony’s balls with his tongue. He puts in extra effort to moan and breathe and whine against Tony’s skin. Not holding back the sounds he knows Tony finds so pretty. The sounds he knows rile Tony up. His tongue swirls along Tony’s balls and back up to the base of his cock. “Taste so good, daddy, s-so good.” His mouth and one of his hands switch positions. His fingers massage Tony’s balls surprisingly skillfully and Tony moans obscenely when Peter wraps his mouth around Tony’s shaft. The boy immediately starts bobbing his head, sucking hard using his tongue to follow the thick, throbbing veins on Tony’s aching cock.

“A-rgh, aren’t you the most wonderful thing that ever fucking swung into my life,” Tony groans, throwing his head back. “Such a good slut for daddy, such a good boy, keep going.” Tony’s eyes roll back in their sockets and he has to let go of Peter’s hair with one hand so he can grab the shower wall in order to keep his balance. Peter’s hand continues to pump, showing no signs of slowing down and he swirls his tongue around the tip, sucking on the head like it’s a damned lolly pop. Tony’s eyes are closed, but he’s seeing stars and white flashes and he’s hearing the porn-worthy, filthy sounds Peter makes around his cock, echoing against the bathroom walls, bouncing through his brain, sending wave upon wave of immeasurable pleasure through his entire body. The knowledge that Peter loves this as much as he does nearly sends him over the edge. Peter is his good boy. His pretty, little cockslut. And he’s taking Tony so well. He’s perfect, he’s absolutely perfect and- “Oh, yes, oh, yes, oh, yes, yeah-yeah, just like that- j-just-” Tony’s words turn to incoherent babbling and when he brings his head back up straight to look down, he’s met with the most innocent doe eyes he’s ever seen. Looking up at him, taking in every ounce of pleasure that he’s giving Tony. Tony’s mouth opens wide, jaw tightened and he comes without warning, filling Peter’s mouth with his white, hot seed. The boy tries to take it all, succeeding better this time than when he did it first and Tony gasps after a few seconds of holding his breath while he’s coming down from his high.

Peter sits down on his heels, kneeling in front of his daddy. He’s so proud of himself. Tony looked so good when he came. Peter palms his own dick, that already started growing hard again. But he won’t come again tonight. He wants to cuddle with daddy. They both did so well. Tony slowly lowers himself so he sits on his butt in the tub again and he scoots closer to Peter, who still looks at him expectantly. He pushes the boy back a bit, until they’re both sharing the stream of hot water that’s still flowing from the showerhead. Tony hates to admit he’s a little dazed, but then again, he hasn’t come this hard in years. His hands caress Peter’s arms as he watches the remains of his cum on Peter’s face get washed away by the water. They sit there in silence, admiring each other. The lines on their bodies. Washing and caressing softly and slowly. When they make eye contact again, Peter notices Tony is teary-eyed. The billionaire finally breaks the silence with a quivering whisper. “I love you so much.”

--- More: Chapter 5 Masterpost

[marauders70s]

Hello! I dont know if you do posts like this but if Lily Evans was a teenage girl today what would she be like?(Her style, uni major,hobbies etc) Thank you!

Hey I absolutely do posts like this! I love talking about any hp stuff but specifically the Marauders. 

Lily would be into indie music and girl rock like

The Shins

Florence and the Machine

Carbon Leaf

The Cranberries

Mumford & Sons

Evanescence 

I just feel deep in my soul that Lily would go everywhere in an olive/army green adirondack coat and different ankle boots. She’d probably wear her long red hair down, but occasionally she would stick a wand through it to pin it up in place like an artist with a stray pencil, the messy bun falling all around her face. She’d wear brown eyeshadow but not much makeup unless she was going out. 

She would love volunteer work and being an activist like she was in life, marching in immigrant protests and volunteering at legal aid to fight for justice and give a voice to those seen as ‘lesser,’ like she had been. She would be the annoying liberal in her conservative English family and enjoy burritos half spilled on the ground as she laughed. She would have a mild coffee addiction and a pocket full of loose change. She would have been obsessed with podcasts, especially hard hitting journalism podcasts like The Dream (that targets multi-level marketing/ponzi schemes aimed at low income women). She’d always have headphones in, even if one was dangling out of her ear as she paused it to laugh. 

She would have loved baking but been crap at it, still attempting to stuff her friends on flat cookies and deflated dry cakes. She would have lived off of instant ramen in coffee cups and take away and long ribbed undershirts she wore as regular shirts over the same three pairs of jeans. She would have been smart and interesting and most importantly kind. Incredibly kind. She would be in love with dogs and cats and ask if she could pet the dog in the park. She would have a long snap streak with Remus not even of silly faces but just of dumb bored faces at each other. 

She would have worn scarves in the winter and shorts or skirts in the summer, hardly varying her wardrobe. She would record a podcast with her $50 microphone in her dormitory and beg people to be on it, then balls to the wall email someone absurd like Michelle Obama and actually have her agree. She would use her platform to give a voice. She would write opinion articles. She would fall in love with the world and being in it. 

Ugh, I love Lily.

[financialinstability]

uni!roger taylor & brian may - car ride one-shot

my first fic!! wooo!!

word count:  1365

warning: angst! a lot of maylor (but its platonic bc i know who god is sis)!! there might be grammatical errors or stuff like that since english is like my third language lmao, mentions of violence tag: @benmydickhardy @fckmeroger-ina (i sent u an anon) 

----------------- It was the eary hours of morning and the lack of Brian shouting at him was quite concerning. Usually by now he would’ve gotten a real handful of what consequences he could get for his behavior and how it would affect the band - if they ever made it big. This time, it had gone too long since they had spoken, and it seemed as if neither of them wanted to touch the subject.

The silence in the car was deafening and the roads were empty only lit up by the occasional street lamp. “Honestly, Roger you’re un-fucking-believable - how many times do I have to pick you up from these things?” Brian calmly breaks the silence.

Roger sighed and looked out the window. He hated it when he got confronted like this, but he wasn’t surprised.

“I can’t have it on my conscience. The people at the top have to listen and end that dreadful war” He answers, trying to keep the conversation calm.

Usually it would be a lot of screams and accusations of lack of empathy and how silence strengthens the enemy but tonight was different. Roger knew that he shouldn’t have called Brian who had a huge exam in a few days that he was nervous about passing.

Which is highly unusual for Brian, but the usual feeling for Roger when it came to uni work.

---- 4 hours earlier

“Roger it’s fucking 2 am, this better be good” Freddie hissed through the phone.

“Listen Fred, you’re the fifth person I’ve rang - you’ve gotta come pick me up. I am in Liverpool” Roger answered, his voice low and anxious.

If Freddie didn’t come - he would have to call Brian and disturb his studies. Roger would probably have to endure another lecture on irresponsibilities and “what ifs” with the worst case scenarios.

Roger was used to going to demonstrations and he was used to getting arrested since the police now seemed to recognize him from previous events. It was important to him to be a part of the masses and send the messages of demand to politicians and their kind. This time he had gone to one against the Vietnam war, in Liverpool. 4 hours away from where he lived and the only thought that had hit him was “fuck it, they need to know that we won’t stop until they get out”. Surprisingly out of all of the demonstrations he had been at for this cause, he had only been arrested 4 times. “Holding cells get filled up quickly I guess” he thought since luck had left him when it came to clashes with police.

He loves Brian, but sometimes he kept treating him like a delicate flower - especially when he went to marches and demonstrations. He remembers clearly the time he had to get bailed out because of a protest for the cuban revolution. It was the first time he had called Brian to get him out, usually it had been his sister or freddie. Hell, he once paid Mary to come get him out.

Brian yelled at him for being irresponsible and getting arrested. He even told him to stop provoking cops which he gladly responded with “acab” which earned him a playful smack to the back of his head. After that it became a regular thing. Brian getting a call, often very late from Roger who was stuck somewhere far away and needed a ride back. At first Brian liked hearing Rogers opinions, mainly because they never discussed politics but it also fascinated him that Rog didn’t mind the “commie” label. Hell that man would fucking insist on you using it and force you to explain why it’s a bad thing. Brian would never admit it, but it was amusing to observe at parties when some political science majors asked questions or just people you could see were conservative. You’d have to look for a long time to find a more colorful reputation than Roger Taylor, and the man knew it very well.

“Roger, that’s a 4 hour drive one way. You’re fucking mad if you think I’m coming to get you” Freddie answered with muffled voices in the background. Roger was sure that he was rolling his eyes and tried to explain to Mary what the late call was about. “I have places to be tomorrow, can’t you get arrested somewhere closer?” he continued with a small laugh. Roger smirked “you know me, I need to explore the kingdoms holding cells”.

The annoyed cough of the cop made him remember that he couldn’t keep bantering with Freddie and actually had to find someone to come and get him. He sighed and said goodbye to Freddie.

“Is your mate coming?” The cop didn’t even bother to hide his annoyance with the blonde boy in front of him. “I’m getting really tired of seeing your face.” Roger knew that he could react and probably get punched or he could do what he had been doing for the past hour - pick up the phone and dial a new number again. Sure, the cop got even more annoyed because it technically wasn’t allowed, but he’d been in this situation enough times by now to know that he would annoy them more if he didn’t do it.

It took one ring for Brian to pick up the phone so Roger knew he didn’t interrupt any sleep. Not too surprising considering that exam was right around the corner, but he swallowed his pride as he said the words that he had said so many times now. He felt shame as he disturbed his friend with this, again.

“Could you pick me up? I’m at the police station in central Liverpool”

There was a silence before he heard Brian sigh and accept the mission. Jokingly he had asked him to try to avoid any more trouble.

--------------------------------------------

“I promise, this is the last time I’ll call to pick me up from these things. I tried to get someone else I swear” Roger said, not daring to even look in the other man’s direction. “I know that you don’t agree with the way I do things politically and how I express my opinions.” He felt his insecurities build up and it felt just like the feeling when he stood in the crowd and chanting demands for change and action. Never had the blonde man felt so alone in the world. What if he one day gets killed while “on duty” as he liked to say it? Would anyone bother to care and come looking for answers? Hell, he didn’t even know if anyone would give a damn enough about him to demand justice if he got unfairly treated by cops or if anyone would believe it to be unprovoked. The thoughts alone scared him, but he didn’t want to share the vulnerability with someone he knew he had majorly screwed over by asking him to drive for 4 hours to come pick him up from yet another police station.

Suddenly the car stops, and the man beside him turn to face him, for the first time in hours. Brian’s brown eyes look into his baby blues. Roger could see the worry in Brian’s eyes and he was pretty sure that Brian could see his anxiety in his.

“Please don’t.” The other man said and looking down as if to hide something “I need you to call me in these situations so that I know you survived.” He was fickling with his hands as if he was holding something with his head still looking down. The serious note lingering as he raises his head to say “Don’t make me think that you’re a part of the rising number in casualties” while mocking the sound of a newscaster telling a story of a lethal railroad accident. Both men burst into laughter. “Thanks, I’ll try my best” Roger said and signalized to get back on the road. They had a bit left before they were home. Brian started the engine and quickly got back to the road. They continued the road trip home in a comfortable silence. Roger could finally relax, knowing that he isn’t the bother he once thought he was.

----

please let me know what you think!!

[imagine-hs]

An English Gentleman! - Part 1

The outfit just inspired me and before I knew it, it became something I didn’t intend, but something I’m excited to see how it’ll turn out.

Enjoy this first part of what will surely be an intriguing and action filled short story 😉

Word count: 1372

Warnings: None yet, just meeting cute.

The smell of rain on hot pavement hit your nose the moment you stepped out of the house. A chill ran up your naked arms and you considered going back inside and grabbing a jacket. Yesterday’s thunderstorm had really cooled the air down. After a few seconds you decided to stick it out though. Work would be warm, if not hot, after all and the walk there wasn’t all that long.

As you walked with a bit of a bounce in your step, courtesy of the upbeat music in your ears, you looked around the little town you had called home for about twenty somewhat years now. You knew the streets and houses like the palm of your hand. There was the corner where you had hit a boy over the head in second grade, because he had tried to kiss you. That street there you and your girlfriends had stumbled down after your first alcoholic party. It all was familiar.

Most of the time it was a hugging feeling, but now that you were so close to finishing school and heading off into the world hopefully, it was a suffocating one. You didn’t know anything other than this place. You hadn’t had much money growing up, so holiday trips had usually just taken you deeper into the country. Once you had visited London and it had overwhelmed you. So the thought of finally leaving this place was both exhilarating and terrifying. What if you couldn’t manage? What if you failed? Everyone would know and they wouldn’t be quiet about it.

With a wave of your hand you pushed those thoughts aside. For one it was way too early to think about that. Secondly, you’d worry about it when it came to that. For now you would just take one step at a time.

With all this thinking your way to work had felt even shorter than usual and before you knew it you were standing in front of your local fish and chips shop.

You and your boss got the place ready just in time for the usual lunch rush. You had propped the door open so the smell of fried fish and poatoes would pull people in... besides the fact that it cooled down the place.

You knew most of the customers. Very rarely someone from out of town found their way to this place. It wasn’t exactly famous or anything. With a smile and a cheery attitude you chatted with the locals, about pets, children and work.

“I’m always so glad when you’re here, love, you’re much nicer than that other girl.”, Dolores, an elderly woman who owned the grocery store next door, told you, while she waited for her order.

You laughed. “Thank you, Dolores. But Gina is still new, you have to give her a chance.”

The other woman rolled her eyes. “Yeah yeah.”

You grinned. This job wasn’t the worst thing. It sure wasn’t something you wanted to do the rest of your life, but to finance Uni it was pretty good.

“Leave the girl alone, Lor, she’s trying to work.”, Dolores’ friend Abigail, owner of the flower shop across the street, yelled through the shop.

These two came in every day and were a joy to watch, mostly because they always argued about something. Today it was you apparantely.

“I’m being nice. Do you think she doesn’t have time for me to be nice to her?”, Dolores argued.

“Not if it means taking down her co-worker in the process, no.”, Abigail gave back.

This bickering went back and forth until they were both done with their lunches. Then they left arm in arm and usually after leaving a pretty big tip.

At some point during the rush the entrance door had closed, which explained the sweat drops running down your temples. You were about to run over and open the door for the ladies - and to prop it open again - when it swung open from the outside.

“Thank you, young man.”, Dolores cheered.

You frowned. Young man? Not that there weren’t a lot of young men in this town, most of which you knew and had even gone to school with, but none of them would hold the door open for those two. The ladies weren’t all that nice to boys and men in this town, because ‘they always cause trouble and leave it for us women to clean up’, or so they said. Which was why your interest was peaked at the arrival of this polite young man.

The first thing you saw of the new arrival was a beige sneaker with red and green stripes and a green sock. That in and of itself would have been enough to tell you that this guy was clearly from out of town. No one around here, male nor female, had a style like that, nor would their shoes ever be this clean. But that wasn’t the end. The shoes were followed by a pair of legs stuck in a lovely greyish pair of suit pants, topped by an upper body dressed in a vest and jacket to go along with the pants, a nice light blue shirt and a navy tie with crimson stripes and... was that a blanket? It sure looked like the stranger had a massive blanket around his shoulders held in shades of green and beige and black with a stitched in orange cat at the bottom and fringes. Maybe it was meant to be a scarf? You had no idea. The suit alone was fancier than anything you had ever seen around here... and definitely a bit over the top for a quick visit to your local chappy. Not even the bankers from that office two streets over dressed like this.

The outfit alone though would have been enough for a girl to loose her mind and quite some sleep over, but what stunned you into immobility and made your lips form a perfect ‘O’ was the head attached to that well-dressed body. A jawline and cheekbones carved surely by one of the old masters. Raspberry lips curved perfectly, with a lower lip that was a bit fuller and entirely made for some biting. Bright emerald eyes framed by long black lashes and topped by finely tweezed eyebrows. And then there was the hair. Styled to a T, looking like someone had put the softest chocolate mousse to graze this earth on top of that young man’s head. It just asked you to run your fingers through it.

The entire shop stared at the newcomer, like he wasn’t just from out of town, but from an entirely different planet. You wondered if that was how all the men in London dressed, because if so you could not WAIT to go there for work.

“Hello.”, he said, with a voice like caramel on sandpaper.

You gulped. “Hey there. What can I get you?”

Had that actually been your mouth that had just spoken those words? You couldn’t believe it. You had been sure nothing would have been able to leave your dry throat and stunned lips.

The stranger smiled, showing a row of perfect, white teeth. He ordered, but it took a moment for the words to register in your mind and another few seconds for you to understand them. The young man’s smile turned a bit lopsided and he finally seemed to realise that everyone was staring at him.

“Did I do something wrong?”, he asked, with an accent that wasn’t exactly posh. You couldn’t place it at the moment.

You chuckled and shook your head. “No, it’s just... you’re not from around here, are you?”, you asked, finding your feet and hands going through the motions without much of your aware hand in the matter.

He grinned. “Is it that obvious?” He spread out his arms, stretching the blanket - scarf?- out behind him like a cape.

You laughed. “Just a bit. The highest fashion we get around here is Aunt Louise’s fashion show.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad.”

“It’s for her cats.”

“Oh.”, he scratched his neck, “I see.”

Slowly everyone went back to their own conversations and their food, though surely keeping an ear on the stranger and you.

“So what brings you to town?”, you asked, getting out that small talk attitude.

“Just traveling through. I’m on my way back to London after a weekend in the countryside.”

You nodded. You could just see the mansion made from stone, that a guy like him probably had out in the country, where he could sit in his massive library and read all day with a pair of glasses on his nose, that he didn’t necessarily need, but looked stylish and cost more than your entire wardrobe.

“So do you hunt?”, you questioned, taking the fish from the fryer.

He quirked an eyebrow. “No. Why? Do I look like a hunter?”

You shrugged. “You look like someone who doesn’t have enough to do in his life, so he needs a hobby.”

Despite your words coming out way more biased than you had intended, the guy laughed.

“Oh, trust me, I don’t need to fill my time with weird hobbies. And even though my country house is by the sea I also don’t fish.”, he explained, eyes crinkling in amusement.

“I see. So what do you work?”, you took your time salting the fries.

“I’m a singer.”, he told you, watching closely for your reaction.

Your eyes widened. “Really? You must be fairly successful then.”

“You could say that. I’m also an English Gentleman.”, he added.

You frowned. “What does that mean?”, you asked, handing him his order.

He smiled and waved it off. “Not important. Thank you.”

He took it, handed you a crackling pound note and went outside, to eat his food leaning against the window sill.

You stared at him for a while. What a strange guy. What did he mean by being ‘an english gentleman’? Did men need to say that these days? Or was he just super proud of being polite? He was a mystery and if there was one thing you truly loved it was mysteries... especially if they came in the form of handsome strangers.

Finally you looked at the note in your hand and gave a small squeak. Quickly you opened the register and took out the change, then practically ran out the door. He was still leaning there, watching some kids play with a football in the street. A grey-white dog was attached to his arm by a leach. He looked adorable and you really wanted to lean down and pet him, but business first.

“Um, sir, excuse me, but you forgot your change.”, you stuttered.

He turned his eyes to you and your knees started to shake. Man, this guy had a really strange effect on you. He smiled again.

“Oh no, that’s for you.”

Your eyes widened. “I can’t accept that. That is way too much.”

He shrugged, balling up the paper in which his food had been. Wow, he was a quick eater. Your eyes went to the dog, who was looking at you with his head tilted to the side, but you were certain you could see some crumbs around his snout. So maybe the handsome stranger had shared his food. Sweet.

“No, it’s not. You’re going to need that, if you are serious about London. Are you?”

His eyes bore into you and you knew you couldn’t lie to him, no matter how little you knew him.

“Y-yes, I am, but-”

“Then take it. I’ll see you soon.”, he was walking, with his dog, toward a white Mercedes cabriolet. “Oh and the food is excellent.”, he called over his shoulder, before picking up the dog and putting it in a cage in the backseat and getting into the car himself.

You stared after him, as he drove off, wondering what the hell had just happened.

[btsjeonjazz]

Teacher’s pet

Namjoon x reader

genre: professor!Namjoon, slight dom!namjoon, smut

word count: 6.1k

especially for @lonely-kitten-named-bambi and my other Boos out there

Your new literature professor, Kim Namjoon, decided to make you the teacher’s personal pet..

He was the smartest man you had the pleasure to meet throughout your entire life..but the sex was primal, exhilarating, feral..

Tall, lean, charming with two small holes digging in his flawless cheeks he stood there with his brown case waiting for your professor to finish the introduction. His hair was neatly parted, but you could see that the loose strands stood up in several directions which were tried to be tamed in a rush while his white shirt was stuffed into his black suit pants which were more than unsuited for a dusty, old classroom in the city’s biggest university.

His large hands ran through his hair in an attempt to comb the mess back. Dark pupils roamed through the room, looking for help with his looks..landing on you. Grinning from one end of your mouth to the other you shook your head in a slight denial, his expression asking how it was now after another attempt of stroking the strands back. Another shake, your hair falling into your face. The man in the front of your class softly smiled, his dimples shown a second time while shrugging his shoulders at you, giving up to tame his locks. His attention was lazily wandering back to your professor ending his speech with a wide gesture towards the man beside him.

“And this is how we hired such a young new colleague. This old uni needs new wind and with Mr. Kim it’s provided.”

Quiet chatter filled the room as the female students giggled, exchanging high pitched whispers after hearing that the man who looked way too out of place was the newly hired substitute for your sick literature and maths professor. Your friend nudged your side, wiggling her brows which made you laugh softly, your hand covering your mouth.

“He’s my type”, she whispered, licking her lips, gaze darting towards the young man standing next to the chubby, older professor. “And I know you also would smash.”

“You can bet that I want”, you responded, following her eyes down the rows, lingering on Mr. Kim’s handsome face, his plump lips pursed into a faint smile greeting the few students in front of him before his deep voice resonated from your classroom’s walls, confident and loud.

“Let me introduce myself. My name is Kim Namjoon, I’m currently the substitute teacher in literature and maths for you”, he let his dark orbs wander from one student to the next. “I appreciate punctuality and presence. If anyone of you has questions regarding the lessons don’t hesitate and meet me after class.” The words left his pink lips while meeting your eyes, the expression behind them darkening, inviting you to stay behind and ask about things he could teach you despite stuff for your studies. “We’re starting easy after we’re alone”, he motioned for the older, chubby teacher to leave, giving him a smile making the older one blush.

The two hours wouldn’t end, his presence filling the room, a born leader, a man who knew his way with words, charmingly explaining the dumbest of questions with a soft smile. Your eyes were drawn to the way he moved his arm up, his large hand swiftly flying over the written words lining the blackboard while looking over his shoulder, lips constantly pulled upwards. Not to mention his backside view..long, toned legs covered in dark suit pants, his ass perking up while concentrated gesturing over the board.

Unlucky enough you couldn’t follow what he told the class, your whole attention laying on his handsome face, brown eyes piercing yours now and then, scolding you silently to pay attention to class instead of his damn fine looking ass, but you didn’t. Obviously staring back, gnawing on one of your pencils was what you did, not caring how stupid you might look in his pretty eyes.

“Any questions?”, Kim Namjoon cocked one of his dark brows up, tilting his head to the side bluntly meeting your staring eyes even though the question was directed to all of his new students.

“Mr. Kim?”, one of the girls in the first row lifted her manicured hands, her blonde hair swiftly brushing over her shoulder. “As the class president you should be informed about the upcoming class trip to the woods in like a week. I wanted to ask you about it after class if that’s alright with you.” Her voice was as sweet as honey, slick and sickening in your ears wherefore you just scoffed, her glare telling you to better shut it before she snapped. Again.

Mr. Kim’s expression showed how shook he was from her announcement of a class trip he didn’t know of, but nodded with pursed lips. “And I anticipate that I as you substitute teacher have to come along, right?”

High pitched agrees followed his words, the girls around you standing up from their seats to collect around your new professor, eyes sparkling with excitement over the fact that he’ll be the one accompanying your class. Sighing you also stood up, their behaviour too much for you. Ah, no, you definitely found Kim Namjoon undoubtedly attractive, but you were also old enough to know that nothing would come out of it even with some heavy tries. Therefore you only shook your head, grinning at the dozen girls chattering cheerfully, drowning your professor in endless private questions.

“So you’re coming?”, “You should drink with us one night!”, “We’ll be on the same floor, right?”, “Are you married?”, “How are you so young and a prof?”…

Your friend, Lea, was mixing into the mass, waving you to move your ass and ask a few questions yourself, but you just denied, laughing a little as you leaned against the door frame, saying your farewells towards the young men escaping out of the room.

“Crazy bitches, aren’t they?”, a familiar voice, giggling and low shook you slightly, your head turning towards the boy with the orange hair, his view focused on the female students urging the young professor to spit some private details. “I can’t believe they’re that desperate”, Jimin laughed, his blue leather jackets pulling closer.

You nodded, following your friend’s dark orbs, seeing how your friend tried to catch Mr. Kim’s attention with yelling the loudest which cracked you up. “Freaks.”

Jimin smiled at you, his eyes crinkled while tilting his head. “You’re not, huh? I know that one time in high school after we-”

“Miss y/l/n, right? Please wait a little longer. I need to talk to you”, Kim Namjoon’s voice overturned the chatting girls, stopping you from turning around. Surprised you looked left and right, your finger pointing towards your chest. You? “I dismiss you ladies for now. Get home safely, we see each other tomorrow.”

Pouting protest resonated from the walls as one girl after the other slandered out of the room until Lea, Jimin, the bitch Hanna and Mr. Kim were the only persons present in the dusty classroom.

“I also would like to excuse you three as I have to speak with your classmate alone.”

Jimin scrunched his nose, giving Mr. Kim a strange look before shrugging his shoulders. “See you tomorrow, y/n.”

Nodding the other two girls walked out of the room looking back over their shoulders as the tall, handsome professor closed the door with a faint, annoyed smile on his plump lips.

Waiting for him to speak up blood rushed into your cheeks. You knew exactly why he wanted to talk to you alone. He had caught you staring without even bothering to narrow your gaze and listen to his explanation. Scratching your neck you bit down your lip, slightly regretting your bluntness although you were confident a moment ago, but his confidence and the intimate glare of his eyes made you squirm. The silence stretching out killing you slowly hence you looked up, the man in front of you leaned over the teacher’s desk, his hands supporting his tall figure.

“Anything to say?”, his voice was deep, nothing but a whisper while tilting his head, the friendly atmosphere surrounding him gone, replaced by something dark, sinful.

“N-No?”, it was more of an ask than a steady answer, the hair on your arms standing straight. “I mean..no.”

Shaking his messy thatch he sighed, his pink bottom lip pulled between his teeth. Then you noticed him slowly separating from his desk, slandering around it ere he stood in front of you, his arms crossed over his chest. His presence told you how dominant he was, how intelligent he was to lull you into anything. Feeling his eyes on you, you didn’t dare to look up, digging your own hole under his view.

“Too bad, Miss y/l/n”, he leaned down, his lips close to your ear, breathing in deeply. “If you need a lesson just tell me. You seemed not to pay enough attention in class today and it’s only my first day. That’s no good first impression..”, his voice trailed off, Mr. Kim’s breath hitting your face now as he turned his head right in your direction. “I want a report of today’s lesson by tomorrow. Meet me after class again.”

With that he turned away from you, his heat paralysing you. Gulping you tried to keep up with your professor, your throat dry as the desert wherefore you had to swallow more than once. What as going on? You were one of the top students in class and you had to write a fucking report? What the hell?

“Mr. K-Kim!”, you called out to him as he snatched his belongings, stuffing them into his brown case. “I don’t understand right n-”

“Are you dumb, Miss y/l/n? I told you to write a report of today’s lesson’s content. Don’t leave a thing out”, he straightened himself, his sharp words taking you aback with shock tracing your face. His long legs took him further to you, his face dangerously close as he leaned down a second time today. “More attention on class, Miss y/l/n. I caught you staring..”, his free hand shot up, delicate fingers flying over your cleavage, your body flinching at his cold touch. “So much confidence in your eyes before..Where is it now?”

Your mouth plopped open at his move, his words piercing through you like sharp, tiny needles. By the time his digits reached under your collar you weren’t able to answer, let alone smack his hand away..which you didn’t even want..

You couldn’t remember the last time you were afraid and nervous of your upcoming classes. Usually you enjoyed them more than other students, but not now as you knew who waited down the rows. Kim Namjoon, substitute professor in literature and maths. With fluttering heart you entered the dusty old room, the neatly dressed man in the front greeting your classmates with a bright smile that showed his dimples until his eyes lingered on you, darting down to your breasts with a knowing expression lacing his brown, dark eyes. Blood tinged your cheeks a rose hue as you remembered the day before, his fingers stroking a sinful path down between your covered breasts with the words of being a cute, shy mouse. Which you normally weren’t.

“Good morning, Miss y/l/n. The report?”, he asked you as you walked past him, the sheets weighing heavy in your bag at his words.

Nodding you rushed over to your seat next to Lea, who was intentionally early this morning. Who knows why, huh.. Her eyes sparkled as she leaned in your direction the moment you sat down, your jacket still on your shoulders. “Why didn’t you pick up yesterday? What did Mr. Kim want from you? He looked kind of..pissed at you.”

Exhaling a loud breath of frustration you slammed the report down on your desk, showing Lea that you were scolded after class. At this fact your friend’s eyes shot wide, her mouth agape.

“You?”

“Yeah, me. What a nerve this damn professor has”, you scoffed, laying your head on your folded hands. “I stayed up all night after my shift to write this shitty report.”

Getting a glance of sympathy Lea patted your back, rubbing circles to relax your stiff muscles which weren’t caused by the late night session after work, but by the man who watched you from down the rows, his plump lips turned upwards again, his eyes darkening while watching you.

“Here”, you put the sheets down his desk without giving him a single look. “Can I go?”

Mr. Kim stood up from his seat, circling the wooden table, taking in the words you had effortlessly written. “Found your courage again? Or do I’ve to lure you into being a good girl?”

“What?”

Namjoon sighed pinching his nose. “Listen, you don’t need to deny it”, one step closer. “I’ve seen you walk around for months on campus. One shy girl with the boys”, another step. “Oh, there’s one guy you were interested in, right? The one with the orange hair, Jimin”, he chuckled lowly, his legs taking him further towards you. “Unlucky you didn’t get him, or the other way around?”, Namjoon stood only a few centimetres from you, his expensive cologne intoxicating you from up close. You had difficulties looking into his face, his tall figure hovering right above you, eyes narrowed down to meet yours. “You think I just picked on some innocent, smart girl and let her do some shitty report?”

With every word falling from his plump lips he leaned into you, his body heat feeling on your own by now. His attractive face a couple of centimetres away from yours, breath hitching as he shifted his head, small dimples like holes in his cheeks as he smirked.

“Where’s the girl who bluntly stared at me? Watching me while gnawing on her pencil?”

You bit your lip not knowing what to say to his dirty words as he drove your senses crazy, kicking your rightful judgement overboard. “She’s..h-here.”

Namjoon chuckled again, his shirt rolled up revealing a costly watch, the brand one you’d never be able to afford. His skin shone honey like in the yellow light of the classroom, smooth and soft whereas his hands slowly traced over your bare arms. “Here? Where?”

Clearing your throat you tried to meet his gaze, but instead of looking into a pair of brown, pretty eyes you were confronted with plump, rose lips that invited you. They seemed soft, wet and oh so kissable you couldn’t force yourself to avert your eyes off of his mouth that pursed into a lopsided grin at your staring.

“She’s slowly coming out of her hideout, isn’t she?”, Mr. Kim’s voice was a whisper, getting darker the more he caught you staring at his prominent lips.

“What do you want?”, your voice was nothing more than a whiff, chewing on your lower lip while you tried to get yourself off of his smug smile to glance at the still open door. “It’s open..”

Confusion traced his pretty features before he turned around, seeing that the door was wide open, showing the students walking down the hall how close you two stood to each other. The light noise of his black shoes on the floor were heard ere the door was closed, the key turning in its lock wherefore your eyes shot wide. What was happening?

Namjoon then slandered back challenging you with crossed arms, forcing you to step back until your ass hit the desk, your escape plan vanishing into thin air.

“I read your latest essays”, he started, his hands enclosing around the edge of the desk in your back, his upper body leaning down slightly stopping in a close distance in front of your blushing face. “You’re one clever girl..and so pretty..”

“You’re saying this to your student? That’s forbidden..dirty”, you whispered biting down you lip again. He was too close to you to think straight, the words only spilling from your lips because your conscience faintly told you to at least try to get him off of your mind. Of course it wasn’t working as he was far too close to you.

Namjoon furrowed his brows, his smile never leaving his lips despite the perplexed expression washing over his face for a brief moment. “I’m not even thirty and your an adult as well. And I’m blunt with what I want. Right now it would be you, y/n.”

Your name coming from him for the first time got you the moment the first letter fell from his plump lips. Without warning you grabbed his collar, shoving your worries aside you swallowed the forming knot before you dared to meet his dark gaze.

“Why me? You don’t know me.”

A small chuckle you knew by now sounded through the room. “I don’t care. I don’t want a relationship right now. I’m young and the ladies love me”, he paused, one hand freeing from its position to cup your cheeks, his warmth transferring on yours, spreading out on your already heated, red face. “But I’m not interested in anyone who can’t reach my way of thinking..”

On the way down to meet your lips you closed your eyes to take in the upcoming sensation with all your senses. Softly, a feeling like a rose’s petal brushed over your parted lips, a touch rather fragile and careful you didn’t expect from a smart, confident and handsome man like Kim Namjoon. As fast as his mouth lay on yours he parted from you, the hand on your cheeks falling back down to grab the edge a second time.

“Tell me, y/n, is the clever girl with the pretty face finally crawling out of her hideout?”, Namjoon cocked his brows up, grinning at you with crinkling eyes. But you could see that his smile wasn’t honest, a deeper, craving emotion tracing his black oculars, waiting for your answer.

A cocky smile finally appeared on your face, tinging your shy self into the girl you usually represented, the girl he saw just yesterday at the beginning of the day’s lessons. “Don’t know why don’t we find out then?”

A huge, bright smile spread out on Namjoon’s tanned face, his light giggle causing a tightness inside your stomach. “She’s out.”

Not saying another word - as if another one was needed anyway - his mouth clashed on yours with a lot more force than before. Now it was your turn to let your hands roam around his chest, pulling him tight by the shirt to feel his lips pressing harshly on your own. Swallowing his breaths you entwined your tongue with his, suddenly being pulled by the hair so he had better access to your wet, pink cave, giving him a few breathless mewls as an answer.

“Turn around”, his voice sounded was deeper than ever, sparks of arousal lacing his dark vocals. “I won’t stop for you, baby. Last chance to run.”

No need to confirm his offer you obeyed, turning around to lay your hands on the surface of the wooden desk. Mr. Kim chuckled, the husky sound giving you ultimate goosebumps while watching him out of wide eyes over your shoulder. He stood there, arms crossed over his chest again and spreading his long legs, his hair was neatly combed today as he narrowed his gaze down your body with a grin on his face that let the dimples on his cheeks come alive.

“I like what I see, baby”, a low hum followed ere Namjoon’s hands landed on your sides, pulling you into his crotch in a harsh move, his bony fingers digging deep into your covered flesh. “What should I do with a girl like you, hm?”

Whimpering you perked up your ass that was dressed in a black, waisted rock, bending forward to show you professor a glint of your soft skin, the over-knee socks completing your signature school outfit. Whereas you did that you could hear Namjoon hiss, his growing bulge rubbing over your revealed skin, his hands now tracing to your shoulders, massaging them softly before his grip got solid, hardly pushing your body straight down the cold surface of the table. His hips never left your ass, circling them until he was fully erect ere Namjoon separated his core and hands from you.

“Stay like this”, he growled lowly while you witnessed a zipper being opened, the rustling of fabric pulled down. “Ah ah, baby, don’t look.”

His hands shot up, taking your hair in his fist to guide your head back down where your face met the cool material of his teacher’s desk. Protesting you arched your back, teasing him with what you were wearing underneath your girly skirt.

“Disobedient? Just as I thought you’d be”, a chuckle resonated from the walls accompanied by a kick separating your legs further. “Don’t like that though..”

If you wouldn’t know better you could say that you felt pure craving for the man you just met, and was your new professor. Your panties felt tight, clinging onto your already dripping folds wherefore you had to force yourself not to press your legs together again to feel anything on your aching bundle of nerves. But you refrained from it, excited what Mr. Kim had planned for you, his student.

“Why can’t I see you?”, you purred, your hands almost clenching around the edges of the brown desk.

Silence answered you before you witnessed warm fingers gradually stroking from your ankles up to your shaking thighs. They hit your skin lightly, caressing the spot afterwards. “I much rather see you, baby. You’re seeing me earlier than you wish.”

Biting your lower lip you nodded, waiting with your face now laying on the coldness, your cheek burning against it. Then you felt Namjoon’s fingers going further up, touching your covered folds with a loud hiss.

“Damn, baby, you’re so wet.”

Purring: “I bet you’re just as hard”, his digits slipped into the band of your panties to slide them down torturing slow.

“Hard?”, his deep, melodious voice reached your ear dangerously close, his warm breath hitting your face from above. “I would say it’s perfectly ready for your cute, little pussy, baby.”

Goosebumps. Your hair standing straight as his hands found their way over your now bare ass, trailing towards your slick folds to caress them with his bony fingers. Small, feminine mewls escaped you wherefore your professor pressed his index finger on your clit, making you squirm under his blunt touch.

Aching your back you tried to make him finally move his hand, but all you got was soft laughter next to your ear. “Needy?”

“Yes”, you immediately agreed, the right choice as his fingers circled around your entrance, coating them into your juices while sliding them to your nub to rub gently over it, covering it in your arousal to pleasure you even more. He was certainly experienced, his warm skin doing wonders with a few strokes that turned your mind blank. Shallow breath on your side filled the dusty classroom, panting heavily under his unbearable, blissful touch, turning the coin in your lower stomach almost..

“I think you’re doing great, baby, but what about me?”, Namjoon kissed your ear, taking your earlobe between his plump, wet lips to nibble on it as he waited for you to answer, his fingers slowing down to a torturing pace hence your hips twitched uncontrolled, wanting more of his previous doing.

“P-please make me come”, you whimpered at the sensation his pearly whites caused on your sensitive earlobe. “Please, Mr. Kim-”

A rather strong bite let you moan in pain, his digits now pressing heavily on your clit to make you come..right? But then they were gone, leaving you shaking on the warming surface of his desk.

“You should take care of your superior first, don’t you think? I mean, if you’re a good girl your getting a few extra points in the next test.”

Scoffing at his words you turned around, glaring at his smirking face that was slightly flushed, the typical holes showing on his cheeks. “As if I need extra credit.”

Despite your faked scorn you were dared to look down your professor’s body, the rolled up shirt clinging to his lean body while your eyes wandered down towards a way better view. His open suit pants, no boxers or other underwear underneath, his cock erect, pointing at you. His glance was inviting, leaving your sarcastic comment aside. “How about you go down on your pretty knees, baby?” Namjoon cocked one brow up, gesturing with his head for you to better obey and kneel in front of his dick to take the best of it. “If you’re doing as I say, you can come, how does that sound?”

“Even if you don’t let me, I can easily make myself come at home”, you grinned cheekily, blinking your eyelashes ere his hands grabbed your shoulders to push you into a kneeling position beneath him. It was a move that should show you who was in charge here and it was definitely not you.

Shaking your head in disbelief you chewed on your bottom lip, looking back up to meet your young professor’s darkening eyes which told you how ready he was, lust spilling over. With innocence you adjusted your skirt, brushing your hair out of your face ere you tilted your head, sticking your tongue out to give his leaking cock a slow, strong lick over the tip without leaving his brown eyes. A indentation formed between his eyes as his brows furrowed at your motion, taking it in with hungry eyes.

“Don’t tease, you dirty girl. You can’t fool me with your fluttering eyela- Fuck!”

No caring what he said about you, you grabbed his balls in one of your warm hands, letting them roll tenderly in it while taking his throbbing tip in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks at once to double the sensation chasing through his body. But that wasn’t all as your tongue latched over his tip inside your mouth, pushing his stretched skin up and down his length while deepening yourself onto his cock. His body tensed under your touch, your other hand holding him by his still dressed thigh to steady his position.

“Fuck, baby..you’re a naughty little student, aren’t you”, his breathy voice was raspy, eyes lingering on your lips, wet from your saliva and his pre cum flowing down over his cock, wetting your mouth. “Take me in all the way..yes just like this.”

You bobbed your head up before you took his aching, throbbing cock in your mouth completely, his tip hitting the back of your throat which made you gag a bit. Getting used to the feeling of his thick length you deepened down further until your nose met the shadow above his dick. A violent twitch beside his feral groan told you that you hit his sweet spot. Therefore you repeated this movement, his dick coated in your saliva wherefore slick sounds filled the air around you and making it easier to let yourself slide down his length.

Suddenly Mr. Kim’s large hand enclosed around your hair, pulling your head from his cock to greet you with a cocky, breathy chuckle. “Taking your professor’s cock well, my cute little student.”

Humming you licked over your parted lips, taking in some of the bitter but sweet taste left on them. To emphasize your naughtiness you moaned at the same time, your hands pulling him into your face to give his red, swollen tip extra kitten licks, the man’s eyes rolling to the back of his head. The still solid fist in your air loosened to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking over your skin in a rather soft manner. Enjoying his touch you felt encouraged to make his time worth it, taking in his dick one by one, your tongue pressing on his slid before it finally hit the back of your throat again, this time without having to gag. Namjoon’s hands stroked over your scalp, running through your open hair ere they made you stop, holding you into position for him to move on his own.

“I’ll take the lead now, baby”, his husky voice whispered into the empty room, echoing from the walls, too loud in your ears. “Stay still.”

And so you did, your hands digging into his flesh he started to move his hips, a smooth roll shoving his cock right in your hot mouth, your tongue the perfect bed for his twitching dick. Thanks to his lead you were able to touch yourself, the missing panties helping to feel your touch, the needed friction provided by your own fingers making you mewl. This simple sound sent vibration through Mr. Kim’s lower body, a dark growl coming out of his parted lips, hastily biting down his lower, plump rim to muffle the grunts trying to escape him. It was dangerous if he let the room fill with other lewd sounds except for the ones coming from between his legs, slick, slurping noises sounding like music in his ears. But that would be the only ones droning through the locked door onto the corridor, several students, teachers and parents walking hastily up and down the floor, making you both quite nervous even though none of you showed it to the other.

And of course you both knew how wrong it was to have this kind of physical contact between a student and a professor, but it felt too good to stop now, your fingers massaging your clit the way you need to be touched, making yourself moan heavier into his dick with every rub provided by your own fingers. Your desperation didn’t go unnoticed as Mr. Kim couldn’t focus on you giving him a damn got blow job, but on your bare heat, sparsely covered by your hand. It got you both going to the point where Namjoon panted, his thrust getting heavier, hitting your throat mercilessly. You saw his chest heaving heavier by the second, his release close ere he cramped, his legs tensing under your free hand feeling his muscles flexing.

“I’m close. Fuck..baby..”, breathy, dark, raspy moans stretched those few words into eternity, his brown, deep orbs piercing yours as he forced you with a silent glare to lock eyes with his before a salve of hot, creamy seeds spurted into you. Namjoon’s head fell forward, his black oculars never wavering while you collected his cum on your tongue, his dick pulled out by him to the half causing his release to land straight on your wet muscle. Growling and hissing Namjoon’s fingers entwined in your hair, his limbs tensing the more his cock twitched, trying to get the last few drops out. You on the other side played the role of his innocent student, never letting the teacher out of your wide eyes whereas your mouth filled with his cum, the bitter, salty taste spreading out on your tongue. After Mr. Kim guided his dick out between your lips with one shaking hand, he breathed out with a tremble, sweat flowing down his temples mixing with a few loose strands of his hair. His shirt that was from a bright white started to get transparent in front of his chest revealing his heavy pants and tanned skin you wanted to brush over with your lips..

“You’re such a perfect student, y/n”, a second after he let go of you he separated himself from you, leaning his tall body against the desk, wiping of some sweat from his forehead with a smug smirk plastered across his plump, pretty lips. “And not spilling one bit of my sticky cum, good little girl.”

Questioning his announcement you tilted your head as to why your panting professor returned your expression, his fingers tardily closing his belt over his suit pants.

“What? Swallowed your voice with my cum?”, he chuckled, crossing his arms after he finished with his silver belt, the expression on his face amused by your behaviour.

Instead of answering you crawled closer to your professor, your slick index finger tapping on your throat for three times, signalling him that you still had his semen on your red tongue, rolling it over it to tease Mr. Kim a bit more.

“You still have it? Fuck, y/n!”

Nodding you folded your hands in your lap, chin high to look right into his face, reading his reaction as you opened your mouth, sticking your tongue out to proudly present the white, sticky seeds. Namjoon swallowed hard, his emotions running over his face until they stopped in awe. Then you closed your mouth, tapping on your throat again before gulping down his cum in one go, as loud as possible, intentionally letting out a soft moan.

Smacking your lips you stood up, taking your panties to put them back on, feeling your attractive professor’s view on you. As much of a tease that you were you bend down, your ass perking up to adjust your over-knee socks, swinging your hips while doing so.

“I guess all my future works will get grade A?”, you chirped, the heat from what you just did rushing in your cheeks.

“You really think a simple blow job gives you straight A’s? Sorry, baby, but fuck me and your grades rise to the top”, he chuckled, his hands running through his hair. “50 percent, nothing more.”

Pulling your eyebrows up you crossed your arms this time, spreading your legs to steady your position as Mr. Kim casually stepped towards you, his hands cupping your face gently.

You met his eyes, chewing on your bottom lip to distract yourself from his charming smile. “Let’s make..it 60 percent”, you whispered, your orbs drawn to his plump lips again, magically pulled by strings to keep your gaze on his pink mouth that stretched over his teeth making him even more irresistible. “I mean, I didn’t even c-come.”

Nodding Mr. Kim leaned down to give you a passionate kiss. Warmth spreading in your body you leaned into him, moving your lips on his, taking in the other’s rhythm ere he parted from you to say something.

“You’re a smart girl, y/n. What do you think will be happening at 100 percent?”, his lips brushed yours with every word, eyes piercing yours for an emotion he could work with.

“You mean fucking?”

Mr. Kim laughed, his dimples too cute for what he suggested. “If you want to call it that then yeah, I mean fucking you for good grades.”

Closing your eyes you let the feeling of his pink lips flow through you before you made up your mind. “Not a chance, Mr. Kim. I’m a top student, no need to fuck you for my grades”, you paused, opening your eyes, your hands laying flat on his chest to push him away from you, his presence making you too nervous, clouding your rightful judgement that was needed in this situation. “I was horny and to be honest, I’d do this again if it means I’m in front of the class president bitch.”

Perplexed Namjoon took in what you just said. But it was true, at least slightly true. It was thrilling to sleep with your professor, a young one and as handsome as Kim Namjoon only the icing. Yes, it was wrong, but you really couldn’t care less as it was your last year under his watching eyes. So why not having some fun on your own? Nobody would catch you doing inappropriate things anyway.

“That’s it then?”, Mr. Kim tilted his head, asking you with his eyes what you really wanted, but met a wall of stone, your answer hidden from his smart, charming orbs.

Turning around you waved at your professor who leaned back on his desk again, his head tilted whereas watching your figure reaching the locked door that you wanted to open if his voice wouldn’t fill the air inviting, laced with amusement and hunger for a certain girl’s body.

“I hope you’re excited for the upcoming class trip, y/n”, another deep chuckle that sent shivers down your spine and you didn’t even dare to look back to see Mr. Kim smirking at you with his damn cute dimples, his brown eyes seductively telling you his ideas for the trip.

[ancientbrit]

Natter #4    7/4/2020

MI MG Natter #4  4th July 2020I hope you all have had a happy fourth - all fingers still attached and tummies filled. Pickle seems to be getting used to the bangs this year, or perhaps he is a little deaf. Usually, at the first bang, he disappears and hides under my bed. This time he has wandered upstairs and downstairs and doesn't seem to register the bangs much at all - which is good.

I am in contact with a guy back home who runs a regular allotment (PeaPatch here) blog, giving timely advice and other information related mostly to veggie & fruit culture. I find this very helpful as he jogs my memory on those extremely rare occasions when I forget. I know you think that I never forget, but I have to admit that there has been the occasional lapse ever since I stopped eating peanuts. Strange thing that. His words for July remind us that this month is the time to sow seeds for Fall and Winter veggie crops such as Chicory (does anybody actually grow this?), Chinese Cabbage, Kohl Rabi, Lettuce, French Beans, Beetroot, Carrots, Radish, Turnips, and Peas - pick early varieties - early Snow peas are an especially fast to crop

.If you have had the forethought to already start Leeks from seed, now is the time to plant out those starts. The easiest way to do this is to use an old broomstick handle and thrust it vertically into the soil to a depth of about 5-6".Just drop the seedlings carefully, roots first into the holes and then just water in - that's all you need to do. The water will wash soil from the sides of the holes down onto the roots and it will remain cool and moist enough to thoroughly root the seedlings well. The idea of doing it this way, apart from the ease of planting and gaining support from the sides, is that the hole blanches the stem of the leek as it grows to gain more usable parts of the plant. If they are kept reasonably moist they should grow quite rapidly through the Summer and be ready to make fabulous potato-leek soup in time to keep cold days at bay. If you have never eaten P-L soup accompanied by chunks of Crusty artisan bread generously spread with butter - you haven't lived. Food of the Gods this! If you have been growing spuds and have lifted them already, you can follow with a crop of French beans to both nourish yourself and the soil, or if beans aren't your thing try a green manure crop such as Mustard. However, bear in mind that if you have ever had Club Root on your cabbage family plants, do not use Mustard as it is also a brassica. Use one of the Pea family, both for the Nitrogen root boost, but also for the foliage. And now for something completely different:- Once more my friend Valerie Robertson has presented her view on things English on the other side of the pond and is sent all over the world.

Val is a very  highly qualified State Registered Nurse who knows whereof she speaks.

Here we go.

From: Valerie Robertson GAG 14 Hope all is well with all. All Quiet in the Western Front over this way. Seattle’s CHOP was liberated leaving an appalling mess The pubs are open  today so the protesters have disappeared. BLMUK. is proving to be an embarrassment to those who donated, bent the knee and supported a cause that advocates the abolition of the nuclear family (that means dad is superfluous), defund the police,  destroy capitalism and support censorship plus the necessity for every white person to acknowledge that they are all subconsciously racist and privileged, and own up to the “fact” that every institution is inherently racist and disproportionally  White supremacy managed. That’s a big ask, which has bewildered the millionaire black footballers, academics & artists,   Labour leader Sir Keith what’s his name, (why would a Labour leader accept a knighthood?)  and all the national institutions taking the knee, which the other men in the street saw, as bowing to street fighter activists outrageous demands. Ie supporting racial divide and suppressing diversity of opinions and abolishing history. Our moral leader Canterbury Arch Runcton, is also confused. He’s a woke bloke that got it wrong at Easter. Streaming his Easter service from his kitchen with his toaster in the background. For God's sake, he must have a parlour with a row of books as a backdrop, in his palatial abode. He’s now having a think about the effigies in the Cathedral and wondering which ones to get rid of. Should he paint Jesus black?  Jesus loves all the children of the world, be they yellow, black or white. What about the brown ones?  They were precious in His sight too? He’s going to need a lot of colours. The Bournemouth beach sunbathing nutters are bright pink still. The Cambridge academia have just funded a two-year study into the history of slavery to enable the oiks to confront their iniquitous past and say sorry to all offended by history. Waste of time, as it’s been done before, over and over and you can’t change it. I’ve got a better idea for them to study.   Research the Benin bronzes. There are 3,OOO of them but only 500 left in Nigeria, the rest in Europe and USA museums. They are exquisite. The Portuguese kicked off the Atlantic slave trade in 1400 from the port of Benin with gold, which the Africans turned into these fantastic plaques, I think but not sure. I’m too busy doing my epidemic virus studies to go to the British Museum and find out. And we are not allowed yet, to visit Portugal unless keen enough to fly to Spain and walk across the border to check up on the museum artifacts in Lisbon. It’s good to see Lewis Hamilton constructively addressing inequality in the motor racing world.  The aggrieved black community can be placated and inspired by their own incredibly successful race if they listen. We have diversity, we have opportunity, we have laws, education, healthcare, social services, state welfare funding and overall, a tolerant multicultural society, who are very tired of the woke politically-correct champagne socialists agenda over the last decade.  There are deep social and economic injustices which are nothing to do with slavery or racial prejudice. Lewis Hamilton lives in Monte Carlo to save paying a hefty U.K. income tax liability. He was raised in Stevenage and lived in a council house with his family partially supported by the welfare state. Is he a philanthropist who promotes the welfare of others by donating money for schools etc.? No he’s not if he’s a British citizen tax evader. Is he a Monacoan now.? Is he a hypocrite? I don’t know?  Perhaps the academics can ask the uni students to research,  write a paper and make up their own minds. Estate agents will not in future be using Master Bedroom in their ads. Connotations of slave masters etc. Uncle Bens rice is to be repackaged without the jolly black man, Aunt Jemima also and awaiting more news re. MasterCard, Master chef, Master Mind, Headmaster ( the lefty teachers union still keeping schools shut) Masters degree, a tricky one for Cambridge. We are living with the virus and hanging in with our self-imposed restrictions and socially distancing. The copper masks and latex gloves worked a treat when John needed to visit the GP surgery for a blood test to check prostate antigen level insomuch not coughing. Although London has seen a slight rise in the R rate, no doubt due to the mass protests, the infection rate remains stable and patients being more successfully treated with drugs, to avoid intensive care. The disproportionate ethnic infection rate is due to blood group, genetic disparity, and body mass ratio, and a difference in the percentage of T cells. These cells decline with age and are responsible for fighting off infection without causing a major auto-immune response. People past 65, have very few left.   This theory explains why the young can come in contact with the virus but don’t succumb, however, if repeatedly exposed will catch it and manufacture antibodies and can still remain asymptomatic. Mass testing suggests that 40 percent of the population has been exposed with few symptoms, the silent spreaders who have the herd immunity. So we know the virus is still around and can’t trust the idiots to self-isolate if positive. All we can hope for is that they wear a mask and keep away from the elderly. Once the herd immunity and those who have recovered from it reach 60 percent, providing the medically vulnerable and fatties avoid it, the virus will find no host, cannot, therefore, multiply and shed and theoretically die away.  So it’s a balance. As the months go on there is hope for more preventive medication to alleviate the symptoms and of course a vaccine. Last October, the WHO  found that U.K. and USA  were the best in the world prepared for a pandemic.  Cameron had placed an order for millions of PPE equipment with a French company with the deposit to fund the manufacturer to make it.  By the time U.K. needed it, we got the deposit refunded but the stocks were needed in France and they had sold some items at a higher price,  to Italy.  That’s Globalisation for you and the free market. Meanwhile, a couple who were distilling boutique gin in the midlands, altered their equipment to distill hand sanitizers and viral cleansing fluids as NHS  were buying it in from abroad at an inflated price. They now supply the NHS cheaply and in the past 12 weeks have made 30 million pounds profit. Well done as they are donating a substantial amount to Covid research. No doubt as a tax saving incentive, but still commendable. There’s a lot to be said for self-reliance.  The govt. with its 80 strong SAGE - the Scientific, Advisory Government Epidemic advisors, have caused the pandemonium. At the outset, the models and graphs predicting the scale have been proved wrong. Simple precautions were overlooked.  Emptying geriatric wards, filling up care homes with staff untrained in infection control was scandalous. Mask wearing should have been made compulsory on public transport, supermarkets and shops at the outset and at least some sort of temperature checking and contact tracing at airports and ferries. So, onto local lockdowns and long term containment.  Boris is getting on with Brexit and left Hanlon to contain the virus,  Hope the strategy works. I have faith in the laboratory’s scientists and the trials and the guinea pigs testing the emerging vaccines. Meanwhile, tomatoes coming along, being well-nourished and in good shape and we are up to four playing again at croquet. Sainsbury delivering without hassle and Miles and Giles still surprising me with a tablespoon of Baharat in a nifty environment-friendly container. It made the lamb taste different. The kennels are open but missed the boat as all the  rescue dogs are  adopted and long waiting lists for puppies.

A dog called Nigger, I imagine a black or brown Labrador,  who was loved and died in 1878, had a headstone in the animal cemetery in a Sussex village graveyard. The local stonemason has ground away the name as the villagers thought it might cause offence to visitors and that dog’s owners would understand as they were dead anyway and not around to ask permission. Just love kind people. The drought's over and it’s cool as we are and hope you are too. Take care Love from Val And from your fearless leader,Gordon

[xheartsigh]

coup de foudre

(exp.) french: love at first sight

sugakookie oneshot, college basketball player/engineer student!Yoongi and photographer/cinematography student!Jungkook (they are too cute for their own good and everyone ships them so it’s fluff)

writter for @yoonkookweek‘s Day 6 - Non idol/musician AU

According to Taehyung, Jungkook’s best friend, what he's doing is borderline pathetic. Strike borderline, Jimin would correct him shouting and Jungkook would throw pillows on both of them. His roommates can be so annoying. What did he do in his earlier life that he deserved this kind of punishment? He needs to find new friends and preferably soon, before they announce to the world (okay, just the whole university) his undying crush.

“You can, you know, always ask him out?” Jimin steals a french fry from his plate but Jungkook doesn't even bother to stop him even though he hates sharing. He is too engrossed in his own panicked thoughts about the game at the weekend.

“That's out of the question. I- I don't even know if he likes boys and I don't want to...” ruin what we have, he would say but who is he kidding? They don't have anything. They aren't friends, merely acquaintances and just because Jungkook is constantly around at every basketball match and the shooting guard of the university's team thinks he loves the game so much. But Jungkook couldn't care less about basketball if it wasn’t for Min Yoongi.

“Oh trust me, he doesn’t care about that,” Taehyung speaks up his mouth still full with food, his words slurring but Jungkook perks up his ears at the new information.

“How do you know?”

The light brown haired guy chews on the last piece of his pizza slice and enjoys the attention he gets. He wipes his mouth clean with a napkin ridiculously slowly before he answers theatrically:

“Well, I spoke with Namjoon who heard from Jin who is his roommate that he swings both ways.”

He says it so simply like it’s nothing but Jungkook can't do anything but gape at him until the horrid thought crosses his mind.

“You didn't tell Namjoon that I...” he starts self-consciously while he constantly fidgets with his chopsticks but never actually touches his food that grows cold in front of him.

“That you are helplessly in love with one of his best friends? No. But I think he knows it already,” Tae scoffs rolling his eyes. For him, it's so obvious that blinds should see it too. It's also nerve-wrecking as hell to watch your friend suffering because he can't form one single sentence without stuttering around his crush. They are just tiptoeing around each other instead of kissing grossly.

“He can't. And I’m not in love, I...” Jungkook protests weakly, in no vain. “I just admire him a lot.”

“You are not that subtle as you think you are. You have a folder on your computer dedicated to your photos of his hands,” Jimin reminds him and raises an eyebrow almost challenging but the younger can't deny that.

“He has nice hands!” he says instead but it's the worst kind of excuse because vaguely 70% of his taken photos feature the baseball-player.

“If you say so,” Taehyung shrugs and shares a knowing look their roommate, Jungkook knows he is in way too deep.

Jungkook started going to the basketball games because he got into the uni’s newspaper editor team as their photographer. That’s how they met. When he was a freshman majoring in Cinematography, Min Yoongi was already a senior in Engineering but lucky for him, the older decided to enroll in Masters here and continue his basketball career too. They didn't really speak, only a few words here and there because they had mutual friends but Jungkook was present at every game he could and used the newspaper as an excuse to take numerous shots of Yoongi playing, jumping, warming up or just simply sitting on the bench. He was so sure it wasn't too obvious because none of his pictures proved that he got caught by the captain. So this weekend he does exactly what he did all the time: searching for a good place in the crowd and taking his Nikon into his hands waiting anxiously for the players (especially that handsome blondie) to set a foot on the court.

However, Yoongi wasn't as oblivious as he thought and his friends loved to tease him about it.

“Your loverboy is here again,” Hoseok slaps his butt while passing by him in the narrow locking room. Yoongi likes the adrenaline rush that comes with each game but nowadays he has one more reason to be excited about them. Though he would never admit it.

"There's no loverboy," he grunts and almost throws his body spray at his teammate who dares to laugh at him.

"Ah and how long are you going to play dumb and pretend not to know he has enough pictures of you he could probably sell a photobook?"

"Good for him," Yoongi puts his jersey with the university logo on and grins at Hoseok. "Just promise me you won't drool over my face once you buy it."

"Ew..."

"Hurry up, you rascals. Even pink little princesses change faster than you. I want to see you on field in a minute!" the coach yells at them yanking the door open and banging on the lockers. Everyone picks up their pace and gather around the door. The grumpy coach looks around. "Where is that giant mascot? Has anyone seen our damn mascot? He has to pee again? Unbelievable!"

Laughter and exciting chattering die away at one glare from the man above them as he points his finger at them one by one.

"I want to see you play fair and nice like you are ready to die for this team. But not actually dying, Jung! No more jumping on the hoop if you can't come down!" Yoongi can't surpass a smile thinking back at the iconic scene when his friend got a mental breakdown in the middle of the game because of his fear of heights. Fortunately, now Hoseok could laugh at it too.

A few more pointers and encouraging words later all of them cheer together. "Grizzlies, fighting!"

The game is okay. Yoongi is in his element, scoring points to ensure his team's win. It's not even a close call in the end, they win almost effortlessly because it looks like the opposite team gave up in the last round. Even though they are all sweaty and gross, they hug in joy and the audience cheers for them loudly. However, Yoongi longs for somebody specific’s cheers and he’s looking around in that high up area searching for one particular innocent face. He tries not to show it, but in the end, he turns out to be weak and gives in the urge no matter how hard he tries to suppress it. And there it is: the sparkling eyes focusing on him. But the younger boy looks away shyly as he notices the intense gaze on him. The basketball player smirks and after the lap of honour he withdraws with the rest of his teammates to the locker room to shower and change.

He drags out the time with preparing because he isn't in the mood for going to the after-party. Usually there's nobody interesting there, only booze and drunk college kids. He would rather go home and sleep or continue pining. However, on his way out of school that he believed to be empty, he hears sounds of dribbling from the basketball court and his curiosity takes him there against his will. Not that he minds as soon as he sees those dark, fluffy strands of hair.

Jungkook is just messing around, never throwing the ball at the backboard and Yoongi can't stay in the shadows for a long time.

“Wanna actually play?” he speaks up approaching the startled boy.  His steps are light hiding his nervousness. Thankfully because otherwise it would be pathetic to act like a lovesick teenager because of those damn butterflies (more like nasty bats) in his stomach. Especially when the younger looks at him through those beautiful long eyelashes.

“I’ve never tried before, I mean for real,” he blinks bashfully and stills leaving the ball untouched on the ground. Yoongi picks it up easily and lazily scores a perfect 3-pointer.

“I can teach you. It’s not that hard. You know the rules?” he asks casually and acts like he doesn’t know the other has been there for years now. Jungkook simply nods, not finding his voice and Yoongi finds it adorable.

“Come here,” he beckons Jungkook closer to him and when he complies, h maneuvers him near the center. “Bend your knees, don't be so tense and try to throw it in a high arc.”

The photographer nods once again and tries to follow the advice but he can't do anything with his jangled nerves. It may be the longest time they have ever been alone and his knuckles turn white at how hard he squeezes that poor ball before throwing it. It lands nowhere near the hoop but Yoongi doesn't laugh at him. He gives a few more pointers and brings back the rolled away ball. It takes a dozen more times but Jungkook rarely misses anymore.

“See? You’re good, very good actually,” Yoongi praises him and the younger couldn't be happier. He has lost his awkward shyness somewhere along the way and smiles openly at the shorter male.

“Beginners’ luck?” he offers with a shrug  and the captain smiles at him fondly.

“Yeah, sure.”

He can't help the warmth spreading in his chest and his following offer just blurts out of his mouth surprising them both:

“Let's play a one-on-one till 3 scores. If you win I will take you out on a date.”

As soon as the words stumbles out, he has a mild panic attack and wants to rephrase the sentence saying that by date he meant a friendly eating-out, but he never gets to that.

“O-okay,” Jungkook mutters blushing and Yoongi swears he has never seen anything cuter.

So they start the game. It’s unfair really. The older being at almost professional level while Jungkook still occasionally slips. Also, he’s an easy person to tease, especially when it comes to skinship. Yoongi would blame it on his superb defending techniques but the way he cages the slightly taller boy is nowhere near as aggressive as it should be. But he enjoys seeing the faint pink of the other’s ears none the less. He has no difficulty in elegantly shooting the ball through the hoop twice but his now even slimmer chances make Jungkook bold and competitive. He holds the elder's gaze while dribbling the ball and then he uses the same trick Yoongi did during the game and scores one.

“Nice,” the basketball player comments proudly, his grin never fading. He attacks the younger with vigour but Jungkook gets the run of it and blocks him. It's only then when Yoongi notices his wide shoulders and his hard chest and suddenly the cute bunny smiled kid is not that babyish freshman he met almost three years ago. He has grown up nicely. It distracts him for more than a fleeting moment and Jungkook takes advantage of this to score another goal. It makes things more interesting.

“Is that all you have, grandpa?” the younger teases almost cockily but the melody of his laughter is too sweet. Yoongi scoffs.

“You wish!” he reposts and quickly steals the ball out of Jungkooks hands. He withdraws until the mid-court line and even though he could most possibly throw it in with a nice jump, he waits for the other boy to attack and when it happens, he blocks it easily. They play mouse and cat, a game of push and pull and Yoongi can see when Jungkook's patience is running thin. Then, he makes a mistake: turning right when he should have gone left and now the ball is in the younger's hands. Jungkook just runs and jumps and… wins with a beautiful score.

In the silence both of them are panting hard, chest heaving and heart burning. A minute passes without them speaking and just stealing glances at each other. It’s the usually shy and quiet boy who speaks up first breaking the idyllic atmosphere:

“Why did you let me win?” He's too curious to not say anything about it because it’s obvious that Yoongi could have win if he had really wanted to. But the player isn’t an easy prey to be questioned.

“Don't flatter yourself, I'm just tired because of the game,” he explains half-heartedly but avoids the curious gaze that burns holes into his scalp. It's not necessarily a lie but it isn't the truth either.

They fidget around each other nervously, a little bothered while packing things up and getting ready to leave. Jungkook brings his camera and poppy on his cheeks. He's so young, innocent and easy to break while the older can be a little bit too wild when it comes to basketball or his studies. He's afraid of being a disappointment, but looking at that shy lip bite and blush, ha can only think of one thing: fuck that.

“So...” he shatters the silence between them, catching Jungkook’s curious eyes on him. He smiles. “How about that date?”

[ancientbrit]

Natter #5  4th July 2020

MI MG Natter #5 4th July 2020I hope you all have had a happy fourth - all fingers still attached and tummies filled. Pickle seems to be getting used to the bangs this year, or perhaps he is a little deaf. Usually, at the first bang, he disappears and hides under my bed. This time he has wandered upstairs and downstairs and doesn't seem to register the bangs much at all - which is good. I am in contact with a guy back home who runs a regular allotment (PeaPatch here) blog, giving timely advice and other information related mostly to veggie & fruit culture. I find this very helpful as he jogs my memory on those extremely rare occasions when I forget. I know you think that I never forget, but I have to admit that there has been the occasional lapse ever since I stopped eating peanuts. Strange that. His words for July remind us that this month is the time to sow seeds for Fall and Winter veggie crops such as Chicory (does anybody actually grow this?), Chinese Cabbage, Kohl Rabi, Lettuce, French Beans, Beetroot, Carrots, Radish, Turnips, and Peas - pick early varieties - early Snow peas are especially fast to crop. If you have had the forethought to already start Leeks from seed, now is the time to plant out those starts. The easiest way to do this is to use an old broomstick handle and thrust it vertically into the soil to a depth of about 5-6". Just drop the seedlings, roots first into the holes and then just water in - that's all you need to do. The water will wash soil from the sides of the holes down onto the roots and it will remain cool and moist enough to thoroughly root the seedlings well. The idea of doing it this way, apart from the ease of planting and gaining support from the sides, is that the hole blanches the stem of the leek as it grows to gain more usable parts of the plant. If they are kept reasonably moist they should grow quite rapidly through the Summer and be ready to make fabulous potato-leek soup in time to keep cold days at bay. If you have never eaten P-L soup accompanied by chunks of Crusty artisan bread generously spread with butter - you haven't lived. Food of the Gods this! If you have been growing spuds and have lifted them already, you can follow with a crop of French beans to both nourish yourself and the soil, or if beans aren't your thing try a green manure crop such as Mustard. However, bear in mind that if you have ever had Club Root on your cabbage family plants, do not use Mustard as it is also a brassica. Use one of the Pea family, both for the Nitrogen root boost, but also for the foliage. And now for something completely different:- Once more my friend Valerie Robertson has presented her view on things English on the other side of the pond. From: Valerie Robertson GAG 14 Hope all is well with all. All Quiet in the Western Front over this way. Seattle’s CHOP was liberated leaving an appalling mess The pubs are open  today so the protesters have disappeared. BLMUK. is proving to be an embarrassment to those who donated, bent the knee and supported a cause that advocates the abolition of the nuclear family (that means dad is superfluous) defund the police,  destroy capitalism and support censorship plus the necessity for every white person to acknowledge that they are all subconsciously racist and privileged., and own up to that every institution is inherently racist and disproportionally  White supremacy managed. That’s a big ask, which has bewildered the millionaire black footballers, academics, artists,   Labour leader Sir Keith what’s his name,  and all the national institutions taking the knee, which the other men in the street saw, as bowing to street fighter activists outrageous demands. Ie supporting racial divide and suppressing diversity of opinions and abolishing history. Our moral leader Canterbury Arch Runcton, is also confused. He’s a woke bloke that got it wrong at Easter. Streaming his Easter service from his kitchen with his toaster in the background. For God's sake, he must have a parlour with a row of books as a backdrop, in his palatial abode. He’s now having a think about the effigies in the Cathedral and wondering which ones to get rid of. Should he paint Jesus black?  Jesus loves all the children of the world, be they yellow black or white. What about the brown ones?  They were precious in His sight too? He’s going to need a lot of colours. The Bournemouth beach sunbathing nutters are bright pink still. The Cambridge academia have just funded a two-year study into the history of slavery to enable the oiks to confront their iniquitous past and say sorry to all offended by history. Waste of time, as it’s been done before, over and over and you can’t change it. I’ve got a better idea for them to study.   Research the Benin bronzes. There are 3,OOO of them but only 500 left in Nigeria, the rest in  Europe and USA museums. They are exquisite. The Portuguese kicked off the Atlantic slave trade in 1400 from the port of Benin with gold, which the Africans turned into these fantastic plaques, I think but not sure. I’m too busy doing my epidemic virus studies to go to the British Museum and find out. And we are not allowed yet, to visit Portugal unless keen enough to fly to Spain and walk across the border to check up on the museum artifacts in Lisbon. It’s good to see Lewis Hamilton constructively addressing inequality in the motor racing world.  The aggrieved black community can be placated and inspired by their own incredibly successful race if they listen. We have diversity, we have opportunity, we have laws, education, healthcare, social services, state welfare funding and overall, a tolerant multicultural society, who are very tired of the woke political correct champagne socialists agenda over the last decade.  There are deep social and economic injustices which are nothing to do with slavery or racial prejudice. Louis Hamilton lives in Monte Carlo to save paying a hefty U.K. income tax liability. He was raised in Stevenage and lived in a council house with his family partially supported by the welfare state. Is he a philanthropist who promotes the welfare of others by donating money for schools etc.? No he’s not if he’s a British citizen tax evader. Is he a Monacoan now.? Is he a hypocrite? I don’t know?  Perhaps the academics can ask the uni students to research,  write a paper and make up their own minds. Estate agents will not in future be using Master Bedroom in their ads. Connotations of slave masters etc. Uncle Bens rice is to be repackaged without the jolly black man and awaiting more news re. MasterCard, Master chef, Master Mind, Headmaster ( the lefty teachers union still keeping schools shut) Masters degree, a tricky one for Cambridge. We are living with the virus and hanging in with our self-imposed restrictions and socially distancing. The copper masks and latex gloves worked a treat when John needed to visit the GP surgery for a blood test to check prostate antigen level insomuch not coughing. Although London has seen a slight rise in the R rate, no doubt due to the mass protests, the infection rate remains stable and patients being more successfully treated with drugs, to avoid intensive care. The disproportionate ethnic infected is due to blood group, genetic disparity, and body mass ratio, and a difference in the percentage of T cells. These cells decline with age and are responsible for fighting off infection without causing a major autoimmune response. People past 65, have very few left.   This theory explains why the young can come in contact with the virus but don’t succumb, however, if repeatedly exposed will catch it and manufacture antibodies and can still remain asymptomatic. Mass testing suggests that 40 percent of the population has been exposed with few symptoms, the silent spreaders who have the herd immunity. So we know the virus is still around and can’t trust the idiots to self-isolate if positive. All we can hope for is that they wear a mask and keep away from the elderly. Once the herd immunity and those who have recovered from it reach 60 percent, providing the medically vulnerable and fatties avoid it, the virus will find no host, cannot, therefore, multiply and shed and theoretically die away.  So it’s a balance. As the months go on there is hope for  more preventive medication to alleviate the symptoms and of course a vaccine. Last October, the WHO  found that U.K. and USA  were the best in the world prepared for a pandemic.  Cameron had placed an order for millions of PPE equipment with a French company with the deposit to fund the manufacturer to make it.  By the time U.K. needed it, we got the deposit refunded but the stocks were needed in France and they had sold some items at a higher price,  to Italy.  That’s Globalisation for you and the free market. Meanwhile, a couple who were distilling boutique gin in the midlands, altered their equipment to distill hand sanitizers and viral cleansing fluids as NHS  were buying it in from abroad at an inflated price. They now supply the NHS cheaply and in the past 12 weeks have made 30 million pounds profit. Well done as they are donating a substantial amount to Covid research. No doubt as a tax saving incentive, but still commendable. There’s a lot to be said for self-reliance.  The govt. with its 80 strong SAGE - the scientific, advisory government epidemic advisors, have caused the pandemonium. At the outset, the models and graphs predicting the scale have been proved wrong. Simple precautions were overlooked.  Emptying geriatric wards, filling up care homes with staff untrained in infection control was scandalous. Mask wearing should have been made compulsory on public transport, supermarkets and shops at the outset and at least some sort of temperature checking and contact tracing at airports and ferries. So,  on to local lockdowns and long term containment.  Boris is getting on with Brexit and left Hanlon to contain the virus,  Hope the strategy works. I have faith in the laboratory’s scientists and the trials and the guinea pigs testing the emerging vaccines. Meanwhile, tomatoes coming along, being well-nourished and in good shape and we are up to four playing again at croquet. Sainsbury delivering without hassle and Miles and Giles still surprising me with a tablespoon of Baharat in a nifty environment-friendly container. It made the lamb taste different. The kennels are open but missed the boat as all the  rescue dogs are  adopted and long waiting lists for puppies. A dog called Nigger, I imagine a black or brown Labrador,  who was loved and died in 1878, had a headstone in the animal cemetery in a  Sussex village graveyard. The local stonemason has ground away the name as the villagers thought it might cause offence to visitors and that dogs owners would understand as they were dead anyway and not around to ask permission. Just love kind people. The drought's over and it’s cool as we are and hope you are too. Take care Love from Val And from your fearless leader,Gordon