#excited to see how this plays out xD

[rv0lt]

closed starter | @vilnt

The club is a chaos of smoke and sound, dim lights pulsing red and gold like a warning flare. Bass rattles the floor, the music a guttural growl of rebellion, sharp and electric. The air reeks of sweat, stale beer, and that faint metallic tang of spilled blood lingering from the fight club next door. She threads her way through the throng, shouldering past gyrating bodies and the occasional drunken stumble. Her pulse hasn’t yet settled from the rush of the fight—Vi’s fight. She hadn’t planned to bet much, but one look at the fighter had been enough to change her mind. Those fists had spoken louder than words, but it was the fire in Vi’s eyes that had sealed it. Not just anger—hurt. Pain buried so deep it turned sharp, feral, and lethal. Gert recognized it instantly. It was the kind of pain that could destroy someone—or turn them into a weapon.

She slides onto a barstool beside her target, resting her elbows casually on the sticky surface of the bar. Her eyes flick to the brawler like they’ve been drawn by a magnet. Up close, Vi is even more striking, all sharp edges and tension coiled tight enough to snap. Gert doesn’t shy away from the intensity, though. Instead, she leans into it.

❛ Those were some sick ass moves out there tonight, ❜ Gert says, her voice pitched loud enough to cut through the music. It’s rough, unapologetic, but there’s a hint of warmth tucked beneath the surface, a flicker of admiration she doesn’t bother hiding. A smirk tugs at Gert’s lips—half amusement, half intrigue. She meets Vi’s gaze then, unflinching, her dark brown eyes glinting beneath the club’s erratic lights.

❛ Can I buy you a drink with the money you just won me? ❜ she asks, tilting her head as her smirk deepens into something more mischievous. She doesn’t look away, doesn’t back down, because she’s genuinely curious now. Vi’s got a story, that much is obvious, and Gert’s always had a bad habit of chasing mysteries like they’re promises waiting to be unraveled. That, and Vi is hot. The kind of hot that hits like a sucker punch and leaves you wanting more.

[blackjackkent]

Rakha enters the Counting House's high security vault on a balcony overlooking the main floor. It's an enormous room but mostly empty except for three people standing around a single chest at its center - a dwarf in a fine silk tunic and two guards armored like the ones upstairs.

No sign of Minsc. Jaheira has described him and he is definitely not any of these people.

"It's still... moving..." one of the guards quavers nervously, looking at the chest with an expression of deep anxiety.

Rakha's head tilts to one side and she squints. The chest gives an almost imperceptible twitch.

"Hush your fussing," the dwarf says irritably, pulling a pipe from his pocket and sticking it into his mouth. "Nine-Fingers had this one made especially. That little mouthful will barely slow it down."

(A/N: "Made"? This line raises a lot of questions about mimic biology and reproduction. Also, one of Glitterbeard's guards has Hector's face with an undercut and no beard, but the right eye color more or less, which is amusing me.)

"But the stories..." The guard wrings her hands.

"Stories," the dwarf scoffs. "Tall tales and big names." He pokes his pipe at the other guard, who is looking at his comrade anxiously. "Don't let them fool you, lad. Elminster the archmage. Drizzt the drow exlie. Heroes have power, aye - but not half so much as we do." He flicks his fingers, and Rakha watches with mild interest as fire flares up around his fingers, with which he lights his pipe before inhaling a mouthful of smoke.

"A little coin in the right purse," he murmurs pensively. "A soft word in the right ear. It's not glory that spins these planes, lad. It's gold. See? Now--"

He breaks off abruptly. The chest has given another distinct twitch, and this time its accompanied by a low, moaning growl that sets the hair standing up on the back of Rakha's neck.

She has only a moment to process what's happening, but it's long enough. She's seen this before, a creature disguising itself as a chest - in Grymforge, and in Moonrise Towers. A mimic, Wyll called it. A creature that is mouth and teeth and tongue and very little else, and would have swallowed her whole if she'd let it.

Extrapolation flick-flicks through Rakha's brain like lightning. The visitor logs said Minsc was here only minutes ago, led here by Glitterbeard, the bank's manager. Nine-Fingers said she instructed that he be killed. Jaheira has described Minsc as a behemoth, dangerously violent, and with his own streak of madness to match Rakha's.

There are only so many ways to safely kill such a man. One of them, Rakha imagines, is having him swallowed by a mimic.

Mmmm... whispers the beast in her brain. Too quick. Too clean. No mess left behind to show the deed was done. And yet... perhaps not so easy as they think...

The mimic gives another low moan, its whole body spasming and the eyes embedded in its "wood" flesh opening wide. And then a fist explodes outward from between its teeth.

Blood spatters across the ground. The scent fills Rakha's nose and her vision goes white at the corners. She grips the balcony railing, struggling to regain control, and watches in astonishment as a huge, muscular form uncurls itself from within the mimic's body, ripping its jaw upward with a sickening crack.

The mimic screams and shudders to stillness, its tongue lolling out along the stone floor. Minsc - for certainly this is Minsc - straightens up, his eyes bright with rage as he glares down at the dwarf.

"There is no gold in here!" he bellows, pointing at the dead mimic. With a grunt, he lifts the whole creature up by its tongue and hurls it aside.

"If there is one thing Minsc hates more than beasts with bad breath," he growls. "It is those who are tricksome with the truth."

His head cocks to one side, and then he smiles, showing all of his teeth. "And turnips. But you are no turnip! Let that be a comfort to you in your final moments!"

At Rakha's side, Jaheira laughs suddenly - a sound Rakha has never heard from her before. Every muscle in her body has relaxed with sudden visible relief and her eyes have brightened as she steps forward eagerly. "Meet Minsc!" she says cheerfully. "He still seems very much himself to me."

Rakha grunts. The smell of blood from the eviscerated mimic is still plucking angrily at the strings of her brain, and it is taking most of her available effort to retain control of herself. If this is Minsc, Jaheira can handle the reunion without her.

(Part of her is intrigued, attentive. Just as she has been led to believe, she can already see something of herself in this huge behemoth of a man - the rage and edge of madness in his eyes. The brute force ripping and tearing of flesh and teeth. But there will be time to understand that when she can breathe again.)

Let Jaheira reveal herself.

Jaheira steps forward, letting her boots click loudly against the marble of the floor. Minsc stiffens at once, turning to look up - and his eyes widen, seeing her face.

"You..." he hisses.

There is something strange in his eyes - it does not look like happy recognition. Surely Jaheira sees it too - but just as surely, she doesn't want to. Her smile takes on a forced quality. "Stone Lord?" she calls down teasingly. "Better to call yourself Stone-Head."

(A/N: For once when I say in my writing that there's a long silence, I actually mean it - there was a good fifteen seconds of Jaheira and Minsc just staring at each other with Minsc looking increasingly puzzled. XD )

A long silence passes, during which Minsc's expression shows his inward struggle to parse what Jaheira has said. Then his expression goes very dark, his eyes narrowing to slits. "Your false face does not fool my eyes!" he roars. "I will cut until you look like the monster you are!"

The words resonate inside Rakha's head. The beast keens eagerly. Yes, cut, cut, cut... spill her blood, spill all their blood, rip out their throats and then we shall rip out yours, Minsc of Rashemen--

Jaheira's brief moment of relief has vanished. She has gone utterly still and a muscle is working in her jaw. "Somehow you are making even less sense than usual," she says hoarsely.

And then a voice, all too familiar, echoes across the vault. "Perhaps I can explain!"

It's Jaheira's voice.

And at the far end of the room stands... Jaheira. Or someone who looks like her, at least. Her skin shimmers with the lingering Weave-ripples of the teleportation spell they have seen before, the one used by the Absolutists and the nautiloid. She raises one eyebrow, her lips curled in an unpleasant smirk.

Understanding once again cracks through Rakha like a whip. A shapeshifter - one of Orin's doppelgangers, this time wearing Jaheira's face. But not quite her manner; the smirk is too hard, too cold, and her voice rasps with a disdain that, even in the worst moments, Rakha has never seen from her companion.

"The Stone Lord sees through your lies, shapeshifter!" she barks up at Jaheira. Her voice rings like a bell in the high-ceilinged room. "Count yourself lucky he cannot stay." She turns the sharp edge of her glare down towards the dwarf next to the dead mimic. "Nine-Fingers set a poor trap, little banker. Let the Absolute's faithful show you how it is done."

The Weave rocks. From every corner of the room, figures with weapons and spiked armor shiver out of the dark. Absolutists. Bhaalists. Rakha's staves are out in her hands before she has fully registered what is happening.

"Now come, Stone Lord!" the imposter barks. "We have the gold - and the Absolute has need of it elsewhere."

For a long moment, Minsc does not move, just looks up at Jaheira - the true Jaheira - with narrowed eyes. Then he turns. "As you say, Jaheira," he rumbles. Crossing the room with a few enormous strides, he moves to the imposter's side.

The imposter's smirk widens. And then there's another flash of dark energy, and they're gone, and the cultists begin to close ranks on all sides.

Jaheira has gone very pale with fury and alarm. She pulls her scimitars free, but there is no time for her to do anything but watch as her friend disappears in the Absolutists' company.

"Stlarning shapechangers!" she roars, almost matching Minsc in thunderous volume despite her smaller frame. "Enough - let us deal with these cultists, then find out where they are nesting!"

[sodapanque]

In your Jorge is Ody reincarnated AU would the rest of the cast also be reincarnations of the characters they play? If that's the case would the ones who play the Gods just be them in human forms?

You guys are making me question everything about this AU! It all started with that chaotic Ithaca Live interruption, and then the "Poseidon did it!" theory was born. I want this to be all about comedy and the cast interacting.

I'm really excited about this AU and I love seeing that you guys like it too 😭😭🙏 I'm struggling with how to make this story work, especially with Jay (Odysseus) and "Circe". I'm thinking only Jorge is the reincarnation and the gods were like watching him, loving his passion and resilience. So they decided to join the fun in human form, just to hang out and explore Ithaca without causing any trouble. And if no one knows, they can have a blast without messing up this awesome version of Ody. If you wanna help me figure this out, who do you think should be reincarnated?

About Poseidon… Well, we haven't seen him and Steven in the same place, have we? XD He wants his moment to shine, but he's still recovering from that 600 strike.

[archangeldyke-all]

Omgggg I love Sevikas and readers little found family with Jinx and Isha. Do you ever think that, over time, Jinx and Isha would pick up on some of their mannerisms, especially Isha 'cause she's so young?

I can just imagine reader having this face she shows when she's disgusted and then one day they're all hanging out and Isha sees something she thinks is disgusting and can copy the face almost exactly.

this is so cute

men and minors dni

even before isha joins your little family, there are certain quirks in jinx that you can easily identify as sevika's. as much as they claim they hated each other before silco's death, sevika was still a pretty big influence on jinx during her formative years.

jinx has learned how to scowl the same way sevika does, and she's nailed sevika's annoyed eye rolls.

the two both refuse to open packaging with scissors or knives-- both tearing into food packages with their teeth.

and, over time, jinx has taken on sevika's eating habits-- swirling all the food on her plate into one mass of mush before eating, claiming 'it helps mix the flavors.' just like sevika does.

but then isha joins your little family, and both her and jinx start picking up on more and more of you and sevika's quirks.

sevika sneezes loud as hell. like, scare the shit out of you loud. it's one of the most annoying things about her, and she can't control it no matter how hard she tries.

so when isha starts sneezing like she's being punted in the stomach, a loud, guttural "AAACH!" coming from the little girl-- you can't help but cackle each and every time. (especially when she manages to scare sevika, because it's so satisfying to watch your wife be on the receiving end of being startled by a loud sneeze.)

every morning, the first thing you do once you wake up (and give sevika her good morning kisses and cuddles) is some quick yoga in the living room. it's nothing fancy-- it's just ten minutes of stretches and yawns-- but it always manages to help you feel awake and ready for the day.

lately, jinx has been joining you.

you'll wander into the living room rubbing sleep out of your eyes, only to find jinx there, sipping a cup of coffee and soaking up the rising sun. you're both wordless as you sit on the floor, stretching and waking up together. jinx copies your movements sometimes, but sometimes she just stretches the way she feels like she needs. the best part is at the very end when you do partnered stretches, the pair of you taking turns to pull one another's arms and stretch each other's legs. it's nice.

isha being nonverbal means she communicates mostly through facial expressions. sevika being a woman of few words also means she communicates mostly through facial expressions. sometimes, it's a little uncanny how similar isha's 'you've got to be shitting me' face is to your wife's. or her 'i'm so excited but i'm trying to play it cool' face. or her 'i'm hungry and tired and unamused.' face.

and one night, as you're drifting off to sleep, sevika leans forward and kisses your forehead. "love you." she whispers. you sleepily scrunch your face, and sevika chuckles. "isha makes the same face when she's sleepin' and i tell 'er that. first time she did it i almost cried-- it's so you."

you force your sleepy eyes open to stare up at your smiling wife. "i really like our family, sev." you mumble.

sevika grins and swoops down to kiss you. "me too, baby." she giggles.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @sevikasfan @fict1onallyobsessed @greenhazes @dvrkhcld

[starrieangel]

🎮Mouthwashing Crew playing Minecraft with you🌾

I said I was gonna write it.. well here it is

Features: Curly & Reader, Anya & Reader, Daisuke & Reader, Jimmy & Reader

Tags: Could be read as Platonic or Romantic, Normal!Jimmy (lol)

rb if you like ♡!

Curly

Does Not understand

He's such a dad, he has no idea how to work this thing or why everything is blocks..? but you told him it's really fun, so he'll give it his best shot!

First thing he does: "Whats this thing?" *runs directly up to creeper*

"Why did he do that to me !!? I was just saying hi D:"

He gets the hang of it pretty quickly after that, though. You get distracted mining and when you come back he has a double chest full of nothing but oak logs (He thinks the game is just about chopping trees)

Gets uncharacteristically excited about seeing a fox for the first time; spends next 30 minutes trying to make it his pet

Eventually gives up, and you don't even end up building anything out of the logs, you guys just end up watching a movie afterwards. He's says next time, you guys are gonna build a big house! (Spoiler: he builds a giant cube house out of nothing but wooden planks)

Anya

A thousand times worse than Curly, except she's played this game so many times before she. really has no excuse to be this bad

Gets scared because she's only ever played on peaceful mode...

Spends the whole time gathering animals. Let the woman farm!!!

Would also probably build pixel art out of the wool from her sheep farm

Long story short, there is a funeral, eulogy, and headstone for her late cat. You swear you dont know how that lava got there...

Ends up noping out of the game after you make her go to the nether for the first time XD

Daisuke

Grew up with this game, has beaten it more times than he count

He lets you build the base and decorate it while he mines, or you both go on epic cave adventures..!!

Soo so many funny moments involving falling into giant pits, burning in lava, being exploded... etc.

Daisuke screams into the mic a loooot. Like, a lot. Look up perfectly cut minecraft screams, that's how he plays this game

You end up playing. FOR HOURS

Daisuke is still finishing up his nether hub, its almost 2 am, and you are so so tired... he tells you to get some sleep, while he finishes building..!! When does this guy sleep..?

Jimmy

Does anyone else get the feeling Jimmy plays COD with his headset plugged into his xbox 360 controller or is that.. just me ???

Yes he's tried the game a few times, but he's always thought it was more for kids. Plus he hasn't seen any of the updates since the original console release, so he gets on and is like "Wtf is this shit"

Tries to fight the warden ... does not pick up on the sound mechanic at all ... tries to collect honey ... insta killed by swarm of bees ... and other similar misfortunes befall poor Jimble

You guys don't even make it to the nether before he decides maybe you should play something else XD

Ends up waking you up from rage quitting CS:GO (You fell asleep after he forced you to watch him play)

🎮🌾⛏️

Let me know what you thought in the replies and if u liked it !! or send me an ask with your mouthwashing headcanons ♡♡

[luimagines]

Maybe a scenario where the chain is female hero's Era and they meet her era's link which is her little brother of like 6 and she confesses that the quest was actually for him.

LITTLE LINK!?!!?!?!? MY LOVE, MY LIFE, MY SON!?!? ABSOLUTELY!!!! XD

Everybody get ready for more Lucky. I will never have enough of this boy. ^.^*

Side note: Reader is written as Gender Neutral per the rules of the blog, but this isn't really about them anyway. :D

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

"Just a little closer." You say under your breath as you push aside the surrounding foliage. You step into a well beaten path. there's roots sticking out of it and the dirt is bare and dry, but you know that it's safe to travel along and that it'll take you straight to your destination.

"We've been walking for hours." Legend groans. "Are we there yet?"

"Almost." You hold the branch open for the others to pass through.

"This Link of yours must be a pain in neck to get to if his lives this far out into the middle of nowhere." Hyrule spits out a leaf.

You snort, keeping it vague for the sake of keeping him safe. They'll know the truth soon enough and frankly, you're scared to see the aftermath. "It's just up the path."

"Finally!"

"Come on! Let's go!" Wind cheers and takes off running, following swiftly by Wild, Wolfie and Four.

You try to keep a leisurely pace, knowing you're going to need all the energy you can reserve for when you arrive. You want to run just as much as the others, but you know better.

Time seems to have caught on and gently smacks your shoulder. "You never said how you happened to meet him."

"I didn't?" You smile, playing it coy. "Strange."

"This is it?" Four asks with a skeptical look.

Just beyond the hill is a run down cottage. There's holes in the roof and the fence is broken in many areas. The forest and meadows around it are about to over take the small house and return the woods of its skeleton back to where they came from.

You try to hold back a bitter smile and the way your heart swells at the familiar sight. You pat Four on the shoulder and keep walking towards the cottage. Putting your fingers to your mouth, you let out a shrill whistle and keep walking.

A beat passes, setting the young men behind you on edge before the door of the cottage all but bursts open. You can feel some of the boys reach for their weapons but they hesitate when you start hollering in excitement.

Your calls are answered back by a small body that comes running out of the cottage at full speed. It comes out like a shot and b-lines for you with the intent to tackle. You catch the familiar mop of blond hair and laugh, peppering the small boy with kisses and tickles.

The group behind you is stunned.

"Bubbah! You're home! You're home!" The child cries.

You smile, getting a little teary as you hold the child closer. "I get to stay for a little bit this time before I travel again. I wanted you to meet some friends of mine. They've been very excited to meet you."

The little boy looks over your shoulder and gasp, a bright grin covering his face. "New people! Hello! Welcome to my house!"

You set him down with a proud smile as he runs to the Chain. He stops in front of them, holding his hand out like the polite gentleman he's growing up to be. "My name is Link, what's yours?"

Twilight bites the bullet and kneels to his level, shaking his hand. "Why- My name is Link too! It's great to meet you!"

You sighs and look back to the house. Your grandmother must still be inside. Age has not been kind to her.

The introductions are going on behind as your brother gets more and more amused that they all share the same name. He laughs, bright and joyfully and still the child you've fought so hard to keep. "No wonder you wanted to meet me too!"

"Yeah.... That's why." Legend clenches his jaw in a tight smile. He catches it quickly, the mark of the Triforce of Courage already on his little hand. Legend points to his hand to show that he has the same mark. "You have that too?"

Link, your brother, nods and proudly shows it off. "Bubbah says it's because I'm special. They had to leave home after it showed up though. They saved me from the monsters and told me to take care of grandma."

"Then I'm sure you're doing an incredible job." Time says gently. "That mark is special. I'm sure your grandma is very proud."

Warrior makes it a point to step aside, roughly grabbing your arm as he speaks in a hushed voice. "What is the meaning of this?"

"This is my home." You try to keep the growl out of your voice. "Link is my brother."

"Tell me you're joking."

"I wouldn't be the one traveling with you if I was."

"Bubbah!" Link calls for your attention. "Can they stay for dinner?!"

You slap a grin onto your face and wave back to him. "That was the plan, short stack! You mind going to tell grandma we have company?"

"Oh yeah!" He grins and runs back to the house right as your grandmother has reached the door. She sees you and sighs of relief that you've returned safe and sound.

You wave from where you are and blow her a kiss. You try not to look at the other boys around you.

You can feel them staring holes into you head as it is.

This is going to be a long story.

[arleniansdoodles]

Guess who watched Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes?? Yep, I saw it, and now I can't get these two out of my head lmaoo

As much as I love Caesar and his story, I always imagined a dynamic like Noa and Mae's in the back of my mind. Not necessarily an enemies-to-friends or whatever their endgame is in this new trilogy, but now that I've seen them on the big screen, I'm super excited to see how their relationship plays out!

Before anybody asks, I personally don't ship them; I'm more of a "deeply platonic relationship" kind of gal loll But I can definitely see the vibes! XD Tbh, I really wanted to see them hug in the movie - it's the one thing I imagined after seeing the trailers ... But I don't mind the slow burn either, so I've settled for drawing it instead hahaa

Also, this is my first time attempting to draw apes. It was very hard, but I'll get better at it eventually! T_T

[livelaughlovesubs]

Hiii, Nini! Can I please request a Sigma x male reader fic with impact play? We've seen Sigma in fics getting absolutely decimated by the reader LMAO- I almost feel bad, so here's a twist, this is light impact play. Instead of spanks/floggers he can brace for, nope, feathers that make him jump out of his skin every time, giggling despite himself because wtf he's taken so much worse-. I think he'd absolutely lose it with the lighter/gentler stuff more so than the harder stuff purely because of how flustered he'd get XD. Ps I'm making it canon, you cannot look at him and tell me that stressed-as-hell man ain't ticklish.

Ahhhh so true!!! I imagine him as very sensitive and ticklish as well, like 🤤🤤 also since the gender wasn’t mentioned anywhere, you can interpret it however you want :]

Dom!reader x sub!sigma - reader is gn neutral

Warning: tickling/soft impact play, teasing, humiliation, slight dacryphilia (can’t write a fic without good’ol dacryphilia), using his hair as a brush???

Edit: started & finished this in the middle of the night, I’m so tired and I didn’t proof read it, also my brain is cooked idk what I did here

It’s been too quiet these days. Too boring, too mundane, too relaxing. There were many adjectives that would fit this little dilemma you were facing, called ‘dying of boredom’. You’ve been waiting around for your sweetheart to make a mistake, just so you’d have a reason to punish him. Yet how could it be that he’s so perfect in every way possible? You weren’t even exaggerating or meaning to sing his praises, heck you wanted him to be a little more human!

Otherwise you couldn’t think of a good reason to pull him out of his busy schedule, just to have him all to yourself, in such a selfish way. He wouldn’t agree, everyone knows how he puts his work above everything else. Such a horrible work ethic he has. Whatever, no one is perfect, even the manager of the sky casino will have to slip up somewhere, and you were way too eager to find it.

Sigma was just signing some documents as you watched him over his shoulder, taking sneaky peeks as if he hasn’t noticed you already. At this point he was probably wondering what you were doing. It didn’t bother you in the slightest, in fact, you knew due to you being so close, he’d get nervous and overthinking again. Something along the lines of: Did you want something from him? Why were you watching him all silently, so creepily?

And there it was— what you’ve been waiting for! “Sigma~ gosh, you clumsy thing! You wrote down the wrong date there, look.” You pointed it out a little too enthusiastically, eyes sparkling like morning sunlight, reflecting how excited you were. He glanced at you funnily, probably baffled why you were so happy about it. “Ah- yes, I see, uhh.. thanks, y/n.” Sigma furrowed his brows for a split second, then turned his attentions back to the papers. Though before he could continue writing, you snatched the pen out of his hand.

“Nope, you made a mistake sigma, and such a simple one as well. Tsk tsk tsk.” You faked a disappointment sigh, and facepalmed, putting your acting skills to use, “I’ll need to punish you, don’t you think?” So that’s what you’ve been waiting for, and probably the reason why you were so full of glee earlier. “A-are you serious..? For such a small thing?” Sigma looked taken aback, leaning his head back until he met your eyes. A slight blush was already convering his pale cheeks, such a naughty boy, he was excited as well.

“Why of course, it was a grave mistake after all. Stand up.” He was more ready to comply than you thought, not making any fuss as he stood up. “Good boy, now sit on the table.” You moved the chair away, pinning his body between your arms and gripping the edge of the furniture. Sigma glanced at you a few times, seemingly surprised with your demand. To be honest he expected you to bend him over your lap. This was fine as well, in fact, this position would prove itself to be more comfortable than what he initially predicted.

You were close, all up in his intimate space. He swore he could feel the heat radiating off your body. A slight blush covered his cheeks as he waited for your orders, already feeling the effects you had on him. It was almost terrifying how much control you had with just a few words. “Come on, you know how it goes. Strip.” After waiting for what felt like forever, you smirked as you whispered to him. “Ah- right. Sorry.” The boy replied half-minded, hands moving up to unbutton his vest.

This wouldn’t have been all that humiliating if it wasn’t for the fact that you were staring him up and down like some prey, watching his every move as he peeled off one layer after another. “Can’t you.. look in the other way?” He muttered in a meek voice, currently taking his pants off. “I’ve seen you nude plenty times darling,” you reached for his hands and helped him undress, “why are you still embarrassed?”

“You- stop teasing me..” The way his face flushed even more while he desperately tried to shake your hands off was so precious, you couldn’t stop grinning. “Ever thought it’s part of the punishment?” You asked, grabbing his thighs and spreading them apart. They were soft to the touch, and so squishy, his skin was flawless. “Ah-ahh… I’m- I’m really getting punished… over that little mistake?” He bawled his hands into fists, biting his lips to stop the trembling.

“I mean what I said.” He inhaled shakily, and breathed an equally unsure exhale. Eyes glossed over and half-lidded, body burning under your every touch. Poor boy was just preparing for the worst. You gave him a reassuring smile, then raised your hand right over his thighs. So it was going to be spanking, he thought and squeezed his eyes together. To his surprise, instead of the painful slap he expected, he was met with a teasing one. In response his body twitched involuntarily, and his eyes ripped open.

He didn’t flinch because of the pain, no there was no pain to speak of. There were only a soft, faintly red mark that gradually appeared on his inner thigh. Pretty much nothing worth mentioning, you left more marks when you grabbed his skin to spread his legs. “Erm… Y/n?” He couldn’t help but question your actions. That was a slip up, right? He’s taken so much worse, compared to all that you were basically caressing him.

Suddenly, another slap, though just as soft and gentle as the first one, making him jump out of his seat. “Wait- y/n, what are you doing?” It was such a light slap, can you even call it one? Wouldn’t tap be a more fitting description? “Punishing you. Why, do you want to be bullied instead?” You teased, followed by another slap, this time on the other thigh, and his toes curled. Why did this feel even more embarrassing than anything else? The sound was way louder and more dramatic than the actual impact.

“Ah- no but, seriously, what are you doing?” Out of nowhere you slapped his chest, once again it wasn’t painful in the slightest. He tensed together, still able to feel your touch in the places you’ve touched. “Shhh, be good and endure it for me, alright?” Instead of answering him, you stroked his fluffy hair, and smiled all self confident. The look on his face screamed confusion, but he trusted you, and so he simply swallowed the lump in his throat.

You grabbed a strain of his hair, one of the longer locks, sliding your hand through them, a little amazed at how untangled his hair was. As soon as you reached the ends, you held it fairly firm in your hand, and used it like a brush to graze over his skin. First over his cheeks just to annoy him, earning yourself a glare from him, then a feather-light brush over his nipples. He really didn’t know where you were going with this, but god did it rile him up.

It tickled, and it was so foreign, he couldn’t help but subconsciously clench his thighs together. Hands trembling from clenching his fists too hard, the pounding of his own heart echoing in his ears. You made sure to not touch him anywhere except with your hands, which made him all the more sensitive. Those touches were driving him mad, and that fact itself made him all the more flustered. You were barely doing anything, how could it be that he wanted to cry amidst all these sensations?

Soft, muffled whimpers slipped from his swollen lips, he arched his back forward whenever everything became too much. “Hnng- please, ah.. stop the t-teasing…! Hmm..!!” You carefully traced a line down his belly, resting your makeshift brush around his pelvis and moving it in a circling motion. As if all this wasn’t humiliating enough, he now knew why you had him sit on the table. All so you could observe his every move, every shameful expression and listen to every shaky breath he exhaled.

“Look at you getting all excited just from a few touches, you are way more needy than you’d like to admit, aren’t you?” “HnnGh..~ p-please.. ah-!!”He whined again, feeling you finally, finally giving his neglected dick some attention. Only using one finger to lazily rub his tip a few times, before using his hair to brush over the already sticky gland. His precum slowly dribbled from his slit, down his shaft before getting smeared around by you. “So messy.” Was all you had to say.

“Y/n, y-you’re so Mnn.. mean,” he squirmed around, shaking his head as tears rolled down his crimson cheeks, “I-i wanna cum…” you tilted your head to the side, sliding the bush of hair over his inner thighs, “that’s not how you ask for things, baby.” Then you used your other hand to rub his tears away, it ended up with him crying even more. “Such a crybaby, why don’t you try asking nicely?”

He gulped, trying to cease the sobbing for a moment, bending forwards as he let his head drop. The shame was eating at him, but he really couldn’t do this anymore~ which is why he looked up at you like a lost puppy, with glistening eyes and rosy lips, shaking ever so slightly as he begged, “please.. ha-Ahhh…I-i wanna cum♥︎ please m-make me c-cum..!!♡♡♥︎”

You smiled, staying quiet for a moment to raise the intensity and anticipation, then wrapped your arms around his shivering body. “You’ve been so good for me, and good boys deserve to be rewarded.”

[taojjang]

𐙚 babysitting with riize .ᐟ

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ advent calendar, day twenty-four! pairing: bf!riize x reader, genre: fluff! warnings: CHILDREN.

synopsis: riize reactions when you're suddenly put on babysitting duty during the holidays!

a/n: merry christmas eve !! i hope everyone is excited for tomorrow and i hope this week will be so amazing for all of u!!! this fic is less holiday-oriented but i thought this would be such a cute xmas eve gift 🥹🧡 enjoy!

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　⋆ ˚ ۪ ⋆ ୨୧

✩ shotaro ⸝⸝

・ loves babies!

・ taro absolutely jumps at the idea of babysitting your little brother for the holidays

・ the second he meets the toddler, he's already squealing at how adorable he is

・ it doesn't take long for him to start acting up :( but taro handles it shockingly well, telling him off with a gentle yet stern voice

・ takes him to go play in the snow to make up for it <3

・ your camera roll is filled with so many photos of them playing together and taking long naps after their tiring snowball fights :3

✩ eunseok ⸝⸝

・ oh he's been WAITING for this day.

・ dealing with a brother fifteen years younger than him, he's more than qualified to watch after your younger brother.

・ he prepares a bunch of food to cook for the boy, always asking him what he's craving

・ he's having the time of his life cooking while listening to your giggles and baby talk all the way from the kitchen <3

・ your heart melts seeing him blow on the food to make sure it doesn't hurt the baby and even feeds him while he's playing with his toy cars :(

・ he ends up getting along well with the boy and even asks you if he could babysit more often!

✩ sungchan ⸝⸝

・ "baby, do you mind if we babysit my s-" "yes."

・ the moment you mention babysitting your baby sister for the holidays, sungchan is already putting on his coat to go buy gifts for her :(

・ once he meets her, he is HEAD OVER HEELS.

・ this boy is such girl dad material :(

・ he showers her with gifts and happily watches her play with them, letting her test out the hair accessories on him just to see her having fun

・ your heart just can't contain seeing him with such an adoring look :( long story short you beg your parents to keep her with you for a little longer

✩ wonbin ⸝⸝

・ wonbin would be so anxious watching after your baby cousin </3

・ he'd constantly be fretting about whether the house is baby-proof enough, keeping his eye on her at all times in case she gets hurt

・ always asking you if you've fed her or showered her yet

・ seeing him so overwhelmed, you reassure him everything is alright and not to worry so much since you got it!

・ he takes a break while you play with her but he can't help coming back to watch u play with the baby so adorably >w<

・ once the baby's energy pipes down, wonbin takes her to the bedroom for naptime and you end up catching them cuddled up on your bed :((

✩ seunghan ⸝⸝

・ once you mention babysitting he's all YIPPIEEE! YAYYAY >W< yAYYY!! WAHOOOOO!!! XD

・ but on the contrary, you're stressing so much since you know your little brother is INSANE

・ hani reassures you he'll take care of everything and everything will go by just fine!

・ which surprisingly it does..!

・ your brother is surprisingly tamed when he plays with seunghan, calmly putting together puzzles while eating his favorite snacks

・ seeing hani get so giggly and affectionate with your baby brother makes you fall in love with him all over again </3

✩ sohee ⸝⸝

・ this baby knows nothing about taking care of kids!! save this boy!!!

・ as the youngest of his family, he's never taken care of kids much but of course he's down to help you babysit your little cousin!

・ but once he finds out that the boy likes video games he's SET

・ sits in front of the tv with him for hourssss just playing all the games he has on the console

・ but once you urge him to take time away from the tv, he obliges and shuts it off immediately

・ then seeing you set the dinner table for him and the boy makes him feel all warm inside </3 it gets so much worse seeing you feed him and pat him on the head with that pretty smile on your face... yeah he's got baby fever now!

✩ anton ⸝⸝

・ AHHHHH YOU NEED TO PUT A RING ON HIS FINGER

・ he doesn't hesitate whatsoever when agreeing to watch your baby cousin

・ you were worried since you'd be watching after an infant and carrying so many responsibilities, but toni has your back!

・ he'd always have the baby in his arms, gently cradling her and cooing little noises at her to make her smile <3

・ he wouldn't let you stress for even a second, always making you sit down whenever the baby cries and taking care of it himself

・ but once he sees you sitting by her crib and looking at her with such soft eyes, he's tearing up :(( begs you to keep her around a little longer

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　⋆ ˚ ۪ ⋆ ୨୧

a/n: sorry this one isn't a full fledged fic..! i thought headcannons would be so much cuter for this one so i hope you guys liked this! i'm so excited for tomorrow and i hope everyone has an amazing christmas!

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ tag list! (ask or comment to be added!)

@endtostartbreathin @gacktsa @hanninova @ramyeonzprincess @taroddori

[vrystalius]

hello! i'm thirsty for some douma fluff, so i'd like to request the fluffliest fluff of him and reader (fem or gn, whichever you prefer ;]) being the most clingy dorks in love, spending most of their time kissing and cuddling (bonus if his followers are witnessing the cute moment of both)

(if you can't do it, i'll understand. but either way, i love your blog, have a good day! <3)

His dearest darling

The founder and priest of the Eternal Paradise group is always so openly affectionate with you, is there something Douma’s followers haven’t seen him do to you?

Pairing: Douma x gn!reader

Includes: Kisses, Cuddles, love letters

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳༚ - Kisses

All day, all night, every hour and every minute. Douma loves kisses out of nowhere the most, surprising you every time. He likes seeing the look of surprise take over your face and your cheeks flush in the most beautiful colour as he snuck up from behind you and planted a featherlight kiss on your neck. Sometimes, he’ll spin you around and rip your attention away from whatever you were doing and cupping your face to plant a kiss on your lips, humming in content and pulling away with a big, stupid grin.

Your kisses give him small boosts of energy throughout the day and encourage him to keep going and endure all the stress and boredom that comes with being the founder and head priest of the Eternal Paradise cult. Douma doesn’t care who watching, if he’s feeling especially tired or bored, he will be making out with you wherever and whenever. The elders of the cult may be judging him for being so openly affectionate with you, but then again, why should he care? Douma can dispose of them easily anyway.

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳༚ - Cuddles

Douma will whine and pout all day when you don’t give him the mandatory cuddles he needs to survive. He’s a very touchy demon, whenever you’re close, his hand is resting on your hip or interlocking fingers with yours, or mindlessly playing with your hair. He adores holding you close to his chest and feel your calm heartbeat through your skin and clothes, silently admiring the vulnerability you display over and over to him, wondering how you ended up falling for a demon like him.

Sometimes, some sort of cuteness-aggression takes over his whole body and Douma would pull you closely against his body, trapping your body in his arms and wrapping his legs around yours while laying on top of you, rubbing his cheek all against your face, sometimes even nibbling on your skin while squealing and cooing at you. After those sessions of your husband loosing his shit over you merely existing, Douma goes back to his duties and tasks like nothing happened.

It’s a little embarrassing when he does this randomly in the middle of the halls. His behaviour won’t be as aggressive, meaning he won’t pounce and refuse to release you until he’s satisfied, but he’d hug you tightly and cover your face in kisses before moving on.

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳༚ - Letters

When you two are apart for multiple days on end, Douma makes sure to send out letters expressing his love for you every single day. Sometimes those letters include rather… explicit language when describing his longing and desire for both you and your body, but they do make you excited for returning back to him and demanding him to do the things he fantasises about in those letters.

Once, one of these lovely letters was handed to a follower that was supposed to send it out to you, but mistakenly opened and read it, believing it was meant for him. He never saw his priest in the same light as before and never shared with the other followers what he read inside that letter. Everytime that follower was asked about it, their expression would resemble the so called 1000-yard-stare.

💠

Gods, I missed this stupid demon so much XD I am so sorry that this took so long to post, I hope you enjoyed this anyway!! Thank you for requesting, I loved this <3

DRINK, EAT and SLEEP enough!

Make sure to take care of yourselves, mentally and physically <3

[tongue-like-a-razor]

Brother's Best Friend - Part 8

Jake Seresin x F!Reader

A/N: Feels like a lifetime since we've heard from these two jokers XD

Summary: The trials and tribulations of falling for your brother's best friend.

CW: Mild Alien spoilers, Swearing, Drinking, IT'S A SLOW BURN BUT IT SIZZLES

WC: 3000+

Part 1 | Masterlist

“C’mere, I wanna show you something.” Jake waves you over from the couch while Bradley searches for microwaveable popcorn in the pantry.

You approach Jake and he pats the spot beside him, his phone in his hand and a huge grin on his face. You take a seat beside him and he holds his phone out so that you can see the screen.

“Watch this,” he says, scrolling up to a video compilation of cat fails.

“Oh my god, not again,” you groan, rolling your eyes.

“No, it’s a good one!” he exclaims excitedly, moving closer to ensure you’re not missing any of the action.

You chuckle when yet another cat flips out at the sight of a cucumber and shake your head. “This is ridiculous.”

“Hang on, I’ve got another one,” he says.

By the time Bradley enters the living room with a bowl of popcorn, you and Jake are dying of laughter on the couch. Bradley grimaces. “You guys are so weird.”

“No, Bradley, you have to see this!” you say, snatching Jake’s phone out of his hand and holding it out to your brother as he sets the bowl down on the coffee table.

Bradley watches the video patiently – albeit with a cringe – and then sighs. “I don’t get it,” he says.

“What’s to get?” Jake cries out as though Bradley has personally offended him.

Bradley gives him an amused look. “Can we watch the movie now?” he asks.

Jake glances over at you sourly. “How does one ‘not get’ cat videos?”

Bradley snorts, planting himself on the other end of the couch. Jake leans over you to reach for the popcorn.

“What are we watching?” you say, trying to ignore the cologne that wafts your way as Jake moves in closer.

“Alien,” Bradley replies with a grin.

You grimace. “I did not consent to this.”

Jake chuckles. “We did not consult with you for a reason.”

You roll your eyes. “Next pick is mine,” you say.

“Deal,” Bradley agrees, hitting Play.

You lean your back into the cushions, mentally preparing yourself for the jump scares, and pull your knees up to your chin, wrapping your arms around your legs. Jake nudges you with his shoulder while the opening credits roll. “You’ll be fine,” he says.

You give him a sour look. “Isn’t that what you said about the haunted house last week?”

His lips spread into a sheepish smirk. “And you lived to tell the tale, didn’t you?”

You turn away to face the television. “Just barely.”

He laughs.

“You two better shut up,” Bradley says just as a spaceship comes into view.

“Nothing’s even happening,” you say.

Bradley gapes at you. “Don’t you dare talk shit about this movie,” he says ominously.

You scoff, gesturing at the screen with your entire arm. “Are you worried you’re going to miss the score?”

Jake glances over at you with a grin. “You’re just looking to make enemies tonight.”

…

It takes some time for you to relax into a comfortable sitting position in between your brother and his best friend. The suspense of the film is making you drive your back further into the couch and your tense muscles are beginning to ache.

When you place your hand too close to Jake’s on the cushion, you jerk it away immediately, without even looking at him. But a few moments later, you feel the brush of his knuckle against your pinky finger. You keep your hand still this time, wondering if he’s touched you on purpose. You’re so focused on the contact that you’re barely registering what’s happening onscreen. You don’t even flinch when Kane is suddenly attacked by a slimy facehugger. Bradley, on the other hand, jumps a foot off the couch and yelps with excitement.

“You’ve seen this before, right?” you say, eyeing your brother with a small smirk.

He responds by tossing a handful of popcorn at you while Jake chuckles quietly to your right. When Bradley returns his attention to the screen, Jake grazes a couple of fingers over your hand and your heart leaps into your throat.

Jake Seresin is stroking your hand.

Well, at the very least he stroked it once, very lightly, almost imperceptibly, as though trying to determine if you might mind. But it was done with intention, of that you are certain. So, you move your fingers slightly, responding to his touch, but you don’t dare look in his direction.

Satisfied that you’re a willing participant, Jake slowly slides his hand over yours, and you suppress a shiver from the series of electric shocks that set your nerve-endings ablaze. His fingers slip between yours and his thumb skims the side of your hand, softly at first, tentatively. But as your hand reacts to his touch, lifting slightly off the couch, his thumb moves more confidently, his fingers drifting across your palm before he takes your hand in his. Meanwhile, you nearly pass out from the obscene pleasure this brings.

You have absolutely no idea what’s happening in the movie and you sincerely hope that Bradley doesn’t feel like discussing it in detail once it’s over.

“Fuck!” Bradley exclaims suddenly, making you jolt and pull your hand out of Jake’s grasp and into your lap. “We’re out of popcorn,” he says, getting up from the couch. He flicks the lights on on his way back into the kitchen.

You gulp uneasily, staring at the paused frame on the screen. You’re not sure if Jake is looking at you, but you’re too chickenshit to check. And then your phone buzzes on the coffee table.

You leave the room to answer it, because it’s the cute guy from your Intro to Psych course that asked for your number the previous week, and you really don’t want to be talking to him in the presence of the cute guy that’s been holding your hand on the couch for the better part of the evening.

When you return, Bradley’s back in the living room. As soon as you enter, he asks, “Who was that?”

“Mind your own business,” you respond and Bradley shakes his head, smirking.

Meanwhile, Jake is fiddling with a loose thread on the couch, completely ignoring you.

You lower yourself back onto the couch and say, “If you must know, it’s a friend from school. He’s putting together a study group and asked if I wanted to join.”

Jake looks up at you sharply. “Does that group consist of more than two people?” he asks pointedly.

You give him a flat look. “Does that matter?” you say, mildly annoyed at his insinuation.

“Basically, it’s a date,” Jake says, visibly displeased.

You roll your eyes. “He wants to study.”

Bradley snorts. “Yeah, right. Like I used to study with Martha, right Jake?”

Jake looks like he might throw up.

Bradley settles in his seat and says, “We finishing this movie or what?”

Jake rises from the couch. “I’ve uh, got an early morning,” he says.

Bradley lifts an eyebrow. “Dude, we’re literally going to the same place at the same time.”

Jake sighs impatiently. “And it’s early, is it not?”

Bradley looks down at the fresh bowl of popcorn in his lap with a scowl. “You could’ve said something sooner.”

“Sorry, bro,” Jake says. He turns to nod at you. “See ya, Baby B.”

You want to talk to him – you need to talk to him. He was literally holding your hand not five minutes ago. The Jake Seresin – the guy you’ve been crushing on since forever – your brother’s best friend – the dude who’s been with every female within a ten-mile radius – has suddenly shown interest in you. You cringe to yourself; perhaps he’s exhausted all other options. This unsettling thought nestles into your brain just as Jake starts for the door and you decide that, perhaps, you shouldn’t talk about it at all. Jake is, without a doubt, the opposite of boyfriend material. And, as much as you would love to finally have him, being just another notch on his belt would only bring you misery – and destroy your friendship.

So, you glance over at your brother with a sigh and say, “I’ll finish the movie with you, bro.”

Bradley grins widely and reaches for the remote.

…

The following evening is a Friday and Bradley insists on dragging you and Jake out to the club so that he could meet up with a new friend. You don’t mind dancing, but you do mind the obvious rift between you and Jake after the events of the previous evening.

Jake keeps about three feet of distance between the two of you at all times, and barely speaks a word to you directly. When Bradley goes off with his girl, you and Jake remain awkwardly in place, not even remotely moving to the blaring music.

“Drink?” he finally says, glancing up at you warily.

You shrug. “Why not?”

He leads the way to the bar through the crowded club, only occasionally looking over his shoulder to check that you’re still behind him. You trail him grudgingly, not at all eager to spend the next several hours in silence while Jake works up the nerve to clear the air. Obviously, the hand-holding was a mistake; both of you are aware of that fact. And, clearly, if something as trivial as that is having an impact on your relationship, anything less tame is unequivocally out of the question.

You lean into the bar, waiting for one of the bartenders to take your order. You steal a glance at Jake, but he’s not looking at you at all. He nods at a female bartender, and she comes to your side of the bar immediately. You roll your eyes when he gives her a smile.

“Two tequila shots, please,” he says.

You grimace. “No, thank you,” you say, holding a hand to your stomach as you recall the night you nearly died.

Jake looks over at you curiously. “I thought we were drinking,” he says.

“I will never have tequila again as long as I live,” you respond.

Jake smirks slightly and turns back to the bartender. “Fine, one tequila and whatever the lady wants.”

The lady. You nearly choke on air. “Vodka, please,” you say to the bartender. “If we’re doing shots.”

“We’re doing shots,” Jake confirms, shooting the bartender a dazzling grin.

When she leaves, Jake turns to face you with a sheepish smirk. “We’re gonna get good and drunk, sugar.”

You give him a tight smile. “My favorite pastime,” you respond wryly.

Jake chuckles and shakes his head. “You’re such a dork.”

You gaze at him nonchalantly. “Takes one to know one,” you say matter-of-factly.

Jake laughs briefly and then glances over his shoulder, looking for the bartender. The short-lived momentum in your conversation has evidently come to grinding halt and the two of you are right back to an uncomfortable silence.

The drinks arrive shortly after and Jake hands you a shot. “Bottoms up, peach,” he says.

You bring the vodka to your lips and down the shot, hoping the alcohol might make the evening more bearable.

Jake eyes you carefully as you set down your empty glass. “One more?” he asks.

You glance at him uneasily. While getting hammered with Jake isn’t the worst way to spend a Friday night – in fact, it’s something you would have killed for a couple of months ago – you know that it’ll just end up perpetuating your ridiculous crush, no matter how much Jake seems to regret the events of the previous evening. “I think I’ll go dance,” you say, drifting away from the counter slowly.

Jake nods as you slip into the crowd. “Have fun!” he calls after you as you disappear amidst a sea of moving bodies.

You squeeze your way through the crowd toward the center of the club, where it’s most dense, and feel your tense muscles finally start to relax. You sway to the beat, moving your hips and lifting your arms as you lose yourself in song after song. You don’t need Jake to have fun, you’ve got guys making eyes at you from all directions.

You smile back at a particularly handsome one who catches your eye because his shirt is partially unbuttoned, and his chest is toned and glistening under the flashing lights. He approaches you confidently, showing off his dance moves as he nears. You laugh and bite your bottom lip, holding his gaze seductively. Jake has likely already found someone to take home with him, so why shouldn’t you let loose and have a good time?

Once he’s closer, you realize how tall he is, which only makes him hotter. You always loved that about Jake, too: that you have to stand on the tips of your toes just to hug him without smacking your face into his shoulder. You blink a couple of times, trying to rid your mind of Jake, who’s probably already making out in a cab back to his place.

The guy who’s dancing with you takes you by the waist, pulling you against his hips. You’re quite fond of his cheeky smile so you don’t resist. You can totally see Jake being this brazen with a random girl he meets at a club. For once, you get to be the girl – even if it isn’t with Jake.

You snake your hands behind his neck but, before your fingers meet, someone jumps out of the crowd shouting “HEY! HEY! HEY!” You try to figure out what’s happening in the darkness as an arm slides in between your bodies, prying you apart.

“Jake?” You blink, still trying to make him out in the swirling beams of light as he hooks his arm around your stomach and nearly lifts you off the ground to move you away.

You’re still in shock as he rounds on the guy who was dancing with you, towering over him somehow ever though they appear to be the same height. He’s yelling something indiscernible because the music is too loud for you to hear anyone not directly facing you, but, whatever it is, it’s enough to make your hot guy raise his arms in surprise and back away.

The crowd separates to accommodate the altercation but you don’t wait around to see how far Jake will go. As soon as you realize what’s happening, you jump forward to grab Jake’s arm and pull him away.

Jake resists at first but, when you drive both your hands into his abdomen and push, he submits, taking several steps back and letting your suitor escape into the crowd.

“What the actual fuck, Jake?” you shriek, giving him an extra shove.

The space around the two of you condenses as people start to fill in the gaps on the open floor, and the two of you end up being jostled a bit by the crowd. “He was touching you!” Jake yells as you’re thrown into his chest by an overly enthusiastic dancer behind you.

“So?” you yelp as Jake catches you before your face can crash into his solid chest.

“Inappropriately!” Jake clarifies in outrage.

You give him an astounded grimace. “I’m an adult, Jake!” you shout. “I happen to like being touched inappropriately.”

Jake stares at you in horror, his hands still firmly gripping your arms. The crowd continues to push and shove, swaying the two of you this way and that but mostly into each other.

You gulp anxiously as he continues to study you, an angry swarm of butterflies suddenly assailing your insides so mercilessly you can hardly feel your legs. Jake isn’t taking his eyes off you despite all the knocking around by the crowd, and you wish, in that moment, that you could read his mind, because you really can’t afford to misinterpret his actions.

Jake creases his eyebrows, as if, he too, is desperately trying to read you. Neither of you is dancing despite the driving beat of the music. If not for the occasional bump, you would be standing completely still.

Although you haven’t moved an inch and, presumably, neither has Jake, you feel as though you’ve gradually been getting closer. Slowly, Jake’s hold on your arms relaxes and his hands drift upward to your shoulders.

Your chest feels absolutely weightless as you draw in breath after breath, as Jake’s fingertips trail slowly up the sides of your neck, as you lift your face closer and closer to his. You stare at him mutely as his hands drift up to cradle your face, and fight to keep from gasping as his thumbs slide slowly across your cheeks.

You feel a soft tug as he pulls you in and you stretch your neck out to reach him at the same time as he stoops lower to meet you in the middle. And you’re about to have the most exquisite kiss of your life when someone blows into you from the side, nearly knocking you right off your already wobbly legs.

Jake’s reaction speed is about fifteen times faster than yours and he’s able to catch you before you faceplant onto the sticky club floor.

“You okay?” he asks in alarm as you groan, still doubled over from the impact.

As soon as you straighten your back and give Jake a weak smile, you see your brother appear over Jake’s shoulder.

“There you guys are!” Bradley exclaims, patting Jake on the back. “Having a good time?”

Jake looks over at Bradley with an uneasy expression, his hands promptly dropping from your shoulders. “We’re having a blast,” he replies loudly, over the blaring music.

Bradley holds up both of his thumbs. “Excellent! Ready to head out?”

Jake glances at you briefly and then nods at Bradley. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Bradley eyes you suspiciously. “You good?”

You blink between him and Jake and then shrug with a tight smile. “Great,” you say. “Lead the way.”

Once Bradley walks ahead, you glance nervously at Jake. He’s watching you grimly, clearly unhappy about something. He shuts his eyes tightly and rubs at them vigorously with his thumb and index finger. Finally, he looks back at you apologetically and nods toward the exit. “Let’s go,” is all he says.

You don’t bother arguing and start after your brother with Jake on your heels. The moment you step outside, he’s back to standing three feet away.

Read Part 9

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[captainjamster]

Pairing(s): 141 x Reader Warnings: mentions of (pixel) animal death, butchering of a pixelated cow (rip thank u for ur sacrifice) Wordcount: 2.3k Summary: How I think you would get the boys into Minecraft and/or what it would be like playing with them. AO3 Link: Right here! <3

A/N: Hello why yes, this IS my first post in four months despite the mountain of unfinished fics I have xD I will edit any errors out of this later, but I'm making myself post this because I'm tired of avoiding uploading until something feelings perfect lol

We're pretending Mojang is competent so ignore any inaccuracies to how Minecraft actually works <3

Full fic under the cut <3

Price just plays to amuse you, but he becomes competent at the game ridiculously quickly. Yes, he might jokingly be an old man, as his favourite youthful commander would put it – but this ‘old man’ can learn new tricks, and he’s pretty sure some of the technology he works with would make a civvy’s head spin. Though he’s unfamiliar with most video games and consoles, sacrificing his youth for service, that doesn’t mean he hasn’t heard of them or played a game or two. John will admit; he doesn’t see much point in it, but adores the excitement you glow with as you’re adventuring and building.

“Alright, so it’s w, a, s and d to move, right? And then the space is to jump.” Your hands barely stretch over his, guiding them to the keys.

“S’easy enough, I suppose,” he rumbles, giving you that smile that crinkles his eyes. You resist the urge to kiss them as he adjusts his hands over your keyboard, giving the buttons experimental taps and watching how the screen reacts.

“Yep, and then you use the mouse to control your head, look around and stuff.” You nudge it over to him, and he gives it a shake before looking around.

“More bloody blocks. What’s that thing, there?”

You squint, looking closer. “A sheep, don’t worry about it. You want to try moving around?”

Once you’ve taught him the basics, his rapid acclimation to the games and controls are jarring. While he doesn’t become some Minecraft speed-runner pro, he’s an equally capable player in fights and foraging, and your base is ridiculously plentiful. You’re never lacking resources, and although he never mentions it, you can see John bloom with pride from the corner of your eye whenever you praise him for the neatly organised provisions.

You have to laugh at his suspicion of everything – “is this hostile?”, “this one hostile?”, “s’hostile one?” – and the way he takes protecting you seriously, scolding you for not wearing armour and giving you his own until he can make more.

The first time his dog dies, you think it might be over for your Minecraft run. He goes silent, aggressively hitting the keys as he slaughters the mobs around you, only speaking up when the area is clear. “I didn’t know that would happen,” he mutters, picking up the dropped loot as you make a sympathetic noise. When you log on the next time, waiting for John to come back with snacks from the corner, you don’t mention the small fence with a sign reading ‘Price Jr’ tucked into the oak trees at the edge of a pond – but the next time you check it, there’s another daisy swaying in the wind next to yours.

-----

Gaz knows what Minecraft is AND he’s played it – you’ve even played it together before. This boy is a gamer, and he’s down for a night of co-op couch games and take away with a cosy blanket if you are too.

Though he tries his hardest not to let it show around you, Kyle is aggressively driven in becoming competent, and that includes in video games. You never have to worry about dying, although it becomes a little frustrating when his experience level is more than triple yours – but you can’t even stay frustrated, you learn, as he unfalteringly drops his items and starts building a dirt stack that he jumps from, exploding into clouds and XP that floats towards you with a light, twinkling chiming. When you scold him for doing something so unnecessary, he gives you a kicked puppy look over his shoulder, pouting up at you. “I didn’t want you to wait for me to make a mob farm!”

Unlike Price, this man IS a Minecraft pro – he’s pulling out the water bucket to save you from falling, using beds to fight hostile mobs in the underworlds, zooming around with fireworks and an elytra to find that rare, specific coat of cat you’ve been running across the map looking for. You’re pretty sure that he could’ve beat the Enderdragon twice as fast if you weren’t there, but he still insists you were an equal champion of the fight as he proudly places the dragon head on your trophy wall.

Gaz is always prepared when the 6-month Minecraft fever hits and you make a new server. He’s sending you pinterest links of cute house ideas, making comments about adding another coop for the chickens and a pond for turtles. Hell, he’ll build them with, or even for you, if you want him to.

Playing with him can sometimes be similar to one of those youtube tutorials that cut back to a clip after some ‘offscreen building’ and they’re standing in front six life-scale cathedrals and a replication of Mt Everest – each time you log back on, you swear he’s expanded your base by another chunk, and you can’t even be mad you didn’t get to do anything because your world looks GOOD, and Gaz makes damn sure of it.

He has just about everything you can think of, and if not? There’s a sign next to his bed for you to note anything missing. Your main base is situated within a town of villagers with minecart roads and furnished houses, bakeries, animal centres, banner and dye stores – hell, he’s even built a zoo and an aquarium for the animals you can’t tame. All of your pets have names that he refers to fondly, each with their own little houses in a miniature version of the village. Despite the effort he puts into housing them, Gaz is a menace to the villagers – bad deal? Executed, or imprisoned at best. Sometimes logging onto for a session turns into a dramatic medieval roleplay as you dutifully play the executioner, triggering the trapdoor to give way to the pool of lava while Gaz finishes dramatically reciting the villagers’ crimes from a book - gives the ones that get to live names like ‘village dunce’ and ‘emerald hoarder’.

When you do build by yourself, he’s your project advisor throughout the process, patiently supplying the materials and helping you with the details. “Babe, this doesn’t seem right,” you grumble, head in your hands, “can you please come look?”

He’s quick to slide his chair across to yours, leaning on the sides. “This one,” he announces after a quick scan. “You added an extra block.”

You recount again, letting out a groan as you start breaking the blocks, and Gaz dutifully rolls back to help you. He’s your partner in crime, complicit in indulging your abandonment of any appropriate sleep schedule, staying up until he calls out your name to find you asleep, drooling on the keyboard.

-----

Soap does not give a shit until you mod the fuck out of it.

Yes, he knows what Minecraft is, thank y’very much bonnie, but he just doesn’t care for games that much. Like Price, his youth was spent either trying to get into the military, or actually being in it. The only games he’s entertained are his small selection of first-person shooters he plays occasionally off deployment that you can never beat him in. The topic first comes up is over dinner after a call with Johnny’s family, as he’s grumbling between bites.

“My sisters weans play all sorts ‘o stupid games, bloody bite my head off if I call ‘em the wrong thing – Minecraft, Roblox, aren’t they all the same?”

“Aren’t all shooter games the same, by that assumption?” You point out to his distaste, and he makes a face at you, reaching over the table to steal a bite of your food.

The next day, you pull up Minecraft for him to properly check out. Johnny isn’t particularly enraptured by the charm of the game, but he perks up when you mention the redstone mechanics. “So, it’s really just all block-y? And ye smack things wit’ yer hand?” He frowns, leaning against the back of your chair.

“That’s one part, yeah. But you run around and gather resources, by mining and stuff, so you can craft and build better things to survive – you know – Mine, craft. Minecraft.”

Johnny scoffs, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “Y’think I’m daft, now? Taken too many knocks to the head, aye?”

“Let go of me, you’re going to get me killed!” You squawk, and he lets you struggle for a moment before he kisses the top of your head and releases it, wandering into the kitchen for what you assume is a snack, knowing Johnny.

The next time he takes interest, you’re still up when he stumbles in blearily, rubbing his eyes. “Bonnie? Yer not really still playin’ this, are ye? Y’haven’t even slept?”

“I was going to sleep soon,” you huff, turning back. “I just need to get a few more things and go back home.”

There’s an incredulous noise amongst footsteps over your shoulder, and his voice is suddenly a lot closer in your ear. “Soon? S’five in’ the morn’ bon, are ye just gon’ sleep the day away?’

You pause the game, spinning the chair around to meet him with a glare. “Why are you up this early?”

“International meeting, don’t go changin’ the subject.” He spins you back around despite your protests, leaning back upon your chair once again and peering at the screen. “Cannae see what yer enjoyin’ about this.”

“Wh – I mean, it’s not like last time. This time, I’ve downloaded these files that modify the games contents, and there’s way more crazy shit. You can mod it so much it’s like a new game.”

Johnny makes a noise of interest, dropping down to settle against your shoulders. “Really now?”

“Yeah, like look at this. I’ve got a gun in the game.”

A shotgun appears in your hand as you scroll to the hotbar tab, and you shoot a shell into the ground, listening as Johnny clicks in appreciation, surprisingly satisfied after his scrutinising. “Alright, show me ‘er properly.”

He hovers over the chair for a few more minutes, taking in your overview of the mods. “Oh, and this one! Hang on, look.” You hit a cow, and Johnny watches as it falls to the floor. Grabbing the body, you drag it over to a pixelated hook, and show him how you break the carcass down through the stages, collecting parts down to the bones.

He makes a noise of interest. “Si would like that. Can ye play with other people?”

You spin around to give him an excited grin, feeling the sleepiness retreat with your rapidly building enthusiasm. “Why, you want to join?”

Johnny scoffs, but there’s no hiding how his eyes gleam as a smile tugs at his lips to mirror yours. “Only after I finish the meetin’, and y’get some decent fuckin’ rest.”

-----

Ghost doesn’t care until Soap asks him to play.

When you originally ask him, it’s a late evening, and he’s curled up on the bed with a book as you deliver the question. There’s a pause in the turning of pages, and you get the usual dead-eyed stare when you say something he thinks is stupid over the edge of his book. ‘Y’want me to play a kid’s game?”

You give him your own scrutinizing look back, before turning back to the screen. “It’s not a kid’s game, Simon. Video games aren’t just for kids.”

He doesn’t press the topic any further, but you know his mind is often unchanged - so it’s a nice surprise when he brings it back up again a month or so later over the quiet chatter of some foreign film he’s watching, stirring you to look up from the words of your book.

“Oi, what’s that game y’were talkin’ about? Bloody… Mineshaft?”

You think Simon knows perfectly well what the game is called, but you humour him, pulling the blanket down slightly to look at him. “Minecraft?”

He snorts, leaning back into the armchair. “Yeah, s’one. Johnny’s bird got ‘im into it, won’t stop yappin’ ‘bout it now.”

You hold your breath, doing your best impression of nonchalance, directing your gaze back to the book. “Oh, yeah? That’s nice, sounds like he’s excited about it.”

Simon gives a non-committal grunt, but you can tell his focus is beyond the screen he’s looking towards. “Asked me t’play it with ‘im, bloody bastard. Said ‘e’d paid for a server or some shite.”

Excitement explodes in the back of your mind as you mentally praise your husband’s co-worker, thanking him for his influence as you steady your tone. “Well, why don’t you?”

He snorts with a cross of his arms, holding the remote against his chest. “Don’t know how to do all that rubbish.”

You close the book, sitting up and waving off his statement assuredly. “I have it installed already, you don’t have to do anything – oh, but can you ask him if he’s playing with mods?”

He’s not impressed with the request, frown deepening. “What, ‘m I your personal messenger now?”

But you’re onto him already, guiding the topic back on track. “Alright,” you give him a dry look, “give me his number then.”

The show pauses, and Simon looks back at you. It takes a moment, but you know you’ve won with a roll of his eyes, grumbling under his breath as he pulls his phone out and passes it to you after another message comes through.

>> Bonnie got me a whole folder of mods. Liek a whole nother game. Yer gonna play minecraft with me?

“So what?”

“Okay, well that’s easy to set up.” You pass the phone back to him, settling into your comfy nest of blankets. “So?”

“Are you going to play with him?”

(A month later, there’s another desk snug against yours while Simon fumbles with his screen settings as a broguish laugh comes from the headset, and Friday nights are something you’re realising you’ll never get back from that goddamn pixel game)

Headers and Dividers by saradika-graphics

[iznsfw]

Fic idea: Mommy contest eunbi vs irene

Predator & Prey

Part Four of Dulce Periculum | Previous Part | Next Chapter

Red Velvet's Bae Joohyun (Irene) x IZ*ONE's Kwon Eunbi x Male Reader Smut

7,994 words

Categories | principal!Irene x (jealous)girlfriend!Eunbi x student!You, mommy kink, cunnilingus, oral double blowjob, snowballing, cumswap, degradation, female cucking

Surprise, it was a spoiler! Had to move the time to avoid posting in the night lol So... this is dedicated to @subfortwice, who ignites the Dulce Periculum universe, @idevian whose tutor Eunbi ask started it all, to my birthday twin @eunbisrabbit who had the idea of the collarbone thing, and to best boi @sinswithpleasure. I appreciate everything and every one of you guys! And again, sorry for the usual self-indulgent style that the whole Dulce Periculum series is based on XD and the barely edited fic. Eunrene just drive me crazy

“You little brat.”

That’s the first thing you say the next time you see Eunbi at school. Not even a “hi” or a “how are you,” but when she’s set you up to fuck her teacher and led you into a trap, it’s definitely a nice way to open your little story. This tiny little thing of a story going down, down, down the rabbit hole. 

(Holes.)

It’s all her fault. She’s conveniently fended off your questioning of the incident at the Kwon household. Now, however, with her parents nowhere to save her from your schemes, you’ve got your eyes on her. Soon, your hands will be, too. She can’t escape now. 

Eunbi squeals in fear and excitement when you run after her. Alright, so maybe she can escape. That’s fair. You bump through masses of walking students, trying to find her in the crowd. It's impossible to not identify her when her glasses and wavy hair give her away, so your eyes remain locked on her like a sniper. Your hands just itch to get on her. 

Students pass you weird and amused looks. You and Eunbi, after all, are always on some dumb shit. However, you care not for it especially if ignoring them leads you to finally cornering your girlfriend in the backyard school garden. It's a dead end—no windows or doors are here for her to attract help. She's laughing, too, and screaming a little as you pin her to the high school building wall. 

"Mmm, oppa," she giggles between her squirms and struggles, "stop—"

"You think you were slick, Eunbi?" you ask. Your fist keeps her wrists above her head. What a pretty little twist of fate—if she lured you into the trap that's Kim Taeyeon, now you're the one tying her up into your makeshift trap. It's more satisfying than seeing Jo Yuri get scolded. "For whoring me out to that teacher you're so obsessed with?"

She nods mindlessly. "Yesss."

"Brat." Kiss her. She giggles. Of course, that prompts several other kisses. "That's what you are, you know. A little fucking brat." 

Your chest fills with happiness at how she smiles and laughs despite your teasing words. She knows you'd never do anything to hurt her. It's all a little fun play of words. A little skit, to be more truthful. 

Speaking of, there's some factualness to your words, too, and she knows it. Eunbi's crushed on Taeyeon for too long and sees her as an actual mommy that she isn't jealous of your little getaway with her at all. She's probably prouder than you'd assume of her idea. 

But of course, she denies it. Denies it with every inch of her annoyingly gorgeous body.

"Can you please forgive me, oppa?" Eunbi's eyes gleam. "I promise I won't slut you out to mommy again, I pinky promise!"

She's wearing the uniform Taeyeon borrowed, and thinking of how there's still some of your teacher on it, that there's a good amount of your cum embedded into its fabric, makes you more turned on than you should. Eunbi with her arms up in her tiny uniform is an added factor. 

But then there's also a few more classes to attend. You can't fuck her here. You'd love to more than anything, yet Eunbi has her priorities, and you don't want to hold her back.

Release her hands. "One day I'll get back at you," you warn. "You're really gonna get it."

You let her off with a warning. You can be the cop here—you'd cuff her hands with your fingers, tack them to a wall or mattress, teach her a lesson. Tear that cheeky smile off her face and replace it with the lewdest expression. But you're a good cop, or at least, as good as one can get. You know it's what she wants: to be punished incessantly, so you're not giving it to her. It would be putting out fire with fire.

You turn her heel to leave. Like so, you leave her unfulfilled and needy, which is exactly how you want her to be.

"Oppa!" whines Eunbi. She runs after you. "I'm sorry!"

You shut your eyes and laugh. In hindsight, you really shouldn't have. It would have shown you a dash of a shadow mooring and watching, and prepared you for what will happen later on. 

-

Let's just say later on a letter is written. You and Eunbi don't know it yet, but there is a letter—it's written in rehearsed formality, sent to the principal's office, and given by a person who's got more control than they should have. 

So, again, just for context: there's real parchment sent to her that ties this whole story together. There's a dual meeting, and a whole lot of evidence. Keep that in mind.

-

It's one giant teenage hell in the classroom.

The boys are gaming on their phones with the Filipino exchange student, who introduced them to League of Legends. The girls have flocked to the bathrooms arm in arm, while the others stay behind to braid some of their classmates’ hair. There’s messy chalked writing on the blackboard, some too explicit to even be allowed (“Wan-pipty for wan subo," courtesy of the Filipino student, of course, and although you don’t understand his language, you have a good idea of what it means), and others promoting their favorite K-pop groups (“stan BLACKPINK, you uncultured fucks!!!!!”, to which someone has replied: “Doesn’t everyone?”).

But what else can you expect from a batch of eighteen-year-olds, especially when it’s vacant time? 

That's right: exactly this.

Either-which-way, it’s a complete mess, is what you’re saying. There's no one around to keep the noisy mess contained, not even Eunbi, who's trying to vent her frustration through doodling on her notebook. She’s already drawn several plotless comics and a rabbit named Bi, but the noise still gets to her. It irks her soul so much that her hands squeeze up and loosen too much of a grasp on her pen.

Click. It bounces back up. You catch it with one swoop of your hand. You could be Spiderman in another life. Watch out, Tom Holland, or whatever. 

“God,” she says, looking up from her notebook with a frustrated, sarcastic smile, “do these people ever shut up?”

You chuckle. You’re an open fan of Eunbi breaking her kind, forgiving character and just growing tired of everyone’s bullshit. It’s an occurrence rarer than thunder coming before lightning, a once-in-a-lifetime show only a select few are allowed to see. She’s too kind, really, that although she's the lead role, she bails out of it often.

Gesture to the messy classroom and say, in a matter-of-fact voice: “Welcome to senior year.”

“Can you tell them to be quiet?” she asks.

“Miss Myoui said only you can.” Quote her: “‘You’re the president, right? You go tell ‘em.’”

Right, Eunbi says to herself. She’s been wrapped up in too many responsibilities—captain of the volleyball team, president of every school club you can think of, plus end-of-the-year valedictorian just to name a few—that she forgets that these positions even hold meaning. It’s the norm for her to be given the highest positions in each category that it’s quite tiring, if she were to be honest. But she has her mother to please, along with herself. She can’t let either of them down.

Sighing, she leans back into her chair. “I just wish everything would, like, stop for a moment.” She closes her eyes, as if to dream of that being possible. Unfortunately, the world goes on with or without the fantasizing. “I wish I could get a break.”

“Hey.” You pat her thigh and caress it above her short school skirt. “Cheer up. You don’t have to be so excellent all the time. You can just,” wring a hand in the air for emphasis, “you know, be okay. Average.”

“But my mom…” 

Sigh. You realize it’s easier said than done. While your parents are lenient and have gotten used to your low grades, your girlfriend’s aren’t that nice. You know that from your visits to the Kwon household. Her mother and father try to be subtle about the pressure, but there’s something in the air that passes and tenses that tells you there’s a lot more to the situation than you think. Whatever it is, it's clear that being a Kwon isn't that fun.

Sometimes you wish you could trade places with Eunbi and withstand her problems for her. You hate seeing her like this. 

“Your mom?” a menacing new voice asks. “Or would you rather say… mommy?”

Eunbi’s eyes open suddenly and enlarge. She recognizes that word, and unfortunately, she remembers using it on someone she shouldn't have been with. So do you, for which you turn your gaze upwards. 

Of course it’s Jo Yuri. She’s your mortal enemy dressed in deceiving innocent school uniform. She’s wearing a knowing smile on her face. It always means bad news, and right now, the main topic of it is you. 

What does she know? Most importantly: why did she say that? 

In your anxiety, you can’t even defend yourself or your girlfriend.

“Y-Yuri—” stammers Eunbi, the look in her eyes being one of a deer caught in headlights. She’s a terrible liar at heart, so even if she were able to finish her sentence, it would have come out oddly. Probably even add up to proof of her guilt.

Yuri smirks proudly. “I know all about your dirty little secret, Eunbi,” she says. “About what you did with professor Kim while everyone was at the Intrams… about what you called her…”

Every step she takes rounding your cluster spells trouble, and you can’t say you didn’t bring it upon yourself. However, you're still scared to death.

“Cut it,” you say. Even for a troublemaker, your voice trembles. Not a good look… er, sound, rather. “We don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Your head races with anxious thoughts and distress. How did Yuri know about that little session you had with Taeyeon? Were you guys that loud? Perhaps she had a source or spy nearby? You've no idea which one it is, and that's what scares you more than the consequences.

Eunbi's silent, refusing to speak. She looks anywhere but Yuri's eyes. Her ears are red and it's impossible to denote anything from the two of you but obvious guilt.

“Oh, is that so?” Yuri pouts mockingly. "Guess you'll have no reason to talk to principal Bae right"—she checks her watch, then smiles widely—"now."

The speaker attached to the wall of your classroom buzzes, catches the attention of everyone and says: "Will miss Kwon from 12-A and her boyfriend please come down to the principal's office?"

Okay, so maybe you are scared of the consequences just as much as you're scared of how Yuri found out.

Everyone's looking at you now. How could you feel so cold yet so hot at the same time? Everybody's eyes are burning holes in your skin, and your spine's undergone several chills that you feel numb already. 

Are you even alive? 

Your breaths are bated and Eunbi's shifting in her seat nervously. You should have seen this happening. Yuri's had a vendetta against the two of you ever since you and Eunbi got together. She's haughty, she's proud, she's rich—and for that, she's got her sources everywhere, can even manipulate official school results through pure influence. You hate yourself for being a terrible boyfriend and letting this happen to Eunbi. 

Yuri smiles as you and Eunbi rise from your seats. She waves goodbye at you coyly, and leaves everyone in the room confused. Each one of them, even the boys gaming at the back, are wondering the same thing word-for-word: what happened?

-

You don't speak while taking the stairs with her, and neither does she. You don't tell her that you're dizzy from the curving paths and she doesn't say how cold her hands are. However, you both know so, since you're both reluctant and afraid to meet the principal and didn't expect it to reach this point. It's your fault and hers, equally split, the modern day Adam and Eve. Could Yuri be the snake? Would God banish you? 

Probably, but you had it coming.

The steps you take are slow. You're afraid of what might come. But you suppose nobody's more afraid than Eunbi. She's the face of the school for the honors she's achieved. Everything can go wrong with one wrong move, and that's what this is. She put everything on the line, not expecting anything to happen, only for it to be taken all away.

Once you reach the ground floor, Eunbi suddenly grabs your wrist. Her small hand can only wrap around half of it, but her hold is tight. It carries meaning in its tightness, urging you to look at her.

"Oppa, j-just want to say…" She looks down at her school shoes in shame. "I'm sorry for pulling you into this."

You're not mad at her. You can never be. You're just… regretful. If you hadn't let lust propel your actions, maybe there wouldn't be reason for the two of you to be down here. You've been sent to the principal's office countless times, but this is the first time you're actually scared. What more when it's with Eunbi? She's never gotten in trouble before.

"Don't be," is all you say. "Let's just get it over with, okay? Together?" 

Mold your hand to fit hers, and she's smiling again, in spite of what's about to come.

You make the first move to knock. Eunbi nearly cries as she watches your knuckles meet wood. You wrap an arm around her and enter.

Long time, no see. Bae Irene's office is as grand as ever. Seems like this is where the tuition fees go: grand marble floors, a statue of a naked Greek goddess, and a fine desk that sits in the center of the room. Certificates, awards, and medals stack the shelves and walls that put even Eunbi's achievements to shame. Perhaps they're what intimidate her more than the woman standing in front of the desk.

"Good afternoon, miss Bae," you say. 

In certain angles, the principal looks just like Eunbi. Or maybe it's the other way around? The glasses don't help differentiate them. That makes you understand why people have a theory that there's a kind of narcissism in Irene that made her put Eunbi as the face of the school. 

What else can you expect from Irene, anyway? She's older, wiser, and tougher. The last one bears repeating. That by itself should be good enough justification as to why you shouldn't have fucked Taeyeon, why you shouldn't be such a troublemaker. God knows she's tired of seeing your face in here. She’d expect Eunbi would have a good influence on you, but instead, you've turned your poor girlfriend into a nymphomaniac. 

Maybe everything about this is your fault after all.

Irene knows this. "You've turned your girlfriend into one of yours, hm?" she asks. Rhetorical question or not, all three of you know the answer. "First time seeing you here, miss Kwon."

"Miss Bae," says Eunbi timidly. She's trying a diplomatic approach here—it's all she knows in navigating life. Unfortunately, it won’t work here. "We're sorry. It won't happen again."

She smiles condescendingly. "So you know why you're here."

Irene's peaceful yet scary tone is exactly the reason for her English name, derived from the goddess of peace. She looks the part, too. Her pale skin can be the marble used to carve her most holy altar, and her sharp gaze can be replicated in it. She's like an older and more intimidating counterpart of Eunbi. She's smart as well, but not afraid to show it.

"I—I’m sorry," Eunbi says, realizing she's cornered into confession. It's as if all her speaking skills have evaporated in this room. It makes her nervous; you know so because her hand’s almost deathly cold in your touch. "We'll do anything to make it right." 

Irene clicks her tongue. "It doesn't work that way, miss Kwon. You two had sexual relations with a teacher. It isn't something that can be resolved with community service."

How did she know? You think and think, and all your suspicions, though they jump from Taeyeon (she's in the wrong here, too, so why should she be suspected when she's at as much risk in getting trouble?) to Minju (why the angel, out of all people?) to anybody else, all lead to one person: 

Jo Yuri. Of course it was her. But how?

You suppose that doesn't matter now that you're in Irene's office again. What's worse is that you brought Eunbi with you, the one person you swore you wouldn't toss into all your trouble. It feels like betraying her and everything your relationship has promised.

"Look," you say, taking a step forward, "we're sorry. Really. But please just let me take the blame. Suspend me or something. Just please don't hurt professor Kim or Eunbi, miss Bae."

"How touching, Kim Taeyeon's got you head over heels for her. I wonder what made you like her that much."

"Nothing, miss Bae. It was… just a one-time thing."

"I see, so the word 'mommy' doesn’t ring a bell?"

You stiffen. So does Eunbi, suddenly losing grip of your hand and losing her balance a little. In conclusion: yea, that word rings not only a bell, but a whole fucking gong in your mind.

Of course, Irene sees through this and rolls her eyes to heaven, as if she were making fun of you telepathically to an unknown deity. "Oh, so it does, huh?" she says, lifting her hands in the air. It's obvious, really, and she should have expected it. "Of course. One woman treats you like shit during sex and you drool for her. Of-fucking-course."

Your professional principal daring to curse in front of her students catches you off guard. But you know that, despite this, she's right. There are a lot of deeply internalized issues in you and Eunbi that would have reserved the right to be connected to the fling. These issues are the reason you like Taeyeon after all, but justifying the situation using them won't help your case at all. Irene doesn't take kindly to beggars of pity.

She walks over to the two of you. You subconsciously back away. It's instinctive, and you really should have gone through with what your gut tells you when the woman continues.

"I wonder how you ended up with miss Kwon then, if that's your type." Irene approaches her lookalike and laughs a little. "This little girl can't even get on top without begging for your dick five seconds later."

"That's not true," Eunbi stutters. She tenses up when the older woman strokes her shoulders. "I, I take control all the time, miss Bae. You can't just assume…"

If whatever's going on weren't putting your life at stake, you'd let out the biggest laugh to ever be heard by man. It's just insanely untrue. Eunbi's the most passive girl you've had the blessing to be with. It's just not in her to dominate in the bedroom. Debates and civil arguments in school are all things she tops, but when it comes to you, it's just out of the question.

"Then show me," Irene says. Massaging the girl's shoulders, her smirk creates a new punishment for you to abide by. "Show me how you control your bad little boyfriend."

The anxious, whimpering Eunbi has no time to think about how fucked up this is. She grabs your shoulders and pushes you to Irene's desk. She kisses you clumsily, tearing your uniform with shaking hands. 

Her lips create a path downwards your chest. She unbuckles your belt and drops to her knees. You breathe through your teeth when her mouth works itself on your cock. Down, up, down, up, and a sweet little kiss at the tip. Perfect for you, but not for your principal, who has higher standards, apparently.

Irene smirks, shaking her head pitifully. "Darling," she says before she kneels before you, too, "you really don't know how to do this, do you?"

Eunbi shakes her head. The fact that she's ashamed is, unlike her claim earlier, not a lie.

"Ah." In a sudden affectionate and motherly act, Irene rubs the student's thigh. "You're better off being a good little girl, is that it?" 

"Mmm. Yes."

“You’d rather be your oppa’s submissive little doll? Do anything he wants?”

“Y-yes, miss Bae.”

"That won't do here. You have to pay for what you've done, or else it wouldn't be fair."

Eunbi whines. Is it in protest or pleasure? Irene's fingers have crept under her skirt and to regions they're supposed to be restricted from. The cause is probably a mix of both, but you can guess what they're doing when you see Eunbi grinding down on your principal's hidden hand. 

"How about this?" Irene offers to you. "Miss Kwon and I will take turns on you. We test out who can dominate you better, and whoever does gets to do whatever they want to the rest."

"Miss Bae—" 

Irene pulls her fingers out of Eunbi and spanks her. Your girlfriend gasps and her hips flinch. Yeah,  apparently, there's no way to back out of this. "Close the door, slut. Lock it. You, shut the blinds. I don't want to get in trouble for fucking you spoiled brats."

There's truly no resistant bone in Eunbi's body with how quickly she scampers to the door. You can't say you're any better. You and your girlfriend obey the principal's orders like you're her pets, and perhaps that's a little true. Maybe this is the beginning of something new. Something a little screwed up, yeah, but new.

Whatever this is, you hope it'll get you out of getting your life royally fucked over. You used to not give a damn if that ever happened, but when Eunbi's on your side, you become more cautious. 

(If you were in a better state of mind, you’d recognize how having sex with your principal can and will contribute to your cautiousness going to no avail, but you’ve got two gorgeous women kneeling in front of you. What else is better than this?)

"Sit down." Irene pushes you down her swivel chair. "We're gonna have fun with you first. Call this a little," she winks, "practice session."

Your heart almost stops. You're thrust down even more into the cushion, and the foreign feeling of the principal's tongue provides an aching rush of blood to your cock. Meanwhile, Eunbi attends to your heavy balls, licking and sucking at the sensitive flesh. 

Your skin is on fire. The two beautiful women smear their salivas on your erection. Their tongues collide at times, making Eunbi recoil in shock at times, but not for too long that your penis is devoid of attention. Irene doesn’t mind at all. She’s fine with the occasional dab of her tongue on Eunbi’s mouth, and coating the sheen of saliva she’s left with more. No inch is left needy—while Irene teases your base with sharp licks between smirks, the other girl sloppily makes out with your dickhead. 

"Stop. You don't want your boyfriend here to think he can do anything he wants to you.” Irene’s rough fist stiffens the mast of your erection, and although it's pleasurable, it's also painful. Her speed is too much for a start to the show. "You need to put him in his place. Do it because you want to feel good about it, not him."

"B-but…"

"I'll show you."

Eunbi departs from your crotch and Irene does… well, nowhere near leaving, that's for sure. It's like your cock was just liquid streaming down her throat with how fast she takes you in. Her mouth is small, but she swallows it all expertly. Her hands tie your thighs down to the chair.

Being in Irene's mouth is a wet dream. Literally. Her slick tongue and cheeks rub your tip. They're just appetizers for the main course: her delectable throat that's thin and tight on you. She's almost forcing you to deal with her relentless blowing, betting her career that you can't withstand it. She doesn't need innocent, Bambi eyes to make it appealing when she has that goddess-like face, yet you have to prove her wrong.

But then she wraps her soft, jutted lips around your base and elegantly slides them up with puckered suction. She's not even fucking your rod with her throat anymore and you automatically say something you shouldn't have:

"Mommy, please."

Irene stops and smiles at Eunbi. "See what I'm saying?" she says with overflowing satisfaction. "It just comes naturally to him, doesn't it? Now it's your turn. Make me proud."

The pupil obeys. When has she ever done anything but that? You aren't complaining, though; her pretty mouth ranks up in their competition. 

The two women are so different in so many different ways. Eunbi's gentle blowing, her eyes glimmering with broken innocence that always dart to your face to see if you're enjoying, is far from Irene's harsh one. She bluntly licks at your tip, sparking precum to drip into her mouth, before she slowly takes it all in. Again, widely different compared to Irene's experienced swallow, but who's keeping note? You sure aren't; you're just glad to have the best of both worlds.

"That's a good girl," Irene says. She gathers Eunbi's hair into a makeshift ponytail to help her out. "Don't be afraid to go a little crazy. If you do a good job I might just play with your cute little pussy."

Eunbi shuts her eyes and moans. Your breath is long gone with how her soft, pleasured sounds vibrate on your cock. If that weren't enough, she's lifting her head up and down with a pace that's a little quicker than before, nudging your cock deep inside her mouth. It's past that, actually; your cockhead slips down the end and bears the overwhelming feeling of her airway blocked by your girth.

"M-mmmph!"

"Aw, poor girl's choking," Irene remarks mockingly. "What's the matter, miss Kwon? Can't take it?"

Eunbi tries to surprise her by taking it all down. Unfortunately, it’s too much for her. Instead, she whimpers and chokes. 

While she gags, you moan without shame. "I'm gonna cum, baby," you announce. Your cock feels like it's going to burst with her throat spasming around it. 

Her lips tighten around your tip. It successfully manages to flow your cum directly into her mouth. Irene jacks you off to help out. The younger girl's mouth is soon flooded with the natural waterfall of your cum. It could turn into a natural disaster; Eunbi’s already struggling to save all your load. 

"Don't swallow it. Come here."

Irene forces Eunbi's face to hers and kisses her deeply. Your girlfriend's hands are frozen in the air as they share your cum. The older woman’s hand imprisons her jaw in place so she can greedily collect your cum from the passive mouth. You see the shimmer of your semen as it’s passed from one tongue to another, hear the breathy moan of your girlfriend, feel your cock become more solid.

Irene swallows whatever she's gotten and, as an end to the makeout session, licks the other girl's plump, cumstained lips. "Ah, you’re really delicious," she says. "And your girlfriend's so cute. No wonder professor Kim likes you two so much."

You’re still in shock at the sight, but the mention of your professor gets you to make another comparison with said woman. She and Irene are alike, too, but differ so much as well. They’re both violent, but at least Taeyeon has a nice streak in her; she attended to you after the violent copulation in the classroom. Irene's gentle gestures are done only to please her will. But even with those contrasting traits set in the Venn diagram, you can't choose between the two of them: the dominant principal or the quietly pretty professor? 

Irene pulls Eunbi's hair mercilessly, yanking her head backwards and exposing her beautiful neck. "It's just too bad that she's terrible at being a mommy," she murmurs. Her fingers trace the large tits threatening to burst out of the buttoned fabric. "Such a perfect body for it, but completely useless."

"Oppa, that's not true, right?" asks Eunbi, squirming. "I'm good at being your girl, aren't I?"

"Who was a better mommy, baby boy? Me or her?"

It's not even a question. As much as your heart is biased towards the girl who owns it, it's obviously—

"You, mommy."

"Oppa!" Eunbi protests. She looks genuinely hurt. It's the first time she's ever been second place in anything, and it hits her right where it's already sore.

Irene's grin is smug. It's beautiful, but actually terrifying. It's a sign that everything will only go downhill from here. "What should I do with you two now, hm?" 

"Please,” says Eunbi. Struggling to compose herself now that the principal is playing with her breasts, she fights to say anything without moaning. “Please give me one more chance, mom– miss Bae… please, I'll be good—oh, I'll be so good—"

Your principal drags Eunbi up by her hair. "Stand over there if you're so good, mommy." One swift push sends her stumbling to the edge of her desk. 

Eunbi, sniffling through her tears, awaits her next order. There's something in her face aside from the wet tears; it's a tale of how much she wants to be as good as Irene at using you that competes with her desire to please her. She's been a people-pleaser all her life, and it's hard to break its shackles, especially when Irene orders her to grind herself down the end of her desk, with one rule:

“Don’t cum until I say so.”

The panties slip off her plentiful thighs. She closes her eyes as she settles her nub over the edge of the wooden desk. Slowly, she starts to move.

"F-fuck." Eunbi places a shaking palm over her mouth.

"Exactly what your boyfriend's going to do to me," quips Irene. "See, this is how you put a man in his place." 

She tears her pencil skirt apart with no hesitation. After, she confidently sits on your lap, filling her cunt to the hilt. You tense up; her round ass on your lap is a blessing alone, but when it comes to her cunt, it’s a whole heavenly reward. Although Irene speaks and acts with nothing other than confidence, if not arrogance, her pussy is too tight for your cock to even pulse. When it barely does, her textured velvety walls cease it with a firm clench.

“Holy shit, mommy. You’re so”—between gritted teeth, you groan and rest your hands on Irene’s ant waist—“fucking tight.”

“I know,” says Irene. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

The whole situation is sinful. Watching your girlfriend having nothing to do but touch herself on the inanimate object and helplessly watch the two of you fuck is one thing, but Irene’s perfect ass on your lap is in another world. Galaxy might be more accurate. The melody of their moans causes you to struggle in keeping yourself from cumming too fast, but it’s already a challenge with Irene’s pussy fucking itself on you. She’s as tight as she looks, and probably would have been the ruinable type if she weren’t the way she is.

She leans back into your chest and caresses the side of your face with a surprisingly gentle hand. With timed movements, she lifts herself off and on your erection. Her folds splay apart to welcome you inside, into a whole, slick world. “I guess he’s all mine now, yeah?” she asks Eunbi. “He seems to like mommy better, Eunbi-ya.”

When she’s fingered and forced the girl to sexually stimulate herself on her table, there’s no need for even the polite formalities. There’s not even a chance for it to resurface when Eunbi’s already tearing up. 

“Oppa likes me, too,” she says. The jealousy brewing like a potion cauldron inside her drives her gyrations on the desk to go faster. It’s a fucked up coping mechanism for the sight in front of her. “You still like me best, don’t you, oppa?”

“Of course… fuck”—forget what you’re saying when Irene grinds her hips in circles and bounces her ass cheeks into your lap—“of course I do.”

She certainly knows her way around a dick. Her seductive rounds on your crotch and the measured riding just tell you that she’s had way more than enough experience in this realm, which, in terms of that, places her first. Eunbi’s a sore loser who doesn’t like that fact, but you can’t rig her a place anyway.

“But listen to how he’s moaning, babygirl,” Irene points out. You really don’t intend to moan again in order to avoid hurting Eunbi’s feelings, but Irene keeps a consistent squeeze of her vaginal walls on you and makes all go awry. “He loves my pussy. He loves it when I use him. I presume it’s not the same when it’s with you?”

Try to shut her up by rubbing her clit, but she only murmurs a series of “yes”’s. Besides, the damage, although fired from simple words, is already done; Eunbi’s quivering bottom lip is as clear as day.

“He loves me,” she whines. She squeezes the table tighter, as if the vicinity of the wood can help magick up a proper way to get her to become the mommy she just isn’t. “Hnn. He, he likes me because I’m a good girl.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Irene says, her sarcastically rolled eyes unimpressed. “You’re young. You should know being good is outdated. If he likes it, then he shouldn’t be fucking me right now.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” you say. You stop thrusting upwards into Irene, but she keeps bouncing. The stimulation remains constant. 

You really can’t find your way out of this. Irene’s weight, though light, keeps you on the chair and void of anything to do to break it all up. Your legs already feel weak at her pace. It’s as if she’s completely unaware of how tight and wet she is and therefore subjects you to it, thinking that you can handle it. But of course, she’s an intelligent, self-aware woman—she knows her effect on you, and she isn’t hesitant to exploit it.

Eunbi sobs as she grinds down the edge of the table harder. She can’t take watching you and Irene fuck anymore. "Mommy, please.”

"’Mommy’? Not putting up a fight anymore, are you, pretty little girl?" Irene asks. She pouts mockingly. "Gonna give up?"

Eunbi shakes her head. "No…"

"Alright, if you aren’t, use me. Use your boyfriend. We’ll see what happens."

Your girlfriend bursts into tears. It’s no mere tear sliding down her cheek anymore. It’s a whole fiasco of whiny crying and childish protests. Of course, it’s not in her to fight Irene. She’s remained a diplomatic civil debater, not a physical one. At times she doesn’t even counter an argument, similar to now, when she weakly replies, "B-but I don’t know how.”

“Come on. You’re smart, aren’t you? You can win over me.”

“Mmm, please just let me cum, mommy. Please."

"Do it. I dare you."

"Mommy—"

"Do it."

"I—I can't!" Eunbi says this in a tone that’s nearly a scream as she struggles to keep herself standing. "Please don't take him away from me, I'm a good girl, I swear, I swear!"

“Oh, look at her, baby.” Irene strengthens the force of her riding. It draws you nearer to an orgasm. “She wants you so bad. She wants to be your mommy so bad.”

Eunbi’s explicit moans and Irene’s soft gasps contribute equally with the silken pussy in draining you. You fill Irene up to the brim. As she stands, white drips down her naked legs.

“You want to be a mommy so bad?” 

Irene slips her fingers inside herself, scooping out white liquid, then walks over to the quaking valedictorian. Under the guise of the skirt, she sticks the cum-stained fingers into the needy little hole.

“Then fucking be one.”

“Mommy!” 

Eunbi screams when Irene stuffs her cunt and fingers her violently. Her legs close together, and suddenly she’s creaming all over the fingers moving unabashedly inside her. Wetness is wrung out repeatedly, and strings of arousal connect and disconnect between the joined fingers.

“Mommy, miss Bae, hnnn…” mumbles Eunbi, mind fogged with pleasure, “mommy—”

“Shhh, that’s a girl, miss Kwon,” Irene says as she offers the nectar-coated fingers to the girl’s mouth. Eunbi gladly accepts. 

To your surprise, Irene seems gentle this time. She pats your girlfriend’s back firmly, even wiping the drool on her lips. Maybe it’s the satisfaction of making both a girl and a boy orgasm. That’s all you can guess.

“You haven’t fucked me like you did mommy,” Eunbi protests. “I want you, too, please?”

“You heard the girl,” Irene says. She’s all for another go. She seems to be the only one not tired between the three of you. Her arrogant smile has not once lost its shine. “She wants to be fucked. Or do you not like her little pussy the same way you love mine?”

That triggers Eunbi to look up with tearful eyes. “Oppa, do you…?”

“Of course not. You can have me all you like.”

“Darlings,” pipes in Irene, “you seem to be forgetting someone here. That isn’t part of the deal.”

Of course. You’re still under the invisible contract she set. As the obvious winner of the battle of wills and domination, she gets to have the nicer end of the deal: to do anything she wants with the two of you. Whatever happens here has to involve her. No one’s going to be left out here.

How should it go?

“I want that mouth on my pussy, miss Kwon,” decides Irene, sitting on her throne (AKA as the swivel chair.) “And I want you to fuck her. Really fuck her. I want to see her break.”

So that’s how it goes, since Eunbi’s too kind to propose another way. She crawls between Irene’s legs, greedily eating the cum out of her, while you pound her from behind. 

Eunbi’s wide hips are just irresistible. They fit right into your hands and serve as anchors to pull you in and out of her. The skirt, instead of infuriating you with how much it blocks your view of her ass and grippy pussy, drives you more insane.

And when you look up, there’s Irene, with her legs spread wide for Eunbi to stay. It���s nice of the deities to create a world where there are so many beautiful women, and for two to be right by your side currently. Maybe you gotta thank the Greek statue that’s privy to the whole thing—you’re pretty sure she’s part of the whole god gang. Whatever. 

Irene’s hands aren’t sedentary. They tug onto the wavy hair for its owner to tongue her core more. The pussy-eating thing is an act of jealousy from Eunbi, really—part of the reason she agreed to eat her out is so she can drink your cum straight from where you deposited it. Safe to say it’s a win-win situation.

“Fuck, you’ve got a good mouth, miss Kwon,” says Irene. She bites her lip, and hisses. “Just like that.”

Even with all she’s done to her, Eunbi mewls in appreciation. Or maybe it’s your cock causing that. Yeah, definitely your cock. You make it a purpose to stretch her out and keep her pretty cunt stuffed. Gently stimulate her bundle of nerves for her skirted ass to reverse back into your crotch.

“Oppa—” Eunbi says, her voice reaching another high pitch due to the pleasure.

“I didn’t say you could stop,” Irene sharply reminds her. “Don’t stop or he won’t fuck you anymore.”

Eunbi gets back to work, moaning after you penetrate her again. You may have fucked Irene, but she still remains in control here. She just solidifies her place in the little contest she and Eunbi had. Your girlfriend, ever the grumpy loser, vents her frustration in eating her principal out, evoking broken gasps from her.

“Aw, don’t be too jealous, Eun,” you say to Eunbi. Her tight pussy is an everyday heaven you, a sinner, are given a free pass to relish in. “You’re still my good girl.”

You can feel her cunt tighten at your words. Eunbi closes her eyes and whimpers while she sucks on Irene’s clit. Her nose presses against the older woman’s flat stomach. 

“She really likes being called that, huh?” chuckles Irene, ruffling Eunbi’s hair. 

“She does.” Thrust into her particularly hard. “She’s a sweet girl.”

Eunbi’s body trembles. Unable to deal with the flood of praises, she tonguefucks Irene’s hole harshly, suppressing her heavy breaths in the pink flesh. 

“Is that what you want to be, miss Kwon?” Irene allows Eunbi to take a breather and lifts her chin up, but renders her breathless anyway with the next set of words. “Mommy and daddy’s sweet little girl?”

The girl’s walls twitch around you, and you hear her whine again. She’s always like that, the poor thing, but now, it’s urgent—it goes on, prolonged with need and desire, that you have to pull her into your lap, cock still lodged inside her, and say: “Use your words, baby.”

She’s a little taken aback, but she’s nodding. Breathing through her mouth in shaky little exhales, Eunbi nods. “Y-yes, please,” she says, as if in a trance. “Mommy. Daddy.”

You and Irene don’t get along too well due to your history of troubles, but you immediately understand each other when you gaze into each other’s eyes. You don’t say a word, but there’s no need for any when her lips are already on Eunbi’s. 

It’s a quick change of positions. You bring her over to the desk again. This time, she’s not merely here to watch, but to indulge in the pleasure of having the two of you at the same time. Buttons fly in the air as Irene rips the school blouse apart. She bares the bouncing tits of any bra then immediately goes to worshiping them. Eunbi’s nipple ends up in her mouth and hardens at the suckles. It was as if she were determined to draw out milk from them. 

“Look at you,” she says. Irene admires the round, full bosom before her, tracing a hand along the flesh. “Walking around with a body like this shouldn’t be allowed.”

“Mommy,” says Eunbi. She shivers when you fill her up. “Daddy, please. I’m yours.”

“Oh, you are.” Irene plays with the perfect collarbone for a while before edging her hand up to her throat. There, she squeezes tight. “Trust me.”

You squeeze Eunbi’s breasts and kiss them. You don’t think there would ever be a time you wouldn’t appreciate her beautiful tits. Irene seems to have discovered their beauty, too, for the two of you start to worship them. Irene takes left, you go right. Each one provides more than a supple amount of softness that with each bite, squeeze and suck makes Eunbi clamp down on your cock more. 

“Baby boy,” Irene whispers. She’s never looked this motherly, yet so seductive. “Remember when I said I wanted you to break her? I still expect you to do it.”

“I’d want nothing more,” you reply.

“Daddy, mommy, w-what are you going to do to me?”

“Bend over, miss Kwon,” instructs Irene, “we’re going to give you what you want.”

Eunbi happily does, and thanks her by slipping her fingers inside her. They immediately set a quick pace to keep her on her toes. 

“God, fuck her,” Irene says. “She’s earned it.”

Your girlfriend’s never been so glad to hear something from the principal. The praise earlier is a close competitor, but when these words are the cause of your cock to begin thrusting again, she still prefers these. 

“Fuck, daddy!”

You match the pace of her fingers in Irene’s pussy. You choose to go brutally, putting her out of her long misery by filling her over and over again. 

“Daddy, daddy, daddy, please!” Her eyes are shut, and her body is still except for the movements driven by your thrusts, but her fingers still fuck Irene’s waiting pussy. She’s a true multi-tasker, this girl. 

How many times has she begged like this today? You don’t know, but it’s the first time that she’s calling you the name. It surprises even yourself that it turns you on. It drives a forbidden feeling deep in your chest that’s exactly what fuels your thrusts. 

She’s finally fulfilled after being kept at the side for practically the whole time, so her screams are also of relief. She squirts so goddamned easily that each thrust is slick and messy. Her folds spare not a second of releasing your cock. No, it holds on, and it’s all too messy. Sinful. Incredibly immoral. 

“That’s it, take my cock, Eunbi,” you groan. The words just come naturally to you, because when she’s absolutely writhing underneath you and her pussy is that tight, you become a philosopher with a way with words. You can write several doctrines about how fucking ruinable she is, how her body’s just fit for your cock, how her thin whines are strung out so deliciously that you could never think of stopping. 

After everything that’s happened, she’s still your girl. She’s still the one you want to take to bed. She’s just that good.

“Daddy, mommy, fuck—me!” she screams. Eunbi’s tears come flowing back. They pour down her pretty face and onto the desk. If there was paperwork getting done on this desk, they’re replaced by Eunbi.

You think she’s gone crazy. Her voice is strained and her fingers almost painfully shove themselves in Irene, like they’re machine-controlled. All different sounds are extracted from her sore throat: moans, screams, and gasps—you think you’ve broken her.

You guess that’s enough payment for Irene.

Irene’s groans and cries are loud; her legs squeeze around Eunbi’s wrist. “D-don’t fucking stop,” she warns. You sense that there’d be more than what punishment is if the girl dares to halt. Eunbi knows better than to, anyway. She continues fingering Irene, exploring the cave of her tight hole and pressing down on her G-spot. 

Eunbi closes her eyes as Irene’s cum sprays her. Now she really looks ruined. She’s already covered in her tears and drool. You guess that soon, she’d be covered in you.

You slip out to flick your cock against her clit. 

“Ahhh, daddy!”

“That’s right. Cum for daddy, baby.”

“Y-yes, yes, yes, fuck, daddy! Keep rubbing my clit like that, it feels so good… it feels so warm, please don’t stop!”

“Cum for me.”

“Daddy!” wails Eunbi. 

Everything is a mess of moans and squirting. Eunbi screams in pleasure, shaking as her folds remain determined to swallow every inch of your cock even after her orgasm, and Irene’s to your left riding her digits, crying out as if she were in a war. And you guess that yea, maybe it is a war—a war of good and evil, a war of the overachievers (that brings a chuckle out of you), a war of sex. 

But in the end, in a feat that no one’s ever seen, everybody wins.

-

Dear Ms. Jo,

This is regarding your recent concern about Ms. Kwon Eunbi. 

I find that the evidence you provided to me is altered and has been tampered with. After further questioning with teachers and staff, I can conclude that your concern is dismissed and shall only subject you to disciplinary action.

It is strictly prohibited to spread harmful falsehood about your fellow schoolmates. Please see me after class tomorrow.

Sincerely,

Principal Bae Irene/Joohyun

[undertalethingems]

man, idk if i can describe the Undertale dream I had last night... but i'm going to try, and it's a long one:

It started out as me playing an entirely different (fictional) game, but next thing i knew a glitch sent my character out-of-bounds or something like that. I tried to reset, but instead of going back to that game, it flicked through alternate Undertale timelines every time a reset was attempted. I don't remember what most of these were like, aside from largely being role swap AUs--one featured a confident Alphys who had seemingly put her soul in a robot body, and was happy to see me/my character because we could potentially help her research this weird timeline stuff she'd noticed...

how many times you could go back was limited, so eventually things got stuck in a timeline that was quite different from the normal game--and then i/my character left normal game space entirely and entered what seemed like the storage area for like... an appliance store? Idk, there were fridges and furniture and other junk scattered around--yes, very backrooms, i know. But my POV character wasn't the only one down there.

They found dozens of other monsters that had fallen out of the assorted timelines and ended up in this strange space. Most were random NPCs, but several were versions of the main Undertale cast. I recall two Mettatons who were dating each other, and an Undyne who filled Toriel's role in her original world. Sans was there too, seated on a couch, but... I tried to say hi to him, and got no reply. It seemed the whole experience had essentially broken him, and the only thing he cared about was making sure the Papyrus next to him hadn't Fallen Down--even though it was swap!Papyrus, and not his original brother.

In fact, there were seemingly no other Papyruses at all (though i don't remember there being any Asgores or Toriels either, ahah.). But as the group of lost monsters started moving to try and find a way out or get some answers, another monster appeared: Gaster. Though, he looked like he was wearing a paper-mache mask--it had that lumpy, papery texture, but no eyes or mouth... And apparently, all these disappearances were his doing. But he promised he had his reasons, and if we followed him we'd find out who he was and why he was doing this. So of course the crowd rushed to follow him down a corridor that got progressively more... unfinished looking, like the garbage area where Spamton lurks, with blocks of missing pixels. It looked unsafe, but i was excited to see what all this was leading to. i just had to follow him around the corner...!

And then I woke up.

Yep. Trolled by my own brain. this isn't the first time this kind of thing has happened to me either--I've had several dreams where i was going to learn some incredible secret, only to wake up moments before the reveal. So, now you can share my disappointment too, but I guess I didn't clairvoyantly reveal spoilers for Deltarune XD

[hana-no-seiiki]

I saw that you need ideas, so how about a yandere from the Neons? I mean, I would like to see more content from them since they represent the elements in Honkai star rail, by the way, sorry if you don't understand, my English is bad... I leave you a little drawing of a masculine makima (it has nothing to do with it, but as a gift ) xd Also, I don't know if I'm the only one, but Nanook makes me handsome >///<

(Sorry, I had already finished it but the work was stained hahaha and I did it again)

Yus the Aeons are so cool looking!! You really feel like they’re actual gods of the universe, especially since you don’t see them first hand (at least for now). Also Masculine Makima reminds me of Karma Akabane lol. I’ll draw it in my style, and add it here as an extra for you ♥️

Hb we mash those two topics up together actually?

warnings: mild yandere themes. mild spoilers for csm. major canon divergence. reader takes the shape of a masc/amab character but it isnt their original form.

status: unedited. updated art.

YANDERE! AEONS + VARIOUS! HSR x AEON OF FEAR/CONTROL! READER

You have no memory of your conception, only that you started existing for what felt like an eternity.

You represented fear and despair, but unlike IX whose mere presence drove humanity into insanity, or the rest of your fellow aeon’s godlike status amongst the world,

you walked around as a normal, ordinary human being.

As normal as an Aeon can get anyways.

In your current lifetime, you took the shape of Himeko’s “brother”, planting fake memories into her mind and being the one that urged her to travel the stars. While she was the navigator, you took the role of conductor before creating Pompom to supplant you.

Welt always knew you weren’t just a regular person. Your eyes always felt distant, so far off that not even a century’s worth of trail blazing would allow him to come close. As such he mostly kept cordial relations with you.

The youngsters of the bunch on the other hand, never seemed to realize the sheer magnanimity of the danger you held and always hung around you.

Particularly that Caelus. The newest addition to the crew. The stellaron within him always pulsed in some sort of giddiness and excitement whenever you were around. The boy couldn’t help but be a nervous wreck when he was around you. Stuttering and stumbling was a common occurrence whenever you so decide as to just breathe at his direction.

You knew what those Stellarons are, their nature, their purpose, the way they were created. In fact if you wanted to, you could have taken the Astral Express straight to the source of it all, your partner: Nanook.

However that would have ruined the fun of it all. So you chose to let them have their little adventures before the final confrontation.

Also because you signed a contract to not meddle with Nanook’s business in exchange for your freedom. But that was another story to tell.

“Why . . . why do you continue this farce? This utterly worthless play?”

IX’s voice rang within your ears and no one else’s. You were the only being it ever gave the time of day to. You imagine it to be the reason why insanity slowly built itself within the recesses of your head.

“You may see the entire universe as worthless . . . but I,” You breath hitched. You looked around your room. Time was frozen. Everything turned grey. You weren’t afraid of the others in the express hearing you, just that the following words you were about to spout out felt like bile on your mouth. “I suppose I’m still a bit like them in a way. I wish to see the world without its evils.”

“And destroying them. That is my first step.” You summon an orb of golden light. Stellarons. The creation of the very thing that made you loath all evil. Including yourself. You will eradicate these and then Nanook yourself. One day.

“Is that why you send those hunters out?”

“Perhaps.” The orb within your hands get covered in chains, quickly getting crushed within the metal like substance as it soon disappeared.

“Do as you wish. Just do not bother me like that imbecile.”

“I promise. I will be much worse than Yaoshi.”

IX remained silent for several seconds, no doubt regretting its decision of associating with you before adding, “. . . And do not die.”

“That one I cannot guarantee.”

Your room’s color returns, time continues. Signaling the end of two Aeons’ encounter.

Nanook, the Aeon that threatened to eradicate all that you love. All so they could have your soul once more. Within your gilded cage. Within your original body that lied dormant.

The Destruction will no longer be a path. That is a guarantee you write upon the stars when your Trail Blazing lifetime eventually comes to a close.

The stage is set, your actors ready.

All you needed was the cue.

Your gloved hand arose, pointing towards the express’s windows in the shape of a gun.

“Bang.”

[redbullgirly]

Hellooo 👋, can you write enemies to lovers with fernando alonso maybe with some angst? 🤭

It's totally alright if you don't want to! Thankssss :))

EL DESTINO [FA14 oneshot]

Fernando Alonso x reader

Masterlist

Summary: Y/N works for Alpine, and even though Fernando Alonso isn't part of the team anymore, they can't forget their distaste for each other. The driver seems to think she's just an irresponsible party girl and Y/N doesn't like him because he's, well... annoying and mean and doesn't care about anybody but himself. Though could they be both wrong in their prejudices?

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: Not much, maybe they're kind of mean to each other and stupid at the start, but that's the point of enemies to lovers, right? XD

Author's Note: Hello Anon and thank you for the request! I didn't expect it to turn out so long, but hey XD. I hope you and everybody else will like it. Also I tried for a little bit of angst, but I'm not sure if I'm good at it... you can let me know :).

If anyone could read your thoughts at the moment, you’d probably end up locked behind bars and with the key from your cell thrown far away. Whoever's great idea was to allow the group of inexperienced interns to touch the important data and statistics deserved to rot seven feet underground. Chopped into small pieces. And doused in poison that eats their lifeless body until there's nothing left.

Okay, that's maybe a bit too violent, but still not far from the truth.

You rubbed your tired eyes, not caring about smudging the mascara anymore. There was basically no one left in the building, just a few mechanics desperately needing the cars to be in perfect condition tomorrow – or should we say today? And then there was you, who stupidly agreed to fix the disaster caused by too much excitement and not enough cautiousness. You knew the interns didn't do it on purpose, and blaming them wasn't going to help you, but still. It wasn't them who had to sit there long after their working hours ended, staring into a too bright computer screen.

When you finally managed to save all the damaged data, it was almost three in the morning, and before you made it back to the hotel, you weren't sure if it was even worth going to bed. Because of the emergency, you didn't have time to finish your usual duties. And even though it wouldn't be fair to want the analysis from you, that wasn't how the game was played in motorsport.

Legs almost giving out under you, you dragged yourself to the elevator. The poor lady sitting at the receptionist desk looked at you skeptically, but didn't say anything as you stepped in and pressed the button with the number of your floor on it. Generic music started playing, numbing your brain even more.

The metal door was about to close, but then a hand came between it. Before you blinked and processed what's happening, a man slipped into the elevator right next to you, pressing his own number.

You see, everything could have been fine. You could've just survived the thirty seconds of embarrassing silence, then mumble a polite goodbye and go to sleep in peace. But no. Fate apparently had other plans for you.

Because as the man turned to you and the bright light hit his face, you realized it wasn't just some stranger.

Suddenly, the silence shifted from the normal elevator weirdness to tension. You pressed your lips together, silently cursing the higher power that decided to mess with your life just today, when you looked like a zombie. With smudged mascara. Perfect.

For someone, maybe it would be a fulfilled dream to be in an elevator with Fernando Alonso. Two time World Champion, great driver, loved person. And a dickhead that almost ruined your whole career.

“You look like you had a wild night,” he murmured with a thick Spanish accent. You narrowed your brows, trying to control the anger bubbling inside of you. Was he trying to insult you? You wouldn't even be surprised.

“Perhaps I did, thank you very much.” Your voice lacked any signs of friendliness, clearly trying to provoke him. It was quite funny, really, how a minute ago you didn't have energy to think clearly, and now you were ready to argue with this man over anything. Almost like the magic of despising someone.

You noticed his jaw tensing and knew it wouldn't be good. But still, his words hurt: “Maybe if you focused more on doing your job instead of wild nights out, Alpine would do better.”

The sting in your chest was strong, but by some miracle the elevator finally stopped, and the robotic voice announced the twenty-sixth floor. Even life itself took pity on you, it seemed.

Without any other word, you turned away from Alonso and walked into the empty hallway, hearing a quiet scoff and then the door sliding closed again behind you, leaving you all alone in the darkness. How poetic.

Every door you passed looked exactly the same, and you just hoped you remembered your room number correctly.

You didn't even remember taking out the card and entering your temporary home for the weekend. You didn't remember taking your clothes off, removing the remaining makeup with a tissue because you were too tired for your usual skin care routine. You didn't remember responsibly setting up your alarm and then falling into the soft mattress.

All you could remember before the exhaustion took over were his words that cut deeper than he thought, and deeper than you'd like to admit.

-----

You couldn't believe it.

As you walked out of the debrief, you could basically feel everybody's frustration crawling up your spine, mixing with your own. The team, all the mechanics and engineers, pit crew members and marketing, hundreds of people worked so hard the whole week. And for what?

It was already bad when both cars didn't finish the last Grand Prix in Silverstone. But for it to happen again? That was downright embarrassing. Not only did it bring exactly zero points in the Constructors' Championship, but the drivers were angry, disappointed. You could see that in the team, the motivation level decreased quickly. And honestly, you couldn't blame them.

Last year, Alpine was the fourth-best car on the grid. Best of the rest, as they'd call it. But this season, everything was going terribly. You honestly weren't far from crying.

To lighten up the mood, some of your colleagues decided to enjoy a night out in Budapest before you'd have to fly to Belgium tomorrow, to prepare for yet another racing weekend. At first, you declined the offer, insisting you needed to catch up on some work, do analysis for the car and figure out exactly what happened to it. But then, one of the mechanics you were friendlier with saw your drooping shoulders, and pulled you into the club despite all your weak protests.

Soon enough, you let loose and after an hour, you were a few drinks in. Your head was spinning, a big smile planted on your lips and giggles coming out of your mouth uncontrollably. Not that you had low alcohol tolerance, but the last time you got properly drunk was some time ago. Perhaps you just forgot how it felt. The freedom, the sweet mist of oblivion clouding your mind.

Currently, you were sitting at the bar, sipping on a cocktail. You already enjoyed your time on the dance floor, which tired you more than expected. Thank God you went to the club right from the paddock, so instead of high heels that'd kill your feet, you had comfortable sneakers on.

As you waved at the young barman to give you another round of whatever he mixed for you before, you felt someone's eyes on your back. You didn't bother to turn around, thinking it was just another drunken man checking out half of the women in the club.

Then, someone stood behind you. “The drink's on me, hermosa,” the man said, voice smooth like honey. You froze. You knew that deep, thick Spanish accent too well. What the hell was Alonso doing here?

He clearly mistook your silence for an impressed one, or so you thought when he came to sit down next to you, his hand gently brushing your back. That was the moment you turned your head towards him, eyes wide, and his face dropped. So did yours.

You hoped for a split second you could pretend you were total strangers randomly meeting in a bar for just a little longer when he instantly frowned and his demeanor changed from charming gentleman to pain in the ass.

“Y/L/N,” he uttered it in a way that made you wonder if there was something wrong with your last name. “Guess I shouldn't be surprised to see you here.”

And here it was — the instant wave of anger and hurt he managed to bring up by just a few poking words.

“Says the right person.” You rolled your eyes, the flowing feeling the alcohol gave you before now gone. You felt like you were going to be sick. “I bet if it wasn't me you tried to hit on, you'd bring the poor woman to your hotel room tonight.”

“Careful, or you might sound jealous.”

“Oh, you wish, Alonso,” you laughed humorlessly. 

The bartender chose that moment to bring you the requested cocktail you already forgot about. You gave him the cash, though you had no intention of actually drinking it. As always, Alonso left a sour taste in your mouth.

“I see you're drinking the team problems away,” he pressed harder, knowing damn well it was a sensitive topic. You gritted your teeth, reminding yourself to be the better person.

Then you looked into his dark eyes, and your self-control was gone. For some reason, you couldn't stand the look he was giving you. It was full of something that was too similar to disappointment. You hated people being disappointed in you, even if you hated that very person.

Out of nowhere, the alcohol kicked in, and you remembered why you didn't drink in clubs too often — it made you emotional. So stupidly sensitive that you couldn't stop your eyes from tearing up. You shook your head, opened your mouth, wanting to tell him something. Anything that'd make him just as much hurt as you were.

Instead, you bit your trembling lip and abruptly stood up. You almost knocked over the bar stool, though at the moment, you didn't really care.

Was it cowardly to run away from him and his harsh words? Yes, you knew that. But you did it in the elevator, and so you could do it again.

In a rush, you got through other people enjoying their night out, oblivious to the lump forming in your throat.  You needed to get out, breathe in the fresh air and just forget about everything.

It was probably nearing midnight, and even though it was late July, you still shivered when you stepped outside the club. Just then you remembered you left your jacket back in the paddock. And you also realized the mechanic and his group of friends drove you here, and you had no idea where you were or how to get to your hotel room.

“Great. Just fucking perfect,” you mumbled to yourself, a few tears running down your cheeks. You wiped them away, willing yourself to calm down. Budapest couldn't be too different from other European cities, so you'd just walk to the nearest public transport station and then see what you could do from there. Yes, that was exactly what you're going to do, and it's going to be okay.

Having a plan calmed you down, at least a little. You walked in a direction you hoped would get you to the center and took your phone out. The battery was low, and you cursed yourself for not charging it during the day.

“Where are you going?” You winced and nearly dropped the phone when you heard the loud voice calling after you.

When you turned around, you already knew exactly who was standing before the club entrance.

“That's not any of your business,” you tried to sound tough, but it came out tired and weak. So instead, you lifted your head, trying to save the remaining bits of your dignity.

Alonso tilted his head, brown eyes studying you for a moment before he made a step towards you. “Don't tell me you don't have anyone to take you back to your hotel?” The undertone of his voice was strange, and if you didn't know better, you'd think it was worry seeping out.

“Oh, then I won't tell you,” you fired back, satisfied with your own answer as you turned around and left him standing there.

You made it around the block when a strong hand suddenly grasped your hand, and you screamed, prepared to fight whoever attacked you.

“¡Ay dios mío!” Alonso cursed and held his red cheek, where there was a clear hand print now.

You stared at each other in shock. You wanted to kill him for scaring you to death, but at the same time, you were relieved it was just him and not a creepy kidnapper.

“I'd say I'm sorry… but I'm not,” you managed to mumble. A weak attempt, you knew that. But it still seemed to wake him from his trance and make him scoff at you in annoyance.

However, he didn't let go of your hand.

“Let's go,” Alonso urged you back towards the direction you came from.

“I'm not going anywhere with you.”

“Y/N, if you think I would let a drunk girl wander around a city she doesn't know, alone, at night… then you clearly don't know me at all.”

It took a few seconds for his words to hit you, and all there was left for you to do was to look up at him with surprise written all over your face. That seemed to annoy him for some reason, but with alcohol still very much present in your system, you didn't have the capacity to think about it too much.

“Let's go,” he repeated, though this time you didn't protest when he started walking towards what turned out to be his car. You knew it very well, from the years you used to work together, for the same team. Silently, you wondered how the hell did he get it to Hungary, but you soon forgot about that.

Fernando unlocked the car and opened the passenger door for you. Your mom would probably tell you to be more cautious about getting into the car of a man you didn't like and were sure he didn't like you as well. But hey, it's still better than being lost in a foreign city, right?

So you sat down, and before you could reach for the seatbelt, he took it and strapped you himself, mumbling something about safety hazards with drunk people. You were so surprised by that unexpected action you didn't even have time to feel offended.

You closed your eyes, the comfortable seat making you sleepy. You heard him get in the car as well and join the night traffic. For a moment, silence reigned and for the first time in a long time, it didn't feel horrible and tense.

“Isn't it illegal to drive with alcohol?” you whispered, eyes still closed.

“I didn't drink anything in the club. Too busy with you.”

Just then, you realized you actually asked the question out loud.

“Sorry for ruining your celebration night. Probably didn't want to leave it with me,” you laughed quietly. When he approached you in the club, he thought you were a random pretty woman with whom he could share a drink and take her to his bed for a fun night.

“Whatever.” You could hear him shrug his shoulders. “Sorry for ruining your night. Though you don't have much to celebrate.”

That made you open your eyes and gaze at him. He was looking straight ahead, concentrating on the road ahead. The lights of the other cars occasionally landed on his face, and you wondered if he was always so handsome, or it were the cocktails speaking for you.

“Wow, even in an apology there's a hidden insult,” you snickered, though there was a small grin on your lips now. Yes, definitely the alcohol speaking for you, you told yourself.

This time, Fernando actually looked at you before he averted his sight back to the traffic. “I wasn't insulting you, Y/N. I was insulting the team.”

You raised your eyebrows, but didn't comment on it. It was pointless to argue over this, he had his opinion about Alpine and given the fact both your cars didn't finish two races in a row, you didn't have exactly the best arguments to convince him otherwise. After all, he was part of the team last year. And the year before.

For the rest of your ride, there wasn't much more said between the both of you. You were tired — not just because of the night out and drinking, but from the whole week, from the whole season.

Finally, he parked the car before a building you recognized. You didn't ask him how he knew which hotel your team booked, perhaps he remembered it was the same one as the year before. Honestly, you were just glad he helped you get out of the car and walked you inside.

Then, you found yourself in an elevator alone with Fernando, again. Though unlike a month ago, he gently held your hand for support this time.

You told him your room number and somehow, he got you all the way in front of the door. You thanked all the saints in the world when you dug the keys out of your purse. After three unsuccessful tries at unlocking the room, Fernando's patience apparently ran out. He took the keys out of your hand and silently opened the lock.

“Thanks,” you muttered, and let him lead you inside your own hotel room.

When the light switch turned on and illuminated all the papers lying around, he looked at you, flabbergasted.

“What's all this?”

You shrug your shoulders and look at him like he was stupid. Which he was, at least in your humble opinion. “Work. What else?”

“Yes, yes. But why is it… here?” He motions towards the desk, nightstands, and bed.

“Because I don't have time to do it all in the office.”

“You work overtime?”

Now you were starting to get irritated.

“Yes, I work overtime. Maybe if you weren't so insistent in thinking I'm a dumb party girl ever since I made one stupid mistake in your car's analysis a year ago, you'd see I'm actually trying my best.” You hated how hurt you sounded, pathetic in your own ears.

But honestly, who was he to judge you? You never actually stood up to him before, defended yourself against his mean words. You always sucked it up, let him complain about you to your boss, who almost fired you because of the driver's obvious distaste for you. And when he left the team at the end of last year, you never tried to contact him, talk to him. Fix your non-existent relationship.

Today, though, you had enough. Maybe it was the alcohol giving you courage, maybe it was his shocked face when he realized you actually did your job.

“Y/N, I-”

“Get out,” you said in a tone that didn't allow for any objections. Fernando seemed to understand, but the pained expression didn't leave his face when he slowly walked to the door. Like he didn't really want to leave, like he desperately wanted to tell you something.

You didn't care about him. He never cared about you before as well, did he?

And so, with one last, regretful look in his dark eyes, Fernando Alonso left your hotel room. When tears ran down your cheeks, you weren't sure why you were even crying.

-----

You were avoiding him after that. It wasn't the easiest thing to do, but you managed and after surviving the Belgian Grand Prix in Spa, you were excited about the summer break as never before. Almost a whole month without races, which meant you wouldn't have to meet anyone from the other teams, including Fernando.

Usually, the team worked tirelessly through the summer break — it was a great chance to have a proper look into the car's engine and come up with new ideas and improvements. God knew you needed that. Typically, you were amongst those loyal employees, basically living in the Alpine headquarters.

However, this year you really wanted a break. So you used your vacation days and stayed in your flat, finally sleeping like a normal person for once, eating home-cooked meals instead of team catering and enjoying the summer, though the weather could be better in England.

It was the start of August when you started finding flower deliveries on the threshold of your door. First, you thought it's a mistake, though what woman would refuse a beautiful bouquet of her favorite flowers. When it happened a whole week in a row, you thought about having a secret admirer or, in the worse case scenario, a stalker. Though, you still took the flowers inside every morning, cherishing them.

And then, one day, there was an envelope attached to the bouquet, and you had to curse yourself for being so, so stupid. Of course it's him, Fernando. Begging you to talk to him, to let him explain. One dinner, he said. One dinner, and then he'll let you go on about your life.

When he tried to write a poem in the middle of August, you finally gave in. You found his old phone number saved amongst many other contacts and sent him a simple “okay”.

The next morning, there was a time and address of the restaurant in the envelope.

You didn't let yourself get too excited about any of it. It's Fernando Alonso, the man who almost caused you to get fired from your dream job, the one that was so mean to you after making wrong assumptions about you and your way of life. Yes, he was trying now, but was that enough?

When the taxi dropped you off in front of the fancy restaurant, you took a deep breath. You had a simple dress on, light makeup, and a few accessories.

You walked into the empty restaurant. The waitress smiled at you when you told her the name of the reservation and led you to the only set table. You could see the deep brown eyes looking directly at you from afar.

Suddenly, nervousness settled in your stomach. If you didn't know better, you'd think this was a date — it certainly felt like one.

Without a word, he helped you sit down on a chair across from him and the waitress handed you the menu. It was without prices, but you were certain this place was lavish and expensive. Perhaps Fernando didn't want you to worry about it and let you order anything you wanted. And you tried not to be too impressed by that.

“You look very beautiful, hermosa,” he spoke after a minute of tense silence while you pretended to be interested in the menu. You didn't miss the fact he used the same nickname like that night in the club, when he thought you were someone else.

“Compliments won't make it easier for you.” Maybe you lied, because you liked him calling you beautiful.

“I know, but I couldn't help myself.”

The waitress came back with a bottle of wine that Fernando must've ordered before you arrived. You took a sip and it tasted like heaven. It almost made you forget about everything, almost.

“Please, can we talk?” You never heard his voice sound so… unsure.

“Aren't we talking right now?”

“Y/N.” The way he said your name was so soft, so delicate.

“Fernando.” You saw him flinch, and you realized it was probably the first time you called him by his first name. Suddenly, the whole situation felt more intimate.

He gulped, but there was determination written all over his face. Fernando Alonso wasn't the type of man to give up, you knew that. His amazing racing career was proof of that.

“Listen to me, please. I know that you have the right to never speak to me again after how I treated you. But I want to fix it, Y/N.”

Those brown eyes were going to be the death of you, burying themselves into your soul, your heart.

“I want to fix all of it, Y/N,” he repeated with all seriousness. “If you let me,” Fernando added.

And how could you say no to him? Deep down, you always admired him. Liked him, even. Before that fuck up with his car's analysis, you thought he might like you back. You always wanted his approval, and that was one of the reasons why his words and insults hurt so much.

Sometimes, people deserved second chances. Especially when they were looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

Slowly, you nodded. “I think I might let you, Fernando.” You smiled, liking how his name felt on your tongue. “But it's not going to be easy, I'm telling you that,” you warned him with a raised finger.

“I wouldn't dream of anything less,” he replied with a thick Spanish accent that was stronger when he felt emotions. Fernando returned your smile and clinked his glass with yours.

-----

Brazil was a good race. Both Alpine cars ended up in points and Fernando, your Fernando, got another podium. You clapped along with others during the podium ceremony, eyes just for him. A proud feeling settled in you, and as he accepted his trophy for well deserved third place, he looked down at the gathered crowd. Mostly people from Aston Martin, McLaren, and Red Bull.

And then there was you — in your Alpine t-shirt, clapping for the driver who scandalously left your team last year, without a care in the world. That was when he knew he loved you, and that he'll always will.

You knew you loved him too when, after all the celebrating around the circuit died down or moved to clubs and private parties, instead of going to his hotel room, he knocked on the door of yours. Checking on you.

“Hermosa, I hope you're not working.” He rolled his eyes as he stepped in, seeing you indeed staring into your notebook at some data he probably shouldn't see as a part of a rival team.

“But Nando, I need to finish these-”

He cut you off the best way he could — hugging you from behind, gently turning your head towards him and placing his lips on yours. You instantly melted into the kiss, giving up the fight before it could even start.

“I think you need to properly celebrate your boyfriend winning,” he smirked, biting your lip teasingly. You felt like a teenage girl when the butterflies took off in your stomach.

Fernando slowly walked you to the bed, never parting your lips, as if his life depended on kissing you. You sat on his lap, your hips grinding against his as you moaned into his mouth.

And he couldn't help himself. He wanted to take you out on a magical date and tell you there, but how could he keep it a secret when you were sitting on him, so beautiful that his heart clenched. Smart and pretty girl. His smart and pretty girl.

“Te amo,” he whispered into your sweet lips, and your breath caught.

You pulled back a little, looking at him, silently asking if you heard him correctly.

“Te amo, Y/N,” he repeated. You knew enough Spanish for your eyes to tear up. “I love you very much.”

There was a heartbeat of silence, probably the longest one in your whole life.

“I love you too. So much,” you whispered back. And then, for him: “Te amo, Fernando.”

Now it was his turn to tear up, hold your face in his hands and press your foreheads together.

Perhaps the fate and its plans for you weren't so horrible after all.

THE END

Author's Note: Wow, if you read it all to the end, thank you very much! I'll be glad for likes, comments, reblogs, follows and every other way of support. Let me know how you liked this story and if you'd maybe like another oneshot from this "universe" because I have to admit, this version of Fernando and Y/N kind of grew on me... Have a great day and see you at the next post! :)