#i have two hot water bottles and three blankets and a cup of tea | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yangrdn · 4 years ago

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cough cough

pairing: peter parker x gn!reader, non-superhero AU

a/n: this is my entry for @worldoftom's lolbrosgetsicktoo challenge! i loved writing sick!peter, it was v v cute. also, whilst writing this i'm sick, also a cold and my throat hurt until three days a go for three weeks straight. writing this was basically me wanting to have a peter to look after me, so i put him in my position. feedback is really appreciated and i hope you enjoy reading this <3

ps: i put the prompt at the end bc i assumed it'd spoil a little of the story if i put it at the start. so if you want to know the prompt first, just scroll down.

summary: peter gets a sore throat.

w/c: 3.8k

warnings: mentions of vomiting, description of taking painkillers, sick and whiny peter

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there are a lot of things peter’s good at. he nails every test that is thrown at him. if you asked him a question about physics, he’d give you the right answer right away. basically, peter’s smart. like, really smart. now, there’s always that one thing he is not smart enough for and needs your help for.

taking care of his body.

with that, he could get all the help possible, and would still fail. may already tried her best, telling him to zip his jacket when going out and it’s raining. or you’d tell him how he should’ve stayed at home instead of riding his bike to your apartment right after taking a shower. he had worn only a shirt and a pair of jeans, saying it was hot and that the sun was out.

you, on the other hand, were just pissed your boyfriend had risked getting sick again, because you know you’ll have to take care of him. not because may told you to, nope. peter just didn't let anyone come near him when sick, besides you. although it does make you question whether he does it because he wants you close, even when he feels like melting because of his fever, or that he wants you to get sick, too.

and now, here you are. walking to peter’s flat after may called you and informed you about your “over dramatic” boyfriend. he was asking for you the whole day, and wouldn't let her sit down for even a minute, she said to you on the phone after you agreed to come over. you feel bad for her. She was up everyday, working her ass off, only to come home to Peter complaining about his pain. Taking care of him so she could at least get a day off from a whining Peter was the least you can do right now.

You knock on the door twice and start taking off your shoes. It wasn’t raining, but you don’t want to enter the flat with dirty shoes and leave more work when you leave. May opens the door, a tired smile across her face and a relieved sigh leaving her lips when she notices it’s you standing there.

“Hi, May,” you smile at her and give her a side hug, already peeking behind her and seeing two empty boxes of tissues. You frown and pull back as you enter the room.

“He won’t shut up about his throat. His voice is nearly gone, so he won’t be able to talk that much,” she informs you and closes the door behind you as you make your way to Peter’s room. You nod and turn around.

“It’s okay, I’ll make sure he gets enough sleep anyways,” you tell her. May silently thanks you with two thumbs up as she walks slowly to her room, closing the door quietly.

You knock on Peter’s door softly, not wanting to barg in if he’s doing something or wake him up. When you get no response, you open the door and step in. The room is dark, the only light coming in from the sun shines shining through the blinds. On Peter’s desk, books are piled up and you assume those are all for his missing assignments. A pout forms on your lips as you realize he’ll need to do all his missing work for school once he feels better. You make a mental note to help him as you roll up the blinds, only enough to illuminate the room more. When your eyes cast on the brown haired boy laid on the bed, the pout is quickly replaced by a soft smile.

Peter’s laying on his bed, blanket draped over his body and only covering his hips and left leg, soft snores leaving his lips. He’s only wearing a pair of boxers, his chest glistening with sweat. Your eyes widen as you walk closer to him, placing your palm on his forehead. A quiet gasp leaves your lips once you feel how hot his forehead is. He stirs awake slowly, only moving his head away from your palm and whining. You try to stifle a laugh and make the thin blue blanket cover at least half his body. His eyes open, blinking rapidly as he adjusts to the new light.

“Ugh,” he groans and hides his face behind his hands. Peter’s head is spinning, his eyes only adding more pain when he opens them. You sit on the bed, making sure not to touch him and hand him the glass of water on his nightstand. After revealing his face, he sits up slowly and takes the glass. Drowning it in slow and painful gulps, Peter lets out a hiss after setting the glass back down on the nightstand.

Now that he’s fully awake, you take a second to examine his sick state. His cheeks are rosy, you can basically see that the poor boy is burning up. His head is leaned back against the cool wall and his eyes squeezed shut due to his headache.

“I’m in so fucking much pain,” he whines and opens one eye, squinting and looking at you. You sigh, taking note of the crack in his voice. May wasn’t lying when she said he had a hard time talking.

“May told me. Did you eat today?” He frowns and shuts his eyes again.

“No, I- I-,” he stops talking and coughs, hissing as he feels more pain in his throat. You take the water bottle next to him and quickly fill up the glass again, handing it to him. After another painful gulp, he continues.

“May made me soup, but I didn’t finish it,” he croaks out. You purse your lips and nod.

“You lay back down. I’ll get you some painkillers, make you tea and then come back here, ok?” He nods and opens his mouth.

“Ah, ah ah, no talking for you. I see the pain you’re in right now. I’d tell you I told you so when you came over, wet and only with a t-shirt, but then you’d start arguing.” With that, you leave his room and make sure to leave the door open behind you, enough to hear Peter in case he calls for you. You make your way to the open kitchen and take out the water heater, a bag of camomile tea from the cabinet and let the water boil. While it’s boiling, you search through the other cabinets for painkillers, until you find a packet of Ibuprofen. After checking and making sure it’s not past its expiration date and that Peter’s old enough to take it, you place it on the counter and take out a teacup, throwing the tea bag in and waiting for the water to end. After a minute, you slowly fill the cup, careful not to burn yourself. You take the painkillers, turn around and walk back to Peter, balancing the full tea cup in your left hand as you softly blow in it. It should be hot, but not too hot for Peter to burn himself when drinking.

You shove the door open with your foot and step in, placing the cup on Peter’s nightstand. He was already waiting for you, glass filled with water in hand and eyes narrowed at the door.

“Take these,” you whisper, handing him the painkillers and sitting on the side of his bed, only close enough for your thigh to be touching his hip. He plops a pill in his mouth, gulping it down and shaking his head.

“I can’t even swallow pills,” he groans. You lift your hand up, caressing the side of his face with your palm. A content sigh leaves his lips as you let your thumb gently caress his cheekbone. Pecking his lips softly, you ask.

“Do you want to sleep? I can close the blinds again and-” He shakes his head and takes your hand in his. “Can we watch a movie?” He whispers. You nod and help him move to the side on his bed. He takes the blanket with him, lifting it up and patting the empty side next to him.

You shake your head. “You’ll lay on me. I don’t want to put my whole body on you.”

“What,” A soft laugh escapes your lips. “I’m always the one laying on you. Let me take care of you,” Peter’s about to complain, but you’re already comfortably on the bed and patting your lap.

“Next time you-” You shush him, pulling the blanket over the two of you and grab the laptop sitting on his nightstand. He chooses a movie and places the laptop in front of you two.

“You’re lucky we have no school tomorrow. Else you’d be drowning in work,” you whisper into his hair. He sighs and glances at the pile of sheets and books on his desk.

“Already happening.” You giggle at his statement and turn your eyes back to the movie playing.

Midst watching the movie, Peter fell asleep on your lap and started snoring. A small smile displays on your face, watching your boyfriend lay comfortably with you and feel safe. You start running your hand through his hair as he stirs in his sleep, face squished against your stomach.

When he wakes up, he starts groaning and raising his head to look at you. You grin at him and peck his lips.

“Sleep good?” He shakes his head and lets it fall back on your stomach, nuzzling his nose against the fabric covering it and letting out a content sigh.

“I’m still in pain, but I guess it’ll get better later,” he says, his voice muffled. You nod and purse your lips, thinking.

“Wait, Peter.” He frowns at your worried tone and looks up at you again.

“Didn’t we buy those tickets for the concert tomorrow?” You nod to his desk. His head turns to the side you’re looking at, eyes widening and staring back at you.

“Shit, you’re right. Fuck I’m-” he starts and lowers his gaze to your lap,” I’m sorry we can’t go to the concert tomorrow because of me. I know how much you like-” You quickly shut him up by cupping his face in your hands, pouting and shaking your head.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, babe. You’re sick and I want to take care of you. We can repeat this another time,” you say gently, staring into his eyes as the frown on his face deepens.

“But you always said how excited you were for this” he protests.

“I am, yeah, but I’d rather stay at home with you than going there alone and letting my boyfriend here. Or worse, dragging you with me,” you tell him. You see the corners of his lips pick up and feel your own eyes lit up as he tries to hide his smile.

“You don’t want me to go!” A dramatic gasp leaves your mouth and you throw your head back.

“What- no! I just- I like it when…” he trails off and leaves you silent. You stare back at him, raising a brow and waiting for his answer. “I said that I just want to spend time with you and I’m kind of happy you’re staying here,” he whispers.

You grin and pull his face closer to yours, noses almost touching.

“You’re so in love with me,” He rolls his eyes and pushes you back, not before kissing the palm of your hand. “Yeah yeah I am. Am I not allowed to?”

You smirk and drape your arm over him as he shuffles closer to you.

A week later, Peter’s still sick. Or at least, that’s what aunt May told you. He didn’t leave his bed for hours and you slowly started to worry whether to take him to the doctors or not. You noticed the dark circles under his eyes from hours of studying and doing assignments that were already due last week. Why would he stay up at night, if he was sick? It’s what made you think whether he’s really faking it. He wouldn’t fake being sick and stay up the whole night, right?

“Y/N, did Peter tell you when he’ll come back?” Your head snaps up to the teacher talking to you, frowning and shaking your head.

“He didn’t. He’s been really sick for a little more than a week now, I don’t think he’ll come back this week yet.” The teacher nods and carries on with the class, taking a pen and starting to write something into a brown book.

You feel a light tap on your shoulder and turn around, being greeted with Ned’s worried expression.

“You sure he’s alright? He didn’t text me either,” he checks.

“He did throw up like three times last week,” you trail off, thinking about how your boyfriend called you three times from Tuesday to Wednesday, telling you he threw up and asking if you could come over.

“I’ll go to his later anyways, should I tell him to talk to you?” Ned only nods, lowering his eyes back to the paper in front of him and starting to write down his answers quickly.

You knock on Peter’s door after May let you in. She was in a hurry, talking about having a job interview in twenty minutes and being late as she left you in the living room, closing the door to the bathroom behind her.

There’s a faint “yeah” when you open the door, looking through the crack into his room and staring at the figure hunched up under blankets. Your eyes soften as you step into the room, closing the door silently. The blinds are up, different from the other day. His room also looks cleaner. He must’ve cleaned up the pile of clothes that was there last week and tidied his desk. You frown as you look at his bed. Yesterday he told you his head hurt too much and that he felt dizzy when standing up. Must’ve been May, probably, you shrug and walk closer to his bed, sitting down at the end of it.

“Hey,” His voice startles you. There isn’t a crack in it anymore and his eyes don’t squint as much at the bright lighting in his room as they did the last time you were here. You hum and lean back on your arms.

“How are you feeling?” you ask.

“Pretty good.” He peaks up from under the blanket, smiling at you. His eyes widen when he realizes what he just said and starts coughing. You frown and sit up straight, arm stretched out ready to grab the glass of water next to him.

“Uh, compared to last week. Yes, pretty good compared to last week,” he adds quickly and hides back under the blanket. You giggle and shuffle closer to his form, running your hand through his locks under the blanket and earning a sigh from him. He likes it when you touch him, whether it’s hugging, running your hand through his hair, or when you’d cling into his biceps as the headboard hit against the wall repeatedly. There is always physical touch between the two of you.

“Do you want to drink something? I’ll go make you another tea,” you propose and stand up, leaving his bed. He nods and smiles at you. You leave the room and walk into the kitchen. This time, you close the door to his room completely. He’s feeling much better than last week, but also acting suspicious. Peter wouldn’t skip school and act sick. It 's not like him. Like, at all. Right?

The door to his room is closed, so the first thing Peter decides to do when you leave is jump out the bed and walk to his desk, taking his phone and getting back into his comfortable bed. He makes sure you can't hear any frantic steps or movements.

After you left Peter's room the first night he asked you to stay, he started to like the attention you were giving him. It's not that you don't pay attention to your boyfriend. In fact, Peter may be in the center of your attention and you his. You two make sure to show each other the love you feel and that you care.

It's just that with your busy schedules and upcoming exams, spending time together wasn't your top priority anymore. He misses the days when you'd go to Delmar's with him after school, instead of instantly leaving because of an essay that was due that same week. So he decided to do what he does, in his opinion, best. Lie. Act sick.

He did feel bad when he first started coughing every time May was around and she worried for him, but at some point he realized staying at home a little longer wasn’t that bad and he could use some time away from school. Although he could’ve just told May he was in pressure and wanted to stay home for a couple of days, he’d rather use this option.

Peter suits himself in his bed and turns on the phone, already flooded by texts from Mj and Ned telling him the homework they got for today and texts from Ned asking where he was at, and why he stays home for this long. He stifles a laugh at the memes Ned sent into the group chat and glances to the door at the muffled steps he heard. When he’s sure there isn’t anyone close to his room, he returns his eyes to the screen of his phone.

You’re on the other side of the door, side of your face pressed against the door and holding in your breath to not get noticed. You heard a laugh when you were in the kitchen. You left Peter laying in his bed, he was too dizzy to get up and grab his phone. You raise a brow and lean closer to the door, daring to press down the doorknob and silently stepping in, halting in the open doorway with your hand on your hip and an expectant expression.

Peter is sitting up on his bed, covers long forgotten on the end of it and phone in hand. He’s laughing at something playing on his screen, not noticing you standing in the room yet. You click your tongue, pursing your lips and waiting for your presence to be noticed. When your boyfriend throws his head back, letting out another loud laugh, you decide to let him know you’re there.

“oh, ok. so i see you’re better?” you quirk a brow, smirking. his eyes widen and his head snaps to you, watching you through plate-wide eyes. he sucks in a breath and puts his lip in a thin line.

“uhm, you’re back?” he croaks out. a nervous giggle leaves his lips and he shrugs with a smile plastered on his face, biting his bottom lip. “i- i feel better,” you roll your eyes and place the cup of tea on his desk, making him frown.

“you didn’t really think i’d place it next to you? i see you’re better, go get it yourself.” he opens his mouth, only to shut it again. it was true, he looks and feels much better than last week. and peter knows he’s back to his healthy state, he just kept it from you. which is why he’s shocked at first, then frowns and groans.

“come on! yes i feel better, but can you give me the cup?” he asks. you shake your head, balancing your weight on one leg, jutting your hip out. oh, peter knows that look on your face. you’re not happy. not utterly disappointed, but you don’t seem the happiest either.

“no way you made me and may care for you for a whole week straight, when you didn’t feel sick!” you throw your hands up in the air, letting out an annoyed huff. he whines at you in a clearly irritated state and juts out his lip, trying to look as sad as possible.

“no, don’t pull that face on me. i’m pissed off,” you mutter as you walk to him, sitting down on his bed with your back to his figure. “please? i’m sorry i lied,” he starts. you frown, turning around.

“why did you, in the first place. you now have much more work to do. oh, and have fun explaining may why you lied about being sick. she stayed up with you at night, hell, i went to sleep at three for you! peter, we had school at seven!” you cry out.

the boy on the bed with you just shrugs, not exactly knowing what to say next.

“i guess i liked the attention i got.” you huff and take a glance at him. when he stays serious, you turn your whole body to him. “you liked the attention i gave you?” you ask in disbelief. he slowly nods.

“do i not give you attention?” you worry. he quickly shakes his head, arms out to reach for your hands. “no! you do, it’s just, with school and everything,...” he trails off. you nod and squeeze his hand, demanding for him to look up at your face.

“i know we don’t spend as much time together as we used to, anymore. but peter, you know i’m in so much pressure because of school! besides, don’t you have to focus on school, too? and may also told you you should look for an internship because you didn’t get one last year,” you reason. he lets go off your hand, clearly not amused.

“i told her i don’t want one. what will it do?” “uh, look good on your college applications?” you say, as if it was the most obvious thing on earth. he chuckles.

“besides that. i’ll find one, i just want to spend time with you for now,” he says softly as he scoots closer to your warm body. you put your arms around him, laying your head on his placed on your chest.

“i do too, pete. but i promise that in,” you stop and cran your neck to look behind you at the calender he’s got hung on the wall, “in five weeks we’ll be able to cuddle and watch movies like we did before again. now, we need to focus on school and you on your missed assignments,” you sigh. you feel him tense under you.

“what?! five weeks!” you smirk against his hair and squeeze him tighter.

“i was joking! two actually. but, until then, you’re stuck with me anyway studying so it won’t be that big of a problem if i stay away from you for one day,” you laugh and kiss his temple. he nuzzles into your chest, inhaling in your sent and sighing. “as long as we spend that time together, i don’t care how long it is until we finish all exams,” he whispers against you.

Prompt: Non-Superhero AU. Peter gets a sore throat! Which is very ill-timed, because him and the reader had plans to go to a concert, but they ditched in favor of the reader taking care of Peter. Days pass by and Peter is still "sick". Spoiler, he's just faking it at this point because he's enjoying the extra attention he's getting from his partner.

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honeymoonjin · 5 years ago

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

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:

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

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

DAY EIGHTEEN

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook is antsy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh! Daddy, yes, right there!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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thenextchapter22 · 4 years ago

Text

Stuffies

PART 3! Sick Cuddles!

Description: You are in sick and need of lot of hugs and cuddles!

or….adventures and cute stories with a reader/MC who carries stuffed animals around all over Devildom.

Pairing(s): NONE!

Word Count: 2,436

Link to my AO3: Click Here

Author’s Notes: So sorry for the long wait, I am super happy to be writing again! Enjoy the fluff~

Part One Part Two

_+_

This was the worst ever. You would think the common cold had no place in the Devildom but how wrong you were.

You coughed into your forearm and groaned. “Whyyy me,” you moaned.

Lucifer sighed. “Because you decided to go on a midnight stroll with Mammon. With no coat, might I add.”

You glared halfheartedly at him, but he glared ten times stronger back. He was too powerful. You sniffled and melted back into your bed, laying against a stack of stuffed animals and fluffed up pillows. Everything was sore, and you were freezing. So cold that even the multitude of fluffiness around you did nothing.

The Avatar of Pride hovered over you, his arms crossed and stern looking. “Just rest for now. I have Solomon preparing some medicine that you’ll be able to take.”

You stiffened. “So-solomon…?”

He chuckled. “Don’t worry. While his food is terribly inedible, he is one of the best potion makers we have around. I trust him in this.”

“You won’t let me die, will you Luci?” you said, then sneezed violently. So bad your entire head shook.

He made a disgusted face, but afterward he nodded at your question. “I won’t let you die.”

You reached a hand out, clenching and unclenching it, and whispered, “Come here.”

Lucifer looked a little scared at first, because Lucifer did not seem to like anything to do with colds at all, but he did lean down, probably feeling bad for you. So you took your chance and grabbed his oversized sleeve and tugged. He wasn’t ready for that and stumbled into your bed, and you held on to him like he was a giant stuffie. You hummed at his warmth.

“What are you doing!?” he shouted, struggling immediately. He was clearly not trying to hurt you but also trying to get out of your clutches. He pulled back far enough to be able to look at your sickly expression and furrowed his brows.

You shushed him, “My head hurts, I’m cold, just snuggle me for a bit… please?” Being sick was awful, and all you wanted was a hug. Couldn’t he allow you that much?

Lucifer was the only brother you hadn’t gotten a pact from yet, so you couldn’t exactly force him (not like anyone else would reject your hugs, especially Belphie or Asmo).

Lucifer was stiff and looking out of place in his full outfit while you were in pajamas and a haphazard blanket thrown over you. Still, soon enough he sighed for the umpteenth time as he looked at your face, which you hoped showed the misery you were feeling. “I will allow you ten minutes. That is all I will allow, understand?”

That was plenty enough time, you would no doubt fall asleep by then. He hummed. His hand came to rest on your lower back a moment later. Then he scooted backwards until he was sitting partially up on the bed, and you lay in his lap instead.

You smiled and pulled your blanket over yourself more and pressed your face into his chest, feeling his body heat start to overcome your own coldness. “Thank you.”

“Rest now. Your medicine will be here soon.”

You fell asleep to his soft touches on your head and back, warm and comforted.

_+_

“Noooo…” you cried. You clutched to your chest Po and avoided the spoonful of medicine being pushed at you. “It stiiiinks…”

Solomon sighed. Luke laughed. They both came by to check on you, and Solomon to drop off the potion. It wasn’t going so well for you at all. But, Luke was like an cuddle bug and because he was an Angel this sickness couldn’t get to him so you could snuggle him, too. He currently lay beside you, giggling.

“You have to drink it, or you won’t get any better,” Solomon said. He tried to push the spoon at you again, but you pursed your lips together and moved your head.

“I can just sleep it off, please don’t make me,” you sniffled.

Luke pet your arm. “Solomon, isn’t there any other way?”

“No, Luke, she has to drink this. Twice a day. For the next three days.”

You sobbed. “Why meee…”

The door burst open, and in came Beel. His twin was being dragged right behind him. “I heard you were sick. Are you eating?”

Belphie yawned. “I can put you to sleep, too,” he murmured. He took a seat on the other side of the bed, and over took your pillows and stuffies. You let him, he was warm and smelled like chamomile and it was comforting.

The sorcerer in the room sighed from where he stood at your bedside, hovering with a potion bottle in one hand and spoonful of the same substance in the other. He looked frustrated, but that didn’t mean you felt sympathy. You were not taking that stuff. “She just needs to drink this and go to bed. A little help would be great,” he said dryly.

Beel frowned at the potion. “It smells.”

You nodded sadly.

“But if she has to,” Beel continued.

You gasped. “Beel, no!” You were betrayed.

Belphie chuckled. “Here we go.”

What did that mean?

Suddenly, Beel was on the bed on his knees. You were so shocked you gasped, and in that shock he had taken the spoon from Solomon and shoved it between your open lips. You tried to move away before anything could happen, but his hand held the back of your head and his hand was so big and he was so strong you were defeated.

You swallowed, and then cried. Belphie and Luke both hushed you and pet your head and arms, Beel getting off the bed and doing the same.

“That—was—icky!” you cried. Your mouth tasted like sour candy, and you hated sour candy.

Beel shushed you. “You did such a good job,” he said. He put his hand on your forehead, and it was hot. “You need to rest, your fever is high and you need to sleep. Belphie?”

“On it,” the younger twin said.

You were put on your side, Belphie behind you, and Luke took this as his time to move. He frowned at you but let the twins do their job. Still, he handed you Po, who had fallen off the bed, and you thanked him.

Belphie’s voice was in your ear, and you couldn’t recall what he was saying exactly but the intention was clear: go to sleep. And you did, with a terrible taste in your mouth.

_+_

“She looks so pale, poor lovely,” Asmo pouted.

“We should give her something to eat,” Beel said.

“Can she even eat?” Mammon asked.

“Of course she can, dufus,” Satan responded. “She can have broths and tea, and probably some crackers and juice. And of course she needs to rehydrate so lots of water.”

You felt surrounded and like a Zoo animal. You were laying on the common room sofa, having had 2 days of drinking Solomon’s nasty potion and lots of bedrest. Lucifer gave you permission to leave the bedroom as long as you stayed in this one room.

So of course, everyone came to see you. You came in around noon after waking up late, and had been in here quietly for a few hours before they came home from RAD.

“Ah, she looks so cute with her stuffed doggy, though, doesn’t she?”

You whimpered when Asmo said that, and pressed your face into Fido’s belly. He just cooed again. You didn’t know what it was, but right then you just wanted to be left alone and to breathe. You’d been cramped in your room for so long and now you felt cramped again. You felt a tear slip out of your eye, and tried to push yourself further into the couch.

“Enough. She needs to rest still. You all need to stop hovering around her and speaking as if she is not there.”

Lucifer came in the room and Simeon was behind him with a tray. The Angel had come over to check up on you and make sure you were taking your medicine as Solomon was out on an errand for Diavolo as of yesterday.

The brothers mumbled but moved away, wandering around the room.

“Sit up, please,” Simeon asked gently. You did, with some help from him maneuvering your blankets and pillows. He gently wiped at your cheek from the little tear drops that fell, and gave you a soft smile. “Here you go, darling,” he said, setting down over your lap a tray with warm soup and water. There was also a cup of steaming tea that smelled of honey.

“This is the last one and you have to take it.” Lucifer handed a potion bottle to Simeon along with a spoon, the Angel having taken a knee beside you. “She won’t do it herself, so you must force it on her.”

You glared at Lucifer, and he just raised a brow back but you saw a small smirk on his lips. He was not wrong…

Looking around at the brothers doing little things, Satan pretending to read, Asmo looking at his reflection in his hand held mirror but occasionally looking over at you, Beel and Mammon talking but pausing and glancing over at you and then acting all flustered when they saw you noticing them. It was overwhelming, and you still felt a little embarrassed being sick and fussed over like this.

You grabbed Fido and squeezed him for comfort.

Simeon hummed. “They’re just worried, lamb.”

You nodded. “I know, I’m just…”

“Tired? Wanting to be well again?” he guessed.

You nodded again. “Yeah…”

“Poor dear.” He pet your hair from your cheeks, and felt your forehead. “Still a bit warm, but you shouldn’t have a fever as of tomorrow.” He held out the spoonful of terror with an angelic smile. “One more, okay?”

You sniffled. “Okay…” You let him spoon feed you the potion, and you swallowed it with a grimace. He gave you water and you swished it around to which Simeon just laughed. “Ugh.”

Lucifer took the potion back from him. “Drink your tea and eat the soup. What you can’t stomach tell Mammon take away, this is partly his fault after all.” He titled his head at Mammon, who fussed but agreed. “And drink all the water as well, you’re obviously dehydrated.”

“I will, I promise.”

Lucifer gave his nod of acceptance. “Good girl. Simeon, let’s leave her be. She’ll be watched by my brothers for now.”

Simeon bid you a soft goodbye and a get well soon. Then it was time to eat. You struggled a bit, but ate half the soup and drank all the water. The tea was nice and tasted good, felt good on your throat, too.

Beel helped you settled back down while Mammon took the tray away. You thanked Beel for adjusting your blankets and pillows so they were fluffed up. He said, “I do it for Belphie’s bed all the time. Sometimes he forgets, and his neck hurts the next day.”

Satan glanced over at the tray before Mammon took it to set on a table in the corner of the room. “Not bad,” the blonde demon said. He quickly took a spot at the end of the sofa, and put your feet in his lap. “You should have eaten more, but that will do I suppose.”

You giggled when he tickled your ankle. “I’m full, Satan, I can’t eat anymore.”

Asmo half sat at the head of the couch, and he started to play with your hair. “Don’t force her to have any more or she might throw up.”

You tilted your head to let Asmo begin braiding your locks. “Mmm…” It was luring you into sleep, the soft touches on your scalp. Also the full stomach helped with that.

Asmo smiled down at you. “Go to sleep, dear,” he said. “The best medicine is a full 8 hours of beauty sleep~”

“No it isn’t,” Mammon said, leaning over the couch. “The best medicine is laughter.”

“Well, are you going to tell her a joke then?” Satan asked.

They proceeded to argue back and forth, and you yawned. There wasn’t time to ask them to stop, because sleep was coming fast. “Goo’night.”

They stopped arguing, and gave you soft ‘goodnights’ of their own. Even though it was 4 in the afternoon… And you went to sleep just like that.

When you woke up that night, you had been put back into your bed. Beside you lay your favorite trio of stuffies, Louie, Po, and Fido, and on the nightstand was a glass of water. You reached for the water and drank it all.

The clock said it was an hour past midnight. You were sleepy, but not from the sickness. In fact, you felt much better. But you wanted to cuddle someone…

You crept out of you room, after grabbing the smallest stuffie, Louie, to take, and knocked on Levi’s door. He was the one up at this hour a lot just like Lucifer.

“Password?”

You smiled and gave it. He heard your voice and opened the door, and was shocked to see you. “I—are you still sick, are you okay? Do you need anything? Water, or maybe some more tea? Lucifer told me that tea makes your throat feel better when humans are sick—”

“Levi,” you stopped him before he really rambled. You reached for him and hugged him. “Can I sleep in your tub-bed with you?”

He flinched, but then relaxed and hugged you back. “S-sure, c-come on it. I wasn’t going to bed soon because I have a game releasing in an hour but I can still cuddle you?”

You hummed, that sounded nice. “’kay…”

He climbed into his tub first, and then reached for you to lift you up and lay you in with him. Sometimes you forgot how strong he was. It took some expert maneuvering but you found a spot right between his shoulder and neck and snuggled in, Louie tucked in your arm. It was soft and warm. He put a fleece blanket over you both and that was even better.

Levi’s hand went up and down your back. “Sleep, little one,” he said, unlike him in the moment. He pet your hair and a soft rumble came from his chest.

The blue light from his fish tanks gave you a strange comfort and it lulled you to sleep along with his caresses. You did hate being sick, but all the cuddles were a big benefit.

#obey me fanficiton #shall we date obey me fanfiction #reader #reader fanfiction #obey me lucifer #obey me solomon #obey me simeon #obey me asmodeus #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me beel #obey me belphegor #obey me mammon #obey me luke #sickfic #fanfiction #ao3 link #my fics #stuffies reader fic

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echo-hiraeth · 4 years ago

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Chapter 8: Agente Peña

Part of the “Ilicit Limerence” series

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Summary: The reader comes to terms with the downsides of pregnancy and confides in Connie. Javier decides to spend some more time at home, taking his work with him.

Warnings: swearing, angst, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, nudity, mentions of sickness/vomiting

Masterlist

Previous chapter

Next chapter

Everything you knew about pregnancy you learned from watching television and so you’d expected the sickness and the glowing hair. But the migraines? Those were something you didn’t prepare for, your last week off work started out hunched over the sink, the nausea and continuous pounding in your head making you shiver.

It was just around noon now and you’d fought Javier over the phone, insisting you didn’t need a babysitter. He told you he’d head to your place on his lunch break, just to make sure you were okay. There was no stopping him, no amount of telling him off could change his mind.

He noticed it before he left this morning, the way you sat up a bit more in bed, eyes squeezed shut as you desperately tried to fall back asleep, telling him all he needed to know. But as soon as he offered to stay home with you another day, you pushed him away, rolling over on your side and just turning your back to him, literally. At the office he had to fight off the urge to call you every other minute, stomach in knots with worry. Was it normal to be that sick? He’d have to read up on some of those books Steve had been rambling about. Steve – that was the other thing, the tension was fucking horrid. He wouldn’t even look at Javier, just throw down the next folder on the desk. Javier was sick of it at this point, lighting yet another cigarette as he thought about how to go about this.

“I know we had.. words, but can we at least work together, like partners?”, he asked, puffing out a cloud of smoke.

“I’m sorry man, didn’t mean to be an ass, the girls just kept me up all weekend”, Steve sighed, reaching for the bottle of whiskey in the bottom drawer. “Con wouldn’t shut up.”

Javier shook his head slowly, taking another long drag of his cigarette. “I don’t fucking get them sometimes. One moment she’s practically begging me to stay with her and the next she’s just doing everything to get away from me.”

Steve quirked a brow at him. “Trouble in paradise? So soon?”

“I just want to check up on her, but she’s just so fucking stubborn”, he grunted, putting out the cig.

“Why don’t you take the paperwork home tonight, skip lunch so you can head home earlier.”

He looked at the phone, wondering if he should call to see if you needed him. “You’re probably right. She just drives me crazy man, in a good way, but still just crazy.”

His partner chuckled, knowing exactly what he was on about. He’d stay at the office another couple of hours and would bring the casefiles home.

A part of you had expected him to show up, a part of you really wanted him to be there, hands on your back, telling you it’d all be okay. You knew it wasn’t that big of a deal, just the morning sickness and headache kicking your ass as of right now. But you were too tired to deal with any of this, the dull aches of all your bruises and sore muscles not allowing you to get much sleep. You figured a warm shower would help, dragging yourself into the small bathroom, stripping yourself of your clammy and dirty clothes.

You put your hand under the stream, jerking it back when the water was ice cold. Shrugging a robe over your shoulders you sat down on the toilet seat, waiting for the water to heat up. It was well past one now, which meant any possibility of a lunchbreak visit was off the table. You got up again, only to find the same exact thing; freezing cold water. Not that you couldn’t take care of yourself, but you were no expert plumber. With a heavy sigh you made your way over to the landline in the living room, dialling up the landlord’s number, only to be met with his answering machine, over and over.

Desperate times call for desperate measures. You knew Connie worked parttime now, wanting to be home with Olivia more often, so you tested your luck and called the Murphy’s.

“Murphy.”

“Con, I’m sorry to bother you on your day off, but my shower broke and I’m all alone and I just feel so miserable and-“

“Shut up and get your ass over here”, she chuckled, Olivia babbling away in the back.

You smiled to yourself, already shrugging your robe off. “Dinner’s on me!”

A bag with a change of clothes and some snacks for the little one was all you brought with you. You had no trouble navigating through the busy streets and soon found yourself parking in front of the infamous apartment building. The days of sneaking out of the back entrance in the mornings were past you now. You sighed at the memory, feelings of guilt and shame now replaced by bliss and adoration. It wasn’t perfect, it didn’t have to be, but you were content.

The walk to Connie’s apartment seemed longer than ever. With shaky knees and heavy breaths you dragged yourself up the stairs, the elevator still out of order. You were lucky to have some friends here, it wasn’t often DEA agents had the privilege of keeping their friends from home, but Steve and Connie had made it abundantly clear that they were here to stay, Bogotá or not. They’d been there for you through the years as had you. You’d even been promoted to maid of honour at their wedding, and were put in charge of her hen party. The states were good times, but Colombia had been tougher on the three of you. While you and Steve had no problem leaving your families behind, Connie had proven to be rather close to her parents. That’s where you had come in, sweeping her out of her mellow state whenever she needed it to take her out into the city, dancing the night away. However, with you being pregnant and herself a new mother, it had become something of the past. Soon girls’ night would have a whole let alcohol and whole lot more diapers.

Connie opened up with a heartfelt smile, a giddy Olivia bouncing on her arm. “Towels are laid out for you, we’ll talk after.”

You smiled back at her, grateful for her understanding. She was the kind of friend that just had to take one look at you to know what was wrong and while it was really helpful sometimes, but God was it hard to keep a secret from that woman. It wasn’t hard to tell you were feeling like shit, your pale face and fading black eye were enough of an indicator. You kissed Olivia on the forehead, side-hugging Connie before heading to the bathroom.

With how tired you were, you didn’t even bother to conceal your injuries, even applying some loose powder had seemed too intense a task. You turned the water on, the warmth of it already fanning over your bare arms. When it hit your chest and stomach you let out a sigh of relief, the cold shivers finally faltering. You took your time, now that you weren’t on the verge of puking your guts out. You washed your hair twice, even conditioned it before moving on to the rest of your body, exfoliating and rinsing, just treating to yourself. By the time you wrapped the fluffy towels around yourself you were completely relaxed, ready to just hop into the bed and pass out for the day, but the wailing outside the door reminded you exactly where you were. You’d brought a long sweater, the evenings getting rather chilly mid-November. With half-dried hair and in some baggy jeans you stepped out of the bathroom, joining the two ladies on the couch.

“Thank you”, you muttered, slipping your hands around the cup of tea that was waiting for you on the coffee table.

“What’s got you down in the dumps?”, she asked, carefully sitting the baby down on the carpet.

You sighed, blowing at the hot drink. “I-I think it’s just registering now..”

She gave you a frown, scooting over a bit closer. “Do you regret it?”

The tears were burning in your eyes, a dull ache settling in the back of your throat as you tried to hold it together. “I’m terrified”, you breathed out.

That was your breaking point, the floodgates were open now and you were a sobbing mess as she wrapped her arms around you. “Oh hun, you should’ve called me”, she cooed.

While you and Connie talked about anything and everything, getting it all out, Javier was finishing up to go home early. Steve decided to stay back at the office, wanting “some damn peace and quiet”. With some casefiles in hand he left the embassy, stopping along the way to pick up one of your favourite snacks. Tonight would just be a slow night, he’d listen if you wanted to talk and if not he’d just work in silence. He really just wanted to have you close, so that he could personally ensure you were “fine”. He hated the way he’d left this morning, the way you were just curled up into yourself, shivering under the covers, but he didn’t want to get on your nerves, he was so scared to screw things up.

Treading up the steps to your apartment, he tried to think of something to say. He couldn’t help but feel guilty, you were sick because of his baby after all. Surely there was something he could think of. Your apartment was eerily calm when walked in, your heaps of blankets and pillows still there. He tiptoed his way over to the bedroom, heartbeat picking up a bit when he noticed you weren’t there either.

“Anyone home?”, he called out, checking the bathroom.

No reply. He scratched at his chin, contemplating what to do next. You did mention wanting to meet up with Connie over the weekend. Yeah, that seemed likely enough, no reason to panic (just yet). He sped his way back downstairs, panting due to all the climbing action and hopped in the car, heading for the other apartment complex. When he spotted your car he could breathe normally again, his worries somewhat soothed. His knock at the door was a loud, demanding one. Connie opened up once again, laying a finger on her lips so as to motion for him to be quiet. Javier stood there out of breath, nodding frantically before he stepped inside. And there you were, asleep on the couch with Olivia in your arms, a blanket sprawled out across the two of you.

He caught his breath, nodding at Connie as a way of saying thanks. She bumped her shoulder into his, smirking as she detected a hint of a smile on his lips. “She been here a while?”

“An hour or two. She came because your boiler broke, but turned out she really just needed to talk as well”, her voice was laced with a tone of sympathy as she nodded in your direction.

“Did she eat anything?”, he asked, not looking from you.

Connie shook her head. “We had some tea and then she fed the baby, they were both out soon after.”

They both chuckled at that, Javier planting his hands on his hips. “I’ll take her back to my place in a bit, so you can get some rest as well.”

“You’re always welcome, especially if she’s gonna put Liv asleep like that”, she joked, softly patting the man on the back.

“Is she err- is she okay though?” It was a dumb question, but he still felt compelled to ask it, counting on the fact that she was your best friend.

Now it was Connie’s turn to sigh, her head tilted as she answered him: “She’s really scared, just sit down and talk with her from time to time. I know it’s not your strong suit but she’s gonna need it.”

“Let me get my place cleaned up and I’ll come get her, sound good?”, he offered.

The blonde just nodded again. “Make sure to change those sheets, preferably not ones Freckles has seen.”

He flipped her the bird on the way out, heading down a floor to go clean up his own apartment. He hadn’t been there since you’d come back and honestly.. he preferred it that way. That apartment stood for everything he’d decided to give up on for you and he absolutely despised it. It was as if the small space was the embodiment of his bad persona, haunting him everywhere he went. But he found it too soon to discuss such heavy subjects and did not want to jeopardize his relationship for the life of him.

Even just opening the door brought back those feelings of disgust and self-hatred, but he tried to push past it as he made his way into the kitchen. He wetted a washcloth and laid it in the fridge, should your migraine come back. Next he made his way over to the couch, where he gathered all the old cigarettes and empty beer bottles, shoving them into a trash bag. Along the way he picked up the clothes scattered across the floor everywhere and found himself in the bedroom, ripping the sheets off the bed. You’d been complaining about being cold at night, putting your icy feet all over him. So he got out the thicker sheets, putting them on as neatly as he could. The bathroom was clean enough, so he decided to lay out some of his clothes for you to wear. He ran back down to get everything from his car and when he was ready he went back up to the Murphy’s place. You were still sound asleep, lips perked as Olivia’s hand held on to your thumb. Connie was in the kitchen chopping some greens.

“You here to steal her away now?”, she jested.

“I’m here to give you back your couch”, he retorted.

She carefully picked up the baby from your chest, peeling her little fingers of your thumb, which made you stir a bit. Javi took a knee by your side, pressing a tender peck to your temple before gently shaking your shoulder.

“Hermosa, it’s time to go home”, he whispered, caressing your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

You hummed a bit, not really giving away at his request. So he decided to slide his hands under your knees and neck, lifting you up off the couch himself. He’d expected some resistance but you really only nuzzled into his neck even more, his warmth and smell drawing you in. Connie held the door open, smiling at the two of you as he carried you out of the apartment and down the staircase. He mentally thanked himself for leaving that damn door unlocked, managing to open it with just his elbow. Once inside he laid you down on the couch, covering your chest with his jacket. You were slowly waking up again, he’d noticed, so delved into his cupboards, setting down a tray of cookies on the coffee table. He sat down in the armchair, grabbing the first folder of the stack.

You blinked a few times, feeling a bit confused as to what was going on, but as you found Javier sitting across from you, reading over something, deep in thought as he picked at his moustache, you didn’t really care.

“What time ‘s it?”, you mumbled, stretching your arms out over your head.

He closed the folder, leaning back in the chair as he looked at you. “Somewhere around five by now. Sleep okay?”

“Mhm, you’re back early”, you remarked, yawning as you sat up a bit more. “Should I be worried?”

He got up off the chair, plopping down next to you. “Just wanted to check up on you.”

You leaned in to kiss him, which he gladly reciprocated. “I meant to call.”

“Gave me a bit of a fright. Crazy girlfriend on the loose”, he taunted.

You poked him in the ribs, squinting your eyes at him. “I’m sorry about being snappy this morning”, you whispered.

He kissed you again, successfully shutting you up. “Want some dinner?”

“I’d love that actually”, you beamed pressing your lips to his.

“Eat some of those”, he suggested, pointing towards the tray on the table, “Quesadillas alright with you?”

You were chewing away at a cookie, covering your mouth as you gave him a thumbs up. He chuckled, getting up to start on your dinner as you sat back. “I’ll be there in a sec, Javi!”

The two of you had made dinner together, and taken it to the couch, where you fed him as he read out the details of the files. Due to your absence, you didn’t really know what had been going on with the cartel as of late. You sat there long after dinner was over, discussing the new developments regarding Pablo’s “surrender” it was absolutely ridiculous and the government was giving him exactly what he wanted.

“No point in getting so worked up over it, amor”, you purred into his ear.

He heaved out another heavy sigh as his eyes glazed over the paper yet again. “I just don’t understand how they accepted this, it’s a fucking set up.”

You took the papers from his hands, throwing them onto the coffee table with the rest of them, pushing him back against the couch. “Why don’t we do something else, huh, blow off some steam.”

“Are you sure you’re up for it, we don’t have to”, he assured you, intertwining his fingers with yours.

“Let me do something nice for you”, you tutted.

He shifted beneath you, eyes a couple shades darker already, laden with lust and want. “I-I don’t know if I’ll be able to hold back, hermosa, you’re playing a dangerous game.”

You knelt down in front of the couch, looking up at him with big, innocent eyes. “I’m well aware of what I’m getting myself into, agente Peña.”

Fuck – that little nickname, he felt himself twitch beneath his jeans, desperate for some friction. “Do. Not. Tease.” He gritted out, two fingers hooked under your chin to make you look up at him.

His belt came off first, the metal of the buckle hitting the carpeted floor with a thud. Four hands fumbling around with the waistband of his jeans. You giggled a bit at his eagerness, finally dragging the restrictive trousers down his legs. His tented briefs made you lick your lips, fingers hooking themselves into the elastic. “What do you need, baby?”

“Mouth, now, please”, he stammers out, chest already heaving with expectancy.

You wrap a hand around his throbbing members, squeezing it just the way he likes it. His head falls back against the pillow, mouth hanging open a bit. Ever so slowly you lick along his shaft, paying special attention to the dripping head. He lets out a guttural grunt, biting back another one as you engulf him with your warm mouth. Nothing – no-one ever did compare to you, the way you worked your tongue nothing short of entrancing.

He wouldn’t last, the delicious pull and shove of your mouth and hands had him hurling towards his orgasm. He’d dreamt about it, seeing you down on your knees, just for him, just to please him. Fuck, it was so hot, even better than he’d imagined. He balled his fists, trying to resist the urge to manipulate your head with them. On the verge of his release, he flinched, grabbing a hold of your arm.

“Espera, para, para, para..”, he called out.

You leaned back on your heels, lips glistening with your dribble. He leaned forward, rubbing your chin and helping you up. “Something wrong?”, you asked with a slight frown.

“I want to fuck you”, he growled, practically ripping your sweater off of you.

His mouth latched onto your heavy breasts, eliciting a sweet moan from your throat. “Be-bedroom”, you whined, grip on his biceps tightening.

He tapped, your thighs, imploring you to jump up. Your legs wrapped themselves around his hips as his hands squeezed your ass. The journey to the bedroom was a passionate one, you swallowed his grunts as you merged your lips with his again, fingers tangling in his dark brown hair. He dropped you on the bed, immediately following suit, sucking and biting at that one spot on your neck. You gasped at the sensation, fumbling around with the button on your own jeans as he made his way down to your chest. One of his hands slid down to help you, the other supporting his weight next to your face. His tongue swirled around your nipple, making you arch into him.

“Tan ansiosa”, he hisses as he feels your jeans rub up against his erection. (So eager.)

You shoved your jeans down your thighs, rolling him onto his back to get them off all the way. With your panties still in place you went to straddle his lap. He quirked a suggestive brow at you, moving up against the headboard to sit up a bit more straight.

“You sure about this?”, he asks, mouth pressed against the nape of your neck.

You grab his face in both your hands, sliding your tongue across his bottom lip. “Paciencia, agente Peña.”

He gasps as you grab a hold of his cock, pumping a few times before sliding your panties to the side and sinking down. You rest your forehead against his, hissing as he bottoms out. He gripped at your ass, squeezing to keep himself contained. He loved having you on top, but seeing how long it had been since he’d gotten the chance to be this close to you, he was hungry for more.

“Move”, he demanded, one of his hands smacking your behind.

You let out a loud moan at the sensation and slowly started circling your hips. He watched you through hooded lids, head thrown back with that beautiful neck on full display. He started sucking there, making sure to leave his mark as you sped up your movements.

“F-feels so good”, you whimpered, bracing yourself on his chest.

He smirked against your skin, hands moving up to cup and play with your breasts. It was pure paradise, the fine line between pain and pleasure driving you completely insane. Your mind was ridden of any thoughts, there was only this, you and him, loving on one another. He noticed your panting and jerky movements, you were getting close. Pure lust made him do it, flipping you over so he was towering over you, still sheathed in your deliciously warm heat. He felt like he was on fire when he looked at you, cheeks flushed and glowing, biting on your lip as you touched yourself.

“Mírame”, you opened your eyes, his thrusts becoming harder and faster, “I want you to see what you do to me.”

You whimpered at his words, fighting off the incite to screw your eyes shut. It was then that he hit that spot inside you, making you cry out his name. His hands found yours, holding on to them as he rocked into you, hips smacking against yours. You couldn’t help yourself and let out a string of high-pitched moans as he embedded himself even deeper.

“I-I..”

“I got you, me too baby, me too”, he reassured you, giving a curt nod.

You nearly screamed when you hit your peak, clutching onto his shoulders as you arched up off the bed. Your nails digging into his back was all he needed, he grunted out your name as he filled you up, catching himself before he collapsed. The two of you laid beside each other, breathing heavily, one pair of hands still entangled. You felt like you’d been hit by a train, sheer exhaustion washing over you.

“Stay here”, he whispered, pecking your cheek.

He came back with a towel and washcloth, sitting down on the edge of the bed as he carefully cleaned you up. You just sleepily smiled at him, stroking your thumb back and forth over his knee.

“That was fun”, you murmured.

He huffed out a laugh, looking down at you while he slid your panties off. “Did I hurt you?”

You shook your head, sighing contently as he tucked the covers over your torso. “You were perfect, Javi.”

It was his turn to smile, resting a hand on your side. “We can stay here until your shower gets fixed”, he proposed.

“Thank you. I’ll call again tomorrow, I just want to lay in your arms for a bit”, you whispered.

He walked over to the other side of the bed, barely laid down before you curled up against his side.

Perfect – he thought – she thinks I am perfect.

Taglist: @pedritomando @peterhollandkait @ophelia-ingenue @radiowallet @phoenixhalliwell @diogodxlot @rosiefridayrogersunday @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @asta-lily

#illicit limerence #javier peña x reader #javier pena #narcos #pedro pascal #imagine

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cultifi · 4 years ago

Note

Hey~ okay so this request is based on a story I read about online. But basically the female is on her period (but she doesn’t realize yet ) and it seeps through her pants so she has a blood stain now. Could I request Bakugou or Todoroki seeing the stain and trying to be lowkey about helping her cover up so she isn’t embarrassed? Idk if that makes sense. Also I wanted to ask what fandoms/characters you write for. Idk if it’s annoying always writing about Bakugou, but he’s my comfort character so 😭 sorry.

Covering - Bakugo x (fem)reader

prompt: Bakugo sees that you had started your period and helps you out

genre: fluff

-actual plot of the request starts at ‘keep reading’ button-

“Come on! I promise it will be fun,” Mina begged you as she flopped onto your bed, sprawled out, “it’s only for the weekend anyways.” She had been trying to convince you to spend the weekend with her and a couple of other friends at Momo’s beach house which wasn’t far away from where you lived, but the thought of being trapped with people for more than a day irritated you just thinking about it. Mina just kept pleading for you to go.

“If I come, you have to...” you stated as you looked thought of a compromise that would benefit both you the most, “...do my homework for a week!” Mina’s mouth dropped open as she looked at you in disbelief. She hung her head down and muttered a small,

“Fine.”

Friday afternoon came around and when you arrived at the beach house with Mina and Momo you finally saw who you would be spending the weekend with, Deku, Todoroki and Bakugo. 3 boys, 3 girls. You all headed inside and set your luggage down near the entrance, admiring how spacious and clean the house was, like no one had ever stepped foot in it. “Woah...” you whispered in amazement when you had seen that Momo’s description of the house was nowhere near accurate, claiming it was “just a regular beach house.”

“This place is huge!” Mina exclaimed and threw herself on the enormous leather sofa placed in the middle of the living room, which was the centre of the beach house. “Honestly Momo, you really downplayed how big this place is.” After exploring the large, almost sparkling clean house, everyone discussed sleeping arrangements. despite it being a huge house, the only thing it lacked was a decent amount of bedrooms; there were 2, but fortunately they were quite big, so everyone had decided that the girls would room together and the boys would do the same.

The sky grew darker before anyone realised how late it had gotten so everyone headed to their designated sleeping rooms. Since the rooms were quite large, there were conveniently three beds in different areas of the room, the middle being empty. “Dibs!” Mina shouted and catapulted herself onto the bed directly opposite the door, even though the were all basically the same size (hers was a little bigger but that’s besides the point). All three of you prepared yourselves for bed as you slid into the cool covers, having light conversation until Momo asked you a question about him.

“I noticed Bakugo looking at you a lot today,” she teased as her and Mina both giggled, “I think he has a crush on you!” You felt heat rise up to your cheeks when you started thinking about what it would be like to be in a relationship with him so you pulled the covers up to your face and protested against Momo’s idea.

You woke up to Mina and Momo jumping on your bed which made you want to dropkick them but you restrained yourself, putting your pillow over your head. “Fine, I’ll get up,” you complained and threw your pillow at Mina who was jumping with such vigour that you might think she was trying to create a dent in the bed frame.

“Let’s wake the boys up,” Mina suggested with a smirk and whispered something to Momo, both giggling and making you feel confused. “Okay so I’ll wake up Deku, you wake up Bakugo and Momo will wake up Todoroki. We’ll just jump on their beds until they get up.” The evil scheme was soon in motion.

You approached the door of their room and carefully twisted the handle, making sure to not create any disturbances. You pushed the door open and looked at all the boys sleeping peacefully. It wasn’t going to be peaceful for much longer.You each took your places and on the count of three flew onto the beds.

“Wake up!” you shouted and jumped onto Bakugo’s bed, bouncing up and down as though it was a trampoline.

“Shut up,” he mumbled tiredly and grabbed onto your ankle, making you stumble and fall onto him in a bit of an interesting position, staring at each other awkwardly. You looked down to realise that you were straddling Bakugo and that he also wasn’t wearing any boxers underneath his pyjama bottoms. His eyes widened and told you to move, but flinched slightly when you finally did, pulling the covers over his lower half. He put his head in his hands and shouted at all of you to ‘get the fuck out.’ You hurried out of the room in embarrassment, Mina and Momo following you as you cursed to yourself.

“What just happened?” Mina asked you worriedly as she closed the door behind her. You told her about the ‘situation’ which was currently being taken care of by Bakugo in the bathroom. “I think he’ll be fine in a bit, don’t worry about it,” she advised you and hugged you lightly and suggested that we all go to the beach, your stomach had been hurting, but you ignored it and agreed.

Later on, after having swam in the salty water and played volleyball with everyone, Mina’s words had proved to be true, Bakugo wasn’t angry, he actually looked like he was having fun, especially when Deku tripped and got a face full of sand. You were all hungry at this point and decided you would go to a restaurant near the beach house, it wasn’t anything fancy so you just decided to wear light blue denim overalls accompanied by a black belt with a white short sleeved crop top.

You ignored the aching in your lower stomach since you thought it was probably just because you were hungry and tied up your hair into a ponytail. “You ready?” Momo asked as she picked up her phone and purse.

“Yea.”

The dinner actually turned out to be really enjoyable with everyone there, you honestly thought it was going to be chaotic but you managed to have fun. When the sky started turning a dark orange colour and you realised it was getting late, and you all were tired from the day’s activities.

“Alright let’s go back,” everyone agreed and made their way out of the restaurant. As you were walking you saw Bakugo drop his phone and went to get it after realising it wasn’t in his pocket anymore, falling behind the group slightly as you all walked by knowing he’d catch up anyways.

“Hey, um...” he walked up besides you holding out his zip up hoodie, “wrap it around your waist, there’s kind of a problem,” he whispered to you and you suddenly realised why your stomach had been hurting the whole day. Shit. You endured the pain as the cramps kicked in conveniently when you were close the the beach house, not wanting to get any weird looks from strangers. “You okay?” Bakugo asked, acting as though he didn’t really care, you nodded and smiled feebly keeping yourself from crouching down into a little ball.

Once you all arrived home the first thing you did was run towards the shower because you just wanted to clean up and have a shower quickly to relax your muscles after having been in pain for so long. As soon as the hot water hit your shoulders it felt as though the stress melted out of them and you stood there for a minute, enjoying the sauna-like atmosphere the nearly boiling hot shower was creating. It really did help your stomach cramps.

Grabbing the vanilla scented body wash, you remembered that Bakugo had seen the period stain but luckily didn’t make it obvious to everyone and he was actually subtle about it. You pushed your hair out of your face and sighed, feeling the embarrassment wash away as you realised it shouldn’t be something to be ashamed of. Steamed followed you when you stepped out of the shower and you noticed Bakugo’s hoodie hanging on the door, deciding you should probably give it back.

You walked into the living room to see he was the only one there, sitting on the plain leather couch, staring at whatever was on the huge tv. “Hey,” you greeted him and sat down besides him, handing him his hoodie, “thanks for helping me out, here, it’s clean.” He took the hoodie and placed it on the arm of the sofa, getting up to retrieve something since he told you to wait there. You did as you were told and waited patiently until he came back with a handful of snacks and a hot water bottle, accompanied by a cup of chamomile tea ‘to relax you’. “Um, what is this for?” You asked him, confused as to why he was being so nice.

“You’re on your period right? So I thought it would help if I brought some snacks. The tea might help with the cramps, that’s what my mom told me to do when a girl is on her period,” he said nervously and laid the snacks down next to you, scratching the back of his neck. You smiled at him and took the tea, placing it down on the coffee table in front of you and happily took the hot water bottle, shoving it under your shirt to soothe your stomach. You noticed him still looking at you and you smiled.

“Could you stay here?” He looked surprised for a second and grabbed a soft throw blanket to cover the two of you, putting on a movie to watch as you opened a bag of gummy bears and got closer to him, not noticing the blush you had caused to spread across his cheeks.

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beigehearts · 4 years ago

Text

The Price of Self Respect

Please refer to my master list for the other chapters! There will be ten parts in total, so only four more after this

PART VI

CW: alcohol consumption, mentions of drugs, murder

1,656 words

____________________________________________

You've gotten to drinking with Uvogin and Shalnark, they somehow provide you a sense of comfort in this weird world you're trapped in. It takes half a bottle of vodka and a few shots until you feel that incessant buzz that ravages your body. The three of you sit around the couch area- playing a game of doubt with just the three of you. Yours and Uvogin's laugh rings loudly through the inn- the owner and son not caring since you guys are the only customers at the moment. Your laughter covers up the cough that Chrollo sounds, trying to get your guy's attention.

When he stands next to the table with cards littered around it, you finally notice him. He examines all of the alcohol paraphernalia and clicks his tongue, "So have you been having fun y/n?" He asks loudly, as if you can't hear him over the sound of your inebriation.

You look at him out of the corner of your eye, having a newfound hatred for him, which is quite a change from before. "Yes."

Shalnark speaks up, "She's a lot of fun Chrollo, I'm glad you brought her here." He looks down at his cards, "And she's really good at cards." He sighs, realizing his chances of winning the game are low.

Chrollo seems to have enough of this conversation, eyeing Uvogin sitting way too close to you. So close that your thighs are touching. "Come on, let's go to bed, you must be tired."

"Actually." You say, "I'm not, so I think I'll finish my game." The alcohol seems to be speaking louder than your voice is.

Without even arguing or protesting, Chrollo grabs you by your bicep, pulling you out of your seat. "It's time for bed." He drags you from the common area with you slurring curses at him. You can hear Uvogin and Shalnark booing him from the other room. Once you reach your room, he slides the door open, and drops you on the tatami mat. You drunkenly groan at the short fall, and crawl towards the futon, pulling the blanket back and trying to maneuver yourself inside of the bed.

"You made friends pretty quickly- especially with the troupe that broke your leg." He taps his foot against the mat, watching you struggle to get under the blankets.

"Yes, they're quite nice, and very informative." Your words blend in with one another and Chrollo strains his ear to discern each word. "I even learned that you're more of a stalker than I thought." Finally you settle into the bed, turning on your side, getting ready to fall asleep.

"Excuse me?" He asks.

"I don't appreciate you trying to seduce me after having kept notes on me for almost two years." You sigh, closing your eyes to go to sleep.

You quickly notice the anger in his voice, he's not able to hide it. "I don't appreciate you hanging all over Uvogin either." He sits down cross legged next to you, "Honestly I don't appreciate you flirting with other men."

You take your chance to get under his skin, "It's easier to connect with people who don't know every detail about you."

"You're upset because I love you?"

You open one eye, looking up at him, "You have a twisted view on love."

You don't remember much of the end of the conversation, falling asleep during what you think was an argument. You rise with the sun, it blinding you in the early morning. Strong arms hold you close, too tightly to even move your hips in his grasp. A dull pain pulses through your head, with an endless sense of nausea to accompany it. The night before was fun- though you're not sure that the hangover is worth it. You tap your hand against Chrollo's and speak lightly, "Let me go, I need to shower." As if clockwork, he lets go and flips on his other side.

Before you go to the shared showers, you stand on the deck outside of your room, admiring the authentic rock garden, the water glistening and wind temporarily relieving your headache.

The shower's are nice, towels, robes, and indoor slippers are provided. You undress, dropping your clothes next to one of the stalls. Stepping into the warm water you let out a sigh of relief, thanking life for this sweet relief.

The door opens and you hear another person repeating the routine you've already performed. When you step out after finishing scrubbing your body, a woman steps out of her stall simultaneously. Her hair is in a short black bob, and has a towel wrapped around her bust, hanging just below her waist. You recognize her, you must have seen her last night. Ah that's right, she came into the common room late in the night, and Shalnark introduced her.

"Hi Shizuku." She nods at you, not bothering to speak.

The both of you stand in front of the lockers, putting on the complimentary robes and slippers.

Before you leave the room she clears her throat, "Would you like medicine for your hangover?" She asks.

You send a smile her way and nod.

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

With a cup of hot tea in your hand, you watch the sunrise from the deck of your room, a slight drizzle misting and blurring your view. You can see the sun peeking through the clouds, providing little light. You don't flinch when Chrollo sits down next to you, grabbing the other cup and pouring himself a cup of tea.

"Good morning y/n." He says with a smile, and the plants a kiss on your cheek as if you didn't fight and he didn't threaten to kill his troupe members and blame it on you last night.

You hum in response and continue gazing out at the rock garden, admiring the koi fish and seeing the steam just past the garden, indicating where the hot springs are. Maybe you should sit in the springs, it might make you feel better.

"Last night, I'm sorry for getting so angry." Chrollo breaks the silence. "But don't ever be so friendly with another man. Ever." His jealousy is practically seeping through his every pore, and you know when he says not to be friendly he means it. You know he's not bluffing about hurting someone for being so kind to you.

"You're ridiculous." His eyebrows are enough to show his intrigue in your statement, "You watch me for so long, noting my every move, until you kidnap me. You seduce me and then get upset when I'm angry after finding out about this." You look his way, "You really expect me to return your affection?"

He doesn't respond to your question- knowing it is rhetorical. You're right. And you don't even know about half the things he's done for you- so imagine how you would react if you found out about that. Not well that's for sure. He takes time to process your words, swirling them around in his head so he can bend them to fit his reality he's made.

Dropping the subject completely he states, "We're leaving in twenty minutes, we have a van to fit all of us. We have a mission nearby, I'm going to need your help."

"Why should I help you?"

He frowns, "I can take your nen ability instead if you wish. "

That shuts you up, standing up and heading to grab something to eat from the continental breakfast before you go anywhere.

Fitting all of you into the van is difficult to say the least. Fitting Uvogin, Nobunaga, and Franklin in is practically a miracle. They are definitely going to have back pain once you get out of the van. Chrollo drives and you sit in the back with Machi and Shizuku. You aren't sure exactly of what you're needed for but you'll do whatever is asked of you in order to keep your nen to yourself.

Two hours of laughter and griping from the large men, you all finally stumble out of the van and onto the pavement. There's a large warehouse, and it reeks of marijuana. It must be a dispensary.

"Y/n you need to draw a key that can fit to any lock. I would have the door broken down but there's no physical way of doing that and it's loud. And it's not digital locking so Shalnark can't get us through it."

On command you conjure a pencil, sketching out a key with a malleable end. It begins materializing and everyone watches as it turns from pencil sketches in the air into a real gold key. Only you can use it since it's built from your nen, so Chrollo leads you to a heavy duty door. You put the key into one of the locks, forcing the key to bend and then harden into the shape of the lock. You repeat this three more times and watch as the troupe goes ahead. When you step into the building Chrollo stops you and points to the van.

"Make sure no one comes out, and if they do, eliminate them." You nod hesitantly, and head back to the van, hopping into the driver's seat. You hear gun shots, screaming, and pleas from inside but you have no choice but to listen to the genocide that's being put into play by the man who kidnapped you and claims to love you.

Thoughts of driving away, escaping, and running off enter your brain, but it's not like it would mean anything. They could find you in a matter of seconds if you did.

You come up with a plan on having Chrollo and the troupe trust you and maybe even willingly give you your freedom. You will just have to reciprocate his love until he thinks you love him. But the problem is that you already have feelings for him, maybe Stockholm syndrome will catch up with you first.

#hunterxhunter #hxh #chrollo #chrollo lucilfer #yandere chrollo #chrollo x reader #yandere

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kemendin · 4 years ago

Text

Broken Eden

My first actual Fallout fic, I guess! What goes down on the day of The Bombening in my boy Cas’ story. For some background leading up to this scene, click here and here!

October 23rd 2077 Sanctuary Hills

I'm sitting at the kitchen counter, slumped, staring at nothing, when Lindsay comes in. I turn immediately - first my head, then my body - pulling against the knot that clenches in my gut. I flick an anxious look over her. She's already dressed, not even putting a last pin in her hair - a bad sign. She's put together, prepared, fortified. All without me.

Swallowing, I watch as she pauses. She's not looking at me; her eyes are wandering instead over the counter, then into the living area. Looking for the empty bottle, the glass with a few drops of apathy still wallowing in the bottom. But I haven't had a drink in three days. Maybe four. Not since she yelled and I pleaded and we both crumbled under the weight of my cowardice.

Lindsay moves into the kitchen, still without a glance in my direction. I slide clumsily off my stool, turning automatically to face her again.

"I - I made you tea." My voice is hoarse from lack of sleep. I cup my hand around the steaming mug in front of me - oolong rose, her favourite - and slide it tentatively in Lindsay's direction. She can't know that it's the third one I've made this morning, wanting it to be fresh and hot whenever she appeared. The two previous attempts have already been discarded, tea leaves languishing in the garbage bin and the too-dark liquid long poured away.

She pauses again at that - I think, I can't be sure, but I cling to it. But then she goes to the stove, fills the kettle, sets it on the burner, switches it on. She's making it very clear that she wants nothing from me. Nothing, she's thinking, is all she's ever gotten anyway.

Read on AO3

I just stare helplessly as she goes about the routine, fetching another mug from the cabinet, setting out the sugar bowl, getting a teabag of her own. I stand there, arm still half outstretched over the counter and hand curved around the rejected mug. My fingertips are tight on the hot ceramic and it's only when they're nearly burned that I jerk them back. I straighten, massaging them as guilt burns a worse pain through my chest.

I wet my lips. "Lindsay," I try, but my timing is less than ideal, my voice lost in the shrill shriek of the kettle. I wait as she pours the water, then try again. It's harder the second time; the knot in my gut seems to have sent tendrils up into my throat, closing it off.

The look she gives me in reply is like a taser to the chest. It's beyond upset - it's livid, and on her normally sweet face it makes me physically balk. I clamp my mouth shut immediately and my own eyes fall to the counter.

Thick, stony silence follows, disturbed only by the soft clink of her spoon against her mug and then the pad of her steps as she goes into the living room. For some reason I feel afraid to move now, so I don't even turn this time. Just slide my eyes along with her as she pushes past until she's out of sight. I hear the soft click of the television as she switches it on, and the low, confident murmur of the anchorman as he blithely delivers today’s news highlights.

Shoulders tensed, I stare at a small nick in the countertop, and absently feel it with my thumb. Seconds tick by, or maybe minutes. But I can't stand here forever. I can't bear to let this go on. The last few days have been slow, agonising hell and anything has to be better than this. So I let out a breath, and despondently, waveringly, I turn around.

Lindsay is seated on the couch, on the opposite end from the rumpled blanket I'd slept under. From my unhappy perspective it's like she doesn't want to be near anything that's mine. She's watching the television screen with an aggressive disregard for anything else. I twist my hands together, and breathe in and out several times to steady myself, and with uneven motions I make my way over to her.

"Lindsay...."

"No." It's the first thing she's said to me in three days, a flat whipcrack of a word, and it makes my stomach plummet. This is not going to go well. She keeps her attention rigidly ahead, not even flinching as I walk in front of the television and around to the empty side of the couch. I sink down onto the edge of it, my brows tugging together in a pleading sort of way.

"Lindsay, please. We have to talk about this. I - I know I messed up -"

"Messed up? Messed up?" This, at least, has roused her, but in the wrong way; she jerks her attention around towards me, expression hard. "Cas, this is so far beyond 'messed up'."

I flinch, and have to look away for a moment. She's right. I've fucked us both over and now - I don't know what.

I dither beneath her piercing gaze, in my head casting frantically about for something, anything, I can say to try and fix this. Nothing's occurring to me. Maybe it can't be fixed. God, I have to try, though.

I stutter something out, something about Anchorage and how it screwed with me and there are still things I can't bring myself to talk about. It's pathetic, and we both know it.

"That's your excuse? You weren't thinking clearly?" Lindsay sits a little straighter, her mug clutched tightly in her hands. She's trying to be acerbic, but she can't cover up the pain in her voice. "Are you thinking any more clearly now? Do I need to lay it out for you before you'll get it?"

My throat tightens. "No - don't, I already -"

She carries on regardless. "You got engaged to keep yourself out of prison, Cas! That’s it! That is the only reason!” Her voice is shaking - with anger, and with anguish. Even as I cringe back, she continues relentlessly, “You proposed to make a life with someone you never had any intention of loving back. And you - you didn’t tell me any of it.”

“I couldn’t!” My own voice cracks as I wrench it back into existence. “That was part of the agreement, if your father hadn’t -“

“We are not talking about my dad here. This is about you. You didn’t even tell me you were gay, for god’s sake! That would have been good to know!”

I screw my eyes shut. “That would have made it worse,” I whisper, followed by a shuddering breath. “Lindsay, I was scared. They would have killed me, I wouldn’t have lasted two weeks in prison. You know how many ‘accidents’ happen to people who try to call out the government's bullshit?” I can’t bring myself to tell her that more than once, I’d contemplated taking my own life. That would have made it feel all the more pointless.

She doesn’t say anything. I don’t want to bring back that horrible silence, so I keep going. Trying to explain.

“I told you - your father promised me protection. He - he backed me into a corner, we both knew they were going to toss me away, I didn’t - I couldn’t see another way out -” I draw in a needed breath. “Besides, he’s the one who wanted the money to go to you, he used you just as much -”

“That doesn’t justify what you did!” Even without looking, I feel the way she’s stiffened. “Don’t keep trying to pin this on him! You made the decision! You’re the one who’s been lying to me for all these months, telling me that everything was fine when it clearly wasn't, refusing to explain anything, pretending that you ever cared -"

The words flay into me, and I look up. Tears are pooling in her eyes, and her tea has long gone cold yet still remains tight between her hands as she rails at me.

“I was going to leave you, do you know that? I was done putting up with this, putting up with you, but now I’m pregnant, with your child, Caspian!”

I stare at her. My hands are knotted together in front of me like they’ll never come apart again. I can’t blame her for wanting to leave, and yet somehow it still feels like a blow to the gut. I swallow against the whimper rising in my throat as my eyes fall from Lindsay’s raw, damp face down to her abdomen where my child - our child - is slowly becoming whole, even as everything else is falling apart.

“I’m sorry,” I breathe wretchedly. “I’m so, so sorry -”

“No.” She cuts me off almost immediately. Startled, I jerk my eyes up again, to the contorted expression she wears. “You don’t get to be sorry,” she goes on forcefully. Somewhere under that harsh facade, I can see how this is breaking her, too. “We are way past sorry. Listen to me. You know what happens now? Now you get to stand up and decide what you’re going to do, because I am done holding up this relationship by myself.”

My breath catches and dissipates somewhere in my chest. I look back at her because I can’t seem to do anything else; I’m paralysed. “What am I -“ My voice echoes the words feebly.

“What’s it going to be?” Her eyes bore into me. “Are you going, or are you staying?”

“I - Linds, it’s not that -“

“No, it is exactly that simple. What are you going to do, Cas?”

How can I answer that? How can I make that choice? My throat feels like sandpaper as I try to swallow. Leaving, abandoning her, is the coward’s way out of this. The idea is despicable. Not to mention it would put a target on my back again. But staying means committing - to Lindsay, to fatherhood, to this lie I molded myself into.

The silence that follows her ultimatum is unbearable. Unfortunately, the words that break it are worse.

"We do have... coming in... confirmed reports I repeat, confirmed reports of nuclear detonations in New York and Pennsylvania. ...My god. Oh my god...."

In a surreal motion, Lindsay and I both look towards the television. What we had assumed to be an ordinary morning broadcast, drowned out by our fight, is suddenly anything but. We have time to register the look of panic, of resignation, on the news anchor’s face before the screen abruptly cuts out.

“Shit,” I breathe.

The high drone of a warning siren rises outside. I snap around towards Lindsay again. Her fury at me has been instantly overrun by disbelief.

“No - Cas, this can’t be -“

“It can.” My head is spinning; I fight against it, trying to breathe. I reach out, take the mug from her grasp, set it down, and clutch her shaking hands in my own.

“I’ll stay, of course I’ll stay. I won’t leave you, Linds.” It’s not me saying it - it’s somebody else, the same guy who used to step in and take over when bullets and energy blasts were cracking into frost-stiffened buildings and bodies. “But right now we need to go. We need to get to the vault.”

The vault. A source of loud controversy in Sanctuary Hills, and then of comfort, when people found out that of course, it was meant for them. They’d been more concerned with being possibly left out of something touted as important, patriotic, than by the implications that came with it - that if it needed to be used, they’d have a hell of a lot more to worry about than patriotism. That if nuclear annihilation loomed, they should all be hoping to whatever god they knew that everyone had a place inside.

When the representative from Vault-Tec came around, after even my brusque dismissals failed to get him out of my face, I’d given in and registered both Lindsay and myself. Not because I had any faith in the government’s ability to protect us, but because, truthfully, there was nothing I could do that would have proved a better option. I was actually surprised that it went through, given my history, but the papers had come back approved, and I’d filed them away in the hopes that I’d never have to think about them again.

Now, in an instant, that hope is gone.

Everything seems slow motion, surreal, as I get up, tugging gently at Lindsay’s hands so that she’ll follow. At least she’s already dressed, and I was never undressed, still in yesterday’s wrinkled button-up and slacks. We pause at the door so I can jam my feet into my old army boots, and then with panic grasping at our lungs we rush out into the bright, glorious, devastating morning.

The peaceful, smothered existence of this tiny town has been ripped violently away. Blurred faces are stamped with varying levels of shock, of heartbreak, of disbelief and anger and a dozen other reactions that all mean the same thing, attached to bodies that can’t make the choice between flight and paralysis.

“Oh my god… this isn’t really happening, is it?”

“I…I don’t know….”

“The nukes are coming! Those communist bastards!”

“They… they always said we’d be safe….”

People mill about, some in their bathrobes, slippered feet crushing down their browning, manicured lawns and flurrying through the leaves that have managed to sneak onto the sidewalks during the night. The cries of betrayal rising from the street are torn apart by the thunder of military aircraft overhead, and a stern voice amplified across the chaos.

“Residents of Sanctuary Hills. If you are registered, evacuate to Vault 111 immediately.”

“This is just a drill, right? This can’t really be happening….”

“Oh my god… we don’t have anywhere to go.…”

“We’ll drive to the coast! That’s gotta be far enough!”

“What if it isn’t?”

It isn’t. I can feel it in my gut as I hold tight to Lindsay’s hand and we stumble as fast as we can down the autumn-scattered street. Nowhere is high enough or far enough. We go off the road, through a gap in the waving trees, down the hill towards a picture-perfect wooden bridge. But maybe, if someone’s done their fucking job right for once, this new sanctuary will be deep enough.

The crisp, sun-tinted air has no right to taste this sweet as it drives us up the hill on the other side of the chuckling stream. All my senses are alight, drawing in the last minutes of an Eden that never was. Ahead, beneath the calm assurance of a Vault-Tec billboard, its frantic residents press up against a chain link fence, hands grasping, mouths wide with pleas for entry and for mercy. I pull Lindsay closer and push past these people, my neighbours, her friends. I never gave two shits about any of them, but now as I meet their eyes I know them - their names, their faces, their souls. The little details of their lives jar my memory with uncomfortable clarity, bringing them into focus, and it’s a few moments before I realise why. I’m trying to preserve them, to take them with me, because I know with closed-throated certainty that some of them - perhaps many of them - will not survive this.

“If you’re in the program, step forward - otherwise, return home!”

A soldier stands at the gate in familiar army fatigues, his presence bolstered by two others in power armour just behind him. I grit my teeth and force my way forward, trying to close my ears to the despairing cries of the damned welling around me like a chorus from the underworld. Lindsay stays close behind - close, but not clinging. It’s something I wish I could have appreciated more about her. Maybe there will be time, in the vault, to tell her that.

The gate guard looks up expectantly, but I speak before he can start to question us.

“We’re on the list, let us in.” I give him our names, and add, “And I’m not going back to get the fucking papers so you’d better not ask.”

He doesn’t react to my abrasive words, just checks his sheet, nods, and gives an equally brusque, “Go ahead,” before stepping back to allow us entry.

“Thank you,” says Lindsay, her voice thick in her throat. Now it’s her turn to hurry ahead, dragging at my hand until I speed up a few steps and fall in beside her again.

A man in a Vault-Tec uniform beckons from ahead, turning to lead the way further up the hill. The trees have been cleared here, and construction equipment stands around the perimeter, soon blocking our view of the people below as we jog towards the summit.

“Cas - what about everyone else?” Lindsay asks breathlessly. “What’s going to happen to all those people outside the gate?” I set my jaw, but my only answer is a firm squeeze to her hand.

The top of the hill opens up before us, capped by a large circle of Vault-Tec-coloured metal. Half a dozen frightened residents are clustered tightly in the middle, huddled, uncertain. Our escort waves an arm wildly back towards us, urging us onward.

“Step onto the platform! In the center!”

Lindsay and I obey; what else is there to do? I draw in another ragged lungful of the fresh air as we both stumble ahead to join our neighbours. The view from up here is magnificent, the sunlight dabbing wads of gold across the copper and scarlet of a New England autumn. Tilting my head back for a moment, all I can see is blue.

“Alright, that’s it! Send it down!”

The call shakes me from my brief reverie. I swivel around, looking from the nearest guard and up to the control booth in disbelief.

“What? No - that can’t be everyone. Most of the town’s still down there, for fuck’s sake! You bastards can’t just leave them, you have to let more people in -”

“Sir, you need to get back on the platform, now -”

I don’t even notice that I’ve started for the booth until Lindsay grabs my arm and pulls me back. I shake her off, seething, outraged, glaring at the guards before -

There’s a massive, heart-stopping impact, a burst of searing white that explodes from the south and instantly engulfs our eyes, our brains, our beings. The world shakes and shudders as though trying to rid itself of its greatest scourge, humanity itself. But it’s too late. The final blow has been dealt - nothing can save it now.

I throw out my arms, fighting for balance, catching Lindsay as she falls against me with a cry. Fire swells like a raging star, filling the sky, burning us with its golden fury. Amidst the screams of terror driving in my ears, I hear the desperate call of the Vault-Tec staff.

“NOW! NOW! SEND IT DOWN NOW!”

The star darkens into roiling clouds, a tree of death that blooms to swallow the day as rings of fire reverberate across the sky. The air is gone, the world is being consumed, and in the midst of it all I am nothing.

Beneath my feet, the platform shudders again, but it’s a different motion from the violent tremours around me, and suddenly it’s descending, slow but sure. Everyone else is cowering, heads downturned, yelling for it to go faster; Lindsay is turned inwards, pressed into me, her face buried against my heart; but I can’t tear my eyes from the relentless wave of death that is rushing at us, obliterating everything in its path. Water fills my vision and is instantly burned away, the heat scorching the breath from my lungs. As the ashen darkness looms, I hope, for a single, vengeful instant, that whatever god could have stopped this will be annihilated alongside his creation.

It seems impossible that we’re still alive, but the vault is doing its work. The blaze of atomic destruction surges overhead, horrific, and yet receding. All I can do is bow my head and keep my arms tight around Lindsay as cold shadows embrace us, carrying us downward into the bowels of the unknown.

Welcome to the end of the world.

#fallout 4 #fo4 #fallout 4 fanfic #fallout fanfic #fallout oc #fo4 fanfic #fallout fanfiction #fallout #fallout writing #fallout:cas #fallout:lindsay #kem writes #hhnnngghhh please read this guys #i worked very hard on this #kem fics

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jeonjeonggukenergy · 5 years ago

Text

Anti-Hero

summary ~ in search of wine at a party that’s so not your scene, you run into jungkook, the weeb from your film class, and become determined to learn just how much he lives up to his big reputation.

pairing ~ jungkook x reader

genre ~ fluff, smut - college!au

wordcount ~ 8.5k

warnings ~ 18+ only! smut, explicit discussion of kinks/sexual preferences (yay healthy communication), dom/sub undertones during both discussion and sex (dom Jungkook, sub reader), mentions of daddy kink and degradation but both are a no, marking, biting, hair pulling, spanking, they both have a srs pain kink lmao, brief oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, creampie

a/n ~ SO excited to finally have this chapter out for yall! it’s a huge one and i’ve been working on it for quite a while, this includes the first full smut scene for this fic and i would love to know how yall like it or any other feedback. i really enjoyed writing the character development in this chapter too! they’re so cute and whipped for each other already hhhhhh. thank you so much for loving this story so far, i’m really looking forward to writing the rest. hope you enjoy! ❣️

previous: chapter 1 | chapter 2 ~ next: chapter 4 (coming soon!)

~ read on ao3 ~

CHAPTER 3 ~ particular, perfect

You concluded your walk home by ditching your shoes at the door, swinging your bag off your shoulders to the floor, and plopping down onto the couch immediately. Pulling all three nearby blankets over yourself, you realized you still weren't quite comfortable. You looked around for a second, puzzled, until an absentminded clutch of your boobs reminded you why. Triumphantly, you reached into a sleeve to untangle your bra and chucked it across the room with a deep stretch of relief. Okay, time to overthink again.

Jungkook? What the fuck?

Wait. A bag of chips on the kitchen counter caught your eye before you could descend any further into panic. The perfect emotional crutch. You clutched it to your chest like a safeguard against your own internal monologue, anxiously shoving handful after handful into your mouth. After about thirty minutes spent motionless on the couch with one hand shoved in the chip bag and the other distractedly scrolling through Twitter, your eyes suddenly widened and your hand froze, dropping your next bite of chips back into the bag. Fuck. You had just eaten nearly an entire family-size bag of chips before what could end up being your first fuck in over a year. Well, maybe this was part of why you hadn't gotten fucked in over a year. No, don't go there. You shoved down your own insecurity, knowing you'd just been too busy for a relationship and honestly, probably still were. But that wasn't going to stop you today.

You shook the chip dust off of your hands and got up to head to the shower, turning up your trashiest throwback playlist of getting-ready bops and resolving to at least shave your legs. Going in with no expectations was probably the best strategy here, but it never hurt to be prepared.

Having cleaned his apartment in record time, Jungkook was now at the gym. After triple-checking that his roommate Jin would be in rehearsal until 10pm at the earliest, he quickly scanned all the common spaces and his bedroom and realized he didn't actually have that much work to do besides politely closing the door to Jin's still-decent-but-somewhat-messier room. To be honest, Jungkook had mainly bought himself the time after class so he could shave just in case. But then he figured if he had to shower, he might as well hit the gym first. So here he was, burning off an unprecedented amount of nervous energy. Settling comfortably into the leg curl machine, he turned his music up and started on a low weight to put in reps until his thighs burned and his head felt pleasantly empty.

After completing his normal leg day rotation and dutifully stretching, Jungkook prepared to head home. He walked out of the gym feeling more energized and centered, barely even flinching when he switched his AirPods off to say bye to the nice girl at the front desk and the action accidentally blasted "Whistle" by Flo Rida from his phone speaker for the whole lobby to hear. As he walked back into his apartment, the kitchen clock let him know it was only 4:30. He had plenty of time. Jungkook hopped straight into the shower, shampooing his hair, shaving everywhere he normally did, and savoring several extra moments to relax his muscles under the hot stream of water. Finally, he toweled off to wrap up in the black t-shirt and cozy matching sweatpants he'd carefully stacked on the counter. Offhandedly singing to himself in the steamy mirror, he checked the time on his phone, deciding he might as well go ahead and text you before he got nervous again and did something stupid. Like chickening out completely.

hey its jk! im ready when u are :) my apt is 344 glencoe rd #1521 (yes its on the 15th floor sry D: )

His charming old-school smileys lit up your phone while you still had a leg perched on the bathtub's edge.

"Fuck!" you reacted. The hiss resounded, thanks to the too-good acoustics of your cramped bathroom. Your razor clattering to the floor, you paused your max-volume 2000s music to check the message, and then the time. Only 5! That wasn't dinnertime yet. Plugging his address into Google Maps, though, you realized it was a 15- to 20-minute drive from yours on the opposite end of campus. Even if you got ready at light-speed, you would get there closer to 5:30. Which was a bit more reasonable. He was being reasonable! You should be ready by now!

You leaned over to pick up your razor and cursed again as the water stream grazed the blouse you'd left on out of laziness. You'd showered this morning, so there was no need to repeat that with your shave, but now you'd have to change outfits completely. Feeling like an idiot, naked from the waist down but now all the way wet, you peeled the shirt over your head slowly to preserve your good hair day and glanced down at the dilemma you'd been facing. The patch of hair between your legs stared back at you like the final boss of stupid societal beauty standards. You'd only shaved down there once, as an anniversary present for your first boyfriend the summer before college, and it had been a fun, smooth novelty for about two hours and then itchy, red, gross-looking, and miserable for about three weeks. Also, it had kind of made you feel like a little girl, which creeped you out when you thought about why guys would prefer it. You'd been debating whether to try it again for the past fifteen minutes, because if there was ever a right time, this was probably it. But now you didn't have time, if you were going to be respectful and not keep Jungkook waiting. Well, this was the real you. He could take it or leave it.

Slathering a quick coat of lotion over your freshly shaved legs, you prepared to get dressed in a soft pastel sweatshirt and a flattering pair of workout shorts. Wait, should you wear lingerie? Was that too try-hard? You didn't really even need to wear underwear with these lined shorts, which could be a cool-girl move, you supposed. You settled on a cute white sports bra to go with the shorts, not wanting to deal with a real bra and hoping it still appealed to Jungkook's casual, athletic style. You checked yourself in the mirror briefly before grabbing your bag, confirming you looked chill enough but still felt like your best color-coordinated self. Heading out, you shoved a tin of chrysanthemum green tea in your water bottle pocket. Why not?

You whizzed over to Jungkook's apartment, yelling along to "Sex With Me" by Rihanna from your throwback playlist to hype you up in the car. When you knocked on his door after a nerve-wrackingly long elevator ride, Jungkook welcomed you with a "C'mon in!" amidst a mouthful of shrimp chips.

"It's not really dinnertime yet," (yeah, no kidding, you thought) "I went ahead and worked out but it's still kind of early, so I figured we could just have a snack and do the homework first."

"Sounds good," you affirmed. "I'm not really that hungry," (read: there's no way I can eat chips AGAIN right now, I'm going to bloat so badly) "but I brought tea so I can go ahead and make that if you want some too!"

"Oh cool, thanks!" Jungkook accepted. "Are you sure you're not hungry though?"

You almost gave into his sweet pout, but managed to convince him, and soon you both sat at the table with laptops open and twin cups of tea. You had a blast working together for the first time, acting out your "conversation" for the discussion board and pretending to respond spontaneously to each other's points like you hadn't already excitedly rambled back and forth through them in real life. You hit "send" five minutes apart, your idea to not seem too suspicious, and kept raving over Rear Window in between. As the sun lowered outside his living room window, you moved on to making the ramen.

After three offers to help Jungkook, all of which he denied, you simply made another steep of the tea, leaving a mug on the counter for him. Standing at the bar counter sipping yours, you enjoyed all the tiny, cute noises he made while chopping green onions and sprinkling extra garlic in the seasoning, like an anime character who came with his own sound effects. You could tell he made these recipe additions every time, because bulk quantities of the same simple ingredients lined the counters of his cozy kitchen. When he beat two eggs and dropped them into the pot, though, he couldn't seem to find a lid, and eventually settled on trapping the steam with a plate. You both waited on the egg for a silent moment, your foot bouncing under the bar while Jungkook restlessly acquired a slight wiggle. As he took a sip of his tea, a strand of hair fell over his eyes, and he yeeted it out of his face. Your inner language nerd cringed, but there really was no more apt word to describe the action.

You offhandedly said you liked his hair long, and he replied with a smile, "Maybe I'll have to keep it then."

"Do you like it too?" you wondered.

"Honestly no, it's kind of inconvenient."

"Oh, then why would you keep it?" you immediately asked back.

"Well..." he dragged out. "You like it? Maybe I should keep it if it looks better this way."

Your eyes crinkled appreciatively at his thoughtfulness, but then you backtracked. "Wait, no, it's okay! If you don't like it, don't feel like you have to keep it just because of something I said. You can do whatever you want."

"Hm, yeah." A demure smile tugged up the corner of his mouth as he lifted the plate from the ramen pot.

You watched him drag a chopstick through the floating, now-cooked egg to tear it into ribbons, then divide the noodles between two generously-sized bowls. He carefully wiped down the drips of broth from each bowl before sprinkling in his fresh toppings, then walked with you to the table.

Serving you with a pleased smile and a slight nod, he announced, "Dinner!"

"Wow," you mused playfully. "So gourmet."

"I'm really particular about my ramen," he admitted. "I have it down to a perfect routine at this point."

You took your first slurp of his particular, perfect ramen. "Well, it's really good. I'm impressed. And thanks for making me dinner, you didn't have to do all that."

"Oh, come on, it's instant ramen," he laughed. "Nothing special. And you brought the tea, so thanks. And thanks for coming over. And doing the homework with me. And...yeah." Rambling again. Why did he seem so...nervous? You were nervous. He couldn't be nervous. What reason did he have to be? But the twitch of his mouth under his wide eyes, his slightly reddened ears, his hand skittering over his neck—fuck—to ruffle his hair...every action turned another page of his open book. It felt infuriatingly unfair that genetics had assigned someone so sweet and shy and unsure of himself to that fucking body.

While you both ate and talked, you kept catching glimpses of any small flashes of skin you could find, as his long sleeves fell to expose his forearms and the wide neckline of his boxy black shirt gaped around his collarbones. What was wrong with you? Even if this did eventually turn into a dick appointment, the boy still had literally all of his clothes on. You tried to refocus on finishing your noodles, while your brain screamed at itself in shame that you could get this turned on by the sight of someone covered from neck to ankle.

Jungkook ate surprisingly slowly, probably because he kept pausing to excitedly explain his favorite things about the Cowboy Bebop episode you were about to watch together. You smiled into your tea through every out-of-context fun fact and "wait, sorry, that might have been a spoiler!"

Finally, he reached the bottom of his bowl and insisted on both taking your dishes to the sink and leaving them for him to clean later. "You sure you want to start on episode 2? Not 1?"

"Yeah, I remember well enough and your summary helped a lot too!"

"Okay, if you're positive!" he double-checked, grabbing the remote.

Gingerly lowering yourselves to the couch in sync, you avoided looking at each other as you both tried to calculate a comfortable distance between you. His hand looked ready to either hold yours or lower to your thigh, but he retracted at the last second, smoothing it over his own leg anxiously and still clearly itching to make a move. You shuffled closer to him until your thighs barely touched, and he shifted to slink an arm around you, letting your head rest on his well-muscled shoulder. After pressing “play”, he began wiggling slightly again, subconsciously grooving to the old-newspaper-style intro. Spike Spiegel appeared on the screen, his broad shoulders squared into a slouch as he listlessly watched TV. Jungkook kicked one leg over another and stretched his arms out symmetrically to echo the pose. Raising an eyebrow, he waited until you acknowledged him with a faux grimace and a hand to your ear, imitating the old man in a lab who’d just called up Spike for a new mission. You both burst into laughter and settled back into your former arrangement, Jungkook holding you imperceptibly tighter. Though you tried to stay staring straight ahead, wanting to genuinely appreciate the anime, you kept catching his doe eyes in the corner of your sight as you both giggled and gasped your way through the episode.

After avoiding eye contact too many times, you finally tilted your head for a cute sideways view of his face. He leaned toward you too, shyly closing the gap to touch his warm lips to your nose, then lower. You responded immediately, rolling your body with his so your chests met as he pulled you up into a full, deeper kiss. The longer you explored each other's mouths, the more Jungkook punctuated your movements with whimpers. He seemed hesitant to let his hands roam away from your face and neck, but his high, breathy moans made it clear that he was just as into this as you. Your hands had naturally found his taut waist, and at some point you started to bring them back up to his face too—but as your short nails grazed his chest, a particularly sensual, voice-cracking moan interrupted you. You drew back in slight surprise, blinking your eyes open to scan from his face to his body.

He followed your gaze, both slowly settling on the massive tent in his pants. You froze. Your breath grew heavier, confronted with evidence of his physical attraction to you, if nothing else. After regaining his composure, he laid a useless hand over his lap in a delicate attempt to distract you and brought his other hand up to tap your face lightly.

"Is this okay?"

His eyes glittered with equal parts hunger and concern.

"Yes!" you nodded, too quickly, too eagerly. "Yes, this is totally okay. Sorry if I'm being weird, I just...it's been a while." You cringed internally at your own words, but couldn't seem to avoid putting your foot further in your mouth. "I haven't really, like, hooked up like this before—like, I've had sex, but never really outside of a relationship. But don't worry, I get this is more your thing, and I'm totally down if you are. I just don't really know what I'm doing, and you clearly do."

Jungkook blinked at your admission, then his face twisted into something curious, inscrutable. Would he decide you weren't worth the potential for drama? His lips flattened out to a tight line, then pursed to speak, and you looked down at your lap, hoping he wasn't as embarrassed of you as you now were of yourself.

"Well, I've never had sex sober."

Your eyes flashed back up to his. A complex half-smirk offset the furrow in his brow as he exhaled in nervous relief. "So, I don't actually know what I'm doing here either."

You tried to delay your response as you processed the implications. "You mean..." You tilted your head for better eye contact, hoping to convey empathy but not pity while you silently contemplated how to proceed. "Never?"

"Yeah, I've always shown up to parties and the hookups just...happened. Nothing I didn't want, nothing bad like that, but always spontaneous. So I guess we're kind of meeting in the middle, because I've never really had to plan ahead for a situation like this and, uh, figure out what I want. Beyond, yknow, wanting to get laid in the moment, of course." Jungkook laughed off the end of his explanation, but the smile never quite hit his eyes.

"Well, okay, let's pause right there." You sighed. Something in his words didn't sit right with you. "What do you want? I want you to be sure about this, of course, but more than that, even—what do you like?"

"I..." he chuckled, sheepish, shaking his hair over his face again. "What, you want me to just tell you? Like, what I'm into?"

"Yeah," you shrugged, trying to project more confidence than you felt in hopes of encouraging him to keep opening up. "I want you to be able to communicate, I want you to be comfortable. And I want to know what you like, so I can make it as good for you as possible."

With your hands still laid flat on his chest, you felt his heart rate jump a tiny bit, and took the liberty of digging your nails in just slightly deeper. His breath caught him, and then he caught himself. "I don't know, I just want what you want."

Jungkook struggled to appear nonchalant as you rolled your eyes with an "Oh, come on," challenging his avoidance. Every instinct was telling him yes. He could hear his mind screaming at him to be intentional for once and let you take him, if not farther, then deeper than ever before. But he still hesitated, because being intentional in this case required him to be real. He had always been a fairly private person, but something about you made him feel so comfortable so fast that it counterintuitively made him more nervous. Of course Jungkook knew you weren't all innocent at this point, but the risk remained that you wouldn't really be down for everything he secretly wanted to explore. Even worse, though he didn't truly think you would, you could easily turn around and spin anything he revealed into yet another graphic rumor. Especially since you had no skin in the game yourself. He glanced down at your fingers, tensed into his chest, and narrowed his eyes.

"Why don't you tell me what you like first? And then I can tell you where we overlap," he grinned competitively. Your eyes widened as he tossed the challenge back your way. Not backing down, you flattened your hands and steeled yourself to settle the stakes.

"Fine—but only if you promise not to just go along with whatever I say. I'll let you know anything that's a hard no for me, but otherwise I want to hear at least one thing that's not on my list. I really do want what you want, that's how I am too, okay? So..." you paused to slide your fingertips over his collar and drag it down with a light scratch, now directly on his skin. You smiled with your eyes, enjoying the way he naturally responded with a hitch of his breath again. "Surely you can think of something specific."

He nodded quickly, before he could convince himself to back out. "Yeah. Promise."

"Okay," you confirmed, slightly nervous but determined to go through with this, for Jungkook's sake if anything. Seeing his body come alive with each new twist of the situation was building your curiosity, not to mention turning you on beyond belief. You could barely stand the warmth of his skin under your hands, so you drew them back to fold in your lap as you began. "So. Uh. To start. I've never really laid it all out like this either. I really like neck kisses? Like, a lot." Equally unused to this kind of directness, you wrung your hands together nervously, but sucked up the boldness to keep elaborating. "That's definitely, like, a big thing that turns me on...and then getting marked up and everything is really hot to me too. Like you can honestly go really rough with me on that, bite me even. I don't know if this is weird but even though it's annoying to cover up, I love taking off the makeup at the end of the day and seeing all the bruises on myself. Knowing I was walking around all day with that as my little secret." You swallowed shyly before continuing, but Jungkook interrupted the brief silence immediately with a hushed "Fuck."

You turned to face him fully and he didn't even move to meet your stare, eyeing the space above your sweatshirt's wide neckline like he was ready to devour you. Emboldened, your smile grew.

"So...yeah. I like being bitten, marked up. Mostly, uh," you rubbed a slightly trembling hand over your shoulder, "I'm just really into pain in general. Obviously not the bad 'I'm too dry and you're jackhammering me' kind of pain, or like, anal. Anal is a hard no. But things like biting, or hair pulling, or overstimulation. Or, like—I don't really know how to explain this, but...getting held too hard? That deep pain like when you get a massage when you're sore and it hurts but it's good, yknow?"

Jungkook looked like he was about to vibrate out of his skin, breathing shallow and rapid. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, just in time for you to whisper in conclusion:

"I love that feeling."

You suddenly looked away, reticent. A thick silence swelled between you, until he composed himself enough to punctuate it. "Okay. Yeah. Pain. So like, BDSM?"

"I mean, kind of? Sure? I don't have much experience with that and I don't really need the whole power dynamic aspect; I just like the, uh, physical pain. I wouldn't be opposed to trying further, but one thing I do know is I really don't like being degraded. And I'm not into the whole daddy kink thing either. I'm just not gonna call you that, sorry," you laughed, and fortunately he giggled too. "But I know that's not, like, necessary to the rest of BDSM, and the part about giving up control is still...interesting, for sure."

"Wait," Jungkook cocked his head, making a mental note of your last sentence before he went back to the previous one. "What do you mean, being degraded?"

You half-chuckled, half-cringed, never having needed to explain something like this, especially to a guy you hopefully were about to fuck. Cheers to better communication, you supposed.

"You know, how some people when they do dirty talk are like 'yeah, you little slut, you're such a whore.' I don't like being called any of that. Like it's fine that other people like it, there's nothing wrong with that, it's just really uncomfortable for me."

His brows knit together as you explained, and he shook his head so fast it almost looked cartoonish, like a little kid refusing vegetables. "Yeah, no. Don't worry, not really my thing either."

You sighed in relief. "That's nice. I feel like it's, like, weirdly common with guys. Maybe just the kind of thing people learn from porn."

"But you still like it rough, huh? Did you learn that...from porn?" he half-joked, trying to overcome both his shyness and his gritted-teeth arousal.

"No, I don’t like porn. Most of it’s really unethical. I learned from experience," you sassed back. "I don't have a whole lot, but enough to know what I like."

"Well. Hm." He worked his tongue over his teeth, poking one cheek out over his tensed jaw. You couldn't get enough of watching him grow fascinated by your every revelation, and you were preparing to keep pressing further when he beat you to it, posing a question. "Is there anything you haven't tried before, but really want to?"

Your face heated up instantly, tasting your own medicine. You looked back to your hands, breaking his intense eye contact to give yourself the courage to be even more uncomfortably honest. "I...I...um." Your first attempt at disclosing your fantasy came out as a squeak. Swallowing, you set your shoulders and tried again, selfishly reminding yourself Jungkook seemed so eager to please that this was 99% likely to get you exactly what you wanted. "I've always been, uh, really into the idea of, um, getting spanked. I've been, uh, too nervous to ever bring it up, before now obviously, but it's definitely one of the biggest kinks I've always wanted to try. Maybe being tied up too, I think I'd like it if I tried but I haven't thought about that as much. But, yeah...spanking, definitely."

"Fuuuuuuuuck."

A lengthened version of Jungkook's earlier under-breath exclamation made you peer up at him. Your thighs already pressed together from the tension of admitting something totally new, you found yourself needing even more friction just from the sight of Jungkook with his head thrown back on the couch, a veiny hand threaded in his hair to pull the long waves back from his forehead. The full reveal of his sharp eyebrows brought a whole new level of intensity to Jungkook's already beautifully carved features. He glanced over at you, then squeezed his eyes shut with a terse exhale. You couldn't place why, but you felt a deep attraction to the way he expertly restrained himself from acting on the lust written over his face—not under your control, but his own.

"Oh, fuck. What the fuck. How the fuck would you fucking know," he swore more in a single burst than he cumulatively had ever in your presence.

"What?" you toyed, heart rate still high but relaxed enough to enjoy agitating him. "Something ring a bell?"

Jungkook shuddered out a long breath, hand ruffling his hair as his other forearm still tried desperately to subdue his boner.

"Everything," he hissed, more willing to elaborate now that you had done the same, and especially now that he could tell you really did enjoy him being more assertive. "Shit. I...I want...I know you said not to just say this but I really do want everything you want. I can't wait to mark you up. I can't wait to hold you down and bruise your neck. I want it all, I want to make you hurt so good. And then—" Breathless. He looked almost embarrassed. "Then you had to go and somehow guess basically my biggest fucking kink, I can't fucking believe you." Both hands had come up to seize his long locks as he held himself back physically, while finally letting his guard down mentally to declare everything he intended to do to you. Letting out a short laugh, he finally met your eyes. "I wanna spank your ass bright red. Fuck. This is crazy. You're perfect."

Your core throbbed at every bold word. Leaning in close to him, you let your lips approach Jungkook's beautifully sculpted jawline as he panted, his chin tossed up to fully expose his neck. You stopped just short of his skin, in awe of how much you'd been able to work him up and still so tempted to take it to the next level. "Fuck," you echoed. "This is so hot," you murmured almost to yourself. Your eyes closing along with his, you dealt the final blow. "I love that we have so much in common. But come on, you promised. One thing that's not on my list."

Jungkook whined. You could tell he needed to touch you so badly, and no one was stopping him but himself. He had no way of knowing that if he cut the whole discussion and just took you, you wouldn't even try to resist at this point. Staring at his trembling mouth from below, you quickly averted your eyes when he opened his, pretending you hadn't been looking. He inhaled a short hiss, and then spoke.

"Okay..." He paused after just the first word, blowing air through the tiny "o" of his mouth as his eyes bugged slightly from nervousness. He couldn't resist a challenge, though, and his urge to please you overwhelmed his reluctance to peel back one more layer. "So, the pain thing. I think we, uh, feel the same about me giving and you receiving. But...I'm really into it for myself too. I don't know if you'd be comfortable with it, I know you maybe want me to be more dominant and I think I like that more too in general, but you can be as rough with me as you want back. I'd love that." Eyes still open but fluttering, Jungkook's tone grew breathier, heady as he confessed. You almost giggled at how bashfully he worded his desire to dominate you, to rough each other up, but the contrast was so hot you couldn't help sucking your bottom lip between your teeth, eager for him to continue. His voice lowered. "I love being scratched, marked, bitten...hit me, push me back, any kind of pain or any way you can hurt me, I want it." He shivered, but his voice firmed up even further. "I want it so bad."

You fought to stay motionless beside him, unable to even process how much more his honesty had turned you on. You felt helpless in your desire for him, your craving to give him everything he wanted and more. He noticed your charged stillness and shifted toward you, removing a hand from his hair to finally reach for your face. Threading his fingers through your hair instinctively like he had with his own, he tilted your head back to access your neck. Jungkook finally felt confident enough to tease you back as he skimmed his lips over your pulse point, tugging your skin between his teeth for a gentle first taste and grinning when you moaned. Seeing someone so satisfied, for reasons better than just his body or their pride, brought the most incredible rush of blood to his head. And his other head.

"And I get why you want it too," he finished with a whisper in your ear. "So trust me when I say I really, really want to give it to you."

In an instant, your hands yanked his hair down to bring his face up to yours, mouths crashing together. Feverish, restless, you kissed him, hastily attempting to straddle his thick thighs before he threw his body over yours and pinned you to the back of the couch. His hands wandered, intrepid, from your waist to a quick squeeze of your breasts before he spiraled you into his strong arms. Pressing your chest flush with his as your mouths meshed, he ground his hips into you shamelessly, enjoying the way you struggled beneath him to align your core with his rock-hard dick.

"Your room?" You rushed out the words.

Jungkook laughed a little, his tone half whine and half dare. "So we're done talking?"

"Come on," you pleaded back. He finally relented, pulling you up with him and dragging you across the living room and through his door, lips not leaving yours for a second. You backed him into the bed with your arms against his strong chest, and once he was sitting perched on the edge, you laid yourself horizontally over his thighs.

"What are you doing?" he murmured, curling a hand over the dip of your waist to hold you gently.

You angled your head back to make unsteady eye contact with him, flipping your shorts down boldly. His free hand automatically reached to slowly conform to the shape of your ass, so eager to touch you but tentative as he grazed your curves.

"Giving you exactly what you want."

"Fuck. Really? You're sure about this?" Jungkook held careful eye contact as you brought your arms back up, crossing your wrists over your head delicately. You nodded slightly and did your best to meet his gaze with confident invitation, convincing him how much you trusted and wanted him.

He smoothed his warm hand over your ass one more time, then brought it up and watched your thighs tighten at the loss of his touch. Breathing in, still a little shakily, he brought his hand down on your right cheek with a loud but mild smack. A grunt of satisfaction involuntarily left him when he saw your face flinch down into the sheets, subduing a small noise of surprise. He returned his hand to caress the light redness he'd left, checking in with you again. "Is this okay? Let me know if I should stop."

You replied with your face still tucked between your arms, muffled by the bed. "More than okay. Please don't stop."

He spanked you again, moving to your left cheek. This time you felt his dick twitch under you and couldn't help grinding down on him a little bit. "Is that as hard as you can go?" you taunted in low tones, brave enough to egg him on but not quite enough to meet his eyes again.

Jungkook's thighs and core tensed under you, and he squeezed his fingertips tighter, digging into the skin of your ass. "Not at all," he said simply.

Deep breath. A few seconds passed, and his hand came down, harshly. You cried out in shock, the timing unexpected and the sting far sharper, and he gave your other cheek a fourth hard smack before you could even process the third one. "Harder?" he tested. "Tell me."

Another spank. "Mmmf."

"You like this, huh?"

"Yes, I told you," you whimpered back, half-teasing even though you were in no position to do so. Immediately, he cut you off with a stinging hit across both cheeks, and you moaned.

"You really do," he breathed lowly. "Fuck yeah. Take it then."

He spanked you again, and again, then paused, tugging down your shorts all the way to your ankles to expose the crease right above your thighs. Rubbing your already sore bottom, Jungkook cupped the underside of its curve in his big, firm hand. Already anticipating your whine, he drew back his touch and hummed in harmony with you. He continued landing satisfyingly hard smacks, alternating to cover your ass evenly. His dick strained through his pants more and more each time you trembled under his touch. Never hitting you hard enough to do serious damage, he still clearly enjoyed his thorough reddening of your ass, and occasionally took a moment just to caress your skin as it warmed from the spanking. The pain lit your senses up from head to toe. Face burning with deep arousal, you mentally thanked yourself for going out of your comfort zone and unprecedentedly admitting your kinks before even venturing into your first time together. Amidst the thrilling sting of his hand meeting your soft curves, Jungkook eventually noticed your thighs clenching together, craving friction but not really wanting relief from the pleasurable burn.

"You're wet," he marveled, sliding two warm fingers up and down your slit.

"Mhm," you mumbled back as you tilted your hips into his hand. He gave you a light slap right on the folds between your legs, eliciting another soft moan.

"So good for me," Jungkook said softly, pulling you up into his lap by your waist. "You look so pretty like this. I wanna see all of you." He tugged your sweatshirt over your head, followed by your sports bra, thankful that it stretched over your head easily. Suddenly grinning, he wound up and shot it across the room like a rubber band, and you smacked his arm, giggling.

"What was that? You cheeseball," you teased, and he blinked, chuckling lightly back. It occurred to him that he'd never laughed, or made someone laugh, during sex before.

"It was so stretchy! Don't make fun of me," he blushed.

"You're so cute," you said, fingers sliding under his t-shirt hem.

"Cute?" His eyebrows rose in mock disbelief, and he reached around to land another hit to your still-red asscheek.

"Hot," you amended. Raising his shirt and finally getting a full glimpse of his enviable abs, you groaned. "You're extremely hot, and also really cute, and it's kind of ridiculous and I don't really know how to handle all of it at once."

His face scrunching up into a smile at the praise, he fell back onto the bed with his arms behind his head. "You are too, you know. Really cute, of course. But really hot too." As you discarded his shirt and moved on to easing his sweatpants down his hips, you held in a gasp as his erection sprung up from the waistband. He was big, thick, and painfully hard, his tip glistening warm with precum and a lone vein running prominently up his smooth shaft. Although you wouldn't be corroborating them, you had to admit to yourself that all the rumors were true. You instinctively curled a hand around it, barely covering half his length, and he winced at your slightest touch. Pulling off with a single slow stroke, you slid his sweatpants and briefs all the way to the floor and then stood, looking up from his legs to his blown-out eyes to take in the glorious sight of his fully naked body.

"You shave," you said, surprised by the clean skin under his arms and between his legs.

"Yeah," he demurred, self-conscious for some reason. He lowered his arms to fold them over his torso, somehow defining his biceps even more. "I'm on the dance team, and it's nice to feel all smooth for practice and stuff. I don't know, I just like it."

"Oh, that's cool! No worries, I like it too. And you don't mind that..." You looked down at yourself, still just standing naked in front of him. "...I don't? Like, down there at least."

"No, you do you!" he said quickly. With a shy smile, he admitted, "I actually kind of like it on you. I do this for me, anyway, not for anyone else," he playfully noted. Slowly, he was sitting up to take hold of your waist and lower you down to the bed with him. Pausing to kiss the sweet spot under your jaw, he continued. "So don't feel like you have to do anything, or not do anything, either."

Jungkook couldn't quite explain the nature of how his attraction to you had developed. Seeing how open and honest you were with him made it easy for him to be honest with you too, and just to feel comfortable being himself. He admired the way he could still tell you sometimes got nervous like him, but it didn’t stop you from getting real or going bolder. Unable to fully express it in words, he just hoped to ensure you felt as comfortable and respected around him as he did around you. He already knew that he wanted this to be more than just a one-time thing, and while he still hesitated to assume that you felt the same, he intended to leave no doubt by the end of the night.

You moaned as he nipped at the skin of your neck. It was so easy to get swept back up in Jungkook. You could barely handle the friction of his dick rutting against your wet folds from below, craving him inside you. "Ughhh. Wait, one more thing. I'm on the pill, are you clean?"

"Yes," he gasped, barely removing his mouth from your jaw. "Are you?"

"Yeah, so we don't need a condom. If that's cool with you!"

"Yeah! But, you're ready?" He seemed surprised.

"Aren't you?" you whined, beyond holding back. He felt so unbearably hard that his coherence and willpower kind of surprised you too. "Please, I want you so bad."

To your surprise, he lowered his head to the crest of your legs, dotting wet kisses down your torso. Keeping his big brown eyes on you, he teased your entrance with a finger and echoed your immediate groan at the welcome stretch.

"You really are ready," he remarked, awed at the ease with which your wetness sucked the digit in. Frankly, you were in awe as well. It had taken your ex-boyfriend months to figure out how to get you this worked up. Jungkook either had even more experience than you'd heard from the grapevine, or he was a natural. Or maybe you were just really, ridiculously, primally attracted to him. He went on to curve his finger in you and lick a messy swipe up your folds, sucking hard once he reached your sensitive clit. You cried out at the delicious burst of stimulation and he rose up to catch your lips with his.

"I had to do that, just once," he grinned breathlessly. "But—"

"Let me suck you off," you interjected, unbelievably fucking turned on and dying to please him.

"No," he gasped with far more fervency than you'd think anyone could refuse a blowjob. "Please, I was about to say—" he choked out a high-pitched moan as you ran a single finger up his shaft in anticipation, sinking the nails of your other hand into his thigh. "—I think I'm gonna explode if I don't get inside you right this second."

So he did have a breaking point. "Fuck," you muttered, bringing your legs around his to tuck your heels under his tight ass as he lined up. He eased his tip in, keeping heavy eyes on you the whole time, and you could feel the hot, thick tension in his thighs as he struggled to hold himself back from just thrusting into your heat. Slowly, he drew closer into you until he bottomed out with a low moan. You whined at the perfect slight pain of the stretch, and Jungkook squeezed his eyes shut, gripping you by your waist. Watching the veins in his forearms stand out as he drove almost all the way out and back into you, you rocked your hips carefully against his with each smooth stroke, getting used to his fullness. When his balls met your ass again, he shuddered a bit and opened his eyes into yours.

You answered his question before he could even ask it. "Jungkook—you feel so good. You can go faster, it's okay."

A smile hit his eyes before his mouth, and he kissed you once, pressing his chest to yours and intertwining your tongues eagerly. You bit his bottom lip as he slowly drew away, tugging it between your teeth to pull a sweet little whimper from his throat. Grinning, he leaned back in to touch his forehead to yours and simultaneously slid a subtle hand under your ass to curve your hips up with his. The slight leftover sensitivity of your skin amplified his light touch, and Jungkook seemed to realize this, curling his fingers to tease you with the tips of his nails. Instinctively, you ducked to bite his neck, not even registering your move to pass the pain back to him until he choked out a beautifully half-restrained moan and snapped his hips into yours. Gasping, you encouraged him to lose himself in you, dragging your lips up to latch around his earlobe. He hissed and thrust into you sharply again, meeting the time of your movements as you swirled your tongue between each of his hoop earrings. Soon he was pounding you rhythmically, finally letting you feel the full force of his strength but keeping remarkable control over both his body and yours. Both of you had gone silent except for your heavy breaths, lost in the moment, but the flexed shivers of his thighs and twitches of his fingers in your hair told you all you needed to know. Suddenly yanking your strands to pull you back from the additional bruise you'd sucked beneath his ear, he earned a new set of scratches on his back as your hands dragged down the muscular expanse in reply. Jungkook switched places with you to draw dark clouds from your skin, a storm brewing under your jaw. Your face fell into pure bliss, eyes shut and immersed in the barrage of sensation from his hands, mouth, and big dick filling you. Already feeling the familiar tension that preceded an orgasm building through your whole body, you chased him closer to his climax too, grinding back roughly into every thrust and raking your hands over every part of his firm body you could reach.

You had really been fooling yourself when you thought you could try something casual for once. You wanted more of Jungkook, all of Jungkook, nothing but Jungkook ever again. Knowing he'd never even gone back to the same hookup twice sank slight anxiety into your stomach, a kind of future nostalgia for this moment you already feared losing. You knew you weren't anything special compared to the catalogue of gorgeous girls he'd had his turn with, but a deviant voice whispered from the back of your mind that you could be, because it was clear none had bothered to learn him like this. You'd still try your desperate best not to want too much from him, but you resolved to do whatever you could to make him crave more.

Rolling your hips in a smooth circle against him, you clenched around his dick and your hands tightened their fierce hold on his tiny waist. You felt his abs tense within your grasp as he tried not to stutter into you.

"Fuck. No." His voice cracked, but held an undertone of ferocity. "You come first." Jungkook rushed a hand to your clit, adding pressure in small, deft motions with a fingertip as he kept fucking you deep. You sank your teeth into his shoulder in response, drawing your hands up his back to clutch him closer to you, and Jungkook cried out. You left your mouth on his golden skin to stifle your moans as he sped up his fingers, and he tried to let you stay there but eventually couldn't help pulling you off him to see your face. Eyes narrowed and eyebrows turning up sharp at the ends, he watched you like a hawk to track the exact moment when he pushed you over the edge. Your face crumpled and you felt your whole body burn under his gaze as you came, squeezing around him in waves of pleasure while he fucked you through your high, unrelenting. Drinking up the bliss obvious on your features, Jungkook's eyes never left yours and his expression grew more and more fucked out. You marveled at how even as you lost control and energy to fuck him back, your body freezing in orgasm seemed to turn him on further. One last pulse of the tension leaving your core made his dick throb inside you, and you impulsively broke your eye contact to lean in and bite down slow but hard on his neck again. He gasped.

"You're amazing." Murmuring into his skin, you kissed the bite marks gently. Jungkook whimpered at the sweet contradiction and lurched into your hips even harder. You recovered to move with him, squeezing him deeper into you every time he bottomed out, and as his breathless moans escalated in pitch, his whole body shivered with each stroke. Pressing wet, heavy kisses all over his neck, you felt his jaw flutter while his lips hung open. His considerable strength spent, Jungkook shuddered one last hard thrust into you and finally let go, coating your walls from within. His hips lightly rocked against yours as he stayed deep inside you, still hard and savoring the euphoric release he'd held back for so long. You felt so incredibly warm and comfortable around his sensitive dick, relaxed but still holding him tight, and he couldn't help holding you up for a languid kiss before pulling out of you smoothly.

He briefly looked into your eyes, and you saw stars. The sun had continued to set outside, and it peeked between the blinds of his window to wrap you both in a warm, slivered glow. Staring down at his hands on your body, Jungkook took a deep breath and collapsed to your side, holding you close. You settled into him, cupping a hand over his head on your chest. With your fingers laced through his sweaty hair, you stroked his temple with your thumb, worrying for a second whether the gesture seemed too intimate but forgetting your fear when he snuggled up into your touch. You felt the need to say something, to figure out what the fuck was next after this, but stayed silent, not wanting to disturb the comforting weight of his frame. Heartbeat still racing, Jungkook stretched out to breathe a long sigh. As he sank back into you, you stretched under him too, letting his solid, warm body drape over you like a blanket. This couldn't be farther from what you'd expected with him, but you weren't about to make it stop. Surely, eventually, he would.

A minute passed. And then five. And then, before either of you could talk yourselves out of it, you were asleep, intertwined.

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