#is fully functional all the time and it's a cold fucking day in hell that i get mad at reaper but i have. i have.

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

If you've never heard an LRAD go off in person, I *genuinely* do not want to hear your opinion about methods of resistance in the US.

[brudiza-spudnik]

MY WHOLE FUCKING LIFE IS TECHNICAL PROBLEMS. LSDJ DOESN'T WORK. FL STUDIO DOESN'T MAKE ANY SENSE. SAMPLING IN REAPER IS USELESS BECAUSE DRAG AND DROP DOESN'T WORK. TRYING TO WATCH A TUTORIAL AND YOUTUBE IS OUTDATED ON MY SHITTY OLD ANDROID TABLET. WILL LIKELY NEVER GET YOUTUBE TO WORK AGAIN ON THIS THING IF IT'S OUTDATED NOW. GAMING IS BULLSHIT BECAUSE EVERY SINGLE GAME REQUIRES TWEAKING THAT I DONT WANT TO FUCKING DO. ALL MY SYNTHS AND SHIT ARE CRASHING. I JUST WANT TO MAKE MUSIC ON MY FUCKING PHONE IS THAT SO MUCH TO ASK. JESUS CHRIST

[writerpeach]

Ambrosial: Part One

IVE Jang Wonyoung x m!reader

16k words

Part four of the Annyeongz (soon to be titled) series

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

---

Read on AO3

24 unread messages

where the fuck are you? wake up already

You don’t ask for much. 

Without a doubt, you’ve been living life to the fullest, in the most luxurious apartment on campus, maybe in the city. Fully furnished, several floors above anyone else, it’s equipped with everything one could need, including a pool and gym, plenty of rooms, plenty of space, plenty of comfort. 

From the expensive decor to the extravagant clothes, the priceless jewelry and fancy cars, this place resembles more a palace than a simple living space. You wonder how you got caught up living in this reality—just you, Wonyoung, and her best friend and mutual roommate, Yujin. 

Roommates doesn’t exactly seem the right word, considering how blurred these lines have gotten, where you've woken up in a mess of naked bodies and tangled limbs, not even remembering whose bed you've fallen asleep in.

Despite all that, you never need to ask for anything—ever. They've taken care of your needs, both financially and in other ways, without ever having to vocalize them, something you’re eternally grateful for. And yet, the one thing you crave most, a nice, peaceful morning to sleep in—you’re almost never granted. 

Every time your head hits the pillow, your phone buzzes. Another text, another voicemail. One more thing hindering your return to dreamland. Leaving it on silent just delays the problem—you know it’ll keep ringing regardless, because the name attached to these annoyances, it’s none other than Jang Wonyoung, and she’ll do whatever it takes to get your attention. 

Her persistence is unrivaled, unmatched, unrelenting. She never rests, not until she’ll get what she wants. Which also means you don’t rest until then. 

You’re tempted to just ditch your phone, open up a window and toss it outside, easily forgetting it exists. The apartment is on the top floor, and it’s a long way down—and yet, you’re not prepared to deal with the consequences that’ll come from that. If only it were so simple. If only you had personally bought this phone instead of it being gifted to you during Christmas by the two of them, after it had been sold out for months—

So with much reluctance, you swallow your pride and kick the sheets off, until your feet touch the cold floor, signaling the start of the day. 

Now, instead of making breakfast for Yujin or sitting down to a nice cup of coffee, you’re walking through foot-high snow, freezing your ass off on a trek through campus when you don’t even have any classes at all this morning. All before the time your alarm usually goes off. That’s your fault, you suppose, for ignoring all her voicemails and responding only to her latest text, the one with an obscene amount of exclamation marks. 

The walk, in hindsight, isn’t too far—ten minutes at the most. But now that you’re meeting Wonyoung for whatever ungodly reason so early, every snow-covered step takes twice as long, feeling like you’re walking in cement. 

But hey, maybe this’ll be worth your while, finding out why the hell it’s so urgent to be driven out of bed at whatever-the-fuck hour this is in the morning. And maybe, just maybe, Wonyoung has a fresh hot cup of coffee and breakfast as your consolation prize (spoiler alert, she doesn’t).

Luckily for you, once the student center comes into view, so does Wonyoung. It’s always so easy to pick her out of a crowd in that ridiculously large coat, and those fuzzy boots that are anything but practical (it can’t be considered Wonyoung if it’s not form over function). This girl’s a head-turner for sure, and even in the freezing cold still manages to look like a model fresh off the Paris runway. 

Wonyoung's attention snaps off her phone when she notices your arrival, turning her head in your general direction. There’s a blank expression on her face when she approaches with her arms folded, icy breath visible with each exhale, and you can see that deadly glare even through her designer shades. “Took you long enough.” 

"Kept the princess waiting, huh? Didn't realize," you reply, unapologetically sarcastic in tone as possible, hands deep in your pockets for warmth. Even with those expensive sunglasses on, it isn’t hard to imagine the eye roll you’re getting underneath. “It's fucking cold, not exactly easy to speed through the snow.” 

"Should have dressed warmer if you're cold then," Wonyoung dares to suggest as she snatches up your wrist, her gloved fingers so warm in comparison. "Get over here, dummy."

Wonyoung closes the distance without a moment's hesitation, planting a soft, heartfelt kiss on your lips, the warmth of her mouth alone a better heat source than any coat could hope to match. She steals a few more kisses, taking no regard for your surroundings, before ultimately settling against your shoulder, not paying attention to any other people passing by the two of you.

"What's so important that you had to drag me out of bed for?" 

"Spending time with me isn't important enough? Not everyone gets to wake up and see this face every day—" Wonyoung says so shamelessly as she leads the way inside.

You’re dragged inside by this delicate little thing, who at the very moment has so much ridiculous strength, guiding you who knows where. Passing by the cafeteria is your first red flag, the fresh smell of coffee taunting you as she presses a button to call down the elevator. 

The steel doors shut, and before you have time to question anything, she's sealing your lips with a kiss again, this time with enough aggression to press you into the wall. After pulling away, Wonyoung’s sunglasses flip up and rest atop her head, followed by a devious, satisfied grin overtaking her lips.

“Not that I'm complaining—but you woke me up just to make out?” 

“Maybe. Hmph,” Wonyoung sighs, her hands reaching out to fix your scarf. “Yujin’s been keeping you all to herself lately.” 

You can’t tell if she’s genuinely jealous, or just looking for an excuse to steal you away—not like it makes any difference. Wonyoung isn’t usually keen on answering questions. She simply kisses you again, hoping to offer a distraction while the elevator slowly hums towards whatever floor is your destination. 

“Ugh, don’t make me say it.” 

“Say what?” 

The elevator chimes, but Wonyoung doesn’t give a hint of explanation when the doors slide open, taking your hand to bring you out onto the rooftop terrace. A burst of cool air comes through that sends a shiver through your body, and this beautiful, white landscape apparently is her top secret location, a secluded outdoor area with the most breathtaking view. 

Unsurprisingly, it’s empty—not a single person brave enough to be up here. A chilly breeze still passes through, even though the patio area is adequately covered. So with any luck, you’ll have the entire place to yourself, with all the privacy in the world to enjoy it, which is perfect when you have Wonyoung to warm up with. 

After dusting the snow off the nearest couch, Wonyoung beckons you to sit beside her, pulling you down to her level. But before you can take another breath, she’s already in your lap to make out with you again, both hands cupping your face, eager to claim what belongs to her. 

"I thought you hate the cold," you say, surprised that Wonyoung of all people came up here to a place like this willingly.

"Yeah, well—“ She pauses mid-sentence, removing her sunglasses off her head and tucking them into the inside pocket of her coat. “I like you more.” 

It’s cute—that even a bratty girl like Wonyoung can show vulnerability like this. 

A rare accomplishment for sure, that rosy pink hue warming her cheeks when she gets all flustered. Even more uncommon that she gets shy long enough to glance away, but once her gaze returns, the demure smile on her face could melt the snow that surrounds you. Wonyoung pockets her gloves as her long, slender fingers play with the collar of your sweater, leaning in for another kiss. 

It’s slow and methodical the way your lips press together, with neither one of you bold enough to be the first to deepen it. All you can think about is how soft these glossy lips are, and how sweet the taste of Wonyoung is that you’ll give anything to it savor forever while her fingers wander through your hair. 

But It doesn't take long for these innocent kisses to turn quickly into something much more heated, tongues slowly invading each other's mouths. The lingering sweetness of her lips pairs with dominance that you’ve eagerly given up, letting her dictate every movement, defenseless to do much more than melt when her teeth play with your bottom lip.

“Daddy…” 

It spills out so casually from Wonyoung's pretty lips, one simple word triggering something dangerous inside you that causes enough hesitation for you to get lost in her eyes. “Princess.” 

“Just missed you, I guess…” she confesses out of nowhere, all out of breath, her icy hands still cupped around your face. The shiver it sends through you isn’t from the frosty weather, or even that favorite little word she loves using. 

“You guess?” you ask, and let out a slight chuckle at the lack of sincerity, admiring how absolutely stunning this girl looks in your arms—those hypnotizing doe eyes, rosy cheeks, and parted lips all forming pieces to the most gorgeous picture.

Then there's that signature pout, potent as ever, on Wonyoung's face that shouldn't be allowed to be this irresistibly cute. 

“Say it back!” 

You can’t help but want to tease her further, leaving a gentle kiss on the corner of her lips, knowing full well Wonyoung's validation has no end to it. "Say what back?"

With a deepening pout and narrowed eyes, Wonyoung grasps your face in her hands, preventing you from averting from her softening gaze that’s becoming increasingly less threatening with each passing second. "Daddy—"

Those little whines that escape only widen your smile as she hits your chest with all the impact of a fallen snowflake, which only succeeds in getting her even more riled up. Admittedly, that isn’t hard to do. 

"Did I miss you?" The more you deny what she needs to hear, the more she crumbles, a total withdrawal from her usual demeanor. “I think the cold is getting to you. Don’t be so delusional to believe that I think about you for a moment, Jang Wonyoung.”

"Shut up," she scoffs, reverting to her usual bratty self, aggressively kissing you and tugging at your hair. "You're the one who walked through the snow just to kiss me."

With nothing to respond with, you let her win in silence—because she's absolutely right. 

Now you're stuck here with Wonyoung perched on your lap, sitting on a rooftop patio, all tangled up with her lips. You can’t help but admit you're hopelessly addicted to the taste of these kisses, the scent of her perfume, and how her eyes fixate on yours long enough that you’ll do anything she asks. And while she's busy kissing your  cheek, moving to trace the outline of your earlobe, you're just letting her explore wherever she pleases, removing your scarf so she has room to leave whatever marks she wants on your bare neck.

“Don’t worry, daddy. This’ll keep you warm instead,” she mutters, her voice so comforting right next to your ear. Her lips kiss into the crook of your neck, sucking and biting on the sensitive skin to leave her first mark—one that Yujin isn’t going to like. 

When she's done, there's another quick peck to the same spot, as if she's somehow fixing the damage caused by kissing it again. These little pecks that trail all across your jawline, they gradually get more needy by the second, in a way that you've not witnessed before, as if every kiss leaves Wonyoung even more desperate than the one before it. 

"Yujinnie is busy all day today with classes,” she says, and her voice dips so sweet and suggestive when she trails off, a hand sliding up to your chin to guide your mouth back to hers. "So that means daddy gets to play with me all day..."

You’re not sure if you should be excited, concerned, or a little bit of both, that Wonyoung has every intention of monopolizing you today. There seems to be no end to this make-out session, but you have nothing to complain about other than being a little cold and more than a little hungry—but that can be ignored when this outing has turned into a cute, unplanned little date.

“Princess,” you get out between the onslaught of kisses, but her persistent lips cling back to your neck, refusing to give up any affection. “I hate to stop kissing you, but if I don’t eat something…“

“Fine,” Wonyoung says, with the most audible sigh she can produce, climbing off your lap reluctantly to give your lips a much needed rest. “Let’s go get you some breakfast then—because daddy is going to need all his energy."

It’s gotten far too normalized for you to even react to Wonyoung mouthing off something like that. 

Once the two of you get back on your feet, you grab your scarf from the bench to wrap it back around your neck, but before you get too far, Wonyoung stops you from hiding the evidence. 

"Nuh-uh—no covering up my work." 

Her pretty, manicured hands snatch the scarf from you, looping it around her own neck and she smiles with pride at all the marks visible on your thoroughly kissed neck. "There, now everyone can see daddy's all mine."

Wonyoung giggles as she spins on her heels, grabbing your hand to lead the way back inside. When her fingers interlace with your own, she gives your hand a firm squeeze, doubling down on her claim as you take the elevator and head back down towards the dining hall. 

On your way inside, Wonyoung’s mere presence attracts enough attention to get a multitude of eyes watching, like she’s walking down the red carpet of a movie premiere instead of just strolling down the cafeteria’s extensive breakfast buffet. 

While you stay one step behind, you can’t help but feel you’re a trophy that Wonyoung proudly displays around, these fresh marks on your neck a badge of honor that backs up her claim.

All this extra attention leaves you a little self conscious, especially in front of a crowd that's mostly students you share the same classes with. On the contrary, Wonyoung's perfectly fine being stared at like this, the attention gained doing nothing but brightening her smile. It’s so easy for her to bask in it while she waits for you to catch up, turning around to plant a kiss on your cheek that’s going to draw even more stares. 

In front of all these eyes, Wonyoung so shamelessly has no trouble giving you all the affection she thinks you deserve, and you’re more than happy to receive it, regardless of the embarrassment that comes at your expense. 

Eventually, you end up in the checkout line, waiting in silence for Wonyoung to go through the process of paying. Her wallet is all glittery pink and so princess-like, pulling out her black card like it’s nothing, easily able to cover the bill for the entire dining room with no sweat. 

Now it's just a matter of finding a free table to sit at, which isn't easy. The morning rush is in full swing, which means most tables are packed to the brim with hungry students, or anyone looking for a place to study that isn’t the stuffy, equally overcrowded library. Luckily, Wonyoung spots a seat in the corner emptying out, almost as if they’ve left at her behest, and you follow behind to claim the precious real estate.

Wonyoung pulls her coat off and takes a seat, with her meal comprising an extra-large iced vanilla latte (that's mostly whipped cream), and a blueberry muffin with a few pieces of fruit. Compared to the meal you managed to get on your plate, hers looks pretty modest, but then again, this girl lives on desserts and coffee alone, the idea of a proper meal a completely foreign concept to her. 

Before you join her, you take one last look around, wondering if the stares have calmed down at all. But no—it's just the opposite, the popularity of hers shining a spotlight on the two of you.

"Daddy, sit." Wonyoung pats the spot beside her instead of across the table, with an innocent smile that contradicts the demanding nature of her tone. You follow her command without any protest and take a seat beside her. 

Unsurprisingly, Wonyoung stays in character, and doesn’t eat too fast as she begins to take the littlest bites imaginable of her muffin, washing it down with a long sip of coffee. It’s a clear contrast from how you’ve devoured nearly half of your breakfast in what feels like only a few bites, but it can’t be helped, especially with how hungry you are, that rooftop make-out session only making matters worse. 

Besides, Wonyoung enjoys watching you eat—offering you a bite of her muffin in exchange for a kiss that she sneaks in when you've finished chewing, giving you a double dose of blueberry that lingers on her lips.

“Daddy…” she says out loud, unconcerned with who hears your little pet name, whether it be the table next to you or the entire dining hall. “Won’t it be fun with no one interrupting us for the whole day?"

With no hesitation, she rests a hand on your thigh underneath the table, and leans in to press some sweet little kisses against your cheek, all that innocence desperately trying to cover up her intentions. 

"Don't you have class later?"

"Do I?" Wonyoung asks all coyly, pulling out her phone for a moment and not even bothering to check her schedule before putting it away back in her purse. "Looks like I'm all free suddenly!"

You raise an eyebrow in suspicion, because you swear this girl skips class like she's allergic to it. But you’re not going to complain about more free time with Wonyoung, especially if it gives you a free pass to get your hands all over this little brat—not that she needs yet another excuse to skip class. 

"Your studies should be a priority, princess."

"Some priorities are more important than others," she says, using a fingertip to wipe some syrup off the corner of your mouth before slowly sucking the tip of her finger clean. It's no accident how she drags it out, swirling her tongue around with a proud smirk as you watch in disbelief until she slips it out with an obscene pop of her lips. "And right now, daddy is my priority." 

This girl is unbelievable. 

Moments ago, Wonyoung was all sweet and innocent, planting these cute kisses on your cheek in a public display of affection that left your face blushing bright red. But now—that shy, innocent persona might as well be discarded entirely, a complete shift that has her becoming bolder in public, and you know she's not above sitting in your lap to make a statement. 

"Besides—Yujinnie has had too much time alone with daddy lately," Wonyoung reiterates as she shoves a strawberry into her mouth, like the idea of Yujin spending time with you is some type of criminal offense. "I deserve to have you all to myself for a while..."

"Needy little brat."

Wonyoung can't help but giggle quietly, her devious little grin widening as she adjusts her headband, staying mindful of her antics. “I’m daddy’s needy little brat.”

It's rather cute to see her jealous side slip out, how she gets so pouty at the mere mention of you giving Yujin more attention. You're pretty sure you could give Wonyoung all the attention in the world and it’d never be enough. 

So after Wonyoung scoots a little closer and offers you a sip of her coffee that you’re not enthusiastic about, you drink it only because she’s the one offering. But god, it's the most sugary sweet drink you've ever had, and you try not to grimace at how this must be nothing but pure sugar, a far cry from your own almost entirely bitter black coffee. (And to think, this girl used to despise anything with a modicum of sweetness.) 

One sip is enough to wake the dead, but you're not surprised given it's Wonyoung, and this must be the secret source of her boundless energy. You're just about done with your breakfast, left to watch her take more tiny little nibbles of food until there's nothing left on her plate. When she’s all done, those pouty lips wrap around her straw one last time, sucking down the remnants with an annoying, loud slurp that leaves some leftover whipped cream on her lower lip that’s licked clean in the most provocative way possible.

"Come on, daddy," she says, wiping her mouth clean with a napkin and inspecting herself in the makeup mirror before packing her things up. "We have all day ahead of us."

✦ ✦

Back in your apartment, the emptiness can’t be ignored with Yujin not around, leaving you almost missing the chaotic energy that exists when these two are in the same space. The only advantage of her absence is that you can focus all your attention on Wonyoung as she rests her head on your lap, looking up at you so contently while you stroke her hair. 

For once, she’s not glued to her phone while you bask in this rare moment where hardly a word is spoken between you two, nothing to break the tranquil atmosphere. 

It's perfect. 

You wonder how it’s possible that this girl can be simultaneously such a hassle to deal with and also make you feel so happy with her presence. The ultimate dichotomy in the form of Jang Wonyoung—endlessly infuriating at times, and absolutely charming at others. 

At least for now, you’ve got the best side of her. Those pretty eyes stare at you with adoration as you comb your fingers through her hair, appreciating each and every detail of her endless beauty. 

"So beautiful, princess…” you murmur without thinking, nearly regretful to interrupt the silence. Taken by surprise, Wonyoung’s eyes flutter open at the sound of your voice, a red tint coloring her cheeks as her lips curl into an embarrassed grin.

“What was that, daddy?"

"You're so pretty," you say, not wasting any time to repeat yourself, and you’ll do so a thousand times if it gets this adorable reaction out of her. 

It doesn't take much to flatter Wonyoung, who thrives on compliments and praise, no matter how small or simple. "You're absolutely gorgeous, princess."

Not often can you make her speechless, even for a mere moment—but while she stays close to your lap, it leaves her completely vulnerable, all flustered, while you play with her hair and appreciate such perfection. 

"Say it again, daddy."

Before you can do just that, you’ll let the moment linger, relishing in how you have Wonyoung melting at words alone. You're more than aware of how easily she’ll turn into a needy mess at the most basic of compliments, this absolute brat now so timid and shy that you don’t want to ruin the moment. 

"Say what?" 

"Say I'm pretty again," Wonyoung whines with her lips pouting, waiting for your response, and she’s so desperate for more affection, like she’ll die if you don’t give her another compliment. And even with that, you hesitate, because it’s seldom you can get the upper hand. So you keep the silence going for longer than necessary, unable to hide the smile on your face from showing through. 

"Jang Wonyoung is the prettiest princess,” you finally manage to say, and she giggles, because nothing can't hold back how this praise energizes her, turning her into an absolute puddle. 

“Prettier than Yujinnie?"

“Wonyoung—"

“Yes or no," she interrupts with a sigh, because Wonyoung isn't ever satisfied unless you acknowledge her being in the top spot. Everything has to be a competition and there's no one else that compares to her.

“I'm not answering that. You're both—“

"So, that's a yes.” 

There she goes again, always misinterpreting your answer to turn it into her favor. Wonyoung props herself up to sit right next to you, leaning over to press a quick kiss against your cheek. "Don't worry, your secret is safe with me, daddy."

You can’t even be that annoyed when she’s this cute, never straying far from that bratty, but lovable side coming out as she clambers onto your lap and shifts her hips to get comfortable. 

Once she sees the marks left from this morning on the side of your neck, Wonyoung can’t help but smile in satisfaction. This sense of pride when she knows you’re all hers. 

"Is this a good place to start, or do you want the bedroom?" Wonyoung asks out of nowhere, barely getting a breath out before she leans in close. 

"Start what?" you ask, again feigning ignorance with a raised brow, because there's no better way to get a rise out of Wonyoung. And falling for the bait so easily, she lets out the loudest huff—this exaggerated frown, lips formed into the perfect pout, followed by rolling her eyes. The trifecta of annoyance. 

"Daddy," she complains with an exaggerated whine, always upset over the littlest thing. 

You’re not dense to what she’s getting at (it’s always the same thing), but you’ll never give in right away. Not when you can so easily let it simmer. "You said you were going to play with me. So that means fucking me all over the apartment until we're tired and sore."

And there's that signature bluntness that Wonyoung is known for. 

It's almost a relief to hear this side of her again, because as enjoyable as the sweet and innocent part of her is—you know it never lasts long. There’s clearly a time limit on how long she can maintain it all before her brattiness slips back out. 

“Did I? Doesn’t sound like me.” 

You now understand why Wonyoung acts this way. Because when you can get under her skin, even in this playful way—it’s more fun than you like to admit. Addicting even, seeing her get all worked up over the littlest things. "I don't remember promising anything..."

She squirms on your lap in frustration, placing her hands on your shoulders as if to convince you with those pleading eyes that it's her right to get her way. Honestly, you don't know how she does this all the time—because just a solitary moment looking into her gaze makes you want to surrender without a fight. 

"You don't want me to take all my clothes off right now? So you can do whatever you want to me?"

So that’s how she’s going to play this. It's tempting, really tempting—and a bit unfair that Wonyoung can provoke you in ways no one could resist, putting that impeccable tight body as her strongest weapon against your defenses. This girl's a master manipulator, no thanks to Yujin teaching her all the ways of seduction, turning her cuteness against you. 

"Then I guess I'll just go take a nap in my room and leave daddy all alone..." There's about a zero percent chance Wonyoung follows up on that threat, but you'll play this game despite that. She knows you will. 

"That's too bad then. Guess I'll just go see Yujin. It's been a while since I've made her—“

“Daddy!" she whines, her mouth pulled into a full frown as she gives up this charade so easily, changing the subject on the spot. "I'm wearing pink today. Underneath all this. It’s brand new, daddy hasn’t even seen it yet. Aren’t you curious to see it?” 

You curse under your breath at how quickly you’re about to fold, because you’re already picturing this gorgeous girl showing off a matching set of sexy underwear that she’ll look so good in. Admittedly, you've got nothing to defend yourself—no good cards left, nothing up your sleeve, and Wonyoung hasn't even gone all in yet.

"Yujin helped me pick it out. It's all lacy and so cute—she said it makes my butt look amazing."

There's nothing more dangerous than that. These two vixens helping pick out something so deadly for each other with the sole intent to make you weak. No one could blame you for buckling under the pressure of wanting to see every bit of Wonyoung’s beautiful body, every inch of that creamy skin yours for the taking. 

You could drag this on, but really, there’s no point, because this girl will bat those eyes, pout those lips, and have you eating right out of the palm of her hand. So, per usual, you topple, without even putting up a real fight. “Fine. Show me, princess.” 

Once again, you’ve succumbed to her ways, and she can’t hide the triumphant smile that flashes across her face, not even a bit humble about her victory. Wonyoung leans in for a kiss, but this time you dodge her lips, instead lifting her up to carry her all the way up the stairs. She wraps her arms around your neck to hold on, giggling even more like it's a bigger accomplishment that she doesn't have to walk up the stairs, getting this princess treatment she absolutely doesn't deserve.

“Not your bedroom, daddy. Yujin’s.” 

Before you’ve even reached the end of the stairs, Wonyoung’s doling out commands, but you follow the detour without objection, changing course straight towards the open doorway right at the far end of the hall. 

Yujin’s bedroom. 

Inside, you don’t bother closing the door, only switching on the lights as you enter with the full intent of defiling it (which, to be fair, Yujin would do exactly the same to Wonyoung, given the chance). 

“Down, please,” is what you’ve been instructed after you give the room a once-over, walking right up to such an immaculately made bed, and deposit Wonyoung not so gently against the firm mattress. The entire room smells so unmistakably like Yujin, as if she left moments ago without you noticing, an aroma that's not going to last much longer with the plans you both have. 

Wonyoung stretches her arms out, getting far too comfortable and almost content to just lie there while your gaze wanders around the room. There's a sense of familiarity walking in here, and the place is well kept, unsurprisingly, with you knowing exactly what’s in every nook and cranny. Normally, you'll see Yujin's laptop sitting on her desk, or on the bed while she lets you distract her from schoolwork by burying your tongue in her ass, because what are those short shorts for other than an invitation to do just that? 

The nightstand drawer consistently holds the same items (hint, one of them is fuzzy, pink, and always gets used on you more times than you care to count), and the closet mirror is seldom used to fix herself in the morning. Instead, the poor thing is only useful for two reasons: watching the view of Yujin's tight ass when she's on her knees, taking your cock so deep in her throat, or your personal favorite—the reflection of herself as you slam that sinful body up against it.

“Aren’t you going to join me?” Wonyoung asks, breaking your concentration as she reaches out for your hand. Before you agree, you remain steadfast at the foot of the bed, arms folded, watching the anticipation building in her eyes. 

“Am I? Weren’t you going to do something for me?” 

It’s the whole reason you two left the couch in the first place, right? The promise of something meticulously picked out that this girl is supposed to model for you, and yet, Wonyoung doesn't move a muscle while your collective stubbornness clashes. 

"Not until you come here, daddy."

Sigh. 

Because of course she can't do something so simple without a negotiation. No, it has to be you who caves in first and climbs onto the bed, with no energy to argue about if it gives you a closer look at this supposed little show that Wonyoung is about to put on. Without another word, she pushes you onto your back and straddles your lap, giving you one more look at her in this cute little white miniskirt and matching shirt ensemble that won't stay on for much longer.

You’re surprised at what comes next, expecting more of a challenge, that you’ll have to do something to earn this illustrious reveal. But then again—Wonyoung wants to show herself off, and nothing will get in the way of that.  

So, without any pause, her delicate fingers pop each button open, revealing a hint of beautiful pink lace. And your eyes are right where she wants them, but before your hands get a moment to be greedy, she stops you, catching a wrist. 

“Nuh-uh, daddy. No touching. Just watch.” 

Wonyoung gives back a smug smirk at giving you guidelines to obey, knowing how difficult it'll be for you to just sit back and enjoy. She continues where she left off, flinging the shirt off her shoulders to expose this pretty bra that's more than met expectations. 

“What do you think, daddy?” Of course, it looks amazing on her, showing off those cute perky tits, and that flawless porcelain skin that you can’t wait to get your hands on. 

"Not sure. Think I need to see the rest before I can decide."

Wonyoung isn’t even a little surprised at that answer, already unzipping her skirt to give more of herself away. She wiggles her hips to take it off her body, all the way down those shapely, endless legs. With nothing left in the way, you've got the best view of this matching set of pink lingerie that hugs her petite frame so perfectly, one that’s so skimpy, yet so ravishing at the same time. 

A simple wow is all you can manage, left nearly speechless, and you haven't even seen the much anticipated angle of that cute little butt that no doubt looks spectacular. Clearly, Yujin knew what she was doing. 

"You like it, daddy?" Wonyoung asks, already so sure of your answer when she grabs your hands to place them on her body. And that’s all you need when she gives permission to touch her to your heart’s desire, to run your fingertips up her toned stomach, right up to her chest, squeezing those perky little tits with all the greed she encourages. 

“Love it. Pink looks so good on you, princess.” 

The more you explore her flawless body, the more she squirms from the attention, desperate to take it all in as your hands touch and grope wherever they please. She simply melts at the attention, but you’re not done yet, waiting until the perfect moment to take two handfuls of that tight ass, unable to resist digging your fingers right in to squeeze tightly, getting a needy little gasp right out of her. 

"Only good?" she pouts, aching for more praise, more validation, and even while she knows how good she looks, she'll simply die without hearing it from your own lips. You kiss her, moving hair out of the way before breathing hot air right next to her ear when you bring your mouth there. 

“My princess looks so pretty, so goddamn sexy, so delicious—can’t take my eyes off you Jang Wonyoung. Can’t wait to taste you all.” It's not quite enough to satiate her ego, but the flattery does a number on her. Any cute little giggles that spill out do so unrestrained while you shower her in all the compliments she craves—that she deserves. 

Yet before you do anything, Wonyoung leans over to you with a beaming smile as she takes hold of your shirt and starts tugging, eager to get you out of these clothes. 

"But I wanna taste daddy first,” she says rather blatantly, working to get the garment up and over your head, stripping it off you in a few short seconds. She loves this, admiring your chest that she’ll spend an entire morning worshiping, kissing, biting, tracing her initials over your abdomen, whatever she chooses—

"Daddy can stare at me all he wants while I suck his cock..."

The thought of getting that pretty warm mouth on you is too good of a treat to resist, especially when Wonyoung is demanding so nicely, acting unusually sweet as she covers your chest with seemingly endless kisses. But soon, that interest wanes when the lust consumes her, unable to hide her desires while she trails further down, nibbling and biting her way further south.

"Whatever you want, princess. I’m all yours." 

“Don’t forget that.” Wonyoung's already snuck the belt from its confines, unbuckling it quickly as possible, trying so hard to mask the urgency that’s guiding her delicate fingers. Without words, she’s going straight for that craving—to taste you, to feel your length on her tongue, and by the time you realize you’ve been left only clad in your underwear, there’s no slowing her down. 

Not that you’d ever want to. 

Wonyoung continues on her mission to strip everything off—yanking at the elastic band to force your boxers down without warning. 

No longer held back, you're fully exposed before this ravenous girl, as Wonyoung licks her lips while admiring your shaft, salivating just a little too noticeably at the sight of her favorite thing in the world. 

"Daddy has such a beautiful cock. Missed it so much, missed how it fills my throat,” she says, and her hands find your thighs, palms stroking firmly up and down while she lays down onto her stomach to get that much closer. 

Her warm breath fans over your balls when she inches close enough, unable to help herself as she leaves kisses right at your base. Wonyoung giggles, smiling prettily before her tongue finally makes its presence known as she swirls around your cockhead in tight, slow circles, moaning a little with just a small taste of you.

She takes a small breath, looking up through those lashes that she’ll bat to get her way—but it isn’t necessary here, because Wonyoung is already where she needs to be. “Gonna make daddy feel so good, better than Yujin ever could.” 

The only response that leaves your lips is a low groan when her lips press a single kiss along the length, taking her sweet time to drag this on for longer than it needed to be. Her tongue immediately proves her point as she takes a long lick, then just like that—her plump lips part to take you, engulfing your swollen cockhead inside the wet heat of her mouth.

You groan with pleasure, resting comfortably against the sheets, and watch how Wonyoung goes to work on this already achingly stiff cock, fueled by lust and greed. She sucks so tightly around the head, not one bit in a hurry, and her mouth creates such a perfect suction around your sensitive tip. As you enjoy the visual, her lips slide down an extra inch or two before rising back up again, establishing a nice, slow pace to start this off, not willing to spoil herself just yet. 

That pretty fucking mouth—it’s your biggest weakness. This pleasure is not just for you, but for Wonyoung, who loves hearing your moans, the low curses, the growls, anything she can pull out of your lips.

The moment you disappear past her lips, she doesn't waste another moment. Wonyoung lowers, mouth sliding a little further, too impatient to wait, surrounding more of that shaft with her silky lips.

“Princess—“ 

Once again, you're completely at her mercy, drowning in anticipation. As those lips go deeper, she takes half your length, slowly bobbing her head to get reacquainted with this wonderful taste. Her warm, slick mouth works you over so expertly, tongue gliding along the underside of your cock to lavish everything it touches. 

The perfect rhythm, those pretty eyes gazing at your reaction—this is all so formulaic, and yet each time still feels as divine as the last. Your tip presses right at the entrance of her throat as Wonyoung dares herself to test her limits, but that gag reflex rudely interrupts. 

The strong grip on your thighs keeps her steady, but she backs out rather quickly, leaving a glistening trail behind as she pops off, gasping lightly from the temporary intrusion. “I’ll take you all down, I promise.” 

She lets out a content sigh, placing more loving, wet kisses on either side of your cock before her mouth dives back down. Determined to swallow you all up to the base, Wonyoung does so with relative ease, her throat relaxing, welcoming it all in. Inch by inch, she conquers your length, taking that thick cock until her nose nestles at your stomach—every throbbing part in the warm depths of her throat, buried right where it belongs. 

“Ah fuck—“

If only Yujin could walk in right now and see her at work, on her own bed no less. She’d be more proud above all else, despite finding something wrong with her technique. 

Wonyoung's gone well above and beyond, taking in every last inch at this point, more than a little eager at getting so messy when her drool runs down your cock. She’s absolutely starved for it all. She’ll do whatever she can to keep those moans going as she pins your hips down to the mattress, delivering pleasure like no one else can. These long strokes down her throat that get you all delirious. 

“Just like that, fuck—keep that pretty fucking mouth right there,” you demand, and when you reach for the top of her head to press her down, Wonyoung doesn't push away—only giving you everything needed to hold her there for as long as you want.

Wonyoung is more than willing to let you choke her with your cock, favoring your length stuffed down her throat over everything else. The only sounds out of her besides the constant gurgle of spit, are the pitiful, desperate, yet grateful little moans, maintaining all this eye contact despite how many times your throbbing cock presses deep into the back of her throat.

Those teary eyes, they watch intently, because this is what gets her off the most, expertly sucking cock while the faces you're making encourages her all the more. It's a sight to behold, how she gets between your legs, devotedly sucking your dick as if nothing else matters to her.

It’s an art form really, how Wonyoung can wring out so much pleasure like she has something new to prove. 

But for a moment, those pretty hands take the lead while her mouth rests. One strokes you with those slender fingers so vigorously, spitting all over your length to rub it all in, while the other plays with your balls, testing how full she’s made them. 

It’s not out of the ordinary to sneak a quick handjob in the morning while Yujin is still fast asleep besides you, so in need of claiming your first orgasm in the morning before you’ve even left the sheets. 

But getting this glorious blowjob, there isn't anything quite like the warmth of her throat, even as the need to please you clashes with the gag reflex that she tries to overcome. In all honestly, you like hearing this struggle, the way Wonyoung chokes and gags on your length while putting your pleasure first, eyes watering, but never failing to give your cock exactly what it demands. 

“That’s it, choke on that fucking cock, god, princess—“ And she listens so obediently, holding you there for a moment longer until she doesn’t—retreating all too suddenly, letting your shaft throb freely when it slips from between her lips.

"Tell me how good I am first, daddy. Tell me how good I am at sucking your cock and I'll keep this in my mouth,” Wonyoung responds after backing off, gasping as she does so, drool running down her chin. “I’ll get my lips right down to your balls and get you off so fucking hard…”

Wonyoung always knows the worst time to get demanding, the perfect time to tease when she knows you need it the most, yearning for the touch of her mouth, ready to do whatever she asks. Before you get another word in, she’s covering your cock in slow, heavy kisses, a barrage to add to her saliva so she can savor you with her pretty lips. 

There’s no use hiding your desperation as she continues these noisy, open-mouthed kisses all the way down to your balls and back up again, while your tip remains swollen, unattended to, aching for those pillowy lips again.

"Princess, need that pretty mouth back on me right now. Need it so bad, back where it belongs—" you plead, but this doesn't dissuade her one bit as she keeps taunting you, with her mouth that refuses to wrap fully back around the head of your cock. 

"You didn't even tell me what I wanted. Not gonna do anything else until I get what I want, daddy."

Once again, she needs that satisfaction like oxygen, needs to hear the words falling out of your mouth while she lies there motionless, waiting and ready. Wonyoung wears a look of impatience, falling back into that wicked smirk while her lips part just the tiniest bit more, brushing teasingly close to your dick. "God, your mouth, princess—it's so perfect, and those fucking lips, love how they look wrapped around my cock." 

Her hot, heavy breath is all you’re getting for now until you give in, until you meet the exact quota of praise she craves. "Tell me I'm better than Yujin. Tell me I make you cum harder, tell me, daddy."

"Princess, stop—"

"No, daddy, tell me. You know I suck your cock the best. All you have to do is say it. Tell me how much better my mouth feels, how much you prefer me swallowing your cum over Yujin.”

It's all part of this devilish game that she loves to play, making it worse by blowing warm air right over the tip, those swollen, red lips getting within kissing distance before pulling away without the slightest brush. You know she's just dying to take you back into her mouth again, but she’ll tease you forever if you don’t give her the right answer.

You give a heavy sigh in defeat. There's no fighting against this brat, not when you’re so rock fucking hard. “You’re the absolute best, princess. Nobody sucks dick better than you—not even Yujin. Your mouth is better, and nobody can make me cum like you can.” 

“Wasn’t that easy? I knew you loved my mouth more,” Wonyoung says, hearing just what she needs to hear, and finally, those sweet lips find their rightful place, easing the frustration you've dealt with. They part with ease, swallowing down your length in one movement, and then it’s an endless repetition of her warm mouth down to your base. 

Wonyoung keeps you buried inside her throat, wanting to choke on you longer than the previous attempt. Her eyes water a little more every time her nose nudges against your abdomen. 

This momentum keeps going, a combination of that intense suction, the messy sounds from slobbering everywhere, and the incredible warmth—everything mixes so perfectly, and even better, the look in her eyes when your dick is so far down her throat.

“Fuck, your mouth, it feels so good, so goddamn good, love when you choke on my cock like this.“ 

“Don’t worry, daddy, not gonna stop, gonna choke on this thick cock until you cum down my fucking throat. Need my tummy so full.” 

It’s rather indulgent for both of you; Wonyoung, who loves slobbering on your length as much as you love hearing all her obscene slurps, and the feeling of those silky soft lips sliding so wonderfully down your shaft, taking you so, so deep. You’re fighting the temptation to take over, to fuck her face so roughly until that makeup she spends so long on is all ruined, because this is her show—you’re just here to enjoy it. 

When the pace starts to falter, she lets your cock slip out of her mouth to focus on your balls, drawing each one into her hot mouth, to give some much needed attention. 

Wonyoung loves taking turns between worshiping your length and those balls, so full of your delicious load she can't wait for, tasting and fondling them to her heart's desire. Her pretty little hands still pump around your shaft when her lips aren't surrounding you, and that hungry little mouth keeps slurping wherever she can, making such loud, obscenely wet noises.

“Mmmph, fuck, daddy—your balls feel so nice and heavy. So full of cum all ready for me to drain, aren’t they?” 

It’s beyond pornographic how Wonyoung devours every part of you, and she’s not done giving you all the pleasure you can handle, not until her tongue moves down lower past your balls, traveling where it doesn’t typically go. You have no use for words, just heavy breaths, reacting almost involuntarily as her tongue swirls against your asshole, flicking against that most sensitive, tight opening.

“Jesus, fuck, Wony—“ 

It’s quite unexpected, but no less welcome, the way that wet, wonderful tongue stimulates you in ways that make your head spin. She's dedicated to this, keeping a hand wrapped around your cock while her mouth is busy, making you feel a rush of pleasure like no other, rimming your ass without an ounce of shame.

You can see her entire grin between licks, and her focus lies with pleasuring your asshole, slobbering and working the tip of her tongue at such a gentle speed, easing in all this pleasure. And somehow, this is a level of vulnerability that's unfamiliar, leaving you overwhelmed by escalating bliss when Wonyoung goes as far as burying her tongue inside your ass, delving as deep as possible. "Yujinnie said you loved this, daddy.”

And god, she’s never been so right. 

You’re utterly at Wonyoung’s mercy while she laps at your asshole with her tongue, occasionally pulling away to lick at your balls. All in addition to her hand pleasuring your shaft, not leaving any part of you neglected. 

It’s every bit unfair that her tongue feels so good against this unexplored area, your nerves going wild. Because it’s not enough that she’s great at giving head and riding your dick. She has to be so good at something only Yujin only does, your body nothing but receptive to pleasure that's reducing you to a mess faster than you'd care to admit.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise, really, that this girl can eat ass like a pro. You’ve seen her go to town on Yujin dozens of times, either to get all prepped to take a pounding in her ass or because she absolutely loves doing it. But this—this pleasure has no right being so good, so sinfully indulgent. Wonyoung just has to show off her expertise, that she’s good even at this, her tongue making a complete meal out of your ass.

And from now on, you’ll have to make sure Wonyoung includes this in her oral repertoire, because that bratty mouth is capable of far more than just complaining. 

She works your cock faster while her mouth stays occupied with your asshole, giving more bliss than you know how to handle. Each and every stroke keeps you so painfully hard in her firm grip, her tongue shoved so deep, immersed in this ass licking that steals all these moans out of you, that even Yujin would be speechless. 

If you're not careful, you’ll explode in no time—but Wonyoung knows exactly how far to push this when you're getting on the edge, knowing full well when to pull back so she can go right back to sucking you off, because that's the only way she wants this huge load. 

So rather regretfully (or maybe thankfully), you’re given a break from this wonderful tonguefuck, with no hopes of trying to collect yourself. Then, without further warning, Wonyoung takes your cock down her throat, all in one motion, like it was never a struggle from the beginning. 

"Princess, wait—" 

Your poor dick can't take much more, leaking so much, throbbing so hard—but more than anything, you feel the need to reciprocate, after Wonyoung giving a whole new level of pleasure. "Need to taste you. Need that pretty little cunt in my mouth right now."

As usual, there's a pout that leaves her lips when she's so clearly disappointed, hating the thought of losing her favorite treat. But there's no need to stop what she's so focused on doing when you, in fact, can still return the favor—at the same time.

"Come over here,” you beckon over with a finger, and it doesn’t take long for Wonyoung to crawl up the bed, piecing together the puzzle of what comes next. 

Her pout suddenly disappears while you tug at the waistband of her pretty panties, and she gets the message loud and clear, slowly turning around so you can see what the pink lace hardly hides beneath—a perfect, tight ass that looks devastatingly good in lingerie. But it's not an image you get to savor for long as she peels it down and flings it off somewhere across the bedroom, bringing her pussy and those pale cheeks back right where you need them: facing your hungry, depraved stare, showing off everything.

There's something unbelievably satisfying about having this view—even better when you pull her body closer to let her straddle your face, ready to lose yourself in this absolute feast right above you.

“Daddy…“ Not another word leaves your mouth as you dive in between her thighs, your tongue grazing those slick folds to lap at her needy cunt. When those pillowy cheeks press right against your face, that’s when the real treat starts, all for you to enjoy as your tongue explores her warmth. You're devouring Wonyoung from the start, straight for those soaked lips to get your tongue all over her slit, exploring with vigorous licks to drink up her arousal and spread her mess everywhere in the process.

“Oh god, daddy,” Wonyoung squeals, before that devilish mouth gets occupied by something far better, moaning over your cock, somehow holding back as much as she can while you lose yourself. She’s in utter bliss as you eat her out, and you keep a firm grasp on her taut buttcheeks, spreading them open to keep your tongue buried inside her wet cunt while you work your way up towards her sensitive clit.

She isn't going to let herself get distracted either, picking up right where she left off, drooling all over your dick in between messy slurps. Nothing gets her more excited than pleasing you, moaning for the thick cock that she needs in the back of her throat, the taste that she can’t go without.

"Fuck, princess," you manage between heavy breaths, trying to keep an even, slow pace with your tongue. A near impossible task, so lost in how amazing her mouth is on your dick, savoring every second her arousal coats your lips. “You taste so damn good. God, I could eat your pussy like this for hours.” 

"And I could keep sucking daddy off for even longer—" she retorts, not breaking the pace of this sloppy suction that sounds almost as good as it feels. 

While Wonyoung doesn’t let up with her oral assault, you're intent on playing with her clit, circling it with the flat of your tongue and flicking without any proper direction, slurping so harshly when it’s between your lips. You’re just trying to survive that warm mouth whenever she swallows you down, finding the only distraction is to bury your face in her slick heat.

It really doesn't get better than this. 

You’re making an absolute mess between her legs, and in exchange she’s treating your shaft so well, bobbing her pretty head to get your length down, to take in every single inch she can get.

"Daddy—" she sighs between licking her own saliva off your cock,  and takes these shallow breaths that are anything but steady. Wonyoung can barely keep it together. All these frantic licks you give her needy clit make her moan so desperately against your throbbing shaft when you do so, downright devouring her cunt. 

“That feels so fucking good—you're so good with your tongue, daddy, please don't stop—"

Like you can hardly think of anything else but eating Wonyoung’s delicious pussy, your new purpose in life only to drive her wild and keep all these juices flowing. There's absolutely nothing you'd rather have right now but your tongue prodding so deep inside this pretty sopping hole.

The mere noises she makes while you’re teasing and slurping on her cunt is a reward on its own. The most adorable whimpers and whines always slip out whenever your tongue enters her wetness, no matter how hard she tries to hold them back.

"Daddy, oh my fucking god—" Wonyoung keeps rocking her hips, barely able to do anything but pump your cock in her hand while she selfishly grinds her dripping cunt right on your face. "You’re gonna make me cum if you keep fucking doing that."

That’s exactly where you need her. You can taste exactly how close she is—so close—from her juices flooding your tongue, and that only makes you more driven to push her over that edge, licking, sucking, doing all that's needed to have Wonyoung make a mess all over your face. Her hips can't stop moving, so desperate for friction, so, so desperate for release, whimpering and begging all while she rides your face and chokes her moans on your cock.

You do everything you can to get her to the end, tongue lapping up all the nectar that spills from her pussy, so ravenous to taste all those delectable juices flooding your mouth. She’s equally eager and enthusiastic to take in more than she should, to make a sloppy mess of your shaft, trying her hardest to take you to the hilt while utterly lost in euphoria.

“Almost there—“ she gasps out, and her hot breath spurs on your efforts when she swallows you right down to your balls, the one last thing that sets her off. With a muffled cry against your cock, Wonyoung shakes so hard from your tongue buried deep inside, and her arousal gushes out for you to swallow eagerly, her creamy thighs violently trembling over you while you savor this mess. 

It’s a high so intense that it seems endless, lingering while you lick her through it to ride it all out, almost to the point of a second one right after. Once Wonyoung recovers some of her composure, all that attention goes right back to your cock—holding your hips tight, so she can fuck her face on you so vigorously, barely able to keep up as she attempts to finish you off. 

"Jesus, that throat feels so fucking good, princess, fuck—"

And god, you have no chance to fight back when your cock gets so submerged down Wonyoung’s throat, all the warmth that engulfs, her face between your legs so desperate to drain your balls. 

All you can do is surrender to the pleasure as her ravenous mouth takes over, her throat enticingly guiding you towards that edge. You're beyond capable of articulating anything other than needy groans, not with how Wonyoung's gagging on your length with no regard whatsoever for anything but making sure you unload deep in her mouth.

She doesn’t relent one bit through all this sloppiness, her wet throat choking around the entirety of your shaft to urge your orgasm out. Wonyoung knows a huge, creamy load is building inside of you, and she’ll do whatever it takes to milk it out. You’re not done on your end either, tongue back on her oversensitive clit, licking with so much endless fervor to get another messy release out of her right along with yours. 

“Down my throat, daddy, right now,” she urges, right before another toe-curling orgasm rocks her right against your face. By this point, you're ready to follow right behind, groaning heavily as she keeps sputtering and gagging with only one purpose, to guzzle this inevitable load right down her throat.

“Princess—“

Wonyoung’s a master at what’s next—before you can fully process it, your shaft is buried down her throat, violently pulsating as she squeezes your balls tight, forcing all of your cum right down the back of her throat. 

You've got a grip on her ass as tight as you can brace yourself while she draws that load out, greedily swallowing as much hot seed as her pretty little mouth can handle. Wonyoung guzzles it down with nothing but pride, even what overflows down to your balls, emptying everything you’ve got straight into her stomach as if she's been waiting all day for a load like this. 

Nothing escapes—not when she keeps you stuffed down her throat, keeping you throbbing far long after you’ve been drained, taking every drop that’s earned. 

In the wake of it all, when she’s done her job and your balls have been completely emptied, you’re left a sweaty, panting mess, drowning in euphoric bliss while you stay in her throat.

Because nobody can make you cum like Wonyoung’s mouth can. 

But she’s not done—it’s pure greed, even when your cock is all sore and sensitive, she keeps going, licking up the length of your shaft to clean up anything she may have missed. Wonyoung knows you'll need a moment, that it's not like your balls could produce any more cum so soon after such an intensive explosion in her mouth. Yet, she's definitely not about to let that stop her from trying to milk another thick load, using every method at her disposal to get your overstimulated dick to yield a reward from those swollen balls. 

(No doubt, she learned that from Yujin, because they both have a knack for draining you like it’s essential to their survival.)

It’s a torturous mixture of painful pleasure, when her mouth gets back on you, slow and steady, every motion a reminder that your poor, oversensitive shaft can't take anything else. Yet, you have trouble getting any words out, struggling to put together a proper sentence to protest. 

"Ah, fuck, princess, wait—"

She keeps swallowing you all up for several more slurps, until her hot mouth releases your cock with a wet, loud pop, flicking at your slit for a moment longer just to drive you crazy. And while you're too obstructed by Wonyoung's wet cunt to see what's going on, you know there's a sinister little smirk at the other end. "Too sensitive, daddy?" 

You groan out something that resembles an answer—not that Wonyoung didn’t already know before you've opened your mouth, but that doesn't mean she’ll stop her magic on your dick that's far too sore for a second orgasm anytime soon.

So, she keeps a tight grip, letting this contradictory form of bliss linger as her soft hands caress the entire length of your aching cock. There are no doubts about how sensitive you are, and yet—she wants to get one more load out of you, somehow, thumbing over your swollen tip just to hear how helpless you'll sound in a moment of vulnerability. 

"Fine, daddy. We'll do something else,” she says with a disappointed sigh. For now, Wonyoung plans on leaving your cock alone, so that your sensitive length can recover for her next pounding. Instead, she mounts your chest with that alluring look on her face to kiss you, tasting herself on your lips. 

"Let's see what Yujin keeps around here…“ 

When you lose the comforting weight of her petite body, you barely have time to figure out what that means when Wonyoung looks around in search of anything that could aid in this mission of making you cum once again. She scrounges around the room like a detective on the hunt for clues, digging through drawers, closets, anywhere someone curious might look until—

"Ooh, what's this?"

You’re still in recovery mode, and from your point of view, all you can see is Wonyoung finding something underneath the bed—a rather large black box that’s surprisingly discreet, given what must be inside. She hoists it onto the mattress with a puzzled look on her face, running her thumb over something in the front. "It's locked. Needs a code, daddy."

At first, you think she's joking, but when she passes you the box, you immediately notice that yes, there's a simple four-digit dial presumably holding the entire thing shut. What surprises you the most isn't that it's here, but that it's locked in the first place—there's hardly any secrets kept between you three, spending half the time all sweaty and naked together, sharing just about every moment there is with each other. But the more you think about it—the more you realize this is less a box of secrets and more... a surprise.

"Oh, wait. I know, it must be daddy's birthday." Surely, it can't be that easy, that there has to be at least a little challenge to figure it out—but before you can even finish your thought, you hear the click of the lock as it opens up. "Oh, look at that. I'm a genius."

You'll let her have this moment of glory, trying not to roll your eyes as Wonyoung flips the lid open and peers inside. She gives a dramatic gasp and runs a finger over the velvety interior before digging through what appears to be an arsenal of sex toys: handcuffs, rope, blindfolds, various paddles, plugs, and several things you don't even know the purpose of. But there's something at the very bottom that grabs her attention the most, and Wonyoung removes a pink leather collar, one that has the word 'Brat' inscribed in rhinestones on the front, dangling a metal ring in the center. 

"Looks like that's for you," she teases, examining the collar and how it couldn't be anymore perfectly tailored to her as she looks through the rest of the box for anything of note. Of course, there's a plethora of fun in there, but nothing you really haven't seen before, nothing that you or Yujin haven't used on Wonyoung at this point. 

"Let's see how this looks on me."

Unsurprisingly, it fits Wonyoung just right as she fastens the collar around her neck, playing with the ring as she proudly shows it off. "Pretty, right?" 

It's more than pretty, seeing the light pink against Wonyoung's delicate pale skin as it's now firmly wrapped around her neck, the color matching her discarded thong that's long forgotten somewhere on the bedroom floor. "Not bad."

"Not bad?" she huffs, annoyed that you can't be more impressed, even more offended that you haven’t given her a barrage of compliments. "Ugh, fine. I know how I can make it look better."

Suddenly, Wonyoung kneels on the mattress, unhooking her lace bra in a swift, graceful movement to give you a glorious view of her body on full display. All that milky skin, her perky tits with those pretty nipples, but now your attention is fully directed on the leather wrapped around her neck as she lies down and spreads her legs so invitingly. "How about now? Isn’t this where a brat is supposed to be? On my back, legs spread, all ready to serve?" 

"Since when are you so obedient?"

"Never. I'm just letting you think I am."

Despite what she says, Wonyoung always demands to be manhandled by either you, or Yujin (or both). Labeling her a brat is an understatement; she relishes in provoking you, yet equally revels in the consequences and punishment she rightfully deserves.

As she's self proclaimed—Wonyoung isn't a good girl. 

You look through the box of toys one more time before moving it over to the nightstand, just in case you'll need it later. Upon your return, you straddle her petite, pretty body, staring her down for a moment, letting the anticipation build while you decide on where to start. "Princess—"

"Yes, daddy?"

She looks so good like this, completely naked underneath you that there’s no shortage of options for how you can toy with her body. "What should I do with you?"

"Whatever daddy wants." 

That's too simple of an answer. You've got plenty of ideas swirling around in your head, most of them involving leaving this bratty girl a whimpering mess by the end of it all. And yet, it's so hard to pinpoint exactly where to start. "That's boring, princess. Don't make me choose."

She pretends to think long and hard about it, as if there's anything she wants other than to be completely ruined—the usual treatment. "Dunno. Surprise me, daddy."

That doesn't exactly help, but when has she ever cooperated in any meaningful way? But if Wonyoung wants to be surprised—then you'll do just that and oblige her. 

"What color?" you ask, offering no further explanation. 

"What color for what?" Wonyoung asks, tilting her head slightly in confusion. You give no further details. 

"Just answer the question, princess." 

Wonyoung's not oblivious to what possibilities lie before her, but still hesitates to give anything substantial. "Hmm, well this is pink… so that means I should pick something else doesn't it?" 

Of course, never straight to the point with her, nor willing to offer a simple answer. It's exactly what you should expect from Wonyoung, and god knows she'll drag this out if you really let her. But if she wants to keep stalling, you'll just end up picking for her. "Do I have to specify every fucking thing I ask you, brat?" 

She's certainly earned that title. 

"Blue, I guess." It sounds indifferent, just answering to get you to stop asking—but this is Wonyoung, you have to remind yourself, who’ll spend an hour in her closet trying to decide which one of twelve different pairs of shoes that all look the exact fucking same she wants. "No, red. I want red." 

Again, never a straight fucking answer out of her, like you've given her the most difficult decision in her life. "Are you sure about that, princess?" 

She doesn't even answer at first, Wonyoung doing everything in her power to protest even the littlest thing, making sure you don’t forget the word that’s etched across her collar. "I said I wanted red, daddy."

That fucking attitude never ceases to show up when it's least welcome. Normally, you'll fight it right away, but this one time you just let it slide, which seems to only make matters worse, as if you’ve insulted her by doing so. “Okay then. That's your choice.”

Then there's just silence filling the room while you have this stare down with Wonyoung, waiting to see who'll back down first. It's definitely not going to be you. The tension builds without anyone saying a word, and it's clear neither of you have any plans to back down or concede. In fact, her bratty little glare grows with intensity until—

"Arms up, princess."

There's no telling how this will go, but you have a suspicion that it’ll end up the same exact way. You're sure today won't be any exception. "Sorry? Didn't hear that, daddy." 

"I said—arms up. Brat. I'm not going to ask again."

Judging by that arrogant little smirk on her face, you know Wonyoung heard you the first time. And it’s exactly what you expect as a response. 

Without warning, you seize each of her dainty wrists, stretching both arms over her head to pin them against the pillows. That's when you go for the box on the nightstand, finding exactly what you need in no time—a long bundle of red rope that's perfect for tying up an uncooperative brat.

Taking one more look at the nightstand, you’re tempted to find something to silence that fucking mouth—then again, you’d never miss a chance to hear her beg for more, or those pretty little moans that'll slip out when she's absolutely lost in bliss. So, instead you're settling for this, winding the rope around Wonyoung's wrists to bind them together, tight and secure, forcing her arms to remain up and out of the way. 

"Much better. Must you be so difficult? Disobedient little slut." 

Her eyes gleam at the harsh words, a low whimper falling from her parted lips. Once the rope is secured and tied in a tight knot, there's no escape. Despite that, you go the extra mile just to be sure the binds won't come loose so easily. "But daddy likes it that way, doesn't he?"

You can't exactly deny any of those words. 

She's doing this for your benefit equally as much as to annoy you. And you can't say you don't enjoy putting Wonyoung in her place, especially when this is the end result—bound and spread out all for you, helpless and at your complete mercy. 

"Fucking brat. You think I like having to do this? All this extra effort?"

"Uh-huh. Daddy loves tying me all up so I can't escape, so he can use me how he wants." Wonyoung starts squirming a bit in her tight restraints before raising her hips, giving a sinful view of her wet, dripping cunt that looks oh so enticing. "And since I'm such an unruly, disobedient little slut—" 

Your expectant gaze wanders right between her pretty thighs, looking long and hard at those plump pussy lips that make your mouth water, so desperate to sink your cock straight into that wet, tight cunt. Wonyoung can't hide her satisfaction either of being restrained like this, relishing the feeling of being trapped, completely at your mercy, unable to move without your help. "Daddy's gonna have to make me behave..."

"Oh, don't you fucking worry about that." The threat comes with a guarantee as you spread Wonyoung's thighs further apart, getting a closeup look at all her drenched flesh covered with arousal in the process, just waiting to be used. It makes your cock ache. “Daddy’s gonna fuck the brat out of you.” 

Wonyoung tries to close her thighs shut at the thought of that, already so fucking wet and needy, but you’re not having it. Her pretty cunt practically screams to be filled, while you open those creamy thighs back up that feel so hot against your palms when you run your hands across them.

"I'm so ready to be all stretched out by your big, throbbing cock." It's hardly subtle, those depraved words spilled out so breathlessly that it drives you crazy—not even sure which of you needs this more, her or you. "Fill me all the way up, daddy."

Now that you've got her like this, completely at your whims, you've got time on your side to really tease Wonyoung to her wit’s end. "Got a better idea. Maybe I'll use one of these toys Yujin left us. That's what they're for, isn't it? So many to choose from, I can take my time…” 

She shakes her head a bit, not liking what she’s hearing one bit. "No, daddy, please. These toys aren't as good as your amazing cock. They can't pump a big load inside my pussy like you can."

Her demeanor changes so quickly, a flick of a switch how her tone softens now that the threat of denial is looming over her head. You have Wonyoung right where you want her, and how much effort she’s going to put in to earn your cock—well, that all depends on her. 

“Daddy's poor balls must be aching. They look so full and heavy—they need emptying again, don't they? Don't you wanna dump a massive load inside my pussy?" 

She's too good at this, at trying to tempt you with words alone. There's no denying how well it's working, getting you so fucking hard, with this urge rising and building inside you. But you can't falter, not yet, not when you're pulling all the desperation out of Wonyoung with so much more to go. 

"Who said anything about dumping a load inside you? I've got you to myself right here. When I’m done, I can just jerk myself off all over your pretty naked body. Maybe even leave you all tied up here for Yujin to play with after. This is her room, after all." 

"Daddy, no! That's not fair. You're supposed to use me. And fill me up with cum. That's what I'm here for. To be your pretty little cum dump. Then to keep your dick all nice and warm after..." 

How cute, how she tries to guilt you in to letting her get what she wants. Shameless doesn't even begin to describe Wonyoung, but that’s precisely what makes this so fun to deny her. "Or—I could just fuck Yujin right here. On her bed. Right in front of you. She loves my cock just as much as you, doesn't she? Maybe even more. What if I emptied my balls into her instead?"

"Daddy wouldn't dare." 

"Wouldn't I? Yujin wouldn’t have any trouble riding me while we make you watch, not touching you. Make sure I only fill her up. You enjoy watching us fuck all the time already. Why is this any different? Maybe we'll keep your pretty pussy untouched for the rest of the weekend. I’ll just let her cum on my cock over and over until we tire out…"

More than anything, the idea of going any length of time without your cock inside Wonyoung seems to rile her up the most, hitting all the right nerves that get exactly the reaction you want out of her. 

"Daddy wouldn't be able to go through with that. You love my pussy way too much," she pouts, clearly getting frustrated at all your empty promises. "I'm the prettiest and the tightest. Don't you remember the first time you came inside me? How much cum you emptied? No way daddy can't go a whole day without this tight little pussy wrapped around your big, perfect cock..."

Oh, she knows better. Wonyoung knows perfectly well how this need is mutual, how little either of you can go without getting some relief, finding any excuse to fuck. Better yet, there's nothing Yujin would love more than that—you flooding her cunt with an endless amount of cum while this poor girl stays all tied up, only able to watch from the sidelines. But neither of you are actually that cruel, as fun as that temptation is. 

"Daddy, please. Put that big dick in me. I'll let you use me as much as you want, pound me until you give me a nice warm creampie—a thick one I can feel right here, deep inside me."

She’s pulling strings that have no control attached to them. 

“But what if I wanna fuck your ass first? Or use your throat while your head hangs off the edge of this bed just the way you like, hm, princess?"

"Anything, daddy can use any part of me. Fuck whatever hole he wants. Just—please, can't wait, need to have that dick in me right now. Don't care where it goes—" 

Now, you could really keep this going, but there's not much point when she's reduced to begging so pathetically like this, already way past the breaking point. So there's really only one thing left to do. “Of course I’m gonna fuck you. And cum in you. Needy fucking slut.” 

"Daddy's needy little slut," she corrects with the biggest sigh of relief. "Wreck my little pussy. Don't hold back anything or go easy on me."

You're more than a little annoyed that she thinks you ever would. "Quiet, princess. All that bratty mouth is good for is making my dick wet."

Without waiting for another response, you're grabbing Wonyoung’s body and pulling her closer towards you to line yourself up properly with her dripping entrance. Just the tip of your cock presses right up against that hot, slick opening, ready to fill her up and stretch her wide open. There's no rush, not when you can see the anticipation in her eyes, so desperate for your first thrust. 

Before you satisfy her needs—needs that you both crave, you take a moment to let it sink in: how Wonyoung is all tied up, helpless, with her arms bound above her head and the prettiest collar around her neck, only able to take whatever you have to offer.

“Such a pretty little thing, all tied up, ready for this fucking cock. Gonna have a lot of fun with you, princess.” 

You don’t have any time to wait for a response, and slowly, you ease your shaft in, inch by inch, groaning at the overwhelming pleasure of sinking into her warmth. Wonyoung's so unbelievably drenched, yet so fucking tight as you push yourself in as deep as possible. It's the perfect stretch of her walls as you slide the entirety of your hard cock into this tight, little hole, unable to hold back any moans at how ready her pussy is to take you—until you're balls fucking deep inside her. 

“Daddy—“ 

"God, princess, love how fucking tight you are. Your greedy little cunt is just begging for a huge load in it, isn’t it?”

Wonyoung just nods wordlessly, struggling with the bratty facade now that she's got exactly what she needs, all this heat enveloping your shaft so nicely. You don't even bother to move your hips, not yet, opting to leave your dick inside her, lost in that incredible wetness that pulls you right in—but not for too long.

Before she can even complain, your hands settle firmly over her tiny waist to keep her in place as you slide the entirety of your length back out in one fluid motion, all the way back to the very tip—then immediately thrust back in full force,  impaling Wonyoung with your cock. 

"Oh god—" she gasps, the stretch so sudden as she tightens around your cock so deliciously. And you're quick to follow up with more, because there's only one way this is going to go. There's no patience left, and your only plan is to pound into her pussy hard and fast like you never have before.

"How's that dick feel in you, brat? This is what you needed, right? Just how you like it?"

"Y-yes, right there, daddy," Wonyoung whines, losing all of that attitude in an instant, giving in to every little sensation that floods her body. "Ah—so good. My pussy loves having your dick in me. Fuck me, fuck me until your balls are empty."

Like there was ever a question you intended to do anything else.

You've been storing up all this pent up frustration to fuel your hips, every forceful thrust completely ravaging her. The pace isn't even remotely gentle, knowing full well Wonyoung needs this pounding more than ever as your cock plunges into her wet heat without even the slightest pause.

"Your pussy feels so fucking good," you growl, unable to tear your gaze away from her perfect features, how she lies there helplessly, taking your cock so well. 

You can barely handle how goddamn tight she is. With each deep stroke, her sticky arousal clings to your throbbing shaft, running down the length while her mouth hangs open to release every breathless moan. 

"Give me more, daddy. Harder—"

Even all tied up, this girl thinks she's in charge here. "Needy slut. You're lucky I'm fucking you in the first place. Your pussy should be thanking me."

"Th-thank you, daddy," she moans, in absolute fucking ecstasy, her perfect cunt squeezing the life out of your cock whenever you bottom her out. Her entire body gets rocked with the sheer force of every harsh, deep thrust, her cute breasts doing their best to bounce along to this unforgiving rhythm that hasn't even begun to settle. "Harder, p-please—"

"Oh, so you do know how to ask nicely? But only when I have my cock buried in you?"

Wonyoung only lets out a strangled gasp in response from another hard thrust, saying nothing more and resorting to desperate whining each time your cock completely fills her to the hilt. Your urge to deny her has all but vanished, with her sticky warmth enveloping the entirety of your shaft when your cock fills cunt—so hard, so goddamn deep, enough to overwhelm her, and she can’t even scramble for anything in reach to grab on to. 

Every single time you slide out, her slick, tight walls pull you right back in, making it impossible to ignore the ravenous clutches of her cunt. Soaked can’t even begin to describe her slick entrance, an abundance of arousal ensuring the path is paved for your cock to ram into her pussy unimpeded. 

“Feels so good, daddy," Wonyoung breathes out, her face inching closer when you lean forward, lifting those lusciously long legs up in the air to place them over your shoulders with her feet left dangling in the air helplessly. 

Nothing holds you back when you’ve got her all folded up, your hips dominated by lust and pleasure as her pliant body accepts this pounding so effortlessly. The room resonates with flesh meeting flesh, and it all feels a little too unreal. Every ounce of pleasure intensified as you plow into her tight heat that devours every inch you have. 

“You're so deep in me—want you to cum, want you to cum so hard inside me, daddy—please."

That’s when you really start to give it to her. 

The bed underneath Wonyoung creaks louder and louder in protest, being drowned out by the sinful sounds that escape her lips that urge your cock right back in. 

You can see it in those fucking eyes, that she’s frustrated—unable to touch you, unable to wrap her arms around you and dig her nails right into your back. The poor thing can’t even touch herself to give that extra pleasure while you're railing her into the mattress like this. She'll survive, because it’s not like this isn't making her wetter by the moment, every second she's restrained like this, taking your cock with her mouth open and pussy swallowing all of you up. 

“I think I like you best like this. Tied up and helpless with nothing to do but lay there, just a warm, wet hole for me to use until my load fills you."

Wonyoung can’t exactly disagree with that, even as much as she wants to have her hands wandering your body, tugging at your hair, or feeling your muscles flex under her fingers. “But doesn’t daddy miss when I wrap my legs around, so I can make sure all that cum goes deep inside me? You're going to cum in me, right?”

"Not if you keep asking me again and again. Maybe I'll just paint your pretty face and leave you here instead," you say, slowing your pace while you think it over. She just frowns, trying to use her cunt to encourage you, to make you keep going with extra force. Even when you shift the position of her legs, taking them off your shoulders to spread them wide as they’ll go, knees nearly to her chest so you can really drill her, she doesn’t give up. 

"I know that's not what you really want," Wonyoung says, countering with a little smirk that contorts in pleasure when your cock angles at just the right spot. It never ends—even as your hips piston so viciously, and she takes the entire length of you right back down to the hilt with every stroke. That bratty mouth never stops. 

“Daddy wants to cum in my needy little pussy. Why else would you be fucking me like you’re trying to break me? Why else would you put me in this position if you’re not going to breed me?” 

“Do you ever—fucking stop talking? Regretting not gagging you from the start.” 

“Not a chance daddy would do that. You like hearing me beg for your cock too much.” If her goal is to get you to lose control, to go as rough as you can get, she's absolutely going to get all that and more. You gain a new rush of energy to fuck your frustrations out, slamming into this blissful warmth that you're eager to spill your seed in despite what any other words that leave your mouth say.

“Inside me, daddy, deep inside," Wonyoung insists, voice faltering with every strained syllable, barely hanging on through all these forceful thrusts. She looks absolutely satisfied with you groaning above her, like her pussy controls your cock and not the other way around. “You wouldn't dream of pulling out—daddy wants to fill me so bad."

Can’t argue with that one bit. With her legs so helplessly in the air, she watches you pump away without restraint, into this intoxicating heat, until there’s no defenses left against the inevitable. 

“Can feel you throbbing so much, daddy must be so close. My pussy needs it—please, pound my little hole until your balls empty, fill me to the brim,” she pleas so innocently, so sweetly, in contrast to your harsh, raw fucking that hasn't given even a moment's break since you lifted her legs up.

"You think you deserve that? You really think you deserve for me to breed you?" It’s a question unfitting an actual response, because like hell,  you don't deserve to empty yourself into Wonyoung's warm little pussy. If anything, you deserve this reward for putting up with her for so long every single day. 

"When has that ever stopped you before? Daddy always fills me even when I've been a bad girl. You love shooting all your hot cum inside and watching it slowly drip out of me..."

Once again, she has you there. All you can do is put more power into your hips, to make sure your climax arrives sooner, slamming your entire length so deep into that dripping cunt that's begging for your release. You're not leaving this bed until Wonyoung gets filled.

“Fucking brat. Only because your cunt feels so good is why I'm finishing inside you. And because Yujin isn't here to drain me."

Wonyoung isn't the least bit insulted by these words, smirking happily at getting what she thinks she oh so deserves. And while you might be the one in control, fucking her senseless with her legs obscenely spread up in the air like a toy for your own pleasure—she holds more power than you realize. Because, as always, you're giving her exactly what she wants, even when you pretend not to.

"Daddy, gonna—" is all she can get out before you feel her pussy begin to spasm violently around your shaft, clamping down so tightly you might burst before she does. 

"Then fucking cum, you cock hungry little slut—then your pussy can have my load." You can't exactly blame her when you’ve been pounding her so harshly into the mattress, that she falls into an orgasm so quickly, reaching the height of her pleasure—and you're almost there yourself.

You can feel her orgasm rip through her body as she moans your name breathlessly, eyes rolling back into her head in bliss as your cock fills her sweet cunt over and over, the tip ready to erupt at any second. More than anything else, the thought of emptying your entire load into Wonyoung makes your hips buck even faster, until you're pushing her into yet another climax while desperately seeking relief yourself.

"You want a hot fucking creampie in your pretty little cunt, huh? That’s what you’ve been begging me for?" you growl, as you struggle to maintain this brutal pace, chasing after your own release, and Wonyoung can't even cling onto any part of you to help speed this all up. She only lets out all these fervent nods, still going through the motions of her own next impending orgasm, toes all curled, mouth wide open as her pussy clenches and clenches all around your aching shaft. 

And it feels way too fucking amazing to resist.

Nothing stops you from plowing this girl who's so helplessly at your will, waiting for your cock to reward her, lips parted, eyes closed, the loop of her pretty collar dangling with each rock of your hips, until you’re right there at the end—

You fucking unload everything. Every drop that belongs to Wonyoung, every hot creamy spurt that she's craved for so long. Her gaze never falters while her pussy milks out all this cum right up into her womb, coating her insides with a massive thick load, just like she desperately needed.

Not for a second do you stop your harsh movements, pushing every bit of your heavy load deeper into this needy cunt. Wonyoung has never looked so pretty—arms bound, legs up, accepting all of your cum, her beautiful skin glistening with sweat from being used like this, red marks already forming around her delicate wrists, while your cock keeps pumping more and more thick, pearlescent cum into her. 

Only then, do you ride this high, when you're so wonderfully exhausted from giving this brat everything until your balls have nothing more left to spill.

“Fuck, princess,” you mutter between pants for breaths. Her body is equally spent, still twitching in the aftershocks of her own blissful release, and the warm, messy load in her pussy. "Made me cum so much—"

“Don’t I always?” Wonyoung responds between tired gasps for air, and even on the verge of passing out from exhaustion, she still finds the energy to bite back. 

You'd usually find your own snarky response to that, but you’re far too tired and much more interested in seeing the mess that’s been left inside her. When your cock slowly slides out of her freshly used cunt, a familiar sight greets you—so much thick, creamy white flowing out, mixed in with Wonyoung's own juices that looks absolutely exquisite spilling all over the inside of her creamy thighs.

“Shit—you’re fucking right. I love watching my cum drip out of you," you admit, trailing lazy fingers over her body, her glistening stomach, those perky breasts, and her delicate neck that looks so good with that little collar around it. Your touch wanders up to her face, caressing her cheek with a thumb, admiring the faint smile that graces those pink lips. "Love cumming inside you more than anything, princess."

Wonyoung doesn't say a thing except to giggle softly, more than a little pleased with herself. She's been in this bound state for long enough, so it’s about time to untie her, you think, loosening the knot enough to free those slender arms. You slip off the collar from her neck as well to make it easier to catch her breath, and rub the soreness out of those dainty wrists, kissing them as the rope slips off and goes forgotten. 

For sure, Yujin is going to notice this all when she gets back and ask for details.

Now that Wonyoung can move around unrestricted, she uses her newfound freedom to prop her body up and lean in for a kiss. It's more subdued than you expected, given that she still needs a few fleeting moments to gather her senses while you slip a hand between her legs to play with the mess you've made in her cunt, making sure the remnants of your load don’t escape. 

"It’s so much… so easy to make daddy cum, isn't it?" she says, still unable to breathe normally, a proud smile on her face like she didn't cream all over your cock an uncountable number of times either.

"Don’t make me regret untying you, princess. Next time I'm leaving one of those toys in you, shutting the door, and getting some peace and quiet."

"Like you could ever leave me. Daddy can't get enough of my tight little pussy."

"Brat." 

"Daddy's brat."

[sharkenedfangs]

What do I need to do to get a fic of sub crossdressing male pc begging Bailey to be their first time ( first everything really)? I don't even care about wether PC gets railed like we wish, I honestly highkey just want your take on it.

— ☆ “SIMMERING BENEATH.”

— sucks when your annoyingly bratty, yet pretty bastard of an opthan manages to get past your tight-held clutches, doesn’t it? mister bailey. 1.8k wc

— “the fuck do you want, asher?” : wrote this on the way back home, so on the sort of.. subway thingies, it’s not called that where I am, but they do resemble that and felt fucking nauseous, so apologies in advance if it’s shit. was too good to fully pass up on this one, though couldn’t turn it into a full-on lengthy one due to being busy with other current things. still tried to input every aspect you’ve asked for. yeah, may it be up to your standards then, anon.

Fucking fuck.

No, hell— that wouldn’t truthfully encapsulate the sheer idiocy of his muddled actions even then, because god— fucking shit, why would a man of the likes of Bailey — relatively known, if not factually remembered as the cold, logical one in town — stupidly fall for some mere trickery, childish ploy fabricated by your own stubborn whims? Or, to be quite precise, those pathetic taunts of yours that any man possessing the slightest nerve of a goddamn functional brain, wouldn’t have dumbly caved in to.

Talking about the depraved perverts that’d foolishly slip between the evidently, way too small cracks unfitting for their same, way too fucking large bodies — of the barely opened windows the dumb orphans would forgetfully leave behind. Shakily pawing with sweat slicked hands at some brat’s snoozing body before they’d eventually be chased off by the mere sight of his approaching figure inevitably barging in, hastily mutter on about their prestigious status and so on— fuck, never really truly listened to the shoddy bastards. How Bailey was no man to rudely kick ‘em out of the own crappy establishment he was sloppily running with a twinge of cruelty ever present in his cold gaze.

Yeah, he’s no damn better than those perverted fuckers right about now— possibly worse, but shit, no way in fucking hell will he potentially admit to that despite the cooling air annoyingly caressing his bare skin, sticky sweat clinging onto his flushed flesh nor the disheveled mess of his habitually, slicked back hair partially obscuring his hazy vision of this.. well, fuck— say it or not, admittedly, fucking hot sight shamelessly greeting him in return. Loosened, pristine white dress shirt untucked in face of this, to give forth to a discreet glimpse of one of the numerous tattoos snaked along the surface of his toned figure.

Slightest pout of your rosy, puckered lips he’d unconsciously find himself eyeing for far too long when thoroughly denied for the day by your daily, insistent questioning. Pop your cherry, you had confidently said with a noticeably excited shake of your fists. Might as well endlessly yap his ear off with that unrealistic request of yours— a pitiful plea that somehow, without fully realizing as to how and why — is currently happening within the otherwise narrow confines of his private office. Solely dedicated to calmly concentrate on each and every one of his gruelling tasks. Namely, neatly sorting out the thin sheets of paper openly displaying pertinent information to the numerous orphans residing here, registering the missing few that’d either go in running like some mindless moron or be plainly sold off to a godforsaken hell he held no genuine interest in— Fuck, fuck. You get the gist by now, there.

A well-deserved punishment is what this all is, simply was for that matter, and hah— you seem to be willingly taking it, although, can’t truly say he’s all that suprised. Brat. It’s what you are. Stupidly nosy brat who couldn’t hope to obediently keep his supple hands to himself for the shitty life of him. One that’d so ironically, perfectly fit all too well underneath the weight of his calloused palms restricting your bashful squirming— now contentedly facing the eventual consequences of your impulsive actions with a gleeful smile tracing your curved lips. Rhythmic squeaking of the wooden, chipped desk the man had sworn to fucking god, promised to dearly replace whenever was soonest possible and, well, he’s received his all-time excuse to be snidely given to those thugs.

A cum coated piece of furniture is just about a good reason to be neatly reinstalled with something sharper, newer— something along the lines of that, the bigger the better, probably.

Speaking of big.. Shit, he’s undeniably fucked.

“Don’t you fucking look at me like that, you ungrateful little bastard. I’m putting a roof over your head and a place to stay so— fuck, the least you can do is fucking pay me back on time, but can’t even do that, can you?” Habitually stern is what he’s evidently known best for amongst the nosy orphans, yet that usual bite in his gruff voice is almost.. pitifully lacking in face of whatever the fuck this is— yeah, actually he’s got a clue what it is. Inwardly cursing at how his hips automatically snap back in one sharp motion to then, merely slap forward— flush against your reddened ass. Riddled, fresh marks traced along the entirety of your curved back nor your spread asscheeks for that matter, shouldn’t be looking so infuriatingly pretty after all that harsh spanking he’s had you withstand. Take it as the start of your relatively tame punishment coming from a stone cold man like him, that’s what.

“Like what? A satisfied client? Hah— this is the best day of my life, y’know. Feels so fuckin’ good, Bailey— please don’t stop..” Of-fucking-‘course you’ve already had whatever comment prepared to hurriedly retort back within your noisy mouth, despite being so crudely bent over a flat surface like this. Particularly whiny moan drawn out at the feel of his thick cock satisfyingly stretching you full, sinfully defiling you from virginity itself. Pervertedly spread open with your dizzyingly warm, honeyed— fuck, did he really just think of your hole like that?? Must be losing his goddamn mind. Correct, your fucking hole is the one irreversibly altering his unwavering principles. So fuck you, really.

Sloppy, squelchy noises, all too annoyingly addictive to hear, of your tight, puckered heat fervently sucking his fat cock in, coating it all sticky and wet with your slippery, pink insides. Instinctively hissing at the knee-buckling sight of his veiny length repeatedly remerging and disappearing deep inside because shit— can’t get enough of it. So much so his rough thumbs are subconsciously spreading that tender flesh wide open for his unrelenting, stern gaze to gawk at. Not to mention, those frilly lines adorning that stupidly short skirt, bouncing in tandem with each ruthless thrusts slapped to your backside. Admittedly adorable, cute cock clumsily bobbing from the ruthlessly loud smacks of the caretaker’s fat balls sloppily slapping upon the flush of your ass, teasing— no, irrefutably taunting him by the subtle glimpse of your dribbling, wet dick peeking from beneath that skirt.

Like to play dress up, don’t you? Sneakily slip in those overly feminine, lacy garments the elder man would’ve notably poked fun at the sissies that unabashedly wore such clothings back in his day— ironically enough, now he’s finding himself, balls deep into said ‘sissy’. Meanly tugging at the silken material snugly encircling your flailing legs, neatly tied bows bound to predictably come undone given the unrelenting bounces of your shared figures. Unable to keep still when you’re being fucked or something?

Little, incompetent brat. Constantly managing to crawl underneath his skin, reach the deepest parts within him the caretaker has progressively learned to conceal beneath this ruthlessly heartless facade. Not that Bailey’s the nicest man to begin with, but hell— favouring a good for nothing, admittedly appealing to the eyes— meddling boy like you wasn’t on his fucking wish list either.

Should be crudely wiping off that joyous grin etched upon your features if you actually know what’s good for you. Though, doubt you will.

Fine. He’s not necessarily against doing the honours for you. Frustratingly fuck out the undeniable audacity ever so present in your every movements when carelessly distracting him during work hours— time meant to be initially spent for focusing and godfuckingdammit, merely thinking back on it has him obscenely gritting his teeth, further tightening his unrelenting grip planted along your — sure to be bruised later, which you’re naturally paying the price of it — hips. Heaving groans mixed along with some curses which are presumably directed at you, if not at himself, that he’s uncertain of, really. All he’s stupidly conscious of is the undeniable fact that you might’ve coincidentally, if not intentionally, gotten him dizzyingly drunk off your previously undefiled hole.

Fuck, must be that then. Overly aware of what you’re currently doing to him, aren’t you?

‘S that it? Your admittedly, badly thought out plan simmering deep within your mind, happily tugging at his heartstrings in hopes of getting your mean caretaker to fuck your virgin holes full of cum? Well, all to say— you’ve graciously received what your bratty, stupidly pretty ass has fervently been desiring for all along, huh? Ain’t that right? So in return, it’s only fair that he greedily takes whatever he so pleases, whenever or wherever— that is of no importance then, whether it be comfortably settled atop his lap during office hours or slung along your knees to dutifully service him. “God, don’t you dare fucking move— just— just fucking stay like. Yeah, just like— hah, that.” Got no qualms whatever position that might be in, too caught up in the tender feel of your soft flesh underneath his punishing grasp to sluggishly catch on what’s spilling forth from his swollen red, oozing tip because.. shit, got him cumming— not just plain ol’ cumming, but mortifyingly enough, squirting prematurely too. Effectively painting your stretched walls in a sticky, white mess of his seed, inwardly cursing at himself for potentially letting things stretch on further than they were initially meant to.

Yet as ironic as it may be, his unwavering pride naturally beckons him in turn or is it the petulant whine longingly drawled out from between your rosy lips at the sole thoughts of your time together being cut short? Right— ‘course, what else would it be that’d have you miserably whimper so? Didn’t cum yet, did you? Obediently took his fat load sickeningly dripping free from your sore, used up hole without any sort of complaint, gaze momentarily flicking downwards to the pearly droplets of his cum progressively trickling down the length of your suspended legs laid along the precarious edge of his oaky desk.

Similar to how an opportunist excitedly pounces on every chance set before him— hah, he’s never been much like Eden to cowardly hide amongst the oaky, wooden trees to begin with. Huddle within the shadowy forest in a futile hope that mere distance might erase the muddled past; the foggy, far-away town altogether from their collectively minds.

Rather take part in the animalistic feast even if it would’ve eventually spelled utter ruin for himself, inevitable defeat one cannot simply crawl out of sheer will. And maybe, that said ruin, is delicately staring at him right in the face with a fucked out look stretch upon your features, pupils blown wide with a hint of saliva gracing the corner of your pouty lips that he— fuck, can’t help it, really— have his calloused thumb stroke at, soon swiftly followed by the immediate puckering of your overly attentive mouth suckling along the digit. Incidentally coating it in a slippery wet layer of your spit that you, of course, joyfully take advantage of by stifling a wanton moan right ‘round it.

Shit, going to be the goddamn death of him.

That eventually faith patiently awaiting for him, doesn’t sound so bad when your cum stained, little needy self is notably factored in that messy equation after all.

[laylaysdelusions]

Waiting room

Paige Bueckers x reader

Plot: the breakup. (Heartbreaking angst)

It’s painful, so fucking painful. 

Paige had left you in the heat of August, to fight for yourself. I mean it wasn’t her fault, it was for the best. You had attachment problems and you were fully aware of that. It was just something you did, you didn’t mean to.

“I’m not good for you honey” she told you as she sat on the end of your floral bed sheets. You knew all six of those words were true but it didn’t make it hurt any less. Days passed and you couldn’t get your bones to move out of their permanent position. It was like time didn’t exist. The wall seemed to the most interesting thing the world had to offer. 

You’d wake up with tears streaming down your face and you’d fall asleep in the same manner. Eventually months began to pass but you still couldn’t function normally. Of course you had to return to work and classes but the world was still black and white. You couldn’t bring yourself to get rid of the pink bear that laid directly in-front of your bed. Paige had gotten you the bear from the Minnesota State Fair and you remembered every painful detail about that day. It was lovely, truly perfect. When did things change? How does time do that? 

It made the light in your eyes die and your heart beat slower. Maybe you were already dead you just weren’t fully conscious of it yet. 

One day in mid October you trembled in the cold as you walked to your psychology class, that’s when you spotted her. 

Paige had her tongue intertwined with a curly headed girl on a campus bench. Right then and there your heart stopped beating. Your mouth went dry and you swear the air stopped circulating through your body. She’s moved on. The sudden realization made you run as fast as you possibly could to class. How you did it? You still have no idea. It was like your existence was nothing but absence. Every noise was just in the background. You couldn’t feel anything but the pounding in your ears. “This is a nightmare you need to wake up.” You told yourself. This can’t be real life, right? Oh but it was. This is something you are going to have to deal with for the rest of your life. 

The next week passes by without a single text message you received being handed a reply. You know your loved ones were very concerned but life had no point without Paige Bueckers. That right there is why Paige left you. Toxic attachment. Everyone that looked at you two could see how the debilitating love was making you worse. Which is more damaging and dangerous, having Paige and being so clingy it would rot away at you or not having her and every step you take being hell?

The consistent cycle of waking up, not caring, crying, putting your AirPods in, going back to sleep, and doing it all over again was the definition of your life. You were merely a shell of the girl you used to be. Nothing more than a zombie trying to hold it together. 

The winter comes faster than you can imagine. Snow falls down at UConn and you have an even stronger reason to cry. It’s down right freezing. 

You have started incorporating your friends back into your life however it’s a tedious process. You still have what feels like an inhalable heartbreak. At least your friends know why now. 

One day you’re sitting in the library with your friend Ariana when you look up to someone clearing their throat. Oh no. 

Paige bueckers stands infront of you.

It all rushes back intensely and you feel your legs go weak. No matter what she’s about to say you’re still gonna love her like a sick puppy loves its owner.

:(

[alienaiver]

Rotisserie Chicken

Suna Rintarou x gn!reader

warnings: none! this is pure fluff wordcount: 1.2k content: fluff, SFW, genderneutral reader, bodypositive and poc friendly reader, domestic fluff, established relationship, post-timeskip, canon compliant, not beta'd, youre married and pretty handy in regards to like. building stuff LMAO, light humor and banter, no use of y/n, i googled rotisserie chicken a thousand times to make sure i spelled it correctly. it looks wrong no matter what i do

notes: this is part four of my domestic life with suna series! i should really make a masterpost actually. anyways, your 10 year old bed that you lovingly bought together at the start of the relationship is creaking; you fix it. suna has his thoughts and secrets are uncovered!

go to part 1, 2, 3 (but can be read as a stand-alone)

Suna walks into your bedroom with a cold bottle of tea in his hand and his phone in the other, eyeing you for only a moment before throwing himself onto the recliner in the corner. You’ve been forced to take PTO days before they expire and so the recliner, dubbed the Laundry Chair, is actually available to sit on. Suna doesn’t hesitate.

Silently, he lifts his phone to stare into the screen again, making a point out of not commenting on your work. Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees you popping up from behind the bed frame to see if he’s looking at you. When he isn’t, you pop back down and fiddle with the screws. Profanities have been said because your small power drill hasn’t been charged over night like you planned yesterday (you forgot to turn on the outlet itself before joining Suna on the couch for a late night Netflix evening).

He knows that you’re hoping for an offer of his drink but he’s as stubborn as you are; you’re fully capable of asking, he reasons. You grumble out some more words before you turn to the next screw. He bites the bullet, “why, oh, why has the mattress been lifted from my perfectly functioning bed?”

The way your head rises up and your smile beaming has him rolling his eyes already, “I’m just tightening the screws. The creaking is making me insane.”

“Oh?” he says, unscrewing his bottle, “I find the clown bicycle honks kinda hot when you do your half-hourly rotating.”

You narrow your eyes but before you can speak he continues, “I wonder who would’ve been correct in saying that IKEA furniture that’s been disassembled before is shit. Who could’ve saved us the trouble?” He looks to the ceiling and around the room before his eyes lands directly on yours, “that’s right. Me.” he says dryly, challenging you with a raised eyebrow.

You snort before you turn back to your task at hand, the mattress balanced hazardously up against the walk-in closet that’s currently half-open. Not a dangerous thing at all, no, he observes to himself.

After a moment of silence you forego his scolding and ask, “what the hell do you mean half-hourly rotating? Who does that?”

He scrolls social media as he chuckles, "you. You do that. Like a little rotisserie chicken but instead it’s all natural, no electrical wires needed.”

The wide stare you give him is enough to make him crack a smile, eyes still theatrically trained on his screen. “Is that why I’m called rotisserie chicken on your fucking phone!?”

Bingo. Suna sits up straighter with as neutral a smile as possible, stretching his arms above him, “of course. Everyone knows I call you that.”

“Everyone!?” you shriek, completely forgetting about the screws that urgently needed tightening only a few short minutes ago. Suna groans from the stretch, “yeah, my boss ate it up.”

“Your boss? Who, the trainer? The physiotherapist?” you ask with a laugh spilling from your mouth; unbelieving but at the same time awed that Suna talks to someone about you. Those are useless details to share.

“No, the bald guy who sponsors the team. The one who loves hugging you when you stop by practice and matches.”

You make a grimace at the memory. He’s truly a kind, middle-aged man but he is very touchy-feel and while you don’t mind a hug once in a while even from acquaintances, it is shrewd how many he tries to squeeze in there. Then, you shake your head at your husband, “you’re unbelievable you know that, right?”

You pretend to throw the screwdriver in his direction and he mock-dodges to the left and wipes his brow in relief when he successfully avoids the sharp object, “what is unbelievable is the fact that we brought the bed from our first apartment to our house. I feel like we deserve something to go with the rest.”

You grunt as you reach a screw that no matter how much you tighten it, it seems to go loose. You realize it’s not even the same as the others on this metal… thingy. “Rin…” you say and it sounds like a warning. Suna’s muscles tightens for a moment, “why is this screw different from the rest?”

he gulps loudly. He’d forgotten about it; spent so long hoping you’d never notice (or that the bed wouldn’t fall apart underneath you) that it disappeared into the back of his mind. He gets up to take a look as if he can’t imagine the exact screw you’re fiddling with.

“Oh, that one,” he tries to say breezily, hoping casual will be the correct path to take. You look up at him when you realize that he knows something; he shoots a picture of you instead before he continues, “uh, we couldn’t find the screw so Atsumu just put that one in, saying it was the right girth.”

Your eyebrows shoot to your forehead in such a speed that Suna’s sad he didn’t capture it on video, spluttering out incomprehensible sounds that might’ve been words, accidentally spitting on the floor in your vigor. Probably something about different screws having different purposes. Then, you close your eyes and take a deep breath, “and why didn’t you just call for me? I was right downstairs when you and Osamu assembled the bed! Why did Atsumu suddenly help you?”

Suna avoids your gaze by looking pointedly out the window; snow was falling and staying. Winter would be cold this year.

“Suna Rintarou,” you say sharply and a shiver runs up his spine. You enjoy seeing the reaction. He deflates, “you were sitting with my nephew who’d gotten hurt. I didn’t want to… I didn’t want to disturb you.”

You warm at his confession. His nephew had gotten hurt, running around as family and friends were carrying furniture and boxes into the newly bought house; a box he’d been curious about had fallen over him. All it needed was a kiss and a band-aid and he’d been fine, but you had sat with him and sang until he calmed down. You even think you scolded the box together with him.

You shake your head, “well I guess this screw has been holding out. We’ll just continue using it then.”

Suna rolls his eyes, “why don’t we just buy a new bed?” the question makes you laugh, “we have one that works perfectly fine, don’t we? We even upgraded the mattress when you first got on the National team!”

Suna rolls his eyes, “next time the clown bike’s back, I’m buying us a new bed.”

You give him a thumbs up before you crawl out from the frame, “yeah, yeah. Now put the mattress back with me, will you?”

“Sure, Tjiken.” he says with a sly smile. It’s the nickname his niece once started calling you out of nowhere. Your eyes widen and mouth drops open in an ‘o’ shape as you realize.

“Is my cute, familial nickname a child abbreviation of the word chicken!?”

He can’t tell if you find it funny that his whole family’s calling you chicken, or if you’re slightly horrified. Personally, he’s amused that you’re finally learning the truth that’s been common knowledge among his family members.

He can’t wait to start his own family with you someday, hopefully soon. Then, he’d find an equally silly name and teach your child to call you that. His eyes twinkle with excitement at the thought that you might do it back, too.

[itwasthereaminuteago]

¦¦ The Hand That Feeds ¦¦

Bucky Barnes x Brock Rumlow

Tags/Warnings: Hydra Trash Party, Using the Winter Soldier as a plaything, Non-Con oral sex, mentions of abuse, brief blood and violence, happy ending! :D

Also on AO3 for those that prefer it!

When the command came to sit, he got to his knees and waited. The order could be followed up by a number of possible different scenarios, or none at all. Just a test of endurance as the cold from the concrete flooring seeped into his bones.

In the shorter periods between missions when he wasn't being stored in the deep freeze, Hydra's agents got to let loose on the Asset. The Winter Soldier. Anything went really, as long as it wouldn't ultimately compromise his functionality. You might be surprised at how huge a window that left for the things that could be done to him.

From the rhythmic taps and slaps on the cell door as the keycode was punched in, he knew that today it was Rumlow, one of his main handlers, and that he was in a good mood.

“Hi honey I'm home,” he hollers as he enters, “did ya miss me?”

The soldier bit his tongue just in case he ever answered in the affirmative. After all, Rumlow was the gentlest with him and he knew it. He treated him with some amount of respect while the others just used him like the tool he was supposed to be. In spite of his accelerated healing capability, Jack Rollins had still left him shitting blood for a day after one of his ‘recreational’ visits.

Brock swings around the metal folding chair he's carrying, snapping it open in front of the soldier and sitting down in front of him.

“Bucky, Bucky, Bucky.” He drawls.

The soldier had noticed Brock using this nickname for him more recently. He didn't like it. It made his head swim and hurt. 

“What a day… what a fucking day!” Brock is grinning widely as he leans back in the chair and the metal creaks under his muscled bulk. 

The soldier remains still and silent, though when he hears the sound of the zipper his mouth floods with saliva. He likes to think that it's a conditioned response but he's actually not so sure anymore.

Rumlow eases his cock out of his pants and the soldier has nowhere else to look but straight at it, watching as he runs his hand slowly up and down the thick-veined length of himself a few times as he looks down into the blank blue eyes before him. When he pauses his movements and gives a nod of his head the soldier leans forward to wrap his lips around the tip of him, his tongue pressed up wet beneath the bulbous pink head, a bead of precum searing across his tastebuds. Rumlow groans, a low chuckle bubbling out of him as he closes his eyes and lets him get down to it. He trusts him enough not to bite his dick right off. There was a time early on in his conditioning when he would have, Brock was grateful he wasn't that guy, but that nasty little habit was electrocuted out of him soon enough.

Rollins claimed he had trained the gag reflex out of him, although Brock had joked it couldn't have been that hard given the small size of Rollins’ dick. Regardless, the Winter Soldier sucked cock like he was born for it. 

“Fucking hell…” Brock groans as he watches him take him fully into his hot mouth  “I said it before and I ain't afraid to say it again, you're better than any woman I've had, Jesus Christ!” 

Rumlow liked to talk. It was a reliable indication of when he was going to finish when the filthy words just kept spewing out of his mouth like a river. But for now he was just getting warmed up.

“Ohh yeah, there we go. Fuuuuck me.” Brock purrs as the soldier gradually takes him deeper, sucking his entire length down his throat, drool starting to drip from his chin. “You get to be the fucking cherry on top of my glorious day, you know that?”

The soldier shifts on his knees, metal hand sliding to the base of his handler’s thick cock to cup his balls. He knows he likes the feel of the cool plates against them. His flesh hand sneaks down between his own legs, tugging at the canvas tac pants to give his own erection some room to swell. Rumlow is the only one that tolerates him touching himself. Every other basic need of his is taken care of, albeit in a regimented, carefully controlled way. This is the only part he has any modicum of autonomy over. He might be a legendary assassin but his body still yearns for carnal release sometimes.

Brock pipes up again between the echoing slurps and gruff groans they trade. 

“Oh yeah, such a good fucking day. I got to kick your little boyfriend’s all-American ass up and down the compound, and it ain't often - fuck - that a guy can say that!” 

The soldier didn't answer, kinda difficult to with a cock stuffed in his mouth anyway but he'd often hear Rumlow and the others refer to this person; ‘his boyfriend’, ‘Cap’, but to him he was just another target. Enhanced like he was, but just another target to take down when ordered.

Rumlow continued, his fingers combing through the soldier's lank hair. “God damn, if he knew I got to come back to this, oh yeah, I don't think he'd be too happy.” He laughs again, his hand gently guiding the man between his thighs as he swallows his cock down to the hilt and makes a strangled moan as the tip of him hits the back of his throat. “Not too happy at all.”

Rumlow grits his teeth as he feels himself getting close to going off. “Such a perfect fucking slut mouth on you, mm! Fuck it ain't gonna be long today, you ready for it, huh?”

Whether he's ready for it or not doesn't really figure into anything. The soldier turns his watery eyes up to meet Brock’s blown out dark brown stare, humming around him in answer, almost gagging as the man starts pumping his hips up off the chair, fucking his thick shaft down his abused throat, chasing his impending release. 

“Oh shit, yeah yeah that's fucking right! Man if Steve fucking Rogers could see this… see his good ol’ pal Bucky taking my load like a fucking bitch-” 

Steve . The soldier turns the name over in his fractured mind as everything else fades into the background. Why does it sound familiar, why does he feel the essence of it in his bones? No other names he had heard in his decades of service had shone out of the dark like this one did.

He's whipped back to the present. Rumlow’s face contorts as he starts spurting his warm salty cum over his tongue with a loud shout.

Then, something's different. Clearer.

He's standing at the open cell door, looking back at Rumlow screaming on the floor in a puddle of crimson clutching at his groin. Somehow this feels like the way it's supposed to go. 

Bucky spits out the blood and cum, wiping his mouth with the back of his gloved hand. He twists his foot, the plastic and wires of Brock’s communicator crushing to trash under his boot before he turns and stalks down the corridor.

He sharply rolls the shoulder of his left arm as he walks, the plates rippling into place all the way down, resetting. Everything is clicking into place. Just like his brain. 

If he's lucky he's bought enough time to pay a visit to Rollins and the others before the alarm is raised that something has gone terribly, terribly wrong.

[kellanved-ammanas]

TF2 Drabbles: Engie & Medic - Frostbite

Summary: Engie not coping with the freezing cold well and getting frost bitten or sick perhaps? 👀

~

On an intellectual level Engie had come prepared for the cold. Which was enough in theory but as with many things, in practice, it wasn’t quite so easy. In particular he’d somehow failed to account for a rather major change that made frigid environments an even bigger issue for him than before. Metal had a tendency to get quite cold when in freezing temperatures for too long. Enough so to be a problem when pressed against bare flesh.

Purplish gray streaks of frostbite grew from where the metal of his mechanical hand met the flesh of his arm. It didn’t hurt yet but was instead utterly numb. When it had time to start thawing properly it was going to hurt like hell. Right now though, he could sit in his workshop and just look at it, turning his wrist this way and that in morbid fascination.

Probably he should detach the hand as it wasn’t nearly warm enough in here for it to not still be doing damage. Or maybe he would let it go for a little bit longer and then use it as an excuse to upgrade to a full robot arm. The biggest problem with that though was that he didn’t have it ready to go. Nowhere close in fact. That idea was still in the blueprint phase. He would need two full functioning hands and arms to get it beyond that and into the prototype phase before eventually making it a reality.

And so with a sigh, he shifted closer to his work bench so he could start decoupling the hand. A process that took several minutes but eventually he got it off. Normally it hurt when he detached it from his nervous system. It was barely anything this time though. The reason why become obvious once his stump was fully freed of it. His entire end of his arm was a deep purplish black. Damn. It might be time to upgrade the hand after all.

He stood and quickly made his way out of the workshop. They’d been in this base for a grand total of two days now and it was bigger than it needed to be, meaning it took a bit to remember where Medic’s lab was set up. By the time he got there, the utter numbness had warming into a tingling. Which on the bright side meant he still had some feeling in part of his arm and thus it might be salvageable.

Upon knocking, he didn’t wait for an answer before barging in. It was kind of an emergency after all. Luckily Medic wasn’t doing anything untoward. He was looking up from adjusting the space heater he’d had Engie build to help keep his birds warm.

Engie walked up to him. “I fucked up, Doc.” He held up his frostbitten stump as evidence.

Medic shifted to look at it properly. Raising an eyebrow, he adjusted his glasses. “Wow. You got plans to extend that metal hand of yours?”

“Nothing buildable yet.”

“Well, you’re gonna have uneven arms for a little bit then. Would you like me do the sawing this time or do you want to do it yourself again?”

“Uh… you can do it this time.” Engie would rather never go through that again. “And if you could sedate me too, that’d be swell.”

Medic sighed. “Fine, if you insist.”

[mayako2308]

Characters: Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu, GN!Reader

Type: Fluff, Slight Angst if you squint really hard

AU: Killing Game!AU

Summary: Reader found a Spa on one of the islands and took Fuyuhiko to it. Fluff and frustrations ensue.

Contains: Spa, Fuyuhiko being sleepy, adorableness, reader teasing hiko, Fuyuhiko opening up about his family, giggling Fuyuhiko

I've never been to a spa. Ever.

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(Fuyuhiko's POV)

  "Seriously." Earlier today, (Y/N) asked me if I wanted to go check out a place they had found yesterday while we were checking out the newest island. I don't know what I was expecting but it sure as hell wasn't a damn fully functioning spa. "Come on, were having a spa day!" Said (Y/N) as they pulled me into the building. "Do I have a say in th-" I started. "No." That marked the beginning of an odd day.

   "Ooh! Let's give ourselves facials!" (Y/N) said in excitement. I made an obvious face after hearing them say 'facials.' "Not that kind! C'mon." They said as they pulled me towards the face section. I saw them take some supplies and displayed them up on a table as they told me to take a seat. I reluctantly sat down before they dipped a brush into some weird gooy substance. "Alright, sit still!" Said (Y/N) before putting the brush on my face.

   The moment the brush made contact with my face, I flinched due to how cold it was. "What the fuck?! Why's it so damn cold?!" I exclaimed. They then grabbed my face and said, "I don't know Hiko. Just sit still." as they continued to brush my face. I did as told and sat there, flinching every once in a while. "Alrighty, my turn!" I took the brush out of their hand and dipped it in the cold good before stroking her face with it.

   I was very hesitant with my strokes because I had no idea what was in the magic goo and if it was harmful. "You have no idea what your doing, do you?" Said (Y/N) as they opened one of their eyes to look at me. I gave them a glare that said, 'That was a stupid question.' "Don't you have a sister?! Do you two not do this together? Doesn't she force you to?" They asked in complete disbelief. "..We don't really have time for stuff like this." I said as I continued to brush her face with the goo, making sure to not miss a spot.

   They gave me a curious look before asking what I meant. "We're usually too busy with family stuff to have some time to ourselves. And being the heir, I have a lot of work to do. I barely have enough time for much of anything. But.." I trailed off, "whenever I do have a day off, I do try to spend it with her." I zoned out. I stopped moving the brush on (Y/N)'s face. All I could think about was Natsumi. 'I just hope she's safe. I know that she can handle herself, but I still worry..'

   "She's fine." I suddenly heard from (Y/N). I quickly snapped my attention towards them in confusion. "She's your little sister. Knowing you, you probably taught her how to defend herself and had Peko teach her some moves as well. I bet that once we get off this island, she's gonna look like she's going to a red carpet event!" Said (Y/N) with a smile on their goo-covered face. They patted my head in reassurance as I smiled and let out a little giggle.

   "Ooh!~ There's a Mani-Pedi station! Let's do that while the face mask sets!" Said (Y/N), getting distracted as they pulled towards the Mani-Pedi station. 'They have.. robots.. for the Mani-Pedi station.. Greeaat.' We sat down and a tablet propped itself up in front of us. It was asking if we wanted colors, if we did what color we wanted, and etc. I chose to have my nails painted in Antique White Hex while (Y/N) chose [color].

   'I feel very oddly relaxed. The paintbrush feels really good on my nails and the face mask is making me feel less tense. I could fall asleep like this..'

(Reader's POV)

   I was just so relaxed with the face mask and the Mani-Pedi that I didn't even realize that Fuyuhiko was dozing off. When I did look over at him, he was slightly leaning towards me. 'He looks so friggin weird right now and I absolutely love it.' When the robots finished with our nails and they finally dried off, I made my way over to Fuyuhiko with a rag as I gently wiped the mask off of his pretty face. He, surprisingly, did not wake up when I did that and stayed asleep for a while.

   We stayed at the salon for what felt like hours because I didn't want to wake him up. I ended up falling asleep in my chair as I watched him sleep. 'He's so.. beautiful.. I hope that we'll stay together even after we escape. I hope his family will accept me.. I love you..'

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874 words and 10 paragraphs! Hope you enjoyed reading this! I have more of these on my Wattpad, (@MayakoZalgo) Muah!!

[xuddlink]

Don't You Dare to Suffer Alone

35 unanswered texts, 10 missed calls, and two days without his voice; that's all I need to barge into his apartment and invading his privacy. Privacy my ass, I murmur as I huffed angrily to the door I know very well the access numbers of. I thought, enough of this silence. I may cure nothing, but I still want to be present through out his low points.

I begin to walk down his dark apartment aisle. Luckily, I still managed to get to his living room without got tripped. Then, his living room is adorned with few kind of bottles that I am familiar with, and an ashtray that is filled with cigarette butts. On his couch, sprawled blanket was thrown messily. Meanwhile on his coffee table, there is a cup of unfinished coffee thag I am sure has gone bad by this morning.

His kitchen is in a chaotic mess. I don't bother to look deeper into the details. Yet I remind myself to clean the kitchen after I checked up on him.

I knocked his bedroom. Few times. Hence I didn't get a reply. With my very limited amount of patience, I decided to braged into his bedroom. Dark, messy, cold bedroom of his.

There he is, laying down on his stomach, on top of his unmade bed. The pillows are nowhere to be neat. The blanket is covering his whole body, which I believe is half naked. The only thing that I could see from him is the back of his head.

"Hey."

He groaned. "What the hell are you doing here?"

I shrugged. I walked to his bed, then sit on his back. "Pissing you off. As per usual."

Him, unaffected with the weight that is put onto his back, begins to yawn. "Please. I don't want to do this. Not now."

"I wasn't asking for your willingness."

I know I am being such a cocky bitch. I know that I pushed his buttons. Yet I don't care. I don't like to sit still and look pretty meanwhile my boyfriend is dealing with himself. I'd rather choose to stick by his side and listen to his rumblings, all day.

He lets out a long huff. "Get off from my back," he said, as he tapped my thighs with his fingers.

"Not gonna happen."

"I just wanna fucking hug you. I kinda missed you. And your noisy ass. So please, get off from my back."

I obliged as soon as I head the word hug. Then I reposition myself, crawling my way into his embrace. I figured that my guess was right—he ain't wearing a shirt. I begin to circle my arms around his torso, so as he does the same onto mine. He put his chin on my forehead, as he breathe in my shampoo scent.

"You smell good," he complimented, as he rubs down my back.

"I smelt better yesterday," I replied while scoffing, which receive a small laugh from him.

"I bet," he said, as he tighten his hugs to my body. "I'm sorry."

I nod. "Yep."

"I'm sorry for ghosted you out of nowhere since yesterday. I'm sorry that I am such a cruel boyfriend. I'm sorry that I didn't give you what you deserve. I'm sorry for being myself."

I pouted as I heard his mumblings. "What the fuck was that?" I asked him, as I punched his stomach softly.

"My apologies, for you."

I snorted. "I don't accept those kind of apologies. The only apology I accepted is the apology that you said because you didn't tell me what are the things you've been through." Soft pinches are delivered onto his skin. My feet are kicking his, punishing him for saying nonsensical apologies. "And what the hell happened with you, me, everything, eventually will be fine? Come on, old man."

He laughed with his raspy voice. "I sometimes forget that I have a girlfriend with a fully functioning memory," he said, as he kissed my forehead.

"Yeah. One of us has to have that. And it seems like you're not having that. You even forgot about your magical reassuring words. Funny."

He laughed again. This time, his chest is reverberating as he laughed. "You're so petty when you're angry," he said. "And I love you for that."

I blushed. "You better be."

He then began to close his eyes. He also huggged my waist even tighter. "Please, stay here," he begs, as he kissed the top of my head continously.

I nod. "Sure. I'll be here. When you went to sleep, when you're asleep, and when you wake up, I will be here. I'll always be here."

"Promise?"

I snuggled into his chest. "Promise," I said. "Promise me to tell me what's going on inside your head when you wake up later?"

He shrugged. "I'll try."

Trying is enough. For us, trying is enough. Trying to be there for each other, trying to survive each days, and trying to believe that everything will be okay is enough.

"We'll try," I answered, as I closed my eyes.

"I'll try my best," he replied back, as his breath gets softer. Meant that he is asleep.

We will try our best.

[super-cool--cow]

I'm here -- Derek Hale

Summary: Derek gets a little too worried about your security.

Warnings: mediocre writing

Word count: 980

*not my gif*

I’m pretty sure that it’s scientifically proven that there is nothing worse than Econ 101 in the entire world.

Of course it doesn't help that I can't concentrate at all, that the only thing on my mind is Derek fucking Hale.

It’s now been three days since I last talked to him or answered his texts and calls. It’s kind of weird to think about how much I’ve changed since I met Derek, since I fell in love with him. I was never the dependent type before, I didn’t need to talk with my partner every day to stay sane or be able to fall asleep at night.

But here I am, and the only thing I can see is him, shutting the door in my face and basically keeping me locked up in the loft.

I know the reason why he did it of course. There’s a new pack in town with an extremely dangerous alpha that wants to hurt Derek. And the best way to do that, is to kill his mate: Me.

I could accept that he wanted to keep me safe to a certain level, but I basically wasn’t allowed to do anything, besides go to class and hang out at either the loft if Derek was home, or Lydia and Stiles’ apartment if Lydia was home.

And I was going completely insane.

It’s not like I asked for the most insane things! I just wanted to go for a walk alone every now and then, or a completely calm date-night with Derek like we used to. Dinner with him and without at least three others from the pack posted at different places in the restaurant.

Derek was and is the only person who’s ever made me feel safe. And I didn’t feel safe anymore.

So one morning, I packed some of my things and moved - temporarily - into Lydia’s apartment, just so I could get some time to think. I made her and Stiles promise that they wouldn’t tell Derek.

My train of thoughts gets interrupted when the door into the classroom slams open and in comes - you gotta be kidding me!

Derek’s eyes instantly finds mine and he speaks:

“We need to talk.”

I’m in complete and utter shock and the entire class is staring at me. Every single muscle in my body seems to be unable to function.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“You haven’t answered my texts or called me back! What else should I do?!” His voice is strained and almost as desperate as the look in his eyes.

“Interrupt the entire class of course!” I nearly shout with an ironic laugh bubbling in my throat.

“Why haven’t you called me?” He walks closer to the long lines of tables, and my teacher steps in front of him, a hand on his chest.

“You need to go,” my teacher says in a stern voice. This is it. Derek is literally gonna rip his throat out. But he doesn’t do anything, he just looks up at me once again before he speaks,

“Answer me.”

“Leave, Derek. I’ll call you later.” I’m standing up now, towering over him - to be fair, I’m four rows up so anyone would tower over him right now.

“Yeah right,” he scoffs while rolling his eyes.

“Hey! I’ve never given you a reason not to trust me, unlike you! So go home. Now.” He looks stunned. He is after all the Alpha, and no one speaks like that to the alpha. Until I came.

“I-”

“No! You cannot just barge into my class and try to ‘talk it out’! So either you go home or you wait outside for half an hour when I’m done. Either way, you’re leaving. Now.” He tries to give me that special alpha-look that always works on the others from the pack.

I straighten my back fully and use my most demanding and cold voice, “Now.”

He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.

“I’ll be right outside,” he sneers before walking out of the room, slamming the door like a little kid.

I sit back down and after my teacher gives me an ‘are you okay?’-look, he continues the class the best he Can, with a class full of curious students that can’t sit still anymore.

After exactly thirty minutes, I walk out of the classroom and walk almost straight into Derek’s huge frame.

I can feel the other students around me slow down to see what’s going to happen now, to find out who the ‘mystery man’ is. “We can’t talk here. Follow me,” I say and walk towards the campus park. We find a secluded bench and sit down. He looks tired and broken down.

After a moment of silence he looks at me and almost whispers,

“I’m so sorry.”

“I know.” I take his hand in mine and it’s like I can finally breathe again.

“I was so worried about keeping you safe, that I forgot… everything else.” He’s slumped over while clinging to my hand.

I place my hand on his cheek to get him to look at me and he obeys.

“I know,” I tell him while stroking my thumb over his cheekbone. “I know. I’m sorry too.” He closes his eyes and leans into my hand, breathing deeply.

“Please…” he begins. “Please don’t ever leave me again. Please.” I’ve never seen his eyes so sad and in such distress. “I promise I’ll never get that wrapped up into something like that ever again. I just… I love you. So much. And I can’t lose you. I can’t go through that again.” I remember his first love, Paige, and her tragic death. The stories of what it did to Derek when she died.

“Derek, look at me,” I whisper and put my other hand on his face. “I’m here. I’ll stay with you. I’m here.”

[not-me-simping-for-blasty]

another helping of living w/ bakugou thoughts:

pls i am so sorry, i feel like i bombard y’all with these constantly, but u don’t understand, he literally lives in my brain full time

- if you’re rolling your sleeves up, to wash your hands before dinner, he’ll whack your hands away and do it himself. very much “you’re takin’ too long, idiot. i wanna eat already. let me do it.”,, don’t be fooled tho, you could do it in 2.5 seconds and he’d still open his mouth. bc it has absolutely nothing to do with u and everything to do with him wanting to be close to you

-ik he watches the mha equivalent of the history channel. i just know it. dude is a grandpa at heart, n im so confident he would 100% sit down and watch a 3 hr docu on like, old weaponry or some nerdy shit

-bakugou is annoyingly arrogant, but only about things that don’t matter. like, he’ll fully sit in front of you and tell you he’s stronger/faster/smarter in passing conversation,, but when he does actually impressive shit??? the man clams up. absolutely clams up the second you praise him, trying to brush off whatever ridiculous feat he just pulled to protect u with a “It’s not that big a deal, shut up about it already, dumbass.” 

- pls mans is an absolute simp. u ask him to do something and he’s on his feet in a second. ofc he’s complaining but he’s also then following that up by doing things you didn’t even ask him to do. fan behavior honestly.

-when you’ve had a bad day, he’ll make u food and throw blankets in the dryer for u. don’t expect much verbal comforting from him, bc obviously, but he’s pretty good with actions. you always feel a little warmer after he’s wrapped you in a blanket n fed you something ungodly spicy

- i have absolutely no basis for this but ik he secretly watches kids movies. like, if it’s animated then he’s there. ofc no one is allowed to find out about this ‘embarrassing’ behavior tho, except maybe you. maybe. if you accidentally happen to see it bc he’d never tell u himself.

- he’s a beast to wake up in the morning, but he’s a lot more easy to convince if u pet his hair. or rub his back/shoulders. maybe even kiss his neck. look, u cannot tell me that he doesn’t want to be absolutely coddled in the morning- especially when he can get away with it so easily. 

-bakugou always pulls ur legs into his lap if u sit down next to him. pls he’s so weird, he’ll just like, tap his fingers on ur calves absentmindedly while he’s watching tv

-he probably created a playlist of songs ur ‘allowed’ to play around him. meaning, it’s only the songs on ur phone that he likes 🙄

-bakugou always takes his work phone calls outside. like if his phone rings he’ll just stand up n walk tf out the door to take it. even if it’s cold. u ask him once about it n he just “Work stays at work. This is my fuckin’ home. Now shut up about it already.”

-you’ve never once seen this man wearing socks around the house. don’t ask me, i cannot explain this whatsoever, but i just kno this man walks around constantly barefoot 🤢🤮 unfortunately.

-he’s like, the most functional person ever in almost every aspect, but the stuff katsuki is bad at?? pls he is hopelessly bad. like, lets say art stuff. omg he just doesnt have the patience for it, okay, so say goodbye to any dreams of cute lil couple’s crafts. like, he’ll sit there while u do yours, but his will look like utter shit

- during the week, katsuki is either at work, training, or at home. pls, he works so hard during the day that i highly doubt he’s anything but an absolute homebody during the work week.

- bakugou gets pissy if u re-arrange any of the furniture on a whim. pls he likes comfort and familiarity n if he stubs his toe on the stupid coffee table one more fucking time, he’s going to scream

-its a rare occurance,, especially bc of the crazy hours he works,, but bakugou rlly likes making dinner for u to come home to. he just likes to feel like he’s taking care of u tbh

-he still goes to bed at like 8:30. or thats what u think, but rlly he just goes to sit in your room and have some time to himself for a bit. as much as he loves u, he prob still needs some alone time to recharge

-bakugou takes meticulous care of any plants u have in the house. like he’ll water them on a strict-ass schedule, n preen them when necessary. pls the way he’ll curse them out if they even dare to wilt under his care?? very much “What the hell, you bitch? ‘m doin’ everything fuckin’ perfect! Grow already!”

-katsuki is such a little bitch when he’s sick. he’ll be running like a 103 temp, brain literally melting, and still trying to get up and work out. the only way u can get him to chill the hell out is if u take a nap with him. ofc that means u always get sick too,, but hey- lil sacrifices right??

-he never lets you get the door. like, if there’s a knock n neither of u knows who it could be,, pls he’s on his feet so fast. waving u away n looking thru the keyhole w/ sm suspicion

-he has his spot on the couch, n u will not find him sitting anywhere else. like, that’s his spot. u better pray for anybody who mistakenly takes it

-bakugou doesn’t like dirt or grime, so he won’t allow you or himself, to sit on your bed with clothes that have been outside. like, even if you’re just sitting on top of the covers, he’s gonna throw a fit and demand you change your clothes first bc “No way in hell am I gonna let your dumbass dirty up my bed.”

-katsuki rlly likes when it storms outside. he’ll go sit in front of the window and watch the rain, sipping on a warm drink while he waits for more thunder. 

-living with bakugou is incredibly frustrating, bc he’ll just show up with new skills all of the goddamn time. like you’ll be like, “hmm i’d love to remodel the bathroom someday”,, and the very next weekend bakugou is meticulously re-tiling the bathroom floor by hand, probably also painting the walls in a new color, maybe even installing a new sink just to spruce it up. n then he’ll just present the entirely new, upgraded room with such weird nonchalance that it pisses u off. pls and if you watch him while he does these little projects, with all the weird precision and skill he suddenly gains?? pls you’re sure he must be possessed by the ghost of a craftsman

- when he hangs out with the bakusquad, he’ll drag you along every time. he expects you to sit with him the entire time and act as a social buffer?? basically, someone’ll ask him a question, one he deems stupid and therefore not worth answering, and bakugou will just look at you expectantly. he’ll just stare at you blankly, hardly even blinking until you pick up the slack and answer for him. you call him out on this many times, but it doesn’t matter. it doesn’t change anything. he does this over and over and over again

-bakugou gets really unsettled when you guys fight. like, he can’t sleep and he’s snapping at everybody, and is somehow more aggressive than usual. he always wants to just make up already, but the pride in the way won’t allow it

-he’s a weird stickler about intended furniture functionality?? like, the table is for eating, and the couch is for watching tv, and then only way you’re gonna get him to mix the two is if you ask him rlly rlly nicely

-finally- i have no basis for this one, but ik it in my heart: bakugou has a very intense fight with your thermostat nearly every single day. he swears up and down that it never ‘behaves’ for him, but every time you check it, it’s working perfectly fine

--/-- 

ahahhaa sorry y’all for the super random spam today,, but here were are back to our regularly scheduled bakugou programming,,,, bc idk if it’s obvious ur honor, but i love him

[oreosmilkshakes]

Mine

Summary: Y/N has always wished to meet her soulmate and have the ability to see colours. When it happened, she wasn’t expecting it to be HYDRA’s famous assassin and boy, she was in real trouble now Pairing: The Winter Soldier!Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 2.2K Warnings: Violence, The Winter Soldier acting possessive A/N: Originally, I didn’t fully like how this went but here it is! Inspired by a tiktok I saw and I was like ‘Let’s show The Winter Soldier some love’. I also don’t think anyone has done this before so here it is! Edited and checked by @thebestdecoder​ . Please comment on how it is! Thank you for reading :D

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In the world Y/N lives in, soulmates exist. As lovely and fairytale-like it sounds, there is a catch. Until you meet your soulmate, everyone sees black and white. Y/N was a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, one well trusted by Fury. She wished every day that she might run into her soulmate on the streets or that someone she knew was her other half. For years, nothing. Still black and white. Y/N was on the verge of giving up but Steve and Natasha were constantly with her, reminding her that her other half will come. Little did Y/N know that that time would be sooner than later.

Right now, S.H.I.E.L.D. was compromised by HYDRA. Steve and Natasha were hunting down one of HYDRA’s agents for information with the help of Sam and Y/N.

The highway was filled with cars, Sam driving towards a safe house far away from HYDRA’s eyes. “HYDRA doesn’t like leaks,” Sitwell stated obviously.

“Then why don’t you try sticking a cork in it?” Sam commented. Natasha peered over Steve’s shoulder. “Insight’s launching in 16 hours. We’re cutting it a little bit close here,” “I know. We’ll use him to bypass the DNA scans and access the helicarriers directly,” Steve planned. Y/N’s eyes widen. “Are you crazy? That’s suicidal! There’s no way we’ll survive. It’s us against HYDRA’s army,” Sitwell leaned forward. “Exact-,” A loud thud dented the roof of the car slightly, The team looked up, only for Sitwell to be dragged out by a metal arm and thrown onto the oncoming side of the freeway. “Shit!” Y/N cursed. Natasha immediately moved onto Steve’s lap, pulling his head down. Y/N stayed low as gunshots pierced the car’s roof. “Who the hell is on the roof?!” Y/N screamed in fear. “If I knew the answer to that, I would tell,” Steve grabbed the gearshift and pulled it back, causing the car to screech to a halt.

The heavy figure was thrown forward by the sudden stop, rolling on the tar, and skidded to a halt with his metal arm. Y/N gasped, eyes widening at the menacing man. Perhaps it was much scarier to witness all this through a black and white perspective. It made Y/N’s heart race and mind question her decision of following the team on this mission.

(gif credits to the owner)

The Winter Soldier stood up, covered eyes looking in the team’s direction and Y/N could have sworn she felt eyes on her specifically. Could it be..No! Definitely not. That would be insane.

Y/N snapped out of her thoughts when she was lunged forward by a sudden impact behind. An armored truck had slammed against the boot of the car and pushed the vehicle forward towards the direction of The Winter Soldier. Sam struggled to control the car as the vehicle got closer to the assassin. The assassin jumped on the car, punching through the windshield, and effortlessly pulled the steering out. “Shit!” Sam cursed. Natasha grabbed the gun off the floor and shot the roof. The Soldier jumped to the armoured truck.

With no steering, the car was practically driving towards its doom. The truck slammed into the back of the vehicle again, causing the car to drive towards the partition beam. Steve grabbed Sam and Sam grabbed Y/N. “Hang on!” Steve slammed the door with his shield, narrowly escaping the flipping car as they skidded on the road. Y/N received the most impact, knocked out cold the second her head slammed onto the tar. “Y/N!” Steve screamed and that was the last thing Y/N heard before blacking out.

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Y/N felt hands on her. “Y/N! Y/N wake up!” The voice was merely an echo or at least it sounded like one. Slowly, Y/N came to be. A soft moan escaped her lips, moving a hand to the side of her head. “Sam..? What happened?” Sam sighed in relief. “All sorts of shit is happening, Y/N. Right now, Steve and Natasha need our help. Can you fight?” He helped Y/N up, the woman nodded. She shook her head slightly, forcing the blur from the vision, and looked around. Gunshots were fired below the freeway and Y/N gasped. “Sam, you cover us from above. I’ll get down there,” Y/N rappelled down, pulling her knife out. She moved quietly, using the stranded vehicles for cover, and got closer to The Soldier.

The Soldier’s eyes scanned the area for Natasha, hands gripping his assault rifle. In the distance, he heard a call for help and proceeded to investigate. Y/N followed from behind quietly, watching his movements. An explosion nearby caused Y/N to flinch a little but she was quick to recover. “Hey!” She called out. Y/N jumped on the car, running over to The Soldier, and slammed a foot to his rifle. She grabbed him, wrapping her legs around his neck, and got his neck in a chokehold. Y/N was winning, forcing her arm to dig deeper into his neck. However, she was so very wrong. The Soldier stepped back, slamming Y/N against a car. This caused her to loosen her grip, just enough for The Soldier to grab Y/N off his back and throw her to another vehicle. The air was knocked out of Y/N upon impact. Her back was hurting and she was gasping for air. The Soldier picked up his gun, aiming to Y/N when a disc etched to his metal arm, and electrocuted The Soldier. He grunted, taken aback by the attack. “Y/N!” Natasha called out, grabbing Y/N off the car and led her away from the Soldier, who had broken free from the disabling attack. The Soldier flexed his metal arm, swinging it over to ensure it was still functioning.

Y/N and Natasha ran away from The Soldier, urging the crowd to get to safety. A single gunshot rang out and Natasha yelped in pain. “Nat!” Y/N gasped, holding onto Natasha and leaned her against the side of the car. Y/N struggled to see the blood. Fuck! Why did everything have to be black and white? “Put pressure on that,” Y/N instructed quickly before peeking out from the side of the car. Her eyes widened in horror, The Winter Soldier had his gun trained on her. “No!” Y/N screamed, covering her eyes to await the impact. But it didn’t come at all. When Y/N’s eyes fluttered open once more, The Winter Soldier was going head to head with Captain America in a tough fight.

“Nat? Nat? Come on, we have to get you away from here,” Y/N carefully picked Nat up, heaving her arm over her shoulder and led the injured assassin away from the fight. Y/N kept on glancing at the duo and could see that Steve was struggling to slow the assassin down. ‘Shit! I have to do something’ Y/N thought, setting Natasha down by a truck. “I’ve got to help Steve. Stay put, alright?” Nat let out a shaky breath, nodding. She grabbed Y/N’s wrist before the agent could leave. “Be careful, Y/N,” The agent nodded, running towards the two.

“Steve!” Y/N called out. The Winter Soldier had Steve pinned against a van, a knife dragging over so quickly by the blonde’s head. “Get away from him!” Y/N grabbed The Soldier, forcing the assassin’s attention on her.

The Soldier did not hold back, Y/N narrowly dodging his punches. Each punch she landed on him seemed like it didn’t do anything and that scared the woman a lot. The Soldier pinned Y/N to the floor, his metal arm raised and about to lay the final blow when Steve pulled him off the woman. Y/N let out a shuddered sigh, standing up and watched as Steve ripped the mask off The Winter Soldier’s face.

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The Soldier caught himself, cool air pierced his now exposed face. As he turned to face his enemy, colors burst from his vision. He...He was finally seeing colors? His piercing blue eyes landed on Steve and Y/N, specifically, Y/N.

Y/N’s jaw slacked as her own vision burst with colors. She gasped, a hand on Steve’s arm for support as overwhelming emotions took over her. ‘N-No...It can’t be!’ Y/N’s mind screamed. She parted her lips, a question on the tipping end of her tongue when Steve cut her off. “Bucky?”

The Soldier’s eyes moved on from Y/N’s shaking figure to Steve.

“Who the hell is Bucky?” The Soldier stepped forward, moving in Y/N’s direction. Right now, he didn’t care about Steve or the situation. He cared about his soulmate. There was a light pull The Soldier felt and Y/N felt it too. Her eyes never left the assassin, taking a small step towards him.

“Soulmate,” The Soldier called out darkly. Steve’s eyes widened, looking down at Y/N who looked like she was ready to run into the arms of his seemingly dead-now-alive best friend. “Y/N, no!” Steve grabbed Y/N, pulling her back.

A grenade whizzed past Steve’s form, blowing up between both parties. Y/N was pushed away from the impact, coughing heavily as the smoke entered her lungs. The Soldier had a new task: to get to his soulmate. “Soulmate!” The Soldier called out, walking through the smoke and fire like it didn’t affect him at all. Y/N gasped, The Soldier turned his head to the sound of the gasp. “There you are,” Y/N’s eyes widen, moving away from The Soldier. “Hey!” Sam yelled, slamming his foot against the assassin’s towering form. His body flew but he caught himself easily. Sam made another flyby. Thank god for Sam! Y/N scrambled to her feet, running from the situation. “Soulmate!” The Soldier screamed out, anger and something else laced his tone. He sprinted in her direction but was stopped by Steve and Sam, leading another fight to break out.

The Winter Soldier was motivated and when he was motivated, nothing could stop him from getting what he wants.

Y/N had light tears in her eyes, spotting Natasha in the distance and ran to her. “Nat, Nat, this can’t be happening!” Y/N panted, tears threatening to spill. Natasha held Y/N’s shoulder with her good hand, forcing the woman to look at her. “What happened? Y/N, calm down and tell me what happened,” The redhead urged, guiding the hysterical woman to sit down.

“He...He’s my soulmate! Nat, the enemy! I-I heard Steve say his name. Bucky...He’s my soulmate!” Natasha was taken aback by Y/N’s words. Their enemy was her soulmate? Y/N sobbed, Natasha wrapped an arm around her head and hugged her. “It’s okay. Hey, trust me, it’s going to be okay,” Natasha comforted softly.

After years of trying to find her soulmate, Y/N had found hers. But at what cost? Him being the enemy. Despite that fact, Y/N was glad she could see colors now. Everything was so vibrant and so beautiful. It never occurred to Y/N how bright and lively the world was. She felt happiness as she studied her colored surroundings, seemingly forgetting about the situation.

Until a loud scream pierced the air.

Y/N gasped, snapping out of her temporary trance and looked over the hood of the car. Sam was on the floor, unconscious and Steve was on his knees in a chokehold. “Y/N! Run! RUN!” Steve strained out, struggling to break free out of The Soldier’s strong hold.

Y/N watched in horror as Steve passed out by Sam. The Soldier stood slowly, raising his head to face the woman.

“Mine,” The Soldier stalked slowly towards the woman, like a wolf ready to strike its prey. Natasha grabbed Y/N’s hand.

“Get out of here! I’ll try to stop him!” Natasha stood, running to The Soldier in an attempt to try and slow him down but her efforts were futile as The Soldier simply knocked her out like she was nothing.”Nat!” Y/N screamed, backing away as The Soldier had his eyes on the woman immediately. “No..No!” Y/N took off and ran, sirens in the distance were fast approaching.

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Y/N felt like she had been running forever, finally slowing down when she turned to an alley. She panted hard, a hand on her chest as she did her best to calm her racing heart down. A tall figure quietly approached Y/N, a cool hand covered her mouth. The Soldier leaned in, breath hot as he spoke. “I found you,” Y/N screamed, struggling against The Soldier’s grip on her even though, clearly, it was useless to do so. “You’re my soulmate, princess and you’re not getting away that easily from me,” The Soldier growled, landing a blow on the side of her head.

The last thing Y/N knew before the darkness swallowed her was hearing his voice.

“Mine.”

[twdsunshine]

Excited Negan? Yes please! For the fluff alphabet xx

Excitement:

You almost couldn't believe now that there had been a time when you'd been afraid of Negan, intimidated by the air of authority that surrounded him and rendered speechless by the natural charisma that seemed to flow like golden honey from his lips. He was charming. He was dangerous. He was the biggest baddest badass in the damn apocalypse, and, it seemed, he didn't care whose skulls he had to grind into the dirt to keep his new world order functioning as it should. Even when he'd made his interest in you clear, flirting and smirking and reeling you in, you'd still found yourself unable to relax in his presence, tension racking your body as he drew closer, let you get a peek behind those walls that he'd built impenetrably high, afraid that one wrong word would have you cast out or worse.

And it remained that way for a long time, until the first Christmas that you spent at his side.

Christmas at the end of the world wasn't really much to shout about, you'd thought. There was little to be exchanged in the way of gifts, food and drink carefully rationed as always, and just the lingering memory of loved ones painting the festivities in melancholy sepia tones. Unless, of course, you were Negan. Because, apparently, Negan fucking loved Christmas. He'd woken you at the crack of dawn, his long, lean body bouncing on the bed, springs creaking every time his feet came down amidst the tangle of the covers. He hadn't even dressed yet, still clad in sweats and a t-shirt, his usually perfect hair sleep-rumpled, but his eyes were sparkling and his face was split by a wide, gleaming grin.

"What the hell are you doing?" you'd groaned, ready to roll over and ignore his childlike glee, but he was having none of it, sinking down on top of you and tangling his fingers in the mess of your locks against your pillow.

"S'fuckin' Christmas, kitten!"

"So?"

"So, I'm gonna need you to get your sweet ass outta this bed in the next five seconds or I'm gonna have to drag you out."

"Negan..." You'd known you were whining, but you were just so tired. He'd kept you up late, too late, not that you'd complained at the time, and your whole body felt heavy with lethargy.

"Five..."

"Really?"

"Four..."

"Oh, c'mon!"

"Three..."

"Nobody even cares about the holidays anymore"

"Two..."

"Just another hour, please?"

"One!"

You'd squealed as you were hoisted up, thrown over his broad shoulder, one hand coming down to crack against your ass as he carried you through to his office, where a tree had been erected a few days before, strung with fairy lights that glittered in the pale rays of dawn. Beneath its lowest branches, a small pile of wonkily wrapped gifts sat, clustered on the cold concrete floor, and Negan had deposited you in a heap beside them before folding himself down next you and watching on with eager anticipation, nodding his head for you to take one.

Each gift, of course, had been perfect, but nothing had lifted your heart as much as his obvious excitement, the way he'd snatch each present from your fingers as soon as the paper fell away so that he could show it to you properly, twisting it and turning it in front of your eyes so you could fully appreciate every item. And, when you'd dug out the small parcel you'd put together for him after a visit to the marketplace, he'd crowed with joy, clapping his hands before reaching for the bundle and dragging it into his lap.

You'd soon learnt that it wasn't only the holidays that could get him so keyed up. It could really be anything: good sex, freshly baked cherry pie, a haul of heavy artillery brought back from a run, a picnic for two beside the river... It seemed that, with the world the way it was and the responsibility that rested on his shoulders, Negan had found a way to get excited about the small things in life, and, when he did, it cast off all traces of the darkness that shrouded him. His face would brighten, umber eyes would shine, and the stress that threaded through his muscles would diminish, leaving him fluid and free. Only a lucky few were fortunate enough to see that side of him, the exuberant schoolboy that you thought he must once have been. You were ever grateful to be one of them.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

tuxedo iii, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader, mentions of previous jungkook x reader

summary: It’s the next morning. Your cat is still a man. Fuck. He still thinks he owns the place, including you. Sigh. Well, you still have to do your job, because, yikes, your cat-man has spent a small fortune on new clothes (spending like he’s got a black card, what’s up with that?). Ah, but... maybe both of you are starting to finally acknowledge that he might be a more man than cat – at least for the time being...?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, mentions of the coronavirus pandemic; possibly full-on crack; mentions of and a tiny bit of smut (fem reader, spanking, doggy, unintentional??? voyeurism, dry humping / thigh riding); domestic and soft moments with your cat-man; non-idol!AU - cat!Yoongi x human!reader; ft slightly cocky Jeon Jungkook (+drama!!!) and bestfriend!Kim Seokjin; breaking of the fourth wall; are YOU a furry? yeah, I kinda think you are

*deep breath* I reference a certain boat that was stuck in the Suez Canal, Yoongi's livestream where he poked himself in the nose with the coffee straw, his love for tangerines, too many Twitch chat memes, that time his mom called him a boiled dumpling, 'BST' pink pajama Yoongi, DTS, TXT's 'Cat & Dog', etc...

–

part i | part ii

-

You woke up slowly. 

A perfect, peaceful morning. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Neck cradled by your memory foam pillow? Check. Back well supported by your soft mattress? Check. Not sleeping on your sofa and destroying your spine? Check. Hey, you’re moving up in life! Ah, what a normal day already. You opened your eyes a crack; vision blurred from the morning sunlight filtering through your curtains. Bundled in your minty-green duvet? Check. Wearing your extra soft black-and-white striped pajamas? Check. 

Large pale human hand firmly gripping your right titty? Check. 

Wait… 

What?

Your eyes snapped open and flew to your left. 

Min Yoongi's face was centimeters from yours, buried into your pillow, messy bedhead sticking out everywhere. Black choker with the tiny silver bell around his neck. Still had those black velvety pointed cat ears and glowing pale skin, pretty pink lips ever-so-slightly upturned, warm exhale against your ear. 

Your cat still a disturbingly handsome man?

Ah, yup, check. 

His hand was on your right breast, fingers molded to the soft curve. A quick glance and, whew, he was still fully dressed in his black t-shirt and sweatpants from yesterday. Yes, fully, completely dressed. Shit, what if he caught you staring? You quickly flickered your eyes up at the ceiling, hastily wiping the drool away from your mouth. Whoa there. That would be embarrassing if he caught that.

Also, kind of gross. Don’t be gross. Keep it together.

Hahaha…

Well, yup, this was still awkward, the whole hand-on-the-titty thing, hahaha, but not as awkward as it would be if, hahaha, you accidentally, oh, don't know, hahaha, got really, really, really disgustingly drunk and, hahaha, had somehow lost all impulse control and, hahaha, fucked your cat?

Man.

Cat-man. 

Hahaha, that would never happen. You’d make sure of that.

... 

Unless?

No, no, no, stop, he's your cat, your cat, he's literally been a (cat) man for one fucking day, albeit a incredibly hot, deliciously built (cat) man who put your facial massager on your nipple and let you touch his human dick in the shower and he was hard for a hot second, so... no, no, no, stop, you are not a desperate thot, get a fucking grip – well, you kind of are – but not him, for fuck’s sake, you still don't understand what the fuck is going on or if he even remotely likes you and, let's face it, he probably doesn’t because you almost paid a guy to chop off his nuts–

"Are you dying?"

You choked on air and lurched sharply at the sudden deep, raspy voice. The grip on your right breast tightened, preventing you from moving away. You did what any sensible human being would do in this situation and wheezed like you were on the verge of passing out. 

"Urk!"

"Do you have high blood pressure?" Yoongi yawned calmly, turning his face to the side to avoid breathing in your face, thereby pressing his body even closer to you. Your neck and ears heated to five billion degrees. "Your heart's beating abnormally fast. Maybe you should see a doctor."

You definitely needed to see a doctor for something as well as several gallons of holy water and a priest to get an exorcism for that horny demon inside you. 

"Y-Your hand!"

Yoongi grunted. "What about it?"

What about it???

"It's on my tits!" you squeaked.

Yoongi lifted his head, squinting. "It is." Then his head dropped and he closed his eyes again. 

HELLO, Min Yoongi? That's ALL you have to say???

"Is there a problem?"

IS THERE A PROBLEM???????

"I've always slept like this," he mumbled.

That's... true though. Your tuxedo cat, previously named Shooky until you realized he had his own name, did used to always sleep next to you, when he wasn’t trying to murder you by sitting on your chest, that is (he was adamant on letting you know when he needed breakfast). Usually, your cat was splayed out by your left side, his long body extended and pressed against you, his white, sock-like paws encircling your arm. Shooky had basically been a small furry heater that kicked you sometimes in his sleep. 

Keyword: small.

"Y-You w-were a cat!" you sputtered.

"I'm still a cat."

"No, you're a man! With arms!"

"The reach is a little farther. Who cares?"

WHO CARES???????

Before you could very loudly inform Yoongi who exactly cared – that’s you, by the way, yes, you – he wrapped his arms around you and yanked your body to his, turning you into a red-hot chili pepper with the amount of heat your face was now emitting. Then his free hand grabbed your other titty. Without asking! Without even so much as buying you dinner or, hell, giving you a goddamn cracker! You didn't need to be wined and dined, but at least a single fucking snack before using your tits like his own personal stress ball!

Yoongi pressed your back into his chest.

You froze. 

He pressed his crotch into your ass, shivering slightly.

Your soul left your body. 

"Ugh, this human body is terrible," Yoongi muttered. "Always so cold. I need this extra body heat or I'll die."

You'll die? YOU’LL DIE?

You were pretty sure that you were already dead. Rest in peace.

Hang on. 

Something was stuck in a very specific place, quite similar to a far-too-large boat in a narrow canal.

"Um."

Er...

"What?" your cat-man grunted.

"Your..." You gulped. "Dick."

"What about it?"

"You, uh... have morning wood."

"Is that a human euphemism?" he grumbled impatiently, clear annoyance in his tone. "I don't understand your species. Wouldn't it be easier to be straightforward and explain yourself clearly?"

A muscle in your eye twitched, reaching breaking point.

"Your dick is rock-hard and you're shoving it between my ass cheeks!"

"Yeah, so? It's cold too."

Your irritation fizzled out at Yoongi’s self-assured, completely calm response. In fact, he sounded borderline bored and exasperated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. His hard dick was cold, so he put it in the warmest place he could find, your ass, duh. Nothing weird about it, of course. Your mind reeled, unable to compute what the fuck was going on. Thus, your body did what it did best in these moments where you did not want to give a response that would most certainly expose you and your dire need to get dicked.

Not deal with it, of course.

You fainted.

-

"Fuck!"

You shot out of bed at the harsh yell, tangled in the covers, barely registering that Yoongi no longer had a death grip on your tits – in fact, he was no longer in bed at all – and stumbled towards the source of the sound, highly disoriented, your earlier fainting spell turning you into a bumbling mess.

Admittedly, not that different from your usual self.

(Ouch, roasted.)

"What, what, what?" you croaked, running into the doorframe of the bedroom and nearly taking yourself out. 

Might as well, maybe it would have been a blessing in disguise, considering the way your life was going. 

You finally tumbled your way to the kitchen, where your cat-man was hissing at the pan on the stove. 

"I was trying to make eggs," Yoongi spat, pointing accusingly at the frying pan. His ears were flat and his tail was sticking straight up. "And then it attacked me."

If you had three functioning brain cells, you would have remembered Yoongi putting his morning wood between your ass cheeks this morning, but alas, you only had two at the moment – you did run into the doorframe, might have lost one there – so instead you nudged him aside and rolled up your sleeves, taking the pan and shaking it so the eggs wouldn't burn. 

"Was it the oil? Sometimes it pops," you asked as Yoongi continued death glaring at the pan.

"I saw you doing this yesterday. You didn't seem bothered," he mumbled, finishing with a low, angry hiss as if the pan was sentient and mocking him. The oil popped and seared your forearm, but at this point you maybe had five hair follicles total on your arms with how many times hot oil had splattered in you. It used to bother you when you were a kid, but years of cooking had desensitized the feeling, turning it to nothing more than a mere annoyance. Yoongi stayed behind you, intermittently letting out hisses of rage as you cooked.

"I told you, my dad's a chef. You get used to it," you said, tipping the pan and flipping the thin egg pancake with ease. 

"That's bizarre," Yoongi muttered. "No normal animal gets used to pain."

Normality was starting to become a bit of a foreign concept to you.  As for being an animal, well…

You took the pan off the heat and rolled the egg onto a plate with a spare set of chopsticks, turning it into a log shape. A literal egg roll, ready to be sliced into bite-sized pieces. You took a sniff. It seemed to be seasoned already. Had Yoongi simply copied what you did yesterday? His observation skills were insane.

"Then again, you seem to enjoy–"

"Yoongi," you blurted, not wanting to know what he thought you seemed to enjoy, but very sure it was going to be one-hundred-percent embarrassing and only for you. "There's some leftover beef and vegetables in the fridge you can have with the egg and rice."

He raised his eyebrows. "Beef? Why didn't you say so earlier?"

Because I was asleep and maybe half-dead? "Did you brush your teeth?' you asked suddenly. 

Yoongi scowled. "Unfortunately."

"Right, so should I, goodbye now."

You marched away hurriedly, trying not to think about how your cat had surely witnessed you getting spanked while being fucked from behind by none other than, surprise, surprise, his not-so-favorite human being, Jeon Jungkook. Tattoo guy strikes again. The worst part was, you couldn't lock the door on your cat either, because then he would meow incessantly while you were getting deep-dicked and that was even worse. 

"Your cat really likes you, huh?" Jungkook mused as you yanked open the bedroom door to the black-and-white tuxedo furball. 

"Like is a strong word," you muttered at your cat, who yawned and sauntered past you to his cat tree, acting like he owned the damn place. 

"I like you."

"Hah... wait, what?"

Jungkook grinned as your eyes found his. Took a while. You were a little distracted by his nakedness. His tattoos up his right arm. His tan skin. His muscles. His white teeth biting on his lower lip, tiny mole underneath flashing. His long black hair, framing dark chocolate eyes and teasing, cocked eyebrow. 

"I like you," he repeated, voice deep and sexy.

You turned red and made the most coherent noise you could. 

“... Urk?”

“Noona.”

Why did he look so fucking hot and disrespectful at the same time when saying an honorific?

Jungkook came up to you, hand cupping your head and tangling his fingers in your hair. He brought his face close to yours, lips brushing against your swollen ones, taking your breath away.

"Wanna go back to me spanking you while you get off on my dick?"

Respectfully, of course. 

"How much rice do you want?"

You started, poking yourself in the nose with your toothpaste-covered toothbrush and smearing mint up your nostril – almost as bad as poking a coffee straw up your nose during a livestream in front of millions of people, yikes – as Yoongi appeared behind you, breaking you out of the memory. Your cat-man watched you with mild disgust and displeasure as you coughed and dunked your head into the sink, hurriedly rinsing off your burning nose.

"Whatever, I'll just fill it halfway."

And he left you sputtering, pajamas and hair soaking wet in your haste.

Awesome. 

-

“I’m ordering some groceries,” you announced in between bites of rice and egg. You tapped lightly at the phone screen as you spoke. Green onions, tofu, cucumbers… “Do you want anything?”

“Meat.”

You swiped rapidly and added packages of chicken, pork, and beef into your cart. Why the fuck not? You like meat. All kinds of–

“Yes, Yoongi, I’m getting meat. Anything else?”

“What else is there?”

You made a face and handed him your phone. “All sorts of things. Household products too, in case you don’t want to smell like my soap.”

“Your soap is preferable,” he said absentmindedly, scrolling through the online grocery app. You continued eating, shoving things in your mouth and none of it dick. Sad. At least it tasted good. Your cat-man had seasoned the egg well. You jumped as Yoongi spoke again. “I want these.” He turned the phone around.

You squinted at the screen, staring at a picture of orange balls. “Tangerines? Why?”

He turned the phone back to him. “They’re small, round, and look tasty.”

You blinked at him, then shrugged. “Sure, why not? I guess your palette might have changed. Try whatever you want.”

He pursed his lips and pressed a few buttons as you ate. You realized you needed to order more groceries now that your cat was a man eating your human food and no longer a cat eating his rather expensive cat food. Sigh. You had put Shooky’s cat bowls in a cabinet earlier this morning before sitting down to eat. It seemed weird leaving them out on the floor like that. Kind of offensive, maybe, now that your cat was a man and all…

“Okay, I ordered it.”

“Ah, okay, that’s good. They’ll probably come later this week.”

-

After breakfast, you spent nearly half an hour with Yoongi trying to pick out something for him to watch from your various streaming services, only for him to select a historical drama series. Like what? You cat (man) wanted to watch historical drama out of all things? Instead of learning about the modern world, he wanted to watch a depiction of the past?

Whatever, it had seventy-seven episodes, so at least he would be occupied for a while.

You let him be and went to your computer, intending on getting some editing done. Sure, the universe decided your cat was a man now, but you still needed to pay for said cat-man’s existence. You still didn’t know what you were going do to with all that cat food, cat toys, cat tree… ugh, this was all a problem for future you, not present you.

Present you needed to splice five-hundred images of PepeHands together and overlay it over a League of Legends one-shot compilation.

Uh, so, it was this meme of a green frog named Pepe holding up his anthropomorphic hands in despair, therefore coining the term PepeHands for a particular Twitch chat emote… never mind, it just meant you were spending some time video editing for a gaming YouTuber and it required concentration, shitty memes, and well-timed captions. And you were getting paid good money to do this.

Yeah, it’s a weird world.

You sat at your desktop and got to work, doing the rough cuts of the video first. Thankfully, the YouTuber had already sent you the timestamps of the noteworthy moments, therefore making your job a lot easier. You spent several hours compiling the clips before adding your extra flair and effects. You had a library of images and sound bites that you commonly used (including Goofy singing Evanescence's ‘Bring Me to Life’) and was in the middle of grayscaling a video clip and adding the familiar audio of all around me are familiar faces before being scared shitless.

“Woof.”

You swore someone was singing ‘Mad World’ as they were narrating your life right now.

“Gah!”

You jerked in your seat to see Yoongi leaning over behind you, eyebrow raised as you gawked at him.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that!” you exclaimed, pulling back an earcup of your headset.

He frowned. “How can I sneak up on you?” He flicked the silver bell on the black choker around his neck, making it jingle cheerfully. “You put stupid thing on me, remember?”

You winced. “Well, I’d take it off, but there’s some kind of voodoo magic on that shit – and hey, don’t change the subject! You have that weird cat thing where you’re silent no matter what.”

Yoongi looked unbothered. “Weird cat thing? Thought you said I was a man?”

“Thought you said you were a cat?” you shot back.

You glared at him and he gave you a blank expression. Then he cocked his head to your desk.

“Your phone is flashing.”

You jerked your head to see your phone screen flicker. You grabbed it off you desk and unlocked it, checking your messages. Five messages from – ah, but of course – your best friend. Kim Seokjin.

LET ME SEE YOUR CAT

LET ME SEE YOUR CAT

LET ME SEE YOUR CAT

LET ME SEE YOUR CAT

LET ME SEE YOUR CAT

You pursed your lips. With the pandemic and all, you hadn’t visited Seokjin in forever, but every week he would text you, asking for a photo of your cat and he would send you a picture of his sugar glider. With every week being the same and nothing interesting of note happening, it was hard to think of conversation topics. Therefore, Seokjin and you came up with this weekly event so your friendship wouldn’t deteriorate. Also, both of you were serious introverts, so he spent most of this pandemic playing MapleStory while you spent most of it on your couch watching Netflix with your cat. It was a miracle you two hadn’t morphed into actual potatoes yet.

You glanced at Yoongi, who was inspecting his nails and picking at them. You frowned and batted at his hand. He frowned back and smacked yours, harder. You glared at him. He gave you a vacant stare, as if he had done nothing.

“Why are you picking at your cuticles?” you muttered, going back to your phone and sending Seokjin an old picture of Shooky. You couldn’t exactly send him a picture of current Shooky. He was… well, currently not a cat. You stared at the picture of the fluffy tuxedo cat curled into a ball, asleep in your lap on the couch.

That moment wasn’t even that long ago.

Somehow, it felt like ages since you had last petted that furry butt.

“Hm, dunno. Occupies my hands, I guess,” Yoongi replied distractedly.

“Well, you shouldn’t. It’s not good for you.” You noticed you had another message from the local delivery service, saying a package had arrived at your doorstep. You stood, placing your phone on the desk and looked at Yoongi, who was staring at his old cat tree, the one by the window. When he was a cat, he used to poke his head between the curtains and look outside, watching the birds. It was his favorite haunt.

Now…

“Why’d you say woof?” you asked abruptly, giving him a quizzical look. “I thought you were a cat.”

Yoongi shrugged, tearing his eyes away from the cat tree to give you an uninterested stare. “Thought it would surprise you more. You’ve heard meow for long enough.”

You furrowed your brow. “Why would you want to surprise me?”

He shrugged again. “I was bored.”

“… You were bored so you decided to sneak up and scare the shit out of me?”

He paused, black tail swishing back and forth, pointed ears perked. Then he nodded.

“Yup.”

Sigh.

-

You lugged in the huge cardboard box, Yoongi standing out of sight of the front door as you huffed and puffed with your weak arms. Okay, it wasn’t even that big, but it was quite heavy and you weren’t exactly John Cena. Your arms were about as strong as a bowl of overcooked ramyeon noodles and that was putting it kindly. You weren’t the working out type. People who worked out diligently were dog people. People who preferred sleeping as their primary workout regimen had cats. What were the kinds of people who had cat-men then? The kind of people who like sleeping, but also needed a…

(You already know the answer.)

Yoongi snapped the door closed the second you managed to pull it on far enough to do so.

“You look like a boiled dumpling,” he commented.

“At least I’m delicious food,” you wheezed, inspecting the box. You recognized the clothing brand. “Is this the stuff your ordered? How did it come so fast?”

“I selected next-day delivery.”

You paled.

“I need clothes as soon as possible, don’t I? Or should I go back to being naked, since you’re a pervert?”

You choked, ears burning. “I’m not a pervert!”

“Mhm.”

You tried not to think about the hit on your wallet as you grabbed your keys from the side table and opened the box, seeing all the plastic packages inside. Monotone, in white or black. Figures. You tipped the box to the side and the clothes spilled out, tumbling all over the floor. It took a firm shake to dump it all on the ground. You got on your hands and knees to spread them out, tossing the cardboard aside carelessly to shift through the items. Hopefully, Yoongi had read the listings and selected the correct sizes. From your brief glance, you noticed the tops were quite oversized. Maybe he liked that fit? He had been quite a fluffy cat.

You spotted the packing slip with all the prices listed. You fished it out and then heard a thunk-thunk-thunk, the sound of cardboard on hardwood. Huh?

You looked up to see Yoongi swatting the box around.

“What… are you doing?”

He shrugged. “Investigating.”

You blinked. “Investigating what?”

“Don’t know. I simply feel the need to investigate, thus I am doing so.”

You stared at Yoongi for several minutes as he continued to… uh, investigate (???) the cardboard box, holding it this way and that, smacking it around, watching the flaps bounce in the air as it rolled. His velvety ears perked upwards, sleek black tail swishing with interest.

His expression was completely neutral.

For the first time since becoming a human, you thought Yoongi was more cat than man.

“Uh… okay…”

You glimpsed down to the paper in your hands, seeing the total cost.

You felt the color drain out of your face.

My… wallet…

F in the chat.

You fainted.

-

You felt someone poking you in the head.

“Are you dead?”

You gasped and jerked up like a drown victim coming up for air, still in mild shock of the sudden financial hit of your cat becoming a man. It was okay. You weren’t poor. You just didn’t expect Yoongi to be a shopping like he owned a fucking black card.

“Did I spend too much?”

You snapped out of your stunned state at his soft tone. Yoongi wasn’t looking at you. He was kneeling on top of the pile of clothes, dark eyes on the paper in your shaking hands. With a start, you realized his words were heavy with guilt, his ears pointing downwards and tail tucked against the ground.

“No,” you said quickly, putting the receipt down. “No, Yoongi. I asked you to buy clothes, remember? And besides, it’s better for you to buy things you like and are interested in, rather than me wasting money on things you’ll never wear.”

He raised his head a little, eyes darting from your face to your hands.

You smiled at him, reaching up to pat his head and stroke the fur on his ears. “Hey, don’t worry. It’s only money. Money will never be more important to me than you, okay?”

For a second, you saw something flicker in Yoongi’s eyes. It was so fast that you barely caught it. Relief? Gratitude? Fondness? Then he ticked his head out of your hand, fair cheeks flushing pink.

“You… you don’t have to do that,” he muttered.

“O… oh.” For some reason, you felt a pang in your chest at his words. “R-right.”

Yoongi made eye contact with you, dark brown orbs guarded. He spoke quietly, without emotion.

“Do you wish this never happened?”

“What?” You furrowed your brows. “What do you mean?”

He gestured to himself, waving a hand up and down carelessly. “This. Human me.”

Human me.

You answered instantly.

“No.”

Yoongi gave you the disbelieving side-eye.

You let out a sheepish puff of air. “I always kind of wished you were human.” You scratched the back of your head aimlessly. “No one listened to me like you did. Even if I was having the shittest day of all time, you always made it better. You were the best cat ever.” You chuckled, smiling up at him. “Sure, your species changed, but you’re still the same, right?”

His eyes shifted, his cheeks still a light pink. “I’m still a cat,” he mumbled awkwardly.

You raised your brows. “Mhm, is that why you were playing with the box?”

“I wasn’t playing with the box,” Yoongi huffed, sounding insulted.

“Then I’ll break it down and recycle it.”

“No,” he snapped firmly. “It’s useful. We’re keeping it.”

“We don’t need a box, Yoongi.”

He tutted. “Hmph, humans. So wasteful. A perfectly good box should be reused.”

“Right.”

You tried to hide your laugh as Yoongi refused to look you in the eye.

-

You left Yoongi to examine his new wardrobe on the floor. You tried to pick them up but he stubbornly remained on the pile of clothes, not letting you move them. When you stood up to leave, you asked him when he was going to move – he replied with, "When it feels right", just cat things, you supposed – and hurried off to export the edited video you were working on earlier. The due date was today and you had to review it for quality.

A certain quality. 

A certain quality of... of... 

Needing the money.

Because your cat (man) had spent fat chunk of it on clothes, only to be more interested in the box they came in and sitting on said clothes rather than the actual items themselves. 

Sigh. 

-

"I ordered the wrong color."

"Oh?" you muttered distractedly, clocking on the export button. You'd been going cross-eyed for the past two or three hours – had it really been that long? shit – and checked your phone to see Gukmul, Seokjin's white sugar glider, peering up at the camera on a white fluffy blanket. You smiled, typing a response to praise his cuteness, completely ignoring the fact that Seokjin had also stuck his handsome face in the photo, smiling with a thumbs-up next to his pet. 

The reply was instant. 

hello, acknowledge my BEAUTIFUL FACE

You deliberately didn't answer right away to piss Seokjin off even more. 

"What's wrong with it?" you asked, looking up. 

Your jaw dropped. 

You dropped your phone. 

Yoongi, your cat-man with excellent reflexes, made absolutely no move to catch it. 

It smacked you in the calf and hit your toes – fucking ow, holy shit – before clattering to the floor. You had a protective phone case on it with a cute tuxedo cat graphic. The screen wouldn't crack with the protector on it. In this moment, however, you didn't give a shit about your smartphone, Kim Seokjin, or even the blinding pain in your foot. Nope. 

You were ogling at Min Yoongi in pink silk pajamas.

-

We interrupt your regularly scheduled program to–

Oi!

No, don't you dare scroll past! You think you're clever or something?! Hm? Advertisements always happen at the most crucial parts, you say? 

This is just an ad? 

Look here, Lemona Vitamin C Powder can provide a lot of benefits, including providing natural energy and boosting your immune system in, say, a worldwide pandemic–

STOP TRYING TO SCROLL PAST!!!

-

Jeon Jungkook stared at his phone. 

At a very specific number. 

He put it down, sighing a little, looking out the window instead. It was a nice day, but he couldn't enjoy it the way it was meant to be enjoyed. Pandemic and all that. He frowned, looking at the urban jungle surrounding him. Had he made a mistake moving here to the big city? Sometimes he wondered. Back then, he had moved to finish school and pursue his ambitions. Back then, his choice had seemed full of opportunities, but now.

What did he have, really?

A tiny apartment with a kind and understanding landlord. The world at his fingertips from his computer. Still a decent amount of savings left. Online courses that he needed to finish to get his film degree. 

Loneliness.

He delved into his memories, smiling at the recollection of confused looks, awkward smiles, indignant huffs. So very unlike him to tease so much, but it was too fun and he hadn't felt the usual nervousness and shyness he had around others. There was something comforting about that smile, that apartment, and that fluffy tuxedo cat that loved to interrupt everything. 

He shouldn't have played it off.

He shouldn't have distracted.

Not after he admitted it.

"I like you."

Jungkook said it to the air, to the memory. So vivid that he reached out to touch those lips, but then it all disappeared, just like that. 

Ah.

He looked at the back of his phone, wondering. But now he was too nervous and shy to pick it up again. Why was that? When he was there, being seen by those surprised eyes, he could do and say shameless things. But far away, when he was alone, Jungkook was hesitating, suddenly afraid.

Sigh. 

-

You sneezed. 

Very loudly and jerking your head away from your cat-man in luxurious pink silk, jamming your nose into your elbow.

Yoongi raised an eyebrow. 

You sniffed, rubbing your nose. 

"Someone must be thinking about me..." you muttered. 

Yoongi looked down, plucking the collar of the pajamas. "The cotton shirts are the same size, but for some reason this one fits tighter. Why is that? Is there no regulated sizing in human fashion?"

Dude, be glad you're not a girl, you thought dryly. "Might be the fabric," you coughed distractedly. Distractedly because you were staring at quite possibly the most gorgeous man in the history of men and you stared at a lot of men in your short lifetime, so you had experienced eyeballs.

Wait. 

Man or cat-man?

Well, Yoongi was definitely the most gorgeous cat-man considering you were pretty sure there was only one in current existence.

His pointed ears stood straight up in interest, black hair messy from taking clothes on and off, fair cheeks and nose flushed pink, perhaps from physical exertion. Dark brown eyes sheepish, not quite looking at you. The black leather choker stood out on his neck, silver bell gleaming against his collarbones. The material was a mauve-pink silk, clinging to his lean body, showing off his shoulders and long limbs. The button-up shirt created a rather deep v-neckline, a sliver of pale chest visible. And his legs! His slim legs reminded you of a nimble dancer, ending in fuzzy black slippers. 

There was a weird lump in one of the pant legs, going down his thigh. 

Whoa. 

"W-Why did you pick them?" you tried to ask in the least awkward way possible, attempting – and failing – to not to stare at his delectable thighs. 

Yoongi shrugged. "They looked like the ones you have. I meant to get black, but I suppose I didn't read the listing closely enough. They're comfortable though," he mused before making a face. Your eyes bulged as there was a sudden jerk in his pants, creating a large tent in the crotch. 

Alarms sounded off in your head, arousal shooting up like a rocket. 

Oh. 

Oh??? 

Oh!!!!!!!

"My tail is stuck," Yoongi grunted, lowering the back of the pink silk pants. The sleek black cat tail slid out, swishing in the air, tent in his pants gone. 

Oh…

Right. The tail.

Because he's a cat... man.

Your inner thot was sad. Your dignity smacked you upside the head, highly disappointed in you for falling for that, then calmly shot down your arousal rocket with your shame. Oof.

"Can you show me how to sew so I can fix my own clothes from now on?" Yoongi asked as he readjusted the front of the silk shirt. 

You bent down to pick up your phone, trying to do something with your face and hands to disguise your embarrassment and burning ears. "Yeah, of course." You placed it on your desk and turned back to face him. 

Yoongi was right next to you. 

Literally so close that you could feel his body heat. 

"... Urk!"

You jumped in your seat, banging your knee against your desk and howling in pain, computer chair rolling and making you lose your balance, ass about to slip before Yoongi grabbed your chair and shoved it into the table, making you trip and fall back into the seat, head hitting the headrest a little too hard, seeing stars and rubber duckies for a second. 

Wait, were they rubber duckies? They were white and glittery, almost as if they were made from snow…

Yoongi slapped you in the face.

“Ow!”

You rubbed your cheek, blinking rapidly to clear your vision before glaring at him.

“Checking if you were alive,” was his placid response.

Alright, it wasn’t that hard, but the unexpectedness of it still hurt. You frowned, only for the pain to slowly melt away, quickly being replaced by something else as you realized Yoongi was still half-leaning over you, a knee on your computer gaming chair to prevent it from rolling. The sting in your knee was temporarily forgotten. Yoongi spoke again, his voice low and deep, almost a sensual purr.

“You hit yourself pretty hard.”

He doesn’t know what’s he’s doing. It’s just a coincidence. A kitty-incidence, Seokjin would say.

Your eyes widened as Yoongi closed in, peering at your unfocused gaze. Now you could see down his shirt. Holy shit. Were you so deprived that you were getting mad horny from seeing Yoongi’s fucking clavicle and sternum?

Is that even a question?

Yes.

Yes, you were.

“You look like you did last night.”

“What?” you breathed, still unabashedly looking down his shirt.

“Your pupils are dilated.”

You froze. His cool fingertips were on your neck.

“Heartrate increased.”

You wanted to pull back, say, no, wait, don’t do that, but Yoongi was too close and his exhale was too feathery, brushing against your lips, and you couldn’t move, trapped in your chair, between him wrapped in pink silk and your mind reeling, him still playing fucking doctor while you were trying not to jump his half-covered ass.

“And that smell.”

You finally tore your gaze away, eyes drifting up to his.

You swallowed.

“S… smell?”

Oh no.

Oh no, no, no.

Ohnoohshitwhatifhecansmellmypus–

Yoongi’s eyes narrowed, surveying you closely. He was so close you couldn’t see his lips, only his dark brown orbs. He didn’t say anything. He smelled like your soap, reminding you of his naked body pressed against you in the shower. Your heartbeat was leaping to your throat, threatening to choke you with your own horniness. Honestly, at this point, would you even be surprised?

You chuckled nervously, clinging onto your last shreds of self-preservation, which, admittedly, were rapidly yeeting out of your hands.

“Hahaha… but you’re… a cat… yeah?”

Right?

Seconds passed.

Right???

Minutes passed.

RIGHT???????

Yoongi’s lashes lowered, not quite looking at your eyes. Staring at your lips.

“I’m a man too,” he whispered softly.

Your eyes widened.

Yoongi kissed you.

You were so shocked that you swore your eyes nearly left your head.

It was a soft kiss, his eyes closed, tilting his head slightly to fit better against yours, pressing you back into your chair. Your head hit the headrest and you gasped, your tongue lightly flicking his lips and they parted, his own tongue sliding against yours, gentle licks, your brain malfunctioning, but body remembering, hands coming up to grab his shirt and yank him closer, pressing back against him. He backed up a little at your suddenness, exhaling hard. Your eyes snapped open, suddenly aware of how forceful you were.

Yoongi looked away, pointed black ears flicking back and forth uneasily.

You kissed your cat. Man. Cat-man.

He’s been a man for not even two days and you just tried to make out with him like a demented beast!

“A-ah, Yoongi, no, I’m so sorry, I-I… please, I didn’t mean to…” you stuttered, letting go of him quickly, but also not wanting to let go, but you should, your hands getting confused by your mental signals, repeatedly clasping and unclasping the pink silk, not realizing that he wasn’t even trying to move away.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” Yoongi said slowly.

You clutched his shirt, staring at your white knuckles, unable to look at him directly.

“I’m sorry, it’s just… you’re so handsome, but I’m your owner… and I cracked…”

“What you are is a desperate, sexually deprived human.”

You jerked your head up, seeing his unreadable expression. “I-It’s been over a year–”

All of a sudden, Yoongi lowered his knee and grabbed you by the ass, scooting you down on the rolling chair. You yelped at the swift movement, gasping as your crotch collided with his thigh, wincing as you heard the squelch of your panties jamming into your soaked core.

Yikes.

Welp, you can’t hide that shit now.

“You like things like this, don’t you?” Yoongi murmured.

Your cheeks heated. “T…Things like w-what…?”

Oh, you knew what. You knew very well what, but you also couldn’t form coherent sentences.

His fingers sank into your ass and he pressed you into his thigh, rolling it into your heat. The whines tore out of your throat involuntarily, grabbing his arm and staring up at him with shaking eyes, seeing his curious gaze looking down at you.

“B-But, Yoongi… I’m your o-owner,” you panted, resolve slipping with every second, your hips already rocking into his thigh, the slippery thin fabric doing nothing to hide his lean muscle, your own thighs clamping around his leg. “I’m supposed to t-take care of y-you…”

And last more than two days, fucking shit, get it together!

But you couldn’t get it together, especially not as Yoongi’s voice dropped to a lower octave, one side of his lips curving upwards.

“It’s a little different now, isn’t it?” he drawled softly, lashes lowering, eyebrows raising, his black hair darkening his gaze. “Since I am now capable to take care of you too.”

You whimpered, losing it.

Just started freely humping his leg, self-preservation completely gone. Did he even know what he was capable of, really? Did he have any idea what he could do? Surely not.

Surely, he had no idea how good he could make you feel.

Yoongi bit the side of his lip, frowning. “How will can I make it feel better? I’m only cop…” He trailed off, furry ears anxiously flicking.

You tugged on his arm, getting his attention. “Angle your leg a little more downwards… Y-Yeah, like that…” He did as you instructed, his thigh now pressing down on your clit and your rocking hips moving faster, clinging to his arm and setting your jaw, moaning at the added pleasure. “A-ah… yeah, fuck… yes, I c-can… like this…”

“You can what?” Yoongi breathed, watching your face closely, firmly holding the armrests of the chair so it wouldn’t slide.  

Your head tipped back a little, bucking harder into his thigh, so wet your juices were soaking through your leggings and drenching the pink silk, turning it darker, the strong scent of your sweet arousal clearly evident. Your eyes drifted to Yoongi’s dark orbs covered by black hair, vision hazy, noticing the slight inquisitive upturn of his upper lip. There was no point in hiding it anymore.

“Can cum, Yoongi, fuck, I’m going to cum…” you moaned, inhaling his scent, his presence, saying his name and looking up at him, the stimulation and touch of another enough to get you there, eyelids fluttering as your orgasm swept down, taking you away and filling you with serene satisfaction, crashing waves soaring through you, washing away the sand of your dry spell, a different kind of euphoria than when you were on your own, pulling Yoongi close, kissing him deeply, breathing hard.

“Y… Yoongi…”

“Was it nice?” he murmured. “Was I what you needed?”

“Yeah…” You kissed his soft lips again, semi-breathless. “I–” The wave of guilt came now, your words dropping, brows furrowing, a sharp pang in your chest. Rising, rising. Panic. Yoongi lowered his head, black hair and soft pointed ear rubbing against your eyebrow, nuzzling your cheek. Once. Twice. Again, headbutting you lightly, smoothing the worry away from your forehead, a small laugh bubbling from your throat.

“What are you doing?” you chuckled, patting his arm, smoothing out the wrinkles you had made while furiously humping him. Your eye caught the dark mark now on one of his thighs. Welp. You lasted less than ten minutes.

Pink pajama Yoongi was dangerous.

“You liked this,” he mumbled. “When you were upset.”

You chuckled, instinctively reaching up and caressing his velvety ear. “You were a little smaller then.”

“Only a little.”

He slowed until he came to a full stop, dark eye staring into yours, cheek to cheek.

“I have to look after you, my clumsy human.”

-

part iv

--

masterpost

[incorrect-mha-bnha]

Can you post more on your feral Midoriya idea? Or even what its like to have 20 feral and traumatized children living together in one place under the watchful eyes on Mr "Im too tired to deal with my own mental breakdowns"?

Oh totally can dish a few things out. It will also dabble into the AU I made of Aizawa adopting Bakugo and Shinsou with Midoriya around a lot so let’s get into it.

Bakugo is not as bad in the morning compared to Izuku. Bakugo will bitch, grumping about it being cold because his body hasn’t fully woken up. Bakugo is only a morning person on his own accord. If he is woken up before 7 then his mind isn’t functioning until an hour later but anytime after 7 is safe. Midoriya however is like the spawn of hell himself with a stone in his shoe and chipping away patience. He refuses to get up before 10 on weekends. He stays up late most nights to train and that leaves him tired. He’s NOT a morning person in fact if you even tried to wake up Izuku before his self appointed alarm then his eyes are burning hateful slits, turning towards you slowly uttering a very low and strained “get. out.” Nobody likes waking him up.

Midoriya is NOT the type of have breakfast. He goes straight for coffee that Shinso made. He snatches it from the boys hand and starts drinking while Shinso is just staring in despair. Then Izuku hands it back, says thanks and leaves.

Shinsou obviously can’t sleep but he’s a night owl and takes it like a champ. At that point he’s been drained of all the energy to be agitated over not being able to sleep right. Some day it’s like a clock in and out for him and Aizawa. He comes downstairs, saying morning to Shinso, Shinso says night and heads upstairs to sleep.

Midoriya plays loud music at night when he’s really in the zone of training and working on stuff. Shinsou could care less and Bakugo learned to sleep through it.

Bakugo and Izuku instigate each other terribly and Aizawa knows it with ever growing grey hair. Bakugo will get hyped up on something and here comes Midoriya as the one who will take it a step further because he knows no bounds. If they are ever in an altercation, Bakugo will start swearing getting ready to fight but Izuku comes through to throw the first punch.

Midoriya has a tolerance level for everyone. I’d rate it as follows: classmates— 70%, Bakugo— varies but usually ranges around a nice 50%-0%, villains— 3%, villains who hurt kids— -194738384%.

Aizawa has grown to recognize when Izuku is about to snap so he can redirect the boy and save them all from casualties. I believe Izuku would take down an entire building while fighting a villain. However, it’s different to Bakugo consciously taking down buildings because he simply doesn’t care about destruction.. Izuku is dead set on bringing the villain down to the point he goes terminal.

Midoriya is on the edge of going crazy every second that passes. You can see it in his eyes, how they slowly grow fainter and tired. He isn’t necessarily losing his spark or drive.. the look hold experience and resolve. Also Murder.

Izuku is usually tense on any day but once he’s completely snapped all tension leaves his body and the boy kinda just tilts his head and squints.

Aizawa isnt too worried about them not behaving. They know well enough to not die nor murder... or so Izuku swears to comprehend. Yet there is always a chance of them forgetting and going off on their little adventures. Whether they be dangerous or just dumb teenage shit.

^ For example. Izuku had a sudden intense craving for ice cream at 3 am and broke out of sleep in a cold sweat. He gets up, goes downstairs and stands over Shinso who is laying upside on the couch and says nothing, just stares. Shinso looks at him and asks “what’s up?” with “ice cream. Store?” As an answer. To which Shinso of course pauses then nods and gets up. Now onto the next challenge; getting a driver. There are two in the house currently, one is sleeping and definitely will say no. And the other is convincible. So there they are standing over Bakugo in bed. The two boys share a look before shrugging and Izuku smacks him awake, not flinching as he swears and sets off tiny explosions.

Bakugo, half asleep: *holding his cheek* you asshole, what the fuck?

Izuku: *leaning practically in his face* drive us to the store. I desire ice cream.

Bakugo: *looks at time* it’s 3 in the goddamn morning, fuck no.

Izuku: *leans closer* if you don’t drive us to the store right now I’m going to tell everyone about the time when you cried yourself to sleep every night during middle school after that one incident.

Bakugo: *stares*

Izuku: *stares back*

Bakugo: get my keys.

Then there are three teenage boys, one half asleep and the other two bouncing off the walls in the ice cream section picking out flavors and toppings. And yes they were successful in leaving then arriving home but Aizawa was waiting for them in the living room with his arms crossed and foot tapping in disappointment. They got in deep shit that night but Izuku got off with just a reprimand after revealing he had gotten Aizawa’s favorite ice cream while they were out. Bakugo and Shinsou however were grounded.