#the answer to both being 'laughably high' and 'probably never'

[keirametzbrassknuckles]

The irony that is my loan payments coming out to exactly $666 a month. Number of the beast indeed

[corvidcrybaby]

Say, after reading your last commentary on Integra, now I need your POV on something I've been wondering.

What do you think will happen to Hellsing once Integra dies? To Alucard and Seras? Integra has expressed no interest in having children, and since she wants to avoid becoming a vampire, we know she won't be alive forever. Does she have a plan for that?

Hi! Omg so sorry to take so long to get to answering this, life has been insane on my end.

To answer your question, I'd wager there's a plan in place. Whether it pans out according to Integra's expectations or not is what remains to be seen. Integra mentions that the Organization will be passed over to the general military once she passes, and the Crown will thus assume direct control of the agency and its vampires. I'm willing to bet good money that the sigils that bind Alucard and Seras could potentially be transferred. If they are, then they'll keep up their job as the UK's resident vampire pest control until something extreme happens to break that bond of servitude. The nature of these sigils is unfortunately never explored fully, nor how they work, which leaves us with naught but speculation. However, this is my educated guess at how they probably work.

On the other hand, let's entertain the more interesting prospect of if those sigils are less malleable than we think, and it becomes impossible to bend Alucard and Seras to the will of someone else. From there? If the British military effectively has to try to keep these two under control through... What, good will? Threat of force? Both ideas are ultimately laughable. If that is the case, then I think Alucard is going to assess the inheritor's character and convictions. If he finds Integra's replacement to be unworthy, and there are no magic spells forcing him to play nice, then I think he probably peaces out to take a nice long nap. I think he probably goes into hibernation after Integra's passing - which, mind you, I think he'll be destitute following. It would be hard to read from him, but he holds Integra in high esteem, and went out of his way to return to her after Schroödinger-gate. That shows a high degree of loyalty, and I think Alucard would be laying low for a minute. After he wakes up, however, is when I suspect he might piss off into the unknown, wandering around the world - perhaps in search of interesting people to meddle with the lives of, secretly hoping he'll find the next Anderson, the next Integra, et cetera. I suspect he'll probably go right back to eating people, though. I'd put money on him perhaps being a bit more Punisher-esque on the humans he kills for food than before, since he has hinted at the idea of humans rubbing off on him in the series before. So less the kind of guy who devours the most innocent and defenseless people imaginable, and more likely he interferes with mortal affairs that he can justify to himself are morally bankrupt so he has a steady supply of enemies to destroy and humans to feed on. I don't see him turning all of England into a necrotizing wasteland with him at the head. I think that would beneath his interest by now. I think harassing and stalking people he deems unique or entertaining would occupy much of his time post-hibernation.

Seras, however, is interesting. I suspect Seras would stick around at Hellsing of her own volition, and would continue aiding Britain in its cause to protect people and slay undead monsters. That's what she became the person she is while doing, and I think with or without Alucard, she'll keep on generally being a goody two-shoes. But I think even she would grow weary of it eventually. With Integra gone, I think it becomes less and less like the home Seras "grew up" in - and if the new commanders are inept, then I think eventually Seras would reach a breaking point where she too, might go rogue. She might tag along with Alucard for a while, and I'd wager they keep regular contact and check in with one another on a semi-frequent basis (which, for vampires, might mean catching up once a decade or some shit). Seras is her own independent person, especially after accepting her vampirism and drinking blood to become autonomous as Alucard always urged her to be. But just as that's true, I feel their relationship was always one of Seras, despite everything, wanting to remain by Alucard's side. Their relationship would no doubt shift, and I suspect they might grow more reserved with one another, but I think they might find a new kind of emotional intimacy with one another - not romantic (I like Aluseras from time to time but this is my baseline read), to be clear, but I think Seras has the vampire equivalent of her late-twenties-development after Teggy passes. And from there? Anybody's game, but I think she keeps on bumping off rogue vampires - although I think with time, it might become more territorial than altruistic in how she carries herself. Less general heroics talk and more like, a vigilante warden type of dealio. She might come to see Britain as HER TERRITORY which would spell doom for any foreign vampires thinking they can feed on "her" humans. I think time as a vampire makes everybody go a little dark, but this is still pretty tame. It's Seras, after all. She'll flay you to ribbons but only if you really, REALLY press her.

Thanks so much for the ask!!!

[darklotuspublishing]

Stitched in Shadows: A Love Bound By Obsession Chapter One

TW: swearing, hints of being stalked, alcohol usage

It was all over the news, “Takashi Kurouta named top fashion designer after making a bold statement with his newest line,” he had the nerve to present something so perverse at the Kyoto fashion exhibition. I couldn’t believe it, Takashi Kurouta was named Japan’s top fashion designer when he didn’t even deserve that title. He was nothing more than a high-end smut peddler with his perverse fashion lines.

“Miss Nakamura, don’t you think it would be best for us to delve into the sex sells trope for your next line?” My assistant Hajime asked.

“Hajime, doll, sex sells is just some bullshit men like Takashi Kurouta created to hypersexualize women,” I responded, my voice laced with obvious disdain for my rival. Hajime could sense my frustration and ceased his commentary and unsolicited advice. I plopped down on my leather couch, picked up my glass of whiskey, and downed it in one gulp. The burn from the alcohol was intense but so delicious at the same time. After a few moments, my new goal was clear. I had to crush Takashi Kurouta at the international fashion exhibition.

The apartment complex security guard came over the intercom, “Miss Nakamura, we have a Mister Kurouta here to see you.” he said.

I groaned, hitting the button on the intercom, “Send him up.” I replied and then sat back on the couch. Within a few moments a resounding “very well” came over the intercom and I was soon face to face with the Devil himself, Takashi Kurouta. What could he possibly want? He never visits my home. Well, at least not for the right reasons.

“Smile princess don’t look so upset. You’ll get on my level one day.” Takashi said with a smug smile on his face.

“Save it Kurouta. We both know that your victory was bullshit!” I yelled, wanting nothing more than to slap that smug grin off of his face. Takashi did nothing more than laugh at my less-than-friendly attitude. He stalked closer to me, closing the distance between us and crouching in front of me.

“How about you let me take you out on a date to make up for upsetting you so much, hm?” Takashi questioned.

My expression changed to one of shock, “You can’t be serious. What makes you think that I would go on a date with you?” I spat, obviously annoyed at his bold proposition.

“Come on, you’re a pretty girl and no girl can say no to me,” Takashi stated confidently.

I couldn’t help but laugh, “Oh, that’s just rich! No girl can say no to you. Really? Well, my answer is no.” I continued laughing as I spoke, wiping a tear from my eye after laughing so hard. Takashi wasn’t used to being rejected by anyone. His expression went from smug, to disappointed and then to anger. He was a ticking time bomb with no real indicator as to when he would snap. Without another word, Takashi stood up and left, slamming my front door behind him.

Hajime looked over at me, “What was that about? He just came here expecting you to date him? I always knew that he was crazy.” He stated, laughter escaping him as he spoke. Takashi’s actions were always laughable. I knew Hajime could never resist a good laugh at Takashi Kurouta’s expense.

“He’s always been a nutcase. Takashi Kurouta thinks that he’s this irresistible bachelor when in reality, he’s just a sad desperate man who has probably never had a girlfriend.” I said, my voice laced with amusement. Hajime burst into girlish squeals and giggles at my comment. His laughter caused me to burst out into laughter. I couldn’t resist laughing along with him, our obvious hatred for Takashi was visible with how hard we were laughing. Eventually, we both settled down and Hajime left, leaving me alone in my penthouse.

Sleep never came easy for me and there was something about Takashi’s sudden visit that made me feel uneasy. Tonight was going to be a long night, especially since I was going to be meeting with several of my designers in the morning. Tomorrow couldn’t come any sooner and I was already dreading it. My biggest rival wanted to date me and I vowed never to date another fashion designer. The fact that Takashi thought that I would date him was ridiculous. It’s been said in countless interviews that I’ve done that I would never date someone in my profession because of the stress it would cause.

After several minutes of debating whether or not to just fall asleep on the couch or get up to get ready for bed, I stood up and stretched, hearing a few pops from my spine and hips as they readjusted to their normal positions. Walking down the hallway, I went into my bedroom at the end of the hall, taking in the sight of my more than inviting California king-sized bed before walking to my closet to retrieve my silk night dress. Stripping out of my Chanel pantsuit, I discarded each piece into the laundry basket that I had labeled as outfits that needed to be dry cleaned instead of machine washed. Looking in my floor-length mirror, I studied how dull my skin had become from the stress of trying to claw my way to the top of the fashion world and sighed, shrugging on my silk night dress that fell just below the curvature of my butt. My body was something I took great pride in, I had a slim waist, flat stomach, decently large but perky breasts, and a decently sized backside. Men wanted me like I was the last cut of expensive steak at a restaurant and women wanted to be me just so they could look like me.

Climbing into bed, I pulled back the satin sheets and let myself fall back onto the pillows, the lights automatically shutting off so that my electric bill wouldn’t climb to some extravagant amount. Staring up at the ceiling, my thoughts began to race. How was I going to dethrone Takashi as one of the best designers in the country and claim the spot of the best designer on the international level? Why is he suddenly so interested in me? I thought we were supposed to be rivals who could be cordial in public but hostile towards each other behind closed doors. None of his actions make sense to me. Takashi was regarded as a ruthless person who would knock even the best of the best in the design world to their knees to get to the top of the ladder. Soon, sleep finally took over, allowing me to clear my thoughts and drift off into a semi-peaceful rest for the few hours I had before my alarm clock started blaring at me.

My alarm was blaring within a few hours, the annoying tune that it played driving me to get out of bed just to turn it off. Once I shut my alarm off, I stripped out of my silk night dress and put on my Yves Saint Laurent suit. It was my favorite suit with a decently tight pencil skirt, silk dress shirt, and a blazer to match. I always paired my outfits with a pair of Louboutin heels in a matching color. As a designer, I had to look my best, or else I wouldn’t be taken seriously.

Giving myself a final once over in the mirror, I exited my bedroom, making my way to the kitchen to grab myself a cup of coffee. As I grabbed a mug from the cabinet, the high-pitched squeal of the intercom caused me to drop the pristine piece of ceramic, shattering it on the tile floor. I groaned in frustration and stalked over to the intercom, hitting the button.

“What is it? I have to leave for work soon!” I said, letting my frustration be known by the tone of my voice.

“My apologies ma’am but, I have a package for Miss Sora Nakamura.” The deliveryman spoke over the intercom.

“That would be me. Please leave it at the door.” I told him, hoping that my request would be honored.

“Sorry Miss Nakamura but, I need you to sign for the parcel.” He replied in an apologetic tone. I sighed and unlocked the door. When I opened it, I was met with a young man, no older than nineteen years old, holding a small box and a clipboard.

The deliveryman handed me the clipboard, “Please sign this ma’am.” He requested. I took the clipboard from him and scribbled my signature on the line. We exchanged the package and clipboard, and he bowed as a sign of respect and quickly left. I shut the door and placed the box on the coffee table. My first thoughts were still on my need for a cup of coffee. Quickly striding into the kitchen and grabbing the broom, I swept up the pieces of my mug and threw them in the garbage.

Putting the broom away and grabbing my travel mug, I poured myself a cup of coffee. The box on the coffee table was suspicious. I wasn’t expecting any packages and the only person with my address was my assistant Hajime. Who could’ve found my address? Nothing about this was adding up and that made me hesitant to open the box.

Checking the time, I realized that I would be late for my meeting. Gathering my things, I rushed out the door, hoping to make it to the office in time for my meeting. My commute was short enough that I was able to walk to and from the office. I was well-liked in my community so people around me would greet me during my walk to work. The walk was short, and the security guard greeted me at the door as I rushed inside. Hajime greeted me from his desk, following me into my office and going over my schedule for the day as I prepared for my meeting. My schedule typically had no variations unless there was an upcoming fashion exhibition.

The meeting went smoothly. My designers presented the progress on the new Spring and Summer lines for this year. Some of them took admirable risks with some more revealing designs. I couldn’t hold it against them for wanting to take some risks. Maybe going outside of my comfort zone is just what I needed to take down Takashi.

Hajime entered my office, “Miss Nakamura, a package was dropped off for you.” He said, showing me the box in his hand.

“Really? I wasn’t expecting any packages. This is the second one today.” I replied, taking the box from him.

“What was the first one? Maybe it was from the same person. Are you seeing someone in secret to keep them away from the public eye?” Hajime questioned; his voice laced with curiosity.

I couldn’t help but laugh, “No. God no. I learned from my last relationship that men and women alike only want me for the money and power that comes with being a well-known designer. Take my advice Hajime, this profession is not for dating. You’ll find that out soon enough.” I told him in between giggles. Hajime was amused by my reaction and began to laugh along with me. We stood there laughing for a few minutes just enjoying ourselves.

“You should probably see what’s in the box. Maybe you have a secret admirer.” Hajime said in between laughs, wiping the tears from his eyes from laughing so hard. I was still laughing so all I could do was nod my head and reach for the scissors on my desk to cut the tape that was keeping the box sealed. Using the scissors, I cut the tape holding down the edges of the box and popped the flaps open. The contents of the box were disturbing, to say the least. I was shocked to find photos of myself during various times of the day, all dated and time-stamped with the exact times that I was inside my penthouse and out of it.

Hajime’s eyes widened at the sight, he knew that this wasn’t a case of a secret admirer, it was a case of someone stalking me. I wanted nothing more than to toss the contents of the box into a fire but out of fear, I kept myself from doing so. Whoever took those pictures would know if I had done it if I truly was being watched. Hajime and I sat there and looked through the photos until we reached the bottom of the box to find a brand new Yves Saint Laurent cocktail dress. I pulled the dress out and inspected it. The dress was in my exact size and favorite color. The person who sent the package has been watching me for a while and knows exactly what I look like, down to the smallest detail. Does that mean that this person has seen me naked?

“Who do you think sent this to you? It must be someone you know if they could get your favorite brand of dress in your exact size and favorite color.” Hajime stated, still in visible shock that someone would be so bold.

“I don’t know who it could have been. Nobody knows my home address or even the exact address for this office building. Whoever it was that sent this is either trying to get my attention or trying to scare me somehow.” I responded, trying to keep my composure and not lose my mind out of fear. Hajime only nodded and left my office, taking the pile of photos with him and locking them in the drawer of his desk. I sat down at my desk, staring at the cocktail dress and racking my brain to try and figure out who it was that sent me the package. That’s when the thought crossed my mind, what was in the box that I left on the coffee table at home? Was it more photos? Maybe it was another piece from the newest Yves Saint Laurent Spring line that hasn’t even been released yet. There was no telling what could be in that box and honestly, I didn’t want to find out purely out of fear that whoever sent the package to my office would be watching the moment I got home.

The workday was dragging by slowly. I had meeting after meeting with various store owners wanting to try and renew contracts to be able to sell my clothing at lower prices when they knew that my pricing to allow my designs to be sold in these stores was set in stone. After meeting with store owners, I had to spend some time in the actual design studio, meeting with models who were being fitted with new pieces from my upcoming lines to be put through a photoshoot to promote the new lines that were set to release at the start of the seasons. Several of the models had complaints that my work wasn’t as revealing as Takashi’s and that they didn’t feel sexy enough wearing my work. I took the criticisms with a grain of salt and dismissed the models that dared to act ungrateful when I had been kind and given them jobs when they were nothing but amateurs in the business.

Hajime handled all my phone calls as normal while I was running around like a madwoman taking care of business as usual within the building, getting things ready for the release of the Spring fashion line and contacting the sponsors that were running the international fashion exhibition that would be held in Yokohama this year. I spent my day getting my name on the roster for the designers being featured in the exhibition and making sure I had a phenomenal lineup of work and models to go down the runway in just a few months at the start of the Summer. This year, I have my work cut out for me. My designers will likely have to work overtime to make sure everything is ready. Yokohama will be the place where I finally knock Takashi Kurouta from the top of the ladder.

“Are you coming over for drinks later Haji? We haven’t had a drinking night in a while.” I asked as Hajime packed up his laptop and a few files.

“Not tonight, Sora my boyfriend is supposed to be coming to my place. He said that he’s got something planned for our anniversary, but we have to celebrate early because he works on our anniversary and can’t do anything that day. I’ll take a raincheck on that drinking night though.” He responded.

“Damnit, alright well, I’ll hold you to that then but you’re staying the night when we have our drinking night,” I told him.

“Deal. How about next weekend?” Hajime asked.

“Sounds like a plan to me. I’ll see you on Monday Haji.” I said, going back to my office to prepare for the end of the day.

Once the workday was finished, I sent all my designers and models home, spending a few minutes alone in my office before leaving the building myself to head home. The walk home was somewhat peaceful except for the overwhelming feeling that I was being watched. I made quick work of my stroll home and made sure to lock my front door and keep the curtains closed so that nobody could see inside the penthouse. The one thing that plagued me the moment I walked in the door was that damned package that I left on the coffee table without opening it. My thoughts started to race, and I was dreading opening the box out of pure fear of what might be inside.

Hesitantly, I picked up the box and peeled away the packing tape that secured the flaps. The name on the return address for the shipping label was blacked out and that just made this entire thing even more unsettling. Slowly, I opened the box, finding no photographs but instead finding several sets of lingerie and a few sex toys that had been left in their packaging, unopened. Who would send something like this to someone? You would have to be sick in the head to send something like this to someone who doesn’t even know who you are.

My stomach churned at the sight but at the same time, I couldn’t help but feel aroused. Did the person sending me this want me to enjoy myself and make myself feel good? Was I going to be watched if I tried on the lingerie and lay in bed to masturbate to the perverse thoughts running through my head? I hope whoever gifted me these items was happy with their purchases. Shaking my head, I quickly took the box to my bedroom and shoved it into the back of my closet. Out of sight, out of mind, and right now, I needed those items out of my sight before I let my impulses get the better of me.

The temptation to try on the lingerie and give the sex toys that were gifted to me a try was there. I knew using any of those items would just give the person stalking me the wrong idea. Using those items was the most sure-fire way to ensure that my stalker would be fully convinced that their feelings would be reciprocated. If I had to put it bluntly, the feelings are not mutual between this unknown stalker and myself. I don’t even know who this person is; they have the gall to send me items like this. Their gesture just shows me that in their eyes, I’m nothing more than a piece of meat or a sex doll to them and that is not something that I could ever see myself being for someone.

“Sick pervert,” I mumbled to myself as I stripped out of my suit and changed into my loungewear. Today was certainly an interesting day for me. I never expected to find out that I was being stalked and discover that whoever was stalking me was probably the one who was sending me sex toys. After a day like today, I needed a stiff drink and good company, but Hajime wasn’t available to sit with me tonight. It looks like tonight will be spent drinking alone and trying to forget about the fact that I have some pervert watching me all the time now.

Leaving my bedroom, I popped my head into each room I passed. The thought of someone watching me was making me increasingly paranoid. Once I made it into the kitchen I was greeted by the sight of my liquor cabinet. There was no hesitation in my movements. I quickly threw open the cabinet doors, my eyes scanning over the bottles. Most of the alcohol I had was dark liquor, I wasn’t very fond of clear liquor after my college days. The only liquor I would drink in college was clear liquor like tequila or vodka.

The sun started to set as I stood in the kitchen searching for the bottle of whiskey I kept for when I needed to unwind. I must have been overly stressed out because it took me nearly an hour to find that damn bottle of whiskey. Once I found the bottle, I just skipped grabbing a glass and drank straight from the bottle. The burn from the whiskey felt more intense but it made me feel normal in a sense. Discovering that I had a stalker sent my anxiety into overdrive.

The alcohol hit me quicker than normal, pushing me into that tipsy yet euphoric feeling that I was in desperate need of. That overwhelming feeling that I was being watched started to subside the more I drank. By midnight I was too drunk to notice that someone was watching me through the only window in my home without curtains.

Within a few minutes, I was nearly passed out drunk on the couch. My head was fuzzy, and I felt like I was flying. It was a good thing that my office was closed tomorrow morning because I was sure that I would inevitably have a hangover in the morning. The whiskey helped me to take my mind off my newfound stalker. By no means did I have a drinking problem, my alcohol typically lasted months at a time before I needed to restock it.

[lackingspace]

Lesson in Silence (Vicrul X Reader)

Lesson 6

Word Count: 6.9k

Warnings: Dirty talk. lots and lots of dirty talk. Spanking. Pain play. Very slight edging. Praise kink. suggestive language and themes, humiliation, degradation, creampie, cum play. Probably something that I missed.

Author note: SMUT IS FINALLY HERE. Minors do not interact, this isn't for you. Thx.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

AO3 Link: Lesson 6

Prev Ch: Lesson 5

Recap: There was no telling how long you would have stayed in that trance-like state if it wasn't for the solid weight against your shoulder and the sound of your name ripping you back into reality. A yelp left you as you dropped your tools and spun on the intruder with a high-pitched, "Holy fucking stars!"

—--------------------------------------------------------

Fero took a step back with raised hands, "Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! It's just me." Raising a hand against your chest he continued apologetically, "Didn't mean to startle you." He raised a hand to the back of his head, "I knocked and called your name a few times." Heart racing in your chest, but less from anything Fero did and just everything…especially…the image of Vicrul's face floated into your mind's eye.

Nothing made sense. None of it. Vicrul had said…you must have misunderstood...You couldn't have a bond with him…could you? That was…was that even a thing? The force connecting people? Beyond the normal conscious effort to read someone anyways. He definitely wasn't talking about a marriage bond– that concept was even more laughable and hadn't been what your gut said he meant. 

A force connection…you'd never considered it a possibility. If it wasn't pertinent, your master would have likely deemed it not worthy to share. You hadn't had a bond with her, at least any that you'd felt, and she was the only other living force user you'd spent any significant time around. The phantom masters you saw would answer your questions if asked. How would you ask about something you didn't know existed? 

It seemed an odd concept, but then again if you could connect to the force, he could connect, both could sense things in that aural lexicon…it didn't seem such a stretch. But you and Vicrul? The thought made you light-headed. 

He definitely had a magnetic pull in your mind. The moment you heard his voice, it prickled your brain in all the right ways. Had it already started? Was this the inklings of a bond? Did it come all at once or gradually? Was that why? Why you ignored every fucking instinct you had just to push back at him?

Fero waved a hand in front of your face. Blinking rapidly you gave him a placating smile, "Sorry, I was…zoned out." Flicking your gaze up to meet his with a small laugh, "Still am." Fero chuckled and shook his head, "All good. We all know how you get when modding things." It wasn't a good habit– being your stress relief, modding had a way of making you zone out. At least in this case that known fact provided a good excuse as to why you were so out of it. 

Looking back at the sniper that might as well have been the equivalent of a force bomb as far as you were concerned. It was changed, didn't look like it had a moment ago. 

Well, if Fero was here, it was more likely a few hours ago.

Parts strewn about the table– tools, wiring, screws– revealed an attachment added that hadn't been there before. It wouldn't be the first time you'd been sucked into a vision but kept working. It was odd, disorienting more than anything else, but not anything that hadn't happened before. 

Fero followed your gaze and whistled as he checked the gun over himself, "Damn. Whoever owns this has to be a real badass." He turned back to you, "Any idea who?" Shaking your head in the negative, no need to share the information you knew, "Not a clue." He shrugged, dropping the question, smart choice. The less he knew about the customers of your unofficial mod operation, the better for everyone.

"What'd you do?" You hesitated, what had you done? Looking at it didn't reveal much, the new attachment located near the trigger, a small addition to the casing that in the center had a nondescript button. The shooter could lift their trigger finger to press it before a shot…but what did it do? 

The force took pity on you because your mind arrived at the answer like you'd been an active participant in its creation. It was an easy thing to drown in the force, after all, you'd just been crushed beneath its waves, but at least it'd given you this small lifeline. "Disabling shot. Should work similar to an EMP." 

You started to clean up a few of the cord stripping laying on the bench as you rattled off, "The shot doesn't have to connect either. Any unshielded electronics in a small radius will be scrambled for a while. Won't short out completely though– just make it faulty." You pulled an unsure face, "Probably." 

Fero gave you a questioning look, "Probably?" You shrugged, "I'm not testing this one, can't say for sure how strong it is." He looked surprised before it twisted, "Wait, if it was shot in the ship, would it take out shields or power?" You purse your lips, "All I'll say is I wouldn't want to be around if it was." He shook his head, "You know, it's kind of scary what you come up with." You snorted in response, "Let me put everything away and we can get out of here." 

He gave you a beaming smile and a thumbs-up before plopping down into one of the adjacent workbench chairs. The exchanged words helped settle your mind. The way you'd moaned Vicrul's name was still rolling around like a soundtrack on repeat, but you weren't stuck in a standstill trance. Still, tingles danced along your skin recalling the phantom moan and the words he'd spoken.

Sucking in a breath and shaking your head to stop the thoughts trying to wheedle their way to overtake your mind again– you'd have to be quick here. Not only because you needed the distraction Fero could provide, but if anyone had been near? Well, it'd be safest to get as far away as possible. 

If a force user had been paying attention– a knight, the Commander, or worse his master, you shuddered. There was a very small possibility they could have felt you and if they came looking? You needed to be gone. 

Although Fero had agreed, a place had yet to be decided on. That needed to be figured out quickly and gave you something to focus on in the meantime. Forehead wrinkled in thought as you swept things into drawers and locked away the weapon, where was the best place that was farthest from the armory as possible? 

There were a few places that were typical hookup spots. All of them were unofficial and only shared through gossip and rumor, but the south showers were popular. There was also the lower deck cargo bay holding rooms. Those could work…but neither felt right. You didn't feel like having an audience in the shared officer quarters either. So where…The ambassador wing. 

You weren't sure what made you think of it, but it was definitely the best choice. It was on the other side of the ship and typically had more empty rooms than guests at any given time. Plus each room had a private bathroom attached. It'd be perfect.

It wasn't common as far as you knew, but it afforded the degree of privacy you wanted right now. It was just a matter of slicing into the door panel since you obviously didn't have access– with your skillset it'd be quick work. 

Standing from the chair with a stretch you caught Fero's attention. He wasn't bad looking, medium build, regulation cut on his sandy blonde hair, with a lopsided grin, and an easygoing attitude. 

You gave him a look aimed at being mischievous, "Wanna sneak into the ambassador wing and use a room there?" He blinked in surprise and then in an impressed tone, "You can get us in there?" A smirk and wink were your only response. 

People thinned out the closer you got to your destination. Slightly out of the ordinary, this wing was usually busy since it was so close to the control deck. The conversation had lulled when you left the armory and in that lul the images you'd seen slithered back into the forefront of your mind. Attention a scattered mess too jumbled by feelings and thoughts to notice the difference. Fero wasn't as preoccupied though, "Hey, you sure this is a good idea?" 

You made a noncommittal hmm, "Yeah, of course." Had you bothered to look at him, you'd notice his mounting anxiety, nervous tick of his jaw, sweat trickling down his temple. 

But you hadn't given him pause. Too preoccupied with your own thoughts– how familiar you were with the Commander and Vicrul in all the visions, how you felt, how Vicrul had spoken to you, or how easily he'd made you moan. 

Even if you couldn't comprehend how that was a possible future, the scenario kept playing on repeat in your mind. 

Lust was a fog clouding your senses to the mounting anxiety and dread pouring from your companion. Fero's hand abruptly grabbed your shoulder, "Something doesn't feel right." You blinked up at him in confusion, everything felt fine. His jaw ticked as his eyes darted around, "I-I think…I..This isn't on you…We-we c-could…" stuttering his words, unable to get out whatever he wanted to share.

Your brows pinched, everything felt fine to you even as you looked around. Nothing pressing on your senses, no unease in your stomach, no tingles of panic that danger was near. But even so, something was certainly wrong with him, "Fero?" Your voice soft to pull his attention back to you. Testing the waters mentally had anxiety fill you. He was full of panic, but you'd have to dive deeper to gauge why.

His grip tightened as he swallowed thickly, "I'm out. I'll see yo-" his eyes darted to something behind you, widened, and he didn't even bother to finish his sentence before turning and tripping over himself back the way you'd come. He couldn't get away fast enough and you were left stunned.

Your brow raised in confused irritation, "What the actual-" the door you hadn't realized you were next to hissed open before a gloved hand reached out and yanked you into the dark room. 

Your vision dotted from the quick light shift before adjusting to the dim red blanketing the space. As your eyes were adjusting you could feel yourself being pushed before your back pressed against the wall next to the now sealed door. Whoever this would-be assailant had pulled the wrong girl into their room. Preparing to tear them to shreds, you looked up with a scowl, but it dropped instantly. Overtaken by shock when you faced down his mask.

"You're such a fucking liar." Vicrul's modulated voice cut through your mind like an alarm. Frustration poured from him and you didn't need the force to pick up on it, his tone enough. Everything settled– the brain fog, jumbled thoughts, confusion on what happened with Fero. All subsided for the very real man in front of you. He wasn't happy.

The outer coat he'd donned in the gym was missing. Instead, in its place was a dark long-sleeved shirt stretched tight against his chest. Black trousers and boots still the same as earlier. He lacked any visible weapons that you could see. If a fight was about to happen at least it'd be fair.

He continued to push in taking as much space as possible, boxing you into the wall, one hand resting near your shoulder with the other above your head. Like he was visibly trying to say there was no escaping him this time, "Fight?" An irritated static-filled breath made it through the modulation.

Narrowing your eyes up at his impassive mask. He was reading you without you feeling him. Jaw clenching as you glared at the face behind the mask, "What the hell–" he cut you off with his firm presence pressed against your mind and growled, "Don't fucking lie to me again." His fist slammed into the wall next to your shoulder, "None of that, you don't know what I'm talking about, bullshit." His voice took on a mocking lit when imitating you. If that wasn't enough to betray his frustration, the prickliness of his mind certainly was. 

It bristled against you like an uncomfortable sweater. His feelings were like nettles prickling into your mind's edges. Scratching the surface and infusing his irritation, confusion, and surprising bewilderment. Your eyes widened and breathing hitched in your throat. He knew. Really knew. Figured out that you were force sensitive. Your spine straightened as his fist above your head curled. Your panic must have seeped into him because he grumbled, "That's right."

There wasn't much room between the two of you, but he pushed in closer still. Leg cutting between your thighs, mashing in, lifting your hips until you were practically riding his thigh. The tips of your boots were barely brushing the floor, but you didn't care, "I heard you." Your pulse spiked as he pressed his hips forward, hard length pressing into your stomach, "Crying out, echoing in the force." 

There was a burst from his aura that drug his bristles against you in a more pleasant sensation. A way that had heat reignite in your lower belly, "I fucking felt you." Then the space where your auras met and edges blended turned dark. Dark with desire, possessiveness, and lust– his voice low a husky whisper you couldn't feel the breath of, "Saw what it showed." 

Instant heat seared through you at his desire pouring through the connection. How he craved to make it a reality, to have you under him, to have you sing his name into soft pillows and darkened corridors. Your jaw slackened and thighs clenched around his. 

You realized fear should be there. But it wasn't. His smokey voice didn't stoke fear but something else entirely. And he knew that too, "You fucking like that? Like knowing how your vision left me?" It was too much too suddenly, you didn't trust your voice, it'd be shaky, uncertain, and too unstable. Not what you wanted him to hear.

Searching his mask had annoyance flare in your gut. It was impersonal, unexpressive, stoic– the antithesis to everything you were being forced to feel. You wanted to see the starving need bloom in his expression or how it'd coloring his keen eyes. Darken them, change the sky blue to steel, pulling a lust-driven beast to the surface. 

You were damned already– suspicion confirmed which meant he'd tell his mast– "Don't." His sharp tone interrupted your thought. Head tilting as you regarded him. Did the thought that he’d turn you in after this actually bother him? That couldn’t be it.

So instead, you questioned without words– pressing your mind back into his. Like a wave crashing into a jutting cliffside. Sudden and intense even if it was expected. You felt him freeze before sinking into the sensation. Where he was nettles, you were thorns– cutting deeper, bleeding the connection, mingling more than just the edges of your minds. Eyes fluttered at the explosive feel of him. Breath stuttering as he groaned, your voice was soft, "Fuck," Lust. Want. A burning desperate need to have him in the same way the force said you could– would, "Vicrul". All your wants were reflected in him. 

One of your thighs slipped up to his hip, tightening around his solid muscle and pulling him into you. Could feel the effect saying his name had on him both physically and mentally. His cock twitched against your stomach and the want pouring from him threatened on need, "Sounds better from your lips than an echo." 

"You looked so good under me," Your eyes fluttered as he slid against your thoughts– hot, solid, sensual– as he pressed his throbbing length into you. He plucked at your inner defenses but didn't push past, "The force is still rippling around you," his helmet tilted, "I could hear it when you were with that prick." 

His thigh lifted to grind into you, "He thought he was going to fuck you," the chuckle that left him was cold, dangerous, and had your pupils dilating in arousal. You felt the shift in his feelings, the rage, greed, jealousy, "When it's my name ringing off you." The hand next to your shoulder slid over to your neck. His leather-wrapped fingers caressed as he mimicked your voice, "Vicrul," his fingers curled as his thumb ran up your throat to your chin, "Daddy," his thumb traced your parted lips before pushing in, "Please."

Sparks lit behind your eyes and between your legs. He was right. Those had been prominent thoughts echoing in your head on the walk here. The leathery taste bloomed, earthy but not unpleasant, with a texture smoother than you'd expect as it slipped across your pallet. Pressing your tongue against his thumb and lightly sucking the glove, "Knew you felt different." He pressed his digit down on your muscle before continuing,"You're so subtle. Even now, when I’m against you, your mind’s muted." 

His thumb pulled from your lips to trace the wet leather along them. Your gaze searched his mask, sure you could feel his eyes on your lips, "But," his shoulders straightened, psyche twisting against yours, and the two of you groaned, "Its your emotions that give you away. They project so fucking loud." 

Your leg tightened on his hip again as you spoke against his thumb, "You're an exception," opening your mouth to lick along his digit had his mask hiss an airy modulation, "We're different." You could feel his curiosity. He wanted to know what you knew, or what you implied. But a bigger part wanted your mouth wrapped around something other than his fingers. 

His hand shifted and squeezed your cheeks, wet leather pressing into your skin, "We'll discuss that after." Your toes curled in your boots already knowing what he meant. After we fuck. The confirmation in his mind was all you needed for something to snap inside you.

The feral desire had been building, but it suddenly uncurled in your stomach and made you antsy. His mind felt calm in comparison to your frantic fluttering. You wish his fingers were back in your mouth or that he'd let you drop to your knees and swallow him down. Something, anything other than the teasing promise his words held. You knew he wanted you, could feel how much he did, but you wanted to see him as desperate as you felt. 

He must have picked up the thought because you could feel his mirth tangle in the arousal. His hand pressed further into your cheeks to grip your attention, "You going to behave or do I have to make good on my last threat." 

It was your turn to gurgle out a gasp. It made you cross-eyed when he talked like that, "Promise," The words a mumble against his hand, "It was a promise." His answering chuckle made your chest swell, "Force, you're trouble." 

He pulled back enough to bring both hands down around your ass, "Fucking pretty, but a brat." He lifted you effortlessly like you weighed nothing. No use of the force required, "Exactly my type." 

Your legs wrapped around his hips and arms around his neck as he pulled back from the wall. Vicrul made his way over to the couch and tapped your legs to unwrap. Only held up by his palms before he settled on the center cushion. His legs spread wide, your arms still wrapped around his neck, hips sat flush together, your legs curling around his hips– hard cock pressing up into your soaking center. 

A hand came to rest on the back of your neck, "You want it?" The words shot straight to your aching core, "Want me to spank the attitude out of you like a fucking slut?" He was sin incarnate. Husky voice, dirty mouth, the heat of his palms still resting on your ass, his cock against your pussy– all of it combined was overloading your senses. 

He woke something dark and needy in you that wanted anything he was willing to give. It made you ache and burn more than you ever had before. Swallowing hard you ground your hips down into him. Voice breathy and barely audible in the darkness of the room, "Yes, Sir." 

The hand on the back of your neck tightened in response and you knew he liked that. You could feel how it made whatever beast he kept locked inside respond. Dragged to the surface hungry growls to consume, to possess, to make you beg for it– all things you could feel through the link in your mind.

A deep, primal kind of pleasure flooded your senses in response to feeling his. His hand cupping the curve of your ass dragged you across his member, "You gonna take it like a good girl for, Daddy?" Your eyes fluttered shut at the feel, "Gonna let me bend you over my knee and turn your ass red?" Arching your back to grind harder, "I won't be gentle." 

He already had you soaking without much effort. You pulsed your feelings to him as you said, "Good. I want more than gentle," funneling feelings that said you wanted him to take, and take, and take until you broke. On his fingers, his mouth, his cock– anything. To possess you and fill you deeper than anyone before him.

Stroking against that dark space where his possessiveness, greedy, selfish monster lurked in the dark of his mind, "I want everything." 

The only warning you had was a growl before the hand on your neck was pulling you sideways and the one cupping your ass was quickly rearranging your legs over his lap. Your pants were ripped down to your thighs, seams popping with the force he'd used, "Worst fucking kind of trouble." 

The husky greediness in his voice only adds to the heat in your core. Intimate heat exposed to the chill of the room had goosebumps rising across your skin before his gloved hand rested on the curve of your ass. 

First the left cheek before dragging his hand to the right. Leather smooth against your prickled flesh, warmth radiating off of him, fighting the cold of the room biting at your skin. He gave a firm squeeze before abruptly placing a strong smack against the left cheek. The force behind the hit had you jolting forward with a gasp. The pain instant, coiling tight in your chest until it throbbed and sunk into pleasure. 

Another slap, this time to the right side, pulled a whine from your lips. Your cheeks throbbed in all the right ways, he hadn't pulled his hits, he let the full force of his hand land. And it was perfect. Another smack and you buried your face into the cushion groaning as the sharp bites of pain made your clit throb in pleasure. His satisfaction tangled with yours.

The hand on the back of your neck twisted up into your hair. Gripping a fist full to pull your face from the couch, "No muffling, I want to hear your moans. Do you understand?" You felt a flush of wetness drip from your core. Nodding your head with a hum didn't satisfy Vicrul. His grip pulled just a little harder, "Words, princess. I can hear them floating off of you. Use them." 

You arched your lower back towards his hand, "I understand," turning your face to the side, cheek resting against the soft fabric, "Understand that you want to hear me beg for it, Daddy." The hand in your hair slowly released. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his mask lift towards the ceiling and even though you couldn't see his face, you imagined his eyes closed and jaw clenching. 

If his roiling emotions were anything to go by, you'd said exactly the right thing, and you were about to pay for it in the most delicious way possible. That was all the warning you had before an even harsher hit landed evenly on both cheeks, "Fucking brat." A succession of hits landed one after another, pulling moans that turned to weak pleas before morphing to sobs for more. You hadn't been counting, but it'd been at least ten blows before his hand smoothed down your heated flesh soothing the ache. 

Your slick dripped down your thighs onto his pants and the couch beneath, "Such a messy whore." He grabbed at the globes of your ass and spread you wide. Embarrassment blooms in your chest as your holes clenched at being so exposed. Then a single hand released a check and gloved fingers slipped into the wet heat of your folds. Circling your entrance, teasing, coating the leather in your wetness, "So kriffing wet for me, princess." 

Your whole body tensed in anticipation, wanting his fingers to slip inside so badly. To feel the stretch of them, how the leather would feel sliding into you, see what rhythm he'd give you– if it'd be hard and fast. You didn't realize you'd been holding your breath until he reminded you, "Breath." You took a deep inhale but lost it just as quickly when his fingers slid down through your heat to lightly brush your clit. 

Even the slightest brush was a live wire- electricity shooting from your center to every nerve inside you drawing a broken moan at the burst of pleasure. Toes curled and hips pushed back onto his hand, chasing the pleasure. He pulled away instantly and the plea left your lips was a sob, "Please, Vicrul. Please. Even just a knuckle, please put it in." 

His fingers were sliding up your nether lips– away from your clit back towards your entrance. Finger circling, but no closer to pushing in than before, "Desperate," Another stroke, "Needy." The tip of the digit pressed against your dripping center, "If you need it so bad," Finger shallowly dipped inside before pulling out, "Beg for it while I turn this perfect ass purple." 

That was all the warning you had before his hand snapped back and the loud slap reverberated through the room louder than any before. You could feel your checks jiggle before the sting set in. Nerves too stimulated for the pain to be instant. It did nothing to curve your aching need, if anything, it only made it worse. Pleasure and pain too entwined at this point to pull apart. 

He soothed the area with a soft caress, but you could feel the twisted sadistic glee flushing through his system. The way a sob had instantly ripped from your lips made his cock jump, "Please. Please, Let me take it." Another ringing smack landed against the fat of your ass, "Give it to me any way you want– just fill me up." 

Two more quick slaps landed sharp, lower on your ass than the rest, almost on your thighs. Your sobbing groan of pleased pain was at a constant stream as tears stung your eyes, "Fuck! Please, please Daddy give it to me–" a crisp smack placed against the back of your right thigh, sting felt vividly on the untouched skin, “A-Ah! I’ll take it so good for you.” 

He soothed the fresh area, kneading the fat of your thigh before pulling back to place a twin hit on your left. The whine that left you was lewd and had you rubbing your cheek against the couch too overwhelmed by sensation, "Vicrul, please.” He chuckled and pressed into the numb area of your ass. A dull pulse of pleasure coursed through you, “F-fuck, that's so good. You’re so good. Please play with my cunt, Sir." 

He didnt say anything, or even acknowledge that he'd heard a word you'd said, but you could feel how you were affecting him. That beast inside him was at the helm and it thoroughly enjoyed all of your pleas. His hands gripped the globes of your ass before spreading you again. 

Breathlessly sobbing you could feel yourself clench as a flush of wetness left your center in response to feeling his gaze on both your holes. This time you were too forgone for embarrassment, instead it was just a depraved need of wanting to be filled. 

Being spread like this sent a thrill down your spine at what he'd do next. Wet cheek against the cushion, gasping for breath with eyes clenched waiting for his next move.

Then one hand lifted and you could feel his dark demand for you to break and knew what was about to happen. The hit landed perfectly on the center of your pussy. Hard, sharp, and nearly had you come on the spot. This is what you'd always craved and he gave it to you effortlessly. 

Another forceful spank placed lower on your pussy. Jolting your clit making your eyes clench and a half scream pull from your lips as your hole clenched and legs shook. His fingers split your puffy lips as he chuckled down at you, sliding back up, coating his glove in your slick. He gripped your ass again, jiggling it and covering it in your wet stickiness.

Shaking as you caught your breath the only thought was that you were so empty. You needed something filling you up. Anything he'd give you. Something to take the edge off and it didn't matter which hole he chose, you'd take whatever he'd give.  

Delight flushed from him at your thought. Your hips rose to better display your most intimate areas. Wordlessly asking for more, to be used, for something to fill the emptiness, to squeeze around, to come on. 

The palm of his hand rested on your ass while his thumb pressed against your puckered hole still on display. Clenching your thighs you begged for it, "Please," you tried to roll your hips back for friction but his hold prevented it, "I'm so empty–" you huffed a breath while squirming in his hold, "Vic- Daddy, please fill my hole. It needs you–" frenzied sob leaving you, "I need you to stretch me open until I forget what being empty feels like."

The leather soft against your tight ring of muscle. The tip of his digit pushing against you had your throat constrict, would he fill your ass or only tease? 

You felt his smug pleasure at your wariness before he slowly pushed the finger deeper in. The stretch of your tight hole around his thick thumb washed you in a jolt of pleasure. Sinking a knuckle deep into you, you melted as your ass clenched around him in reflex, the sensation of your ass being filled had your pussy leaking.

"Only a dirty whore would like her ass played with on the first date." His thumb fully slipped in and his fingers clenched around the meat of your ass. Whining at the euphoric feeling of having something to clench around, your answer rolled out of your mouth before you fully registered the thought, " I'll be your dirty whore. A little slut you can do whatever you want with." 

It took a moment for your mind to catch up to what you'd said. To cut through the pleasure haze to realize the truth of your words. That you meant it with more conviction than should be appropriate. You'd be whatever he wanted. Princess or whore. Virginal or filthy, filthy creature he could use and break into a million little pieces.

His answer was to hook his finger in your ass and push against the tight muscle with the base of his thumb, "You'd be my little pet?" Moan in your breath, tears slipping down your face onto the cushion, toes digging into the couch. You mewled as you pushed your ass back into his hold, "Fuck, yes."

His growl was the only warning you had before his thumb ripped from your ass. You wailed at the loss, "No, no, no please," Thighs clenching as your hips pushed into the air trying to follow after his finger, "Put it back in," shaking your hips, "Please split me open, Daddy…" 

His voice was rough, control cracked, "If you want my cock in your cunt– Stop. Fucking. Moving." You stilled instantly and felt yourself being lifted and rearranged in an instant. 

Right cheek pressing into the back of the couch, knees spread wide resting on the edge as Vicrul stood behind you. Pussy fully displaying how wet and needy he'd made you– a thick string of slick trailing from your cunt down to your thighs with how wet you were. Arching your back to push your hips up in need, trying to entice him more.

Your panting breath warm against the cloth of the cushion. Eyes shut trying to sober yourself from the half-crazed state he'd pushed you to. The sound of cloth moving and something heavy hitting the floor were the only sounds outside of your own racing heartbeat that you registered. 

Warm fingers curled around your hips, "Pretty cunt fucking soaked for me." His clear unmodulated smoky voice cut through the haze in your mind. He'd taken his gloves off and his helmet. His left hand jerked your hips back into his, "Need your hole fucked that bad?" 

His short nails dug into your skin as you looked over your shoulder. He was just as you'd seen on the force– Sexy, dark, handsome. Your core ached for him and a whimper must have escaped because the smirk he gave you could only be described as smug, "Need me to use your cunt?" 

Rocking your hips back into his hard length you sighed your answer, "Yes. Want to break around you." His smirk turned wolfish, nails dragging from your hips to your ass, "Who's are you?" 

His question was unexpected, but you didn't need to think on it, "Yours." As soon as the words left you, a thick glob of his spit landed between your cheeks and onto your puckered hole before it slid down to your pussy and mixed with the juices there. 

"That's right. This pussy is mine now and you'll get what I give you." His hand slid to the small of your back while keeping your gaze as he spoke, "And you've been such a good girl for me. Begged like a professional whore. So pretty," he looked down at your puffy slick pussy, "Asked so nice for your pussy to be stuffed." 

His words taken as praise instead of an insult made your pussy clench. "Bet you like it raw." A strangled moan was his answer, "Good. That's how you'll take it from now on." You could feel the head of his cock resting against your entrance, not pushing in where you wanted him most. 

He slid the head of his cock through your folds down to press it into your clit. whining while he teased back and forth, "What? Daddy can't enjoy his new toy?" At your mewling cry of, "Please. Need to cum." His smirk widened and his eyes burned on your pussy as he watched himself slowly push in.

He was thick, so incredibly thick that even with how wet you were there was a sting as the head pushed past your muscle, but it quickly transformed to pleasure. You let out a high-pitched whine when he pulled back out, "So fucking tight." He slipped back in, further than before with a choked groan, "Cunt so fucking greedy, squeezing so tight." 

When he was fully hilted you couldn't help the breathy gasp at how full you felt. His own moan was gruff and growled with a "Good girl." He didn't give you time to adjust or savor the feeling, instead, he pulled out and slammed back in. Curve of his cock hitting a spot that made your eyes roll.

The steady harsh slap of his hips on yours filled the room. His harsh breath turned to a dark chuckle, "Sloppy little pussy taking every inch of me." His hips pushed into yours harder in emphasis. His hand slid a hand up your back to press into your hair as he leaned over you, "Taking it so perfect. So wet and warm, tight–" you clenched around him at his words which pulled a strangled growl from him. 

You couldn't turn your head much, his hand pressing in your hair preventing much movement, but you could steal a glance in your peripheral– his head was thrown back, eyes closed, and jaw clenched. His chest rose just as rapidly as yours, "Such a fucking brat." His gaze rolled back down to lock with yours, " Better behave. I might pull out and finish on your face instead." 

The idea of him pulling out had you stiffen and a huff of laughter from him, "Want it inside, huh? Fucking nasty." He pulled your hair back, exposing your throat, "So fucking perfect." He pounded so hard that your thighs shook and his balls slapped into your clit, "Be a good girl and cream around my cock." Everything was too much and not enough. Muscles tight and the knot inside you twisting, but still you needed more. Mind solely focused on how he was making you feel, desperately you cried, "Need more." 

He slapped your sore ass lightly, pain not registering as he slid out almost to the tip before slamming back in. Groaning and arching back into him while whining, "Fuck,". His focus zeroed in on where the two of you were joined, "Touch," canting his hips to hit a place that made your vision go white, "Your" pull out and pushing back into the same spot, "Clit." His assault was paired with a coiled stroke against your mind that felt like you were short-circuiting. 

It left you too slow to react. Vicrul's hand tangled in your hair jerking your head up off the couch backward. Hissing as pain mixed with pleasure, "Be my good slut and touch your fucking clit before I finish in your cunt." 

At the thought of him finishing inside you, your muscles clenched him tighter. He released your hair to throw his head back in an unexpected moan, "Fuck! You little brat!" The sting of his hand came down on your ass in time with the slam of his hips in retaliation, but you followed the command and snaked your hand down your body. 

The slap of skin lewd and wet only cut by your whimpering sobs and his groaning praises, "Such a good girl." Another slap, "Fucking nasty perfect little hole to fuck." Everything was coiling tighter and tighter. Being used like this was making you see stars and you were right on the edge, "Good girl, good fucking girl" Matching your strokes in time with his thrust pulled a high pitch-keening sound out of you, "Gonna cum for Daddy?" Feverently nodding your answer he gave you permission, "Go on, milk my cock." 

His dirty mouth and the angle of his hips were exactly what you needed to fall over the edge in a moaning mess of pleasure. Clenching around him as wave after wave crashed through you. Tension released all at once and you became boneless. Cheek sagging deeper into the cushion, but Vicrul wasn't done. 

He didn't slow his pace or give you time to bask in the euphoria– his grip on your hips was tight and each trust was merciless. Pounding into your still clenching hole chasing his own pleasure. You were being shoved rougher and rougher with each thrust. Overstimulation was setting in and he could feel the discomfort coil through your connection. 

Each stroke toeing the line between pleasure and pain, edging until you were sobbing for something, "Vicrul, please…" You weren't sure if it was for him to stop or to keep going, couldn't tell which you were begging him for. "No." His hiss was clear, "Not stopping until I finish." His hands pulled you back into his thrusts, "You'll come again."

The room was filled with the sound of your wet pussy, skin slapping, his groans, and your choked sobs. The coil inside of you had twisted again towards pleasure and you were actively pushing your hips against his chasing your orgasm. You felt Vicrul's cock twitch inside you, "Going to fill this cunt up until it's dripping out of you." 

Looking back at him had the knot twist tighter in your stomach– he was as wrecked as you. Hair a mess, sticking to his forehead, sweat rolling off him, and a wild look in his eye. He caught your stare, "When it starts to drip out, I'll fuck it back in." That pulled you impossibly closer to the edge as your gaze dropped to his hips, feeling his hands grip your hips tighter.

"Watch me use you," His thrust lost their rhythm the closer he got. Reaching your hand down to your aching clit all it took was a few strokes before you fell over the cliff of pleasure. The head spun and vision blackened around the edges for a moment. Clenching tighter than you had before your senses zeroed in on the feel of Vicrul inside you. His cock stiffened and with a low groan and deep thrust, you felt warmth fill you. 

His thrusts were slow and lazy as he emptied himself inside you. Your pussy clenching in response. Muscles milked everything he had to give. With a heavy sigh, his forehead dropped to rest between your shoulder blades as he soothed his hands up your sides.

It was a soft moment after the perfectly harsh treatment. He pulled out slowly with a soft sigh and then shuffled around before you felt his arms around you. Arm under your knees and back cradled to his chest as he walked towards the bed.

[hanibalistic]

#348CF7 | HUANG RENJUN.

genre | fluff 

word count | 1170

warning | mention of suicidal ideation ​

note | i needed to get this out of my draft!

that surprised stroke would have caused his entire painting. 

the tip of his paint brush, doused with dry white paint, hovered shakily over the top of the canvas painted with blue. after much internal debate and calming, renjun continued with his art class assignment, but your question has climbed above his priorities and stood stabbed into his brain.

"what of my things would you take out of my room first after i die?"

"i am not sure we will still be roommates when that time comes," he replied, making only gentle add-ons to the painting because he wasn't sure he equipped enough attention to add anything new.

you raised your brows momentarily, considering the connotation of his words.

college graduation would be when you two would no longer be roommates, and that would be only a few months from now. generously, and ideally for you, you two could figure out a plan to go down the same path in terms of housing and choose to share an apartment again after stepping into the workforce. marriage with another would probably be when you two would no longer be roommates, which would be years from now.

a humorous smile colored your face. it was a smile that meant nothing of hilarity despite it being shown due to the laughable element of renjun's believed situation—that you would live for years, with or without his presence. you sighed and sunk further into the couch, your heavy mind dragging the weight of your body with it.

"you have high hopes for me, renjun," you muttered, "for my life span."

"this is your depressions talking, is it?" he asked with furrowed brows. "if it is, i do not wish to indulge in it. respectfully, of course."

"no, it's not," you hummed nonchalantly. "just making some philosophical talk."

"which is a direct reflection of your thoughts, feelings, and opinion," he retorted with a scoff, reaching over to the dirty water cup and stirring his paintbrush in it. "philosophy is all about what people think and believe. by that logic, your philosophic talk is your depression speaking."

you scrunched your nose in disagreement, but nothing about these kinds of conversations surprises or bores you. in fact, the dynamic between you as a humanities major and him as an art major never ceased to amaze you.

the essence of both of your passion lies in creativity and human connection.

philosophical ideas force one to think about all that is no real answer and is intangible—what is love? what is life? does life matter without love? does love exist without life? art forces one to confront and see—this is what love is and life is. life needs love, and love needs life, and this is what it would look like.

in a sense, the variety of your study subjects sums down to how nothing is wrong at the same time as everything is wrong; everything matters because nothing matters. you two simply approach the ideologies in very different ways, and sometimes neither of you could understand each other, which to you was never an issue because it gave a reason for renjun to explain his paintings.

and you could listen to him explain thousands of things for hours on end. why the sky of his world is blue, why the bed of his room was small, why the heart of his body is beating.

"hey! philosophy is not just about your judgments and opinions, okay?" you retorted, waving an accusing finger at him. "you can be wrong in a philosophical discussion too, just not in the way you think you can be wrong."

renjun rolled his eyes with a soft sigh, but he indulged himself in the conversation regardless of how little time he had to spare his concentration elsewhere. "how so? sorry, but you're wrong when you said that it is immoral if you like torturing babies for fun!"

"that, actually, is a completely correct statement," you said. "morality and who has the power to implement the rules of morality aside."

"this is why you never talked me into taking a philosophy class," he mused sarcastically, the sudden cameo of optimism that happened just for the sake of completing his sarcasm an unusual taste in his mouth. "i have no idea what you are talking about."

renjun usually doesn't understand as well. he was never very literarily inclined. words freak him out without the coat of design, and too many words together always end up fogging his mind like an after-scorch. the radio rusts the gears in his brain, and world-dumping in books stresses him out.

yet, somehow, he loved listening to you speak, even though he could hardly understand you. disregarding the connotations of your words, he searched for a rhythm in your sentences, and in those melodies where your rage and love strung through, he could feel you.

it may not be the 'how and what,' but he certainly understood your 'why.'

and he knew it now from the way your voice scrambled in feign nonchalance that you were having thoughts about life and death that he could only assume and could never reach an understanding of.

"i don't think i will be the one putting away your things," he replied after a moment of thought. "your parents will probably deal with that."

you rolled your eyes in annoyance, obviously impatient with his refusal to answer a simple question, which was not at all simple to him.

"you're no fun," you muttered as you shifted on the couch.

renjun ignored you with his eyes focused on the canvas. his paintbrush remained hovering shakily in the air where he once was painting the sky, which was in the shade of blue and bright.

why the sky of his world is blue, why the bed of his room was small, why the heart of his body is beating.

it was all because of you, wasn't it? because you liked blue skies, and your bed was twin-sized, and you existed that he fell in love with you.

every detail behind his artistic decisions has been curated around you, to involve you.

what would he take out of your room if you die?

probably nothing. he would prefer if you didn't die at all. but if he has to choose something, he would take away his image of you in your room, sleeping or dancing, humming or crying. he would take away the image of your living in your room, your existence once a vessel of his affection that broke and left his love scattered dangerously on the ground.

renjun sucked in a deep breath and pressed his brush against the canvas. he didn't turn around to look at you, because if he did, he might be next. maybe the next one to go out would be him if you died. and he would never tell you that.

for now, his sky is blue because it is realistic. for now, his sky is blue because it just is.

[l0vegl0wsinthedark]

Holding Hands

Just dipping my toe into the "faking a relationship for a holiday party" trope. (And blame @shealwaysreads for this cause she was like do it and so I did it.)

This is unbeta’d. Please be gentle with me.

*

Draco waited. The silence that had fallen a couple of minutes ago was still loud. The fire in the hearth kept spitting threateningly instead of just crackling quietly and sweetly like it should. The fairy lights around the tree twinkled gently, slowly, throwing golden patterns over Potter's skin, his dark hair.

They were sat across from each other in front of the hearth, Draco in his armchair upholstered in silver-grey velvet, and Potter in the plushy green armchair he had conjured when he'd arrived. Their drinks were sitting on the spindly-legged table between them.

Potter looked very politely confused, a tiny smile on his face, a thin line between his brows. He was leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees, his long, strong fingers clasped together neatly, his full attention focused on Draco. He looked...like he was waiting for Draco to finish speaking, to...explain.

Draco licked his lips and tilted his head a bit. "Erm...?"

Potter's smile widened a bit. "Yes?" he said eagerly. Draco blinked and shook his head imperceptibly. Potter's confusion deepened. "I'm...waiting for you to...you know--" he waved his hand vaguely and then grinned, "--laugh," he finally said, a tad lamely.

Draco frowned. "What's funny?"

Potter's mouth fell open on a stupid gape. "I mean... I thought..." He pushed his glasses up his nose and then scratched the back of his neck. "So, what was it you were saying? What are you asking me?"

"Did you not hear me, or are you feigning stupidity?" Draco asked coldly.

Potter frowned, bristling a bit. "I heard you, Draco, and I feel like you're taking the mickey."

"I'm doing no such thing. I explained my predicament and asked you a simple yes or no question. Would you be so kind as to grace me with an answer?"

Potter shook his head irritably. "Stop talking like that!"

"Like what?"

"Like... Like a fucking ponce. That's how you used to speak to me." Draco just looked at him. "Can you just be normal, please?" Potter snapped.

Draco spread his hands out. "I am being normal."

"Uh huh." Potter was still frowning. "So, you're saying--" He broke off and shifted in his seat, straightening up. "So, you're saying..." Trailing off, he just sat there looking like a fucking idiot. "What are you saying?" he finally asked.

Draco picked up his brandy and took a sip before leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs, lifting his chin high. "Fine. I will ask you again. Since you're a bloody troglodyte, apparently." He had to gather the will and courage all over again to repeat himself. "Will you accompany me to my parents' Christmas party as my boyf- partner? Meaning, they'll think you're my partner. We’ll just have to pretend."

"You...said something before that earlier."

"Oh. Yes. Well, when my mother asked me if you and I are lovers, after she read that article about us in the Prophet, I simply said yes." He'd managed to say it without displaying any emotion the first time. Now, however, Draco could feel heat rising up his neck and face.

Potter was looking particularly stupid as he stared with his mouth open. "Your parents think we're dating?" Draco nodded. "And they want to...meet me?"

Draco brushed imaginary lint off his trousers. "If you consent."

Potter leaned back, slumping in his chair, knees spreading, his arms hanging over the sides of the chair. He blew out a long breath with a whooshing sound, his lips very pink as they formed an 'o'. Then, rather abruptly, he chuckled, rubbing his face and making his glasses jump onto his forehead.

"Which bit did you find amusing?" asked Draco with feigned politeness.

"The whole thing."

"Oh?"

"Draco," Potter said on a laugh, "can you stop talking like that, please? It's fucking hilarious right now. Especially because that's not how one talks to their 'lover'."

Draco knew he was probably purple in the face by now. It was embarrassing. He ought to have told Potter right after he'd confirmed the rumours to his parents. They'd have laughed about it, and then asking him to go to this fucking party now wouldn't be such a fucking task.

Because they're friends. Close friends even. And Potter was probably going to say yes. He never denied Draco anything. He was always indulging Draco; taking care of Draco. Siding with Draco when that fucking Weasel ragged him. Always promoting Draco's label in his interviews, endorsing his little boutique. Trusting Draco enough let him dress him for important events even though Draco knew Potter had the most basic, unadventurous sense of fashion.

Draco wanted to roll his eyes. Potter was the softest, most indulgent person and he was probably going to say yes. But that didn't make any of this any easier. Because obviously Potter thought it was funny that the two of them might be lovers. He found this whole thing really amusing.

There was a thin strain of hurt somewhere in Draco's chest but he ignored it.

"So how long before you say yes like we both know you're going to?" Draco drawled.

Potter grinned widely. "What am I going to be wearing?"

*

The Manor was an absolute wonder to behold. Draco was sure even Hogwarts was never this heavily decorated for the holidays. Fairy lights, glittering icicles, ice sculptures, wreaths, ostentatiously decorated Christmas trees, more lights - the whole house, inside and out, was dripping in red, green, gold and white.

Potter stared around in silence, his expression very serious. He was dutifully holding Draco's hand (just like a lover might) and was taking in the sight of the gigantic ballroom they were in, guests milling about sipping golden champagne from crystal flutes, house-elves trotting around between people's knees holding up trays of hors d'oeuvres; the four gigantic, glittering Christmas trees in each corner of the room, the ice sculpture of a delicately carved fairy, her wings spread, in the centre of the room, sparkling fairy dust falling from her hand and disappearing mid-air.

To Draco this was just about normal, if a tad bit overdone (for the enjoyment of the guest of honour he'd brought along with him, he supposed), but he still blushed in embarrassment when he looked around with Potter's eyes; he was probably convinced now that his parents were pretentious or something. Feeling a bit timid, he glanced sideways at Potter.

He was looking very, very handsome tonight. He had on robes of deep, royal violet - dark enough to nearly pass off as black - with intricate gold embroidery that Draco had spent hours working on himself. He'd let Draco clip a matching cape, embroidered and lined along the hem with fur, onto his shoulders with matching brooches that glittered under the light of what had to be at least a thousand candles hovering above them. He'd made a decent attempt at taming his hair - not a successful attempt, but Draco gave him credit for trying anyway. He'd switched his usual clunky glasses out for the vision correcting spells that Draco knew he hated but it meant his eyes were shining so bright and green that it made Draco's stomach clench a bit with something he’d always staunchly ignored.

Then, his parents spotted them. Lucius was in black as usual - the material expensive, but still black - and Narcissa looked decades younger than she was in robes of pale lavender and silver. Draco smiled as she beamed at them, gliding over alongside her husband.

"Darling." She feathered her lips over Draco's cheek. "Fashionably late, I see. And fashionably dressed," she added, turning to Potter and holding out her hand, her smile small but her eyes warm.

Potter bent over her hand and brushed his lips over the back of her hand briefly - just like Draco had instructed him to - before straightening up and smiling politely. "Thank you for inviting me to your wonderful party, Mrs. Malfoy."

"You are very welcome - literally. And please call me Narcissa."

Lucius had watched and listened in silence, his hands clasped behind his back, his serious gaze fixed on Potter. When Narcissa stepped back, he slowly extended a hand to Potter.

Draco held his breath. They hadn't discussed this. He had no idea how Potter was about to behave with his father but he knew he wouldn't blame him for anything he said or did. Potter was a much better man than his father. This was fact.

But Potter simply shook hands with Lucius and nodded. Draco felt his shoulders relax.

They mingled. Draco had to repeatedly 'introduce' Potter to people as though they all didn't already know who he was, who his fucking parents were. It was laughable. But this was a stupid fucking formal Pureblood soirée and Draco still had his manners. What surprised him was how well-mannered Potter was being.

Potter was also being very loyal to his role as Draco's partner.

"He was such a little terror as a child, bless his heart," said some old crone, patting Draco's cheek with one wrinkled hand. Draco wanted to hiss at her like a cat.

"Aren't we all, at that age?" Potter said calmly, smiling.

"Oh, you're very dedicated to him, I see" she simpered. "Such a pleasure to see. You hardly ever find this in you youngsters these days."

"He doesn't give me much reason not to be dedicated to him."

Potter was still holding his hand.

"Draco doesn't tell us anything about how the two of you put your rather unhappy history aside in order to accept your...softer feelings for each other." Narcissa looked like she'd been bursting to ask Potter this all evening; she'd finally gotten a chance now that she was done making the obligatory rounds amongst her guests.

Potter looked at him, and Draco, his face hot, returned his gaze, trying to apologise wordlessly. But Potter just grinned.

"Well, I don't know about him but," Potter smiled down at Narcissa, looking handsome and charming and, well, fuck, "it was just a natural, automatic thing for me, really. The more I got to know the real Draco Malfoy the deeper I fell in love with him."

Draco felt his eyes widen a bit. He wanted to look at Potter to figure him out, to try and discern just how much he was bullshitting. He wanted to read Potter because Potter was supremely easy to read. The man wore his heart on his sleeve. Draco could always tell, just from one glance, the kind of mood Potter was in.

Trying to appear casual, like Potter hadn't said anything that made Draco's breath catch, Draco looked sideways at him. Potter was smiling, his eyes honest and soft and crinkled at the corners. He was nodding along to something Narcissa was saying.

And he was still holding Draco's hand.

"Very well done," Draco muttered, once his mother had wandered away into the crowd.

Potter smiled and squeezed his hand. "You said you'd give me a tour of the gardens," he said. Draco nodded and led him out.

They strolled in a leisurely manner. It was snowing but there were charms in place which meant that the snow never actually touched them, instead disappearing about a foot over their heads. The gardens were decorated too, lights twinkling everywhere, lighting up the paths.

"This must've been a great place to grow up," Potter eventually said.

They turned the corner and in the distance was the turret-shaped gazebo, hung with white-gold lights. Narcissa, when the weather permitted, loved to paint in the gazebo. Draco smiled.

"It was." Then, guiltily, "I mean... I don't mean to brag or any--"

Potter laughed. It was a low, deep, familiar sound that made Draco break out in gooseflesh.

"Draco," he said gently. "You don't have to feel guilty every time you talk to me about your childhood."

Draco lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "'m not guilty," he mumbled.

"No? You're still that insufferable, obnoxious little shit you were in school?"

Draco actually felt his face fall. He turned to Potter, unbothered about sounding vulnerable. "That's what you thought of me?"

Potter laughed. "Can you blame me? Do you remember you back at school?"

Draco slumped a little. "I suppose." They were nearly at the gazebo now. Together, they turned onto the path that led to the steps leading into it. Then, "That's...not what you think of me now, is it?"

"Draco," Potter's voice was gentle, yet teasing, "Everyone thinks you're a prat. You have to know this."

"Yes, but you?" They climbed the two steps and walked into the gazebo.

"I think you're a prat too." They were still holding hands. "But you're my prat."

Draco turned to look at him but Potter, with a sharp yank, was pulling Draco to himself. With a soft 'oof', Draco hit Potter's chest. Now they were holding both hands.

He quickly pulled himself together although Potter could probably feel his heart galloping in his chest. "Am I, now?"

"Isn't that what we've just spent the last hour and a half proving to people?"

"Well," Draco said slowly, "I was under the impression that it was an act."

"Well," Potter said quietly. "I'd rather it...be real."

They were standing pressed together in the centre of the gazebo, fairy lights surrounding them, Potter's green, green eyes reflecting them as he stared intensely at Draco. He looked like he was challenging Draco, like he was daring Draco to laugh in his face and carelessly brush aside what he'd said. Because that's what Draco Malfoy would do when Harry Potter declared something like that, right? He'd stomp on Harry Potter's proffered heart and revel in it.

Draco couldn't even imagine doing something like that. Especially not when Potter was holding his hands and smelt so good and looked at him like he was promising him so, so many things.

"You were very convincing tonight," said Draco.

"It was really easy," said Potter.

"You held my hand throughout."

"I wasn't about to give up the chance I had."

"Thank you for coming with me tonight."

"I wasn't about to give up the chance I had."

"Potter?"

"Shouldn't you be calling me Harry if we're together?"

"Would you like that?"

"I would love that, Draco."

"You've called me Draco for years now."

"I have."

Draco looked down at the lines of gold thread on Harry's chest, gleaming against the violet silk. "I think I'd like to call you Harry," he admitted.

When his gaze lifted back to Harry's, he was smiling at Draco. Then he looked up above them.

"Mistletoe," Harry said simply.

Draco's ears were ringing as though he'd been struck.

"Oh," he said, his voice quavering.

Harry just smiled again, and slowly let his head drop forward so that their foreheads touched. Then he brought his mouth up to Draco's brow and kissed it.

"Oh," repeated Draco.

They were just gazing at one another now.

Damn it, thought Draco as he broke first and kissed Harry full on the mouth.

They were still holding hands.

*

[aesopsbaby]

omg ive literally never done this before.. ever…. i hope i do this correctly lol ..🤕

this is for your matchup! ( cookie run ) take as much time as you need to answer me ;;

i’m seen as someone who doesn’t care. like.. at all. i have a high self esteem, though i indirectly ask people for validation. i’m not loud, mostly just keeping to myself. i don’t have a lot of friends, mostly because they don’t match my interests, and because i’d rather only keep 1 or 2 people close, having multiple friends is a chore to me 🤥.. and even with that, i usually wait for others to come to me then the other way around. im an intj, and an aries.

as for my hobby and interests, im a HUUUGE jojo fan. my favorite parts are part 1, and part 6. as for games, i love cookie run ( obviously.. ) and identity v! my favorites are whipped cream cookie & edgar valden. ( painter. ) once i made a “cult” about one of them. we don’t talk about it 🤗

i would rather not say how i look like, for privacy reasons and because i look like the definition of y/n in wattpad 😨

i hope it’s good enough laughs!! im so nervous 🤒

have a good day hunnie 😍

Note:STOP BECAUSE BEFORE I EVEN SEE WHOS YOUR FAVOURITE I WAS ALREADY GONNA MATCH YOU UP WITH WHIPPED CREAM😦

I match you up with...

Roguefort Cookie /or/ Cinnamon Cookie

I literally could not decide between the two-

Would've originally went with Whipped cream tbh,,,,,

Roguefort cookie [ENTP] because I know for a fact that this guy will love showering you with affection and compliments.

Doesn't understand what's so entertaining about games but somehow understands all the mechanics and skills??? Like he doesn't know the game but he'll hover over your shoulder while you're playing and he'll instantly find out how to play it.

Will definitely mock/taunt you when you're playing.

"Lost? How laughable."

"Need a hint,dearest? I'll be glad to be of assistance."

Biggest irritation I swear to god. He'll poke at you while you're playing as well.

Definitely one to pull you up when you're feeling down to just dance with you. Doesn't matter if you know how to dance or not.

Calls you sweet nicknames like:

[Dearest] [Love] [Jewel/jem] [Beloved]

God he's so loud,tone him down-

Cinnamon cookie[ENFP],I just KNOW that he will be all over you <3

He probably gets so excited whenever he sees you alone because that just means he gets to have your attention all to himself!

Enjoys showing you all his different tricks because hey,,,he also craves validation-

Gets so cheerful whenever he's with you. He's practically glowing-

He pesters you alot tbh,you don't have to ever worry about being alone anymore because Cinnamon will be following you and just clinging onto you.

"Hey Y/n. Y/n. Y/n. Hey hey. Hey y/n look. Look at this trick. Hey. Y/n,hey look."

"Yes Cinnamon,that's cool."

God he calls you so many cheesy nicknames as well but its adorable so it's fine.

[Honey!] [Love/Lovely] [Precious] [Angel]

Does this thing where he'll gift you flowers everyday but in a magic trick form(?). He'll stop you and pull out a bouquet of flowers from thin air and go "Ta-da~! Flowers for you,my love!"

He probably plays games with you as well and will scream whenever he gets captured/chased.

Either very loud or very silent when playing.

He loves showing you off for some reason,he'll cause a huge scene and go "And now,,Get ready to witness the best gift to this world!" And then he drags you out.

Oh my god. This man will not stop giving you cards of hearts and smiling at you non stop.

Roses. That's all,,,literally Roses everywhere.

Both very very loud people.

Not related but idk why I keep seeing Butter Pretzel cookie as Edgar's cookiesona. 😕

[seasonschange-butpeopledont]

Walls

Pairing: Joel Miller x GN!Reader

Warnings: I made this angsty as hell and I don’t know why. Vague allusions to spiciness, unrequited love (maybe?), emotionally stunted Joel

Word Count: 1,340

Author’s Note: This is set pre-TLOU. Joel is kind of a dick here. I blame the fact that I’ve been reading Dirt on Ao3 and am just a tiny bit disillusioned with him at the moment. This probably isn’t what you expected, but I promise I have some Joel fluff coming up soon and I hope you enjoy it anyway, anon! 

Prompt: Friends with benefits and both people catching feelings.

Summary: You were never supposed to fall in love with a broken man. 

Taglist Form - Masterlist

“You really think this is the best time to have this conversation?” Joel demanded, a hint of irritation in his voice. 

It wasn’t. You knew that. It hadn’t stopped the words from tumbling out of your mouth. We need to talk. 

You’d known Joel for about a year now, having met him and Tess shortly after finding your way into the Boston quarantine zone. It hadn’t taken long for you to find yourself in Joel’s bed, content to pass your nights in blissful ignorance of the outside world. 

You and Joel were… something. He was a complicated man with no concrete role in your life, and it was killing you. He was obviously more than a friend, but describing him as your boyfriend was strictly, absolutely out of the question. You suspected that he’d walk straight out the gates of the QZ, never to be seen again, if he ever caught wind of you uttering that word and his name in the same sentence. A few months ago, you wouldn’t have blamed him. 

You knew you were being unfair to him by asking for more. It was a complete violation of the unspoken rules of your undefined relationship, but things had changed. You needed answers. 

“I meant what I said, Joel. I need to know what we’re doing here.”

“What’s that ‘sposed to mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like,” You shrugged. “If you ever wanted to tell me how you feel, it’s now or never.” 

“You’re giving me an ultimatum?” He questioned, crossing his arms over his broad chest. It was a dangerous move on your part. Joel wasn’t a man who reacted well to being backed into a corner, but you were so sure… 

“I heard that one of Robert’s guys has a thing for you. Jacob or Jason or… whatever his name is. This have somethin’ to do with that?” Joel wondered, shifting the attention away from him. He knew you better than to believe you would let this go, but it didn’t hurt to try. 

You almost roll your eyes at the question. It was so obvious to everyone else that you were head over heels for him. The idea that you would end things with Joel for someone else was downright laughable to you now. 

“No,” You shook your head. “This isn’t about that. I’m talking about us.” 

Joel’s jaw tensed at your use of the word. 

“There ain’t an us, remember?” He said, a mocking dreaminess in his tone as he echoed the word back to you. “That ain’t the arrangement we made.” 

The arrangement in question was supposed to be a way to scratch an itch, plain and simple. Nothing more than a way to blow off some steam and distract yourselves from the struggles that came along with the end of the world as you knew it. At first, you’d thought that both of you had seen too much and lost too many people to go and do something as stupid as falling in love, but here you were, in over your head and so sure that there could be something more here, if only Joel would let you in. 

“Well, maybe I want to renegotiate,” You challenged. “I know you care a lot more than you let on. Maybe you can hide it from the rest of the world, but I know you better than that, Joel.” 

You thought you did, at least. For all of the walls Joel had built around himself, they had seemed less insurmountable as the months had passed. As if each passing night together helped knock them down, brick by brick, giving you the glimpse of the man he used to be. The one you’d fallen in love with. 

You thought back to the night when he bandaged your sprained wrist after a scuffle with Bill on a smuggling run. His calloused fingers were so delicate on your skin as he wrapped it in a makeshift brace, and his eyes flickered to yours every so often to check that you were alright. And then there were all of the times that rations ran particularly sparse, as they usually did, and he offered to share his food, claiming that he wasn’t hungry and insisting that you finish it up for him. Joel was a caregiver by nature, even if he believed that life was behind him now. 

Most often, though, you saw that softer side of him in the quiet of his tiny, run-down apartment, with the moonlight streaming in through the window and Joel’s sleepy smile as you exchanged stories about your lives from before. With his arms around you as you slept, safe and warm, it was easy to forget that it wasn’t supposed to mean anything. In moments like those, you had been so sure that deep down, Joel loved you. 

You didn’t see that man now, standing in the dim lights of his dingy kitchen. The Joel that stood before you was harsh, made wary by a lifetime of pain and loss. The more you said, the higher his walls went up. They were towering over you now, just like they had been the day you’d met, as if the past few months had never happened. 

“You knew what this was when we started this,” He grumbled, shaking his head. You could see that he knew where this was headed. You were treading on thin ice here, but you couldn’t stop the words that left your mouth. 

“I know. I knew. I mean, I thought I did, but… then I fell in love with you, Joel. And I just thought…” I thought you loved me too, you wanted to say. “Is the idea of someone caring about you really so horrible?” 

The desperation in your voice seemed to suck the oxygen out of the room. It was too late to turn back now, the fragility of whatever it was between you so apparent as the seconds crept by without a response. 

Your words seemed to have struck a nerve with him, his nostrils flaring slightly as he ground his teeth together. He seemed to fight with himself over a response before settling on his biting words. “I told you, I don’t want to hear it. That ain’t what we’re doin’ here. I think you’d better get on home now. Curfew will be here soon.”  

“Please don’t shut me out,” You said softly, stepping forward to place a hand on his arm, practically begging him to look at you. “I love you, Joel. It’s okay to let yourself care about someone again, you know? You aren’t going to lose me too.” 

When he finally turned back to you, you noticed that a coldness had sparked in his eyes. It told you that you’d crossed a line, and you weren’t sure you’d ever be able to go back. He’d never looked at you that way before, and it frightened you in a way that you hadn’t expected, like looking at a complete stranger. 

“This is over.” His voice was hollow and rough like gravel, and as if a part of him was pained by the words despite the finality in his tone. 

Your heart sank at his reaction. It hadn’t been the one you’d hoped for, but it was the one you should have expected. Wherever that man you loved was, Joel seemed determined to bury him along with the life he’d left behind him in Texas. You looked at him one last time, the broken man who’d stolen your heart. 

In a different time and place, in another life where you’d met in a coffee shop instead of a quarantine zone, you liked to think he could have let himself love you the way you loved him. But in this life, the one where he had already lost so much, you knew you couldn’t have that. The walls were just too high. 

“Yeah, I know,” You breathed out shakily, already heading towards the door as the tears threatened to spill over your cheeks. “Goodbye, Joel.”

General Taglist: @theravenreads​ @marshmallowtraver​ @computeringturtle​ @maythxthirstbxwithyou​ @artsymaddie​ @heythere-mel​

Joel Miller (The Last of Us) Taglist: @agirllovespancakes​ @din-damn-djarin​

[ladycubes0t7]

Required Services

Pairing: Boss!Min Yoongi/Assistant!Fem Reader

Genre: Office/Smut/Boss/Assistant

Rating: Explicit/Mature/NSFW/No Minors

Summary: Are your services required or not? Find out what happens when being an overworked assistant gets you into trouble.

Word Count: 7.27k

Warnings: F/M, Office Sex, Oral (female receiving) , Protected Sex Hint of angst barely, mentions of alcohol.

A/N: This has been cross posted to AO3. Please feel free to comment, feedback is always welcome just try to keep it constructive.

Just one day. One day is all that you ask. One day for your boss to quit pushing all of his work on you. Sure, you get it. He has a lot on his plate. Meetings, interviews, business plans, market reviews, etc. You could go on and on about what he does or does not do.

Let's focus on the latter; that which he does not do. He does not build team morale. He does not care about how much that you do for this company. He sits in his office with that smug look upon his face everytime that you enter. Every hour on the hour, he is buzzing you into his office to assign more duties. Spread the wealth Mr. Boss Man. There are people in this office that are more than qualified to handle these tasks that he'd given you.

Yet, here you were, once again, standing in his office. He sat behind his large black desk, eyeing you with a smirk. He must get off on this. You huffed in clear annoyance while he continued on with his list of "chores". The job was really starting to get to you. Everything about that man, sitting in that high back leather chair, got to you. The way his blonde locks swept to the side and out of his eyes, the way his lips stayed drawn into that smirk, and even the way he breathed.

You furrowed your brow and gnawed at your bottom lip. Seemingly, you were lost in the way his long, slender fingers played with the band of his wristwatch. His fingers, oh how you longed for them to be pumping furiously in and out of you. Wrecking you, disciplining you for all the work that hadn't been completed.

What? Wait. Where did that come from? You flushed all over and tried to blink back your surprise. Mmmm, just look at him. All suited up. You despised the very man in front of you, so how in the hell did thoughts like those even cross your mind? Oh, right, you were overworked and had no time for dick appointments.

"Did you get all that?" Your boss spoke, breaking you out of your daze.

"What was that last part?" You quickly acted like you were taking notes and peeked at him in wait. Your eyes dragged over the entirety of his face and slowly worked their way down. His hands were working to unbutton the bottom of his suit jacket. I bet he really knows how to work a certain button. There it was again that lustful she demon voice in your head. Back away, you sinful beast, your mind pleaded with itself.

Obviously, annoyed, he reiterated, "I've got a formal business dinner to attend tonight and I need a date. You're coming with." There was no asking if you had plans and certainly no care about your opinion on the topic. That demanding tone in his voice had you aching and flustered.

"That'll be all for the moment," he waved you off dismissively. You took a second to look back down at your notes. Your facade set in a scowl as you pondered if you should attempt to decline. I really shouldn't. What if he wants a piece? I'm the perfect person to go to work on him. Those thoughts battled it out. Your inner lustfulness betrayed your sensible side.

"And do wear something….classy," he added, not even looking up.

You fought the need to roll your eyes and replied, "Yes, Mr. Min." I'll be back, the lust demon part of you sashayed to the corners of your fantastical mind and didn't return for the rest of the work day.

*******

You were standing outside the restaurant at precisely 8 o'clock. The strappy, black high heels did nothing to soothe your aching feet from having been at work all day. You held a matching clutch close to the bodice of your black evening dress. The hem of the skirt was a little shorter than you liked but it was just long enough to keep you from looking like a woman of the night. At this point, several minutes passed and you began to wonder would your boss even show up.

A sleek, gray sedan pulled up next to the sidewalk. Your boss exited. His blonde hair was slicked back to show a prominent undercut. He wore a dark gray three piece suit. It was perfectly tailored to his thin frame. That patented smirk of his adorned his lips when he took place beside you. Inwardly, you shrieked like a fangirl but remained your natural level of cantankerous for appearances sake.

"Fashionably late as always, Mr Min," you couldn't hide the disdain in your voice if you wanted to. He perked a brow at you, amused.

"Bitchy as always, Miss Moody. Are you always this standoffish to a date?" He retorted. Nothing ever appeared to get underneath his skin. Attitudes, kindness, hatefulness, everything rolled off of him.

Your boss held out his arm, "Let's not let your attitude kill the evening. Play nice," there was a hint of warning to his tone before he added, "and call me Yoongi for the night. I need you to play the part of date and not employee."

You looped your arm around his and he led you into the restaurant, his head held high. The maitre d didn't even bat an eye as the two of you strolled by. Mr. Min must come here often. You thought. It was hard to feel like you belonged here, let alone on the arm of Min Yoongi. The whole restaurant and its patrons screamed expensive. Hell, your boss probably owns it, even though you've never seen it listed in his accounts.

After having walked through the majority of the restaurant. You reached a set of double doors. Two waiters opened the doors to usher you and your boss through to a separate dining area. This area was more decadent than the last. Lush, violet and gold drapes adorned the walls. There was a rather large, round dining table set up in the center of the room. Seating and place settings for 14.

The other guests went silent. Talk about an awkward entrance. The six men looked shocked as they looked between your boss and you. Has Mr. Min never brought a plus one? The ladies, accompanying the other men, all gawked at you. All it took was a glare shot in their direction by your boss for the ladies to return to light conversation amongst themselves.

"Yoongi-ssi, this is a first. Who is your lovely date?" The man who sat next to an empty seat spoke. He was bespectacled and handsome with chestnut hued hair cut in a mid-fade. He had a dimpled smile crossing his face that could easily have you eating out of the palm of his hand.

"Ah, this is my girlfriend. You can call her Miss Moody for now, Namjoon," your boss answered, moving to take the empty seat next to him. You must have looked like a deer caught in headlights because Mr. Min tugged your hand to pull you in a seat next to him.

Girlfriend? Now I have to act like a girlfriend? He better give me a raise for this. You were trapped in your thoughts and barely even registered your boss's arm slipping around your waist. You almost flinched but caught yourself. You tried your best to act as normal as possible.It couldn't be so bad.

There were no other introductions made past the point of meeting Namjoon. The waiters began to bring out the first course. Luckily, you didn't have to fawn all over your boss, even though your desire demon was begging to take over. He was perfectly content with you sitting silent while the table enjoyed the first course. Yoongi was even overjoyed when you giggled over his cheesy business jokes while waiting for the second course to be served.

He was looking at you now, a gleam in his eyes that you couldn't quite decipher. Your stomach did a little flip when he took your hand and gave it a small squeeze. The gesture was returned with a soft smile that made him grin. To the outward eye, you two appeared to be lost in one another but, internally, you were struggling. It was like this glimpse into Yoongi's softer side was pulling off a mask that he wore to work. You began to find yourself enjoying his company and that was what scared you but thrilled you at the same time. Maybe your boss would be the one to satiate the hunger growing within you.

The rest of dinner went off without a hitch until dessert rolled around. The conversation between the men turned to business. You did your best to ignore the conversation but the numbers game was off. Everything that Namjoon brought up didn't match up with all the paperwork that you gave your boss earlier at work. Your eye even twitched at the low ball offer being discussed.

Yoongi laughed it off with a wave of his hand. "Namjoon, after all these years, you mock me with an offer like this? Come on man. You and I both know it isn't worth it."

Namjoon wiped his mouth with one of the cloth napkins and nodded, "Yeah, I know, but the boss won't let me go any higher. I knew the figure was laughable."

"Your boss sounds like a miser. My company will more than triple his profits. My fees are non-negotiable," Yoongi sat back and draped his arm around the back of your chair. His fingers absentmindedly rubbing circles on your bare shoulder. Goosebumps erupted across your visible flesh. He was obviously doing this as a distraction.

"Oh, come on. Do me a solid on this Yoongi-ssi. I really need this deal to go through. The boss plans on making me partner," Namjoon implored.

"If I do, you have to promise me something in return," Yoongi stared off in contemplation. His fingertips continued to lightly play at your shoulder. The sensation put you on edge. You needed to refocus.

You played with the rim of your wine glass. It was getting harder by the moment to stay silent. One of your legs, restless now, began to bounce. Yoongi put a hand on your thigh under the table. The touch stopped you in your tracks. Your eyes met his, which gave you a warning look. They were pleading with you to mind your own business. That was just it though. It was your business. You worked so hard to have all the paperwork in order for the negotiation that was being brought up at dinner. You expected this to happen at the conference on Monday but here you were, playing Yoongi's girlfriend and not his employee. It was killing you. You shot him a glare and opened your mouth, about to add in your two cents.

"Miss Moody, you're looking a bit flushed, perhaps you should head to the ladies room to freshen up?" Your boss offered but you could tell that it was more of a demand. Your eye twitched with how hard you tried to keep composure at the hatred you had for the nickname he'd given you. He stood to help pull out your chair and offered his hand. You took it, flashing a smile that never reached your eyes.

"Yes, I really should go powder my nose," you tried to hide the scoff but several of the men at the table heard you and let it be known as you walked off.

"You sure have a feisty one on your hands there, Yoongi-ssi," You heard from behind you. Oh, you haven't seen feisty.

Upon reaching the restroom, you debated whether you should just leave. Did Mr. Min realise how hard it would be for you to not say a word about the business end of the deal? He really did just bring you to keep the focus away from his personal life so that the business dinner could be just that, business.

There's still that chance, he could be setting me up to drop them panties. You rolled your eyes after taking in your reflection. Yeah, fat chance. I am but a means to an end.

Huffing in annoyance, you straightened your dress then washed your hands and tried to make sense of it all. Logically speaking, you knew he sent you off so that he could hide that you were an employee. Not just any employee, but the employee. You were the one who put the whole agreement together. Thoughts speeding through your mind did nothing to help quell the anger that slowly began to rise.

Get it together. You're just the date. You tried to reason with yourself, which spoke volumes to your logical side.

"Alright, let's get back to it," you checked yourself in the mirror and headed back to the dining area.

Many of the patrons took no notice as you came through once more. The double doors opened and you made your way back to the table. The business conversation carried on while you were away, but appeared to have been dealt with because Yoongi and Namjoon were standing and shaking hands.         "Pleasure doing business with you Yoongi-ssi. My boss will be pleased to hear that you settled," the younger man smiled, dimples turned up on max.

"Great, have your assistant send my assistant the new documents for me to sign, and we will get it right back to you," your boss grinned for a millisecond before realizing you were back from the ladies room.

You stood there, arms crossed and jaw clenched. That snake. First, he used you as arm candy, and then sent you away to not hear how the deal that you pieced together went down. This is it, you thought, this is where the other shoe falls.

"I most certainly will not," you said, icily. The room went silent. All eyes were on you.

"Excuse me?" Namjoon looked at you, quizzically.

Your boss, however, glared at you. The palpable tension grew between the two of you. You wouldn't back down this time. Out of all the times that you were expected to shut up and do your job, this time was not it. This time, you were not on the clock and most definitely not being paid.

Your blood pressuring was rising and your cheeks tinted red. "You see, Mr. Min, you will not be accepting the offer. Not yet, at least." You stepped closer, letting one hand rest on your hip and the other point right at him. "You will wait until I've gone over every word of the new contract before it is accepted. How dare you!?" You were getting louder now and Yoongi flinched when you began to poke at his chest. "You knew how hard I worked on that deal?! It's like you just spat on my face! The audacity!" You threw your hands up, exasperated.

Your boss's surprise turned into a smug look. "You can't have everything your way, Miss Moody. It is my business after all."

A sardonic laugh left your lips, "Oh, indeed it is Mr. Min. All decisions are your own, unless you want to run your business into the dirt. I suggest you take my advice. Leave the numbers game to your assistant." The venom you spat was from years of being overburdened at the office and from the amount of lifeblood that you poured into it.

There was something else there, nagging you in the back of your mind. I can think of some numbers that I can handle. Inches that is. Your logical brain did it's best to shove the thought back into the deepest recesses of your mind. Put that inside a box and put that box into another box. Hide it away because in the moment, you needed to remind your boss that you were one of his hardest working employees. However, the lust demon refused to not be heard. Oh dear God look at those lips, still holding that smugness! The way I'd kiss those lips until they were swollen with the memory of me. It wasn't the time for you to be fantasizing about your boss in that manner. You were mad not hot and horny. Straighten those thoughts out.

The other men at the table couldn't stop looking at the exchange. They were taken aback. Yoongi just stood there, hoping that you were finished, and the women of the group whispered words of scandal amongst each other.

Your boss eyed you in silence for much longer than it seemed. "You know, now that I think about it," Yoongi scratched at his chin as if in thought, "your services are no longer required."

Now, it was your turn to be surprised. Eyes wide with shock and hands shaking, you could only stare at your boss. You tightened your lips and inhaled sharply through your nose. "What?!" Did you hear him correctly?

"You can move your belongings on Monday," Yoongi eyed you one last time before sitting down with a bored expression. There it was, the boss that you knew. The one who let everything wash away from him like he had no cares in the world.

"Yoongi…." The gravity of the situation was becoming too real. He really was going to fire you, just like that? He never looked up. That was it. The conversation was over. No time for rebuttal. Namjoon gave you a sad smile, but the others avoided your eyes. A frown marred your lips. You took up your clutch and held it close while you searched for your phone to order an Uber.

"Goodbye, Mr. Min," you said softly. Everything culminated to this, one of the lowest points of your life. You've never lost it before on your boss. You were utterly embarrassed. Nothing you could say now could change anything.

Outside of the restaurant brought a different kind of cold treatment. The artificial light did nothing to bring up your spirit. Traffic whizzed by and life still carried on like nothing happened. You checked the Uber app to see where your driver was. They were still a good fifteen minutes out. That meant fifteen more minutes of holding it together, to think about how much of a bitch you were, and finally just how good Yoongi looked while firing you.

Wait...he fired me. I shouldn't be thinking about how hot it was with that damn smirk of his. Mmm, but yet somewhere deep in that animalistic brain of your's, you knew that you were just as much turned on as you were angry. In that moment, you hated yourself for the arousal that snuck up on you. You tried to reason with yourself that it was just because things got so heated and you had to face it. Your now former boss was so utterly attractive.

The power he held and money he had played no part in the attraction you felt. It was purely a need to fuck that arrogant smirk off his face. Well, that or punish you like the brat that you were. You long since found yourself loving to be choked up by the work that he loaded you down with and that in itself was punishment.

You were secretly in lust with the thought of him and it caused you frustration on the daily. And even though your driver arrived and began its trek to your quaint apartment, the source of your irritation still clouded your mind. Maybe once you reached home you could just masturbate it out of you and call it a night. Only then would you be able to sleep and worry about finding a new job in the days that followed.

*******

The day you dreaded finally made its arrival. The morning matched your mood. Cold, dark, and rainy. You had a short to-do list for the day: pick up belongings from the office, cash your final paycheck, and drown yourself in cheap wine to wash away the hatred for your boss and your actions.

You dragging yourself out of bed proved not such an easy feat as you had gone on a weekend binder. You washed your face and eyed yourself in your tiny bathroom mirror. You made a poor attempt at applying some makeup to cover the dark circles under your eyes.

How you wished that you could just go in your sweatshirt and yoga pants but alas, you wanted to maintain some decorum. You threw on a black pair of dress slacks with a white billowy blouse. The final touch was to pull your hair back in a loose bun. You sneered in disgust at your image before heading out.

As you stood in front of the tall, dark office building that housed Min Industries, you couldn't help but to be thankful that the lustful thoughts disappeared along with your job. You were so wrapped up in being grateful for that, that you didn't notice the building was quiet all the way up to the top floor. You only noticed once the elevator doors parted and there stood Min Yoongi.

There were no sounds of your coworkers clacking away on keyboards, no phones ringing, and absolutely no one running back and forth between the cubicles. There was only Min Yoongi. He was silent with that same smug smirk.

"I was wondering when you would finally grace me with your presence," he said when you stepped off of the elevator. "We have so much work to complete today with the new deal and whatnot."

This was a trap. You just knew it. You were not going to fall into his games this time. "I'm here for my things," you simply stated as you started to move passed him. The key word being started. With one quick movement, he stopped you. His hand wrapped around your wrist. His grip wasn't so tight that you couldn't get away but just enough to get you to look at him.

And that you did and that was the beginning of your real downfall.

"I'm really not going to let my best assistant leave that easily," his voice was calm but his eyes not so much. They held a fire in them that had you questioning yourself.

"I thought you were the one who fired me. Seems to me that means you decided to let me go that easily," the reply rolled off your tongue, coolly. "Besides, you have employees that can handle my job duties. I'm just going to grab my things and see myself out."

Yoongi let go of your hand. "I didn't quite say that."

Surprisingly, you felt a sad pang in your heart at the lack of contact. Your eyes held his and you were even more shocked to see another emotion swirling in his eyes. Was that sadness? Regret? Whatever emotion it was played upon his lips as well because suddenly they were in a frown. Was the normally emotionless boss finally slapped in the face with the reality of firing his best assistant? He walked off to his office in silence.

You exhaled sharply, not realizing you had been holding it. While heading to your desk just outside of Yoongi's office door, you grabbed an empty box that once held reams of paper. The empty office felt as empty as your thoughts while you began to pack away your personal belongings.

Halfway done, you plopped into the swirly chair and ran your hands across your face to massage at your temples. The past several years of memories started to play out in your mind. There were plenty of good memories surrounding your coworkers and even those including your boss. It had only been the past year that his attitude, or lack of, that he started showing less emotion. You began to wonder why.

As if he had read your thoughts, Yoongi made himself known by clearing his throat. He leaned against the door frame, hands in the pockets of his suit pants. There was a fond look on his face.

"You know, I remember the day I hired you," he said while pushing off the frame of the door. Slowly, he made his way to stand beside your seat. "It was five years ago. I, myself, was just as new as you were at the time. My father insisted that my first move as boss was to hire my own assistant. One that could easily learn my needs and wants. One that was dedicated and eager. Someone that was trustworthy."

You perked up, tilting your head to the side. You swiveled around in your chair and looked up at him. You nodded for him to continue. He was silent for a moment.

"I found that in you. You had all of the qualities and then some. Throughout the years, I've watched you flourish in this position. You've handled things that assistants shouldn't do. You've kept your nose clean, and most certainly have kept my company exceeding everyone's expectations," Yoongi fiddled with his fingers, nervousness started to show.

"Well, if that's the case why…." He held up a hand to cut you off. A brow perked while trying to gauge what Yoongi was up to. Your she demon side was threatening to escape the box that you so neatly put her in.

"Let me explain," he dropped to his knees in front of you. "There's a reason why, in this last year, you've seen a change in me and your job responsibilities." He was careful with his words and even more careful in the way that he put his hands atop both of your knees. It was torture. The warmth of his hands caused an eruption of tingles to spread throughout your body.

"Overtime, I felt something pulling me to you. I can't explain it. I started to look at you differently. Suddenly, your every movement caught my eye. The smell of your perfume fogged my senses. Everything about you was taking over me."

You exhaled a shaky breath. Yoongi's eyes were trained on yours. You held contact though the heat began to rise and tint your cheeks. A soft smile crept on his lips. "I've had my eye on you for a while and the frustration of not being able to have what I want made me disregard you and your feelings. I should have explained it to you before dinner on Friday night. I didn't mean that you were full on fired. I meant to make you partner that evening. In fact…" he trailed off while he traced his fingers up your thighs, "I meant to make you partner in more ways than one. The things we will do will be so…." He spoke but you were not aware as his voice drifted in and out of your hearing.

Partner? More ways than one? The lustful thought went into overdrive. As his words sank in, realization did too. You didn't hate your boss. It was quite the opposite. You were wildly attracted to him. And people always said that there was a fine line between love and hate.

You couldn't hear the rest of what Yoongi was saying when he continued on. He was still lightly tracing up and down your thighs and it put you into some kind of trance. Your mind was too busy trying to make sense of everything to register the touch. It was a lot to process. Partner and partner? Some of those deep-seeded fantasies started to blossom.

".....and if you're uncomfortable we can always stop." He finished and was gazing at you quietly. The lack of his voice pulled you out of a hypnotic state.

You blinked and both of your brows were raised. You smiled a sheepish smile. "I'm not sure, Yoongi. I may need some more persuasion."

"Persuasion, you say?" The gleam in his eyes spoke a thousand words that the smirk upon his lips did not utter. He rose and pulled you with him. His arm slid to the small of your back to press you against him. The other hand clutched the back of your neck. Naturally, you tilted your head back, eager to meet his lips.

Yoongi descended on them like a man starved. His tongue swept your bottom lip, enthusiastically seeking entrance. Allowing him such access deepened it and allowed a soft moan to escape. The office melted away along with any of your worries. Yoongi's lips made sure of it.

You broke away, both of you gasping and eyes locked on one another. Nothing else mattered in that moment besides the two of you. He admired your lips, swollen and pink from his kiss. He decided that he didn't like your hair pinned back. Yoongi took hold of the pins holding your hair and removed them. Your hair fell in soft curls around your shoulders as he watched in awe.

Yoongi took your hand. He zoomed you to the confines of his office and kicked his door shut with his foot. You helped slide his suit jacket off and were working on the buttons to his shirt with shaking hands. From nerves or excitement, who knew? Flinging open his shirt, you ran your hands down his chest over the undershirt. Why did he have to wear so many layers? You thought when your fingers met the cool metal buckle of his belt. You released the belt and made quick work of the fly of his pants.

When his pants pooled around his ankles, an audible gasp left you at the sight of his hard member straining against the fabric of his boxers. Yoongi pulled off his undershirt while you dropped to your knees in front of him. Your mouth watered at the delicious view in front of you. Pale skin, clear of any blemishes or scars gave onslaught to your eyes, and you couldn't contain the moan if you wanted to. He was even better unclothed, save for the boxers. You palmed at Yoongi's thighs as you ran them from his knees up to band of his underwear.

You only looked up when his hand stopped your's. The other took you by your chin, angling you to get a better look at your face. He thought you looked glorious, like an angel looking up at him with hooded eyes. The want and hunger ever apparent with your lips parted in a pant.

"Not, now baby, this is about making you partner. I intend to vet you fully," Yoongi gave you a half smirk. He encircled your wrist and yanked you upward. In one quick motion, your back slammed against his office door. Breath knocked out of your lungs only for Yoongi to breathe his own back into you. His mouth made claim against your's once more. It was like he was drinking you up. He sucked your bottom lip into his mouth while running his hands the along the length of your torso. He couldn't get enough.

Yoongi was so painfully hard but he intended to take his time. Enjoy you to the fullest as he had fantasized about this day for so long. He gave the entire company a paid day off for this moment and it already paid itself off tenfold. Much slower to your liking, he removed each article of clothing of your's while kissing down your neck. He stopped every so often, sucking, causing purple and red marks to bloom across your skin. He kissed, licked, and nibbled along the swells of your breasts that peeked from the cups of your bra.

Removal of said item was much quicker. Yoongi just had to get his hands and lips all over your breasts. You dropped your head back against the door when his tongue darted out and swiped over one of your nipples. His free hand slipped inside the top of your dress slacks, he wasn't concerned that they were still on.

Yoongi was more worried about feeling the arousal pooling in your panties. He wasn't able to get a good angle, so he settled on using the heel of his hand to press against your clothed mound. His middle finger rubbed back and forth over the cloth covering your slit. The pressure had you swimming and moaning. You ran your fingers through Yoongi's hair as he continued his movements. His lips were latched so perfect on your nipple. He suckled harder for a moment and nipped it before lavishing his attention on the other. The soft moans and sighs coming from your lips spurred him on.

He detached to return to your mouth, the kiss near animalistic. His need only grew as he rolled himself into you, seeking relief, while he tore the fly open to your dress pants. He pulled your ruined panties and pants down in one fell swoop.

Bare before him and trapped safely in his arms, he lifted you up, never once breaking the kiss. You wrapped your legs around his waist and arms around his neck. He walked the two of you to his desk where he perched your ass on top of the edge. You reached on either side pushing off what you could reach.

Yoongi's fingers curled around your neck to push you down across the shorter end of his desk. As you laid back, his hand travelled the length of you and rested splayed across your lower abdomen. "Fuck, you're absolutely beautiful," he praised, taking in your features. Your chest was heaving with every breath.

You let your legs fall open and everything was on display for Yoongi's eyes. His eyes landed on your naked pussy, pink and dripping with want. "Take it, Yoongi. Whatever you want, it's yours."

That's all it took for him, he was on his knees in front of you and the desk, which happened to have your wet cunt in a perfect position. There was no embarrassment about being totally naked before him. In fact, you were a little grumpy because he was taking too long to touch you. "NOW, YOONGI!" You yelled out in frustration.

Yoongi bit down on your inner thigh, earning a surprised 'eep' from you. "Patience, or else Ms. Moody will be your name again," he chuckled in between the small kisses that trailed closer to the apex of your thighs. He continued around kissing the top of your mound, anywhere but right where you wanted. No, where you needed.

You felt him smirk against you, literally smirk when he darted his tongue out just above the hood of your clit. The annoyed whine that followed was proof of his further teasing. "I'll show you Ms. Moody." You trapped his head between your thighs and grabbed tight at the hair on the back of his head.

Yoongi revelled in the action and grabbed ahold of your ass cheeks. Long fingers dug in before slapping at the sides of your cheeks. He brought his hands around underneath where your thighs met your buttocks and pushed them up and apart. His incoming onslaught onto your clit had you keening. He attacked with fervor. An obscene, muffled moan from him shot through your core when he lapped at the arousal pooled inside your entrance. You would have thought you were his final meal at the slurping sound that echoed throughout his office.

"Fuuuuuhhhhck, Yoongi, right there," you groaned as he continued to work you over. He alternated between harsh, flat licks and fast, short pointed tongue licks against and around your clit. Yoongi's right hand joined the fray. There was no preamble to its entrance as he used the gathering saliva and arousal as lubrication and dipped one finger in. It was quickly followed by a second that scissored in and out of your wet cunt. He spent time working you open as he heard your moans increase in length and volume. Your pelvis ground into his mouth and fingers while you were being driven closer to the edge. That ledge was screaming for you to fall off. Yoongi's two fingers turned and curled beckoning your pleasure hither.

Your mind and body jumped off the edge with his name shouting from your lips. Back arching off the desk and hips pressing down, your orgasm ripped through you. Yoongi licked up every bit of your release and savored your taste.

You laid there, in the afterglow, thighs still trembling. The loss of Yoongi's fingers and mouth made you whine pathetically. His warmth returned just as quickly as it had left. He stood between your legs. The magnificent sight before you renewed the lust in your core. Yoongi had removed his boxers and was stroking his length at the sight of your already fucked out face.

You wanted to watch him for days. The way he sucked in his bottom lip and bit at it, and the way the head of his cock was engorged, red, angry, and glistening with pre-cum were both being filed away to memory.

"I'm not finished with you yet," were the promising words that he groaned out, lust heavily lace in his timbre. It was not a threat but a vow to utterly wreck your core. The crinkle of the condom wrapper was unmistakable. Yoongi hissed at the feel of rolling the rubber down his painfully hardened cock. Your eyes pleading with him as he stepped closer. One hand was at the base of his shaft and the other slid down to the back of your knee.

Yoongi's jaw clenched when the tip of his cock dipped into your entrance that clenched at the feeling of the protrusion. "Fuck, baby, I thought you were ready for me," he said, while slipping in another inch. The sound of his voice almost made you cum alone. Shit, he was going to be the death of you. You angled your hips up, allowing him to slide in further

"Please, Yoongi, just fuck me already. Need your cock!" You begged, sounding like a slut just hungry for a good dicking down. He bit his lip again and in one full thrust forward, Yoongi was buried to the hilt. Your walls clenched around him. He nearly rejoiced as if it were homecoming.

Slowly, he drew back and snapped his hips into yours. His hands gripped at either side of your hips, holding you in place. You were likely to have bruising but you'd wear them like a badge of honor.

Yoongi's pelvic bone flush against your clit. "Not only am I gaining a partner but also a cockwarmer. You'd like that, huh?" The confidence in his words had you aching for more. How you begged for him to move, or do anything as you became drunk on his cock.

Yoongi looked down at where you were joined. The sinful vision of your pussy stretched around his thick length. He moaned at such a sight. "Mmmm, baby this pussy was made for me. Heaven sent." He drawled out right as he began a steady pace of thrusting in and out of your sodden cunt. You bent your knees to pull your legs back a little further but this made Yoongi grab your ankles and push your legs together.

He angled your legs to the side and thrust deeply. The new position allowed him to directly batter your g-spot. You moaned out a broken version of his name. Each stroke hit so deep and hard.

Yoongi kept fucking into you with abandon. It was hard to tell when one moan stopped and another one began. God, how he loved to watch your breasts bounce with each thrust. The quick drag of his cock in and out of your pussy was threatening his release but he held on wanting to pull another orgasm from you. He pulled both of your legs up, putting an ankle on either side of his head and held on for dear life. With each pulse of your pussy, around his length, you tightened more and more. The urge to cum was strong in the two of you but neither wanted it to end. Your moans were intermingled in between breaths.

Yoongi dropped your legs to his hips when the need to cum became overpowering. He leaned across your torso, kissing you vigorously, while each thrust pushed you across the desk. Your hands flew to his back in this position and you scraped them in a downward motion. You wrapped your legs around him and arched your back.

"Fuhhhhhck, Yoongi!" You cried out as a powerful snap of his hips combined with him sucking at the pulse of your neck wrecked you. Your whole body wracked with your orgasm that washed over you. Delirious from hearing your pleasure and the feel of your cunt squeezing his cock in time, Yoongi blew his own load. His hips stuttered against yours but one final thrust landed directly onto your g-spot and he stilled.

You secretly wished his cum was painting your walls but the condom held his seed safely from your womb. He stayed like that a moment, resting his forehead against your's. Your panting breaths being the only sound in the office except for the quiet ticking of the clock.

Yoongi stood up, sliding out of your wrecked core. He disposed of the condom and turned back towards you to help you sit up. "Damn, Yoongi, is that how you initiate all your partners?" You quipped with a silly grin.

"Mmmm, not just any partner. Only the ones who put in the work," he answered with a wink. His demeanor was notably different. His lips had a gummy smile plastered to them. One you hadn't seen in ages. He tossed you your under garments before putting on his own. "Normally, I'd help you clean up but as you can tell, I don't normally have visitors in my office." Yoongi was a little embarrased now. His hand rubbed at the back of his neck nervously. It was cute how his cheeks had a twinge of pink across them.

"It's fine. I plan on heading home and taking a nice, relaxing shower. Work was strenuous today," you said while getting dressed. Your slacks were no longer able to be secured. You looked at Yoongi sheepishly, "Can I borrow your belt until tomorrow? I'm afraid I won't make it out of here with my pants up."

"Sure thing," he said, "Let me lend you a hand." Yoongi got his belt and slid it through each of the belt loops. The closeness was still so intoxicating. You began to wonder if you would make it home at all. After buckling the belt for you he asked, "Anything else I can do for you?"

A sly grin crossed your lips and your eyes lit up, "You know, now that I think about it…." You scratched at your chin in jest, "your services are no longer required."

Yoongi held up a hand to his heart in mock shock, "That's a low blow. I am hurt….hurt I tell you." He returned your playful banter.

"Well, I guess I will see you tomorrow, partner," you said heading to the door and opened it. Yoongi was behind you, only dressed in his boxers and undershirt.

On the other side of the door stood Namjoon and the five other men that had been at dinner on Friday evening. They all were drained of any color in shock at the state of Yoongi's undress and your messy hair and hickies on your neck.

"Fuck, I forgot the negotiation conference was today."

The End

[retrogalwrites]

ex boyfriend!Touya x reader

Title: “ Fool me once, then again and again “ / view on ao3

Pairing: Touya x f! reader

Summary: You are dating Natsuo Todoroki, and you finally get to meet his family, everything was going well. Until you realize you have already met his older brother Touya before.

Warnings: dubcon, slight yandere, manipulation, gaslighting, blackmail, cheating, cuckolding, corruption, mindbreak of sorts, toxic ex boyfriend relationship

Other contents: creampie, rough sex, tit slapping, sub/dom, masochism

words: 6,826

For the longest time, you had believed that those stories of people finding true love were nothing but total bullshit.

After all, in a sea of hookups, uncommitted relationships and one night stands, it was almost laughable to think that anyone out there was going to somehow be the one and only. You went through college with nothing but bad relationships and heartbreak under your belt, things you would've rather left forgotten. By the time you had graduated, you managed to land a job, and were happy living on your own, there were no expectations from you towards love, not at all.

Until you met Natsuo Todoroki.

It was an unexpected meeting, much like out of those same cheesy romantic movies that you had always mocked. You two bumped into each other at a coffee shop, a guy that you had never seen before who spilled his coffee all over you, awkwardly apologized a hundred times, invited you to watch a movie, and the rest was history. You always teased him over it too, how his clumsiness somehow helped him to get a girlfriend. Watching him go all red in the face never failed to make you laugh.

Natsuo was the most wonderful boyfriend you could've asked for, easily topping any other relationship you had in the past. Despite being the son of a hero, and not just any hero but the number one hero of the country, Natsuo was humble and friendly, just living like an average guy and working hard as a nurse at the nearby hospital. Someone that you wouldn't even think had a family with the sort of money and influence the Todorokis were known for.

He also was always so sweet and gentle, funny too, a lovable big guy that treated you with so much care. Even during sex, he only ever made the most tender love to you, like you were a precious thing, a treasure that could break if he was too rough.

And you loved it, truly, you loved him, knew he felt very much the same too. Because he gathered the courage to introduce you to his family officially.

You two arrived at the Todoroki state on a cold Friday evening, just in time for dinner. There you were going to meet everyone and stay for the weekend.

His father, the number one hero Endeavor, was much like what he looked like on television. Big, rough and intimidating, but treated you with good manners. Then his mother, Rei, a soft-spoken woman that welcomed you kindly, she was friendly much like her son. Things seemed tense between them underneath the surface, expectedly so, since you knew from Natsuo that they were going through a divorce. It made their attempts at cohabitation just to make you feel comfortable at least appreciated.

His big sister, Fuyumi, was much like him too, sweet and gentle, a nice girl that made you feel right away at home, so excited to finally meet you. Then last but not least was his little brother, Shouto, a quiet but nice boy who tried his best to do small talk when he had to. You could tell that he at least was welcoming of you, which was good enough.

It was awkward at first, you were nervous to be dealing with them at first but you had managed entire thing just fine so far, much to your relief, as well as Natsuo's.

However, the last relative in the household had yet to arrive, the eldest sibling, and Natsuo's older, Touya. Apparently it was nothing out of the ordinary for him to be so unfashionably late, and dinner would not be put on hold just because he couldn't bother to show up on time, as Endeavor had put it. Even Natsuo seemed to reluctantly agree with his father on that regard.

Natsuo had told you before, about his brother's unruly behavior and a bit on an intense attitude, calling him a hellraiser. He had been only a bit worried that if you met him, you'd be slightly put off. Naturally you assured him it would be fine.

But it was only when you saw the guy that you understood just what a grave mistake you had made.

Only then that you realized that all the cheesy romance, all that stuff from the movies, really came with a price.

Right there, waltzing into the dinning room without a single care in the world, long strides and hands inside his pockets. The raven dyed hair, the piercings, the tattoos, even the smell of smoke and cinders filling your nostrils, it was all familiar, too familiar.

It was your ex boyfriend, Dabi.

Blue eyes fixated on your face almost instantly, stared and burned a hole right through your soul. A knowing look on his features, lips curling into a crooked grin, sardonic and throughly amused, a glint of joy in a face you had hoped to never see again.

"Well, well, well! So this is the girlfriend? Now I see why our little Natsu is so smitten."

Touya drawled, slowly like savoring every syllable, a type of teasing that tasted deliciously on his tongue. Just the sound of his voice,so low and raspy from the cigarettes you knew he always smoked, was making your heart race with anxiety and anger.

Touya took his seat at the dinning table. He deliberately took the chair in front of you just to watch you, of course he would, you had almost expected him to. Eyes still fixated on you, he plopped his elbows on the table and leaned on the surface, and you were so grateful for the table keeping him from getting any closer.

"Where did you even find this hottie, bro? I may just go there and get one of my own."

Heat rose to your cheeks, burning and painting your skin red with something like indignation, but to the others probably seemed just like shy demure. Yet in contrast to your body's temperature, on the inside it was like the blood in your veins had turned into ice, a violent shiver running down your spine that felt like high voltage, you gripped your thighs with both hands just to keep yourself from shaking.

"Touya don't be rude..." Fuyumi grimaced, sighing. This behavior clearly was nothing new to them, it seemed, but it was nothing new to you either.

"This is [Name], be nice." Rei joined the attempt to get the male to behave, probably for your sake.

In reality, you wished they wouldn't be trying to intervene, but you couldn't blame them either for not knowing something you desperately didn't want any of them to know.

Specially not Natsuo.

But you couldn't just get up and run, Touya knew you were trapped.

"Oh? Well, ain't that a pretty name? You probably already know who I am though, right?"

It was so cruelly calculated, every word spoken, a man already set out to make sure you squirmed in your seat.

"I'm Natsuo's big brother, I bet he talks about me all the time! This lil guy sure loves me."

"Oh please, I only told her how annoying you can be." Natsuo scoffed, rolling his eyes with the unconcerned, even if embarrassed, nature of someone who had no idea what was happening beneath the surface.

"But really, I'm proud of our little bro for scoring this high, y'know what I mean, Natsu?"

You looked down, unable to meet his gaze any longer.

"K-Knock it off, Touya." Natsuo grabbed your hand from underneath the table, and you almost jumped from the sudden contact, almost expecting to be burned. But it was cold, your beloved Natsuo's cool touch, and when you turned to look at him, he smiled at you with a gentle, apologetical smile. Probably thinking his brother's banter had caused you to feel uncomfortable. And while it was the right thought, he really had no idea.

Still, his touch grounded you back from the anxious dread that had been growing in your mind so quickly, and you felt like smiling back at him.

You loved Natsuo, you really did.

Suddenly a hand was extended towards you, and it took all of your will power not to flinch. Your attention cruelly ripped away from your boyfriend to stare at Touya's hand, waiting for a handshake.

The dread had returned, you didn't even realize you were staring.

"Sorry, sorry, let's keep the brother talk for later, m'kay?" He smirked at Natsuo, then turned at you to add, hand still out waiting for you to take it, he knew you had to take it.

"It's nice to meet you, [Name]."

You felt everyone's eyes on you, watching you, and resignation was your only answer. Cautiously, you were reaching out to him, held his hand in a hesitant hold.

The moment his rough skin brushed against yours, you felt it, again. A wave of heat spreading through your body like wildfire, just like you remembered from years past, that warm sensation tingling at your nerves, filling your lungs, the pit of your stomach.

It was nothing like Natsuo's cold touch, it was hot, burning, scorching.

"Um, yes. N-Nice to meet you too." You let go of him immediately, stumbling over your words and trying not to glare.

"Yep, really nice to meet my new sister in law."

"That's enough, Touya." The stern, booming voice of Endeavor silenced everyone at the table, specially the eldest son. "We are having dinner right now, have the decency to behave."

Endeavor could be quite scary, but you were much grateful for the intervention. Unlike Touya, of course, who immediately had tensed up, gritted his teeth with brows furrowed into a sour expression for a second, before that carefree look was back on his face, it was so quickly that you wondered if you had imagined it.

"Wait, are they getting married already?" Shouto quipped all of the sudden with genuine confusion, endearingly so.

Almost everyone seemed to be amused by the comment, even Touya, and some teasing looks were thrown at Natsuo, who had turned beet red from the embarrassment.

You found yourself a little embarrassed too, in a much lighter hearted way and that was a welcome change, it almost made you forget that feeling of someone's piercing blue eyes staring at you.

 ——————

 Natsuo would touch your hand or your knee all through the night, smiling at you and gazing at your face with those loving eyes that could melt your heart. And yet, Touya made sure that your attention wasn't taken off him for long. Trying to rope you in conversation that held cruel double meaning, kept only pushing your buttons with sadistic glee.

You had to take a break, urgently, so you excused yourself with the pretenses of going to the bathroom.

You got up from your seat and rushed out the dinning room and into the hallways, not even really noticing that Natsuo had asked if you needed someone to show you were the bathroom was located.

You needed a moment alone to gather your thoughts, get your shit together. So you walked further into the huge Todoroki residence, looking for the nearest bathroom, though finding it was really not all that important in the end. As long as you were away from Touya for a bit, you would be fine.

Touya. A name foreign on your tongue, unlike Dabi. It upset you, and that on itself upset you even more, not only to know what an idiot you had been so many years ago, but that you still cared. But, could you be blamed? Could you be judged? When this jerk had to show up now, of all times, and——

"Hey baby, bathroom is the other way."

You stopped on your tracks, freezing on the spot. Your mouth felt dry and your hands balled into fists. That dreaded voice's hot breath feeling like it was tickling the shell of your ear, but you reacted only when you felt the brush of his warm hand placing itself on your shoulder.

Practically jumping away, you removed yourself from his touch, turning around to face that same amused grin you wished to smack off his face. That same grin that used to give your butterflies.

"Why did you follow me?" You spoke with a voice full of annoyance, bolder and direct, now that the rest of the family was out of earshot, you could at least give yourself the indulgence of expressing your feelings.

"Leave me alone, just...leave me alone, would you?"

Touya laughed. Of course he laughed. You didn't know what else you had expected. He had always done the same thing, laugh at your distress and mock you for it.

"Woah, now! Calm down, this is my house, are you trying to kick me out my own house?"

He jokingly raised his hands, didn't bother to hide his amusement, a broad smile that stretched from ear to ear. You only sighed with exasperation.

"You know that's not what I mean. God, you're still such an asshole."

You shook your head, but he simply shrugged dispassionately, dismissively. You hadn't even taken notice of your clenched fists, knuckles had begun to turn white, anger bubbling inside you just like it used to back in the day.

"Dunno what you got against me, I mean you're the one that came here willingly, remember? No one told you to go date my brother." You could've sworn he almost sounded resentful, but he had no right to be.

"I didn't know. I mean, how could I have? You clearly never told me your actual name Dabi, oh I'm sorry, I mean Touya." He never really told you anything substancial about himself in hindsight, and you felt like an even bigger fool, for having overlooked that along every other glaring red flag he carried around. Your own conflicted feelings made you miss the way something in his blue eyes flickered, tongue running over his lower lip.

"Well, it wasn't a big deal. It's not like it mattered, did it? We had a lot of fun anyway." He chuckled lowly, openly leering at you and making you blush from anger.

"Fun? Seriously, you call that fun?!" You laughed in disbelief, a bitter sound. "After all the crap you put me through, you just ended up dumping me. No, fuck your fun."

His expression turned dark then, a shadow over his eyes that had narrowed just slightly. His amusement had become annoyance.

"The crap I put you through? I don't recall you ever complaining when you begged for my cock like a damn college whore."

"That's not—!!"

"What, not true? Oh but I remember it very well. You'd always be so needy for my cock, letting me fuck you just whenever I wanted, heh, wherever I wanted too. Like a dumb bitch in heat. Come on, we both were on it for the sex more than anything. Now you're acting all high and mighty? Shit ain't cute babe."

It was like a punch in the gut that sucked all the air out of you, it rendered you speechless for a moment, shame and anger inside of you making your body shake. Had it really been like that? No, you did all those things because you were a stupid girl in love back then.

It was exhausting suddenly having to explain yourself to yourself, you didn't have the mental strength for it. You brought your fingers to pinch the bridge of your nose, sighing wearily. It was foolish of you to shut your eyes for even second however, just trying to gather your jumbled thoughts like that, because Touya took it as an invitation to close the distance between the two.

A sudden, familiar feeling of warmth enveloped your body, his arms circling around your waist and pulling you against his broad chest. But it was not a gentle touch, he was squeezing you in his hold to make sure he had you caged. You gasped, every muscle in your body tensing up like a frightened prey in a wolf's grasp. Your body felt hot.

"You're so cold, sugartits. Are you seriously not happy to see me? Not one bit?"

He spoke so softly all of sudden, you knew he was trying to appease you. He rested his chin on the crown of your head as he held you, one of his hands taking purchase of your hair, pulling at it just enough that you felt a slight sting in your scalp. Your lips parted slightly, a moan almost attempting to escape.

"Let me go, and don't call me that." You tried wiggling out of his hold, to push him off you, but he only tightened his grip.

"Call you what? Sugartits? Aww, but you used to love it."

Purring like a cat, you felt the smell of cigarettes and cinders invading your nostrils, bringing back vivid memories of the many times he used you hold you down to smooth-talk his way out of trouble, hold you down and fuck you senseless until you forgot whatever it was that you were mad about.

The thought alone frightened you to the bone, the realization of the sort of memories Touya was pulling out of you so effortlessly. The heat enveloping your body felt like it was burning you, threatening to cremate you with his quirk. It was nothing like Natsuo's cold touch and you hated it.

You couldn't let him keep holding you like that, it was wrong, it was dangerous, and gathering all your strength, you placed your hands on his chest to get him off. It didn't work, he only laughed at your attempt.

"Come on, do you really hate me that much? I just want to talk, honest. Don't you want to talk this out?" Looking up at him, the expression you saw was serious, soft, something you had only seen back when you were with him a few times. Touya was dangling the hope for closure above your head like a dog's treat, and you took the bait.

"What is there to talk about? You dumped me after fucking me for months, just to chase more tail." You a soft murmur from your lips, resignation. You felt his chest heave with a satisfied huff.

"Well yeah, but I tried to call you, you changed your number."

"Because I knew you just wanted to hook up."

"Well, you got me there." He chuckled, completely unashamed and it didn't even begin to surprise you.

"I did really like you back then, you know? And you broke my fucking heart." It was useless to tell him that, and yet you did.

"I liked you too, but you know that I'm a bastard baby, it's just my nature."

You frowned, there was no comfort in his words or even a sense of guilt from him, just the factual reality of things. You had been an idiot for getting involved with him, but it wasn't like you hadn't known that from the start. It still upset you, but the more you thought about it, the more you felt it was necessary to just let it be if you ever hoped to survive the night.

"I don't care what you do, in fact I'd rather we both forget anything ever happened. Just...don't ruin this for me." The plea in your voice was genuine, a heartfelt request, lowered lashes as you looked down before biting your lip. "Don't tell Natsuo about this, please. That's all I ask."

Touya went stiff against you, a hum purring at the back of his throat almost as if he had found your words no short of fascinating. You looked upwards to meet his gaze, he seemed pensive, while your expression was surprised.

"You really love him, huh? Lucky him, to think that used to be me." He chuckled, rolling his shoulders with a sense of light-hearted acceptance, the amusement had returned to that lazy grin. "I wasn't planning on ruining anything for my lil' bro, give me some credit. I just couldn't help teasing you a bit."

Admittedly you hadn't thought of it that way, that maybe even if Touya had no loyalty towards you, for his family he held enough of it to avoid crossing a line like that. It almost made you feel ashamed of yourself, how conceited it probably looked that you had assumed Touya really would care about fucking with you over his sibling's happiness.

For the first time that night, you felt hopeful, a sigh of relief that left your lips carried away all the weight you had on your shoulders.

"Well, then...thank you." A truthful feeling of gratitude. You even forced yourself to subtly smile at Touya, and you though for a second that his eyes softened at the sight. But then he just waved his hand at you dismissively.

"By the way, I wasn't joking earlier. The bathroom is that door over there. If you still want to use it."

You had almost forgotten about that, and while you had no need to go, part of you still needed some time alone to take in all that had happened in just one night so far.

There was slight hesitation, a feeling in your gut that told you not to. And you ignored it, like you ignored all the red flags in the past.

Nodding at Touya, you turned around and headed for the bathroom, but he called out to you again immediately.

"Wait, let me help you open it, that one door always gets stuck." Not even waiting for an answer he fumbled with the knob for a bit before it opened, Touya stepped to the side to let you in.

And then, just as you were crossing the doorframe, muttering a soft 'thanks', you were pushed inside the room by two large hands.

You yelped, stumbling over your feet and tripping onto a soft surface. The moonlight filtered through a narrow window enough to letting you see that you were not in a bathroom at all, but instead in what seemed to be a bedroom, may a guest room? You had no idea. The soft surface under your knees was definitely a futon at least. Confused and panicking you turned around to try getting up and rush out that room, just in time to see Touya walking in, closing the door and locking it behind him.

You felt the room's temperature go up.

"T-Touya? Touya!" You spoke once in confusion, then in anger. He tricked you, and you fell for it like and idiot, all over again. "Fuck you, I knew you were trying to pull something like this."

"You are really funny, sugartits. Seriously." Slowly, in long strides, he approached you. Completely ignoring your protests. "Saying that you love Natsuo with that innocent look on your face, really? What a comedian."

"What are you—?!"

Getting on his knees in from if you, Touya grabbed you by the jaw, squeezing your cheeks and roughly forcing you to look at him in the eye. That bruising touch you knew so well, it made your chest start tightening and face to burn red.

Looking at Touya in that dim light made you shiver, he had an horrifyingly wide smile, baring his teeth. You could feel the steam coming out of his nostrils, and for a moment you were afraid he'd actually set the place on fire.

"Do you think you can just go saying shit like that when I know just what a slut you are for my cock?"

He laughed mockingly, and yet the condescending tone dropping off his words made you realize it was an statement full of endearment.

"No, I'm not!" You struggled to pull away from him, clawing at his hand around your jaw, but he was just much stronger than you, always had been. "That was a long time ago, I was stupid. That wasn't real, what I have with Natsuo is real."

"So you say." Rolling his eyes, he scoffed. Touya brought his lips to your forehead, giving you a chaste kiss, the softness of his lips and the cold metal of his lip piercings was something you wished to have forgotten, a whine almost left your lips. "But I know you missed me."

"I did not. Let me go!"

"You're so cruel, sugartits. 'Cause, I did miss you lots, y'know?"

It shouldn't have, it really shouldn't, but that statement made you pause, freeze on the spot and look at him confused and surprised. A meek 'what?' came from your lips. Touya took advantage of your momentary lack of resistance to roughly push you backwards with enough force that you were falling onto your back over the futon.

"I'll tell you the truth, even after I kept fucking bitches for a while after our 'break up', I realized that none of them really compared to you." He explained slowly, drawling each word with a raspy voice, your heart beating loudly in your ways almost drowned the sound.

"Turns out no other pussy felt like yours, so good and tight, god...best one I've ever had. Oh, and no one else was quite as much of a whore either to be honest, I mean shit, we used to get all down and dirty, remember?"

He pulled out his phone out of his pocket, and started to browse through it. You should've taken that chance to try escape, or at least kick his stupid face, but your body wasn't moving. The shock of what he was saying, petrified you, as did what you imagined he was doing.

"But you disappeared. So I've only had these to jerk off now and then, trying to imagine your nice pussy around my cock." He showed you the screen of his phone, and it was what you had been fearing the most.

Pictures of you, old pictures that Touya had taken years ago during sex. There were many, too many, you felt the world collapsing around you, as if you hadn't been already laying down, you would've collapsed with it for sure.

"Never thought I would see you again, imagine my surprise when Natsuo just came home with my favorite cumdumpster as girlfriend."

"I'm not yours!!"

You refuted passionately, he could insult you all he wanted, call you all sort of names, but you were not going to let him claim you as his belonging.

You were Natsuo's, no one else's, you told Touya, you told yourself.

You were trying to get back up, but Touya was already crawling above you and shoving the screen of his phone in your face, showing off those lewd pictures of yourself.

Pictures of you doing all sort of nasty sexual things with Touya.

"I wonder if my lil' bro would be thinking the same as you if he saw these though. I mean, you two love eachother right? I guess he probably won't mind..."

"Alright I get it, what do you want from me?"

That quick temper of yours made him huff a laugh, something like fondness in it. Well, you weren't so stupid as to not realize what was happening, what was Touya getting at. Swallowing the lump in your throat you tried to keep yourself from shaking, but having Touya above you like that was leaving you short of breath, heart hammering in your chest.

"Let me fuck you." He said so casually, putting the phone back into his pocket without even breaking eye contact. "Here and now, let me fuck you real good one last time."

You breathed through your nostrils, slowly, taking in the situation you were in. Taking in his outrageous words that gave you chills.

"You can't be serious..."

"I am very serious, sugartits. I just wanna bury myself inside your pussy, for old times' sake. C'mon, you don't even care about my cock anymore, right? It shouldn't change anything to give me one last pity-fuck."

It was surreal, ridiculous, atrocious, the entire thing. Yet, what other option did you have? Even if you screamed for help, it would mean Natsuo would find out about this, find you like this. You parted your lips to ask hesitantly.

"Only once...no more than that, right? And then you delete those pictures, promise me. Dammit, promise me Touya!!"

"Yeah, yeah, geez. I promise, just once, and these pictures will be gone forever." He spoke seriously, a longing look in his eyes behind the cockiness. "So, whaddaya say?"

"Alright."

Those were the words that would seal the deal, and Touya didn't really need any more than that to get started. You felt his lips coming down to attack you with urgency, planting an open mouthed kiss on your shoulder while he nuzzled his nose into the juncture of your neck, inhaling your scent in a big indulgent sniff.

"Fuck, you still using that shampoo with the vanilla? Mmm, it was my favorite." He purred loudly, a satisfied grin and hot breath against your skin.

You gasped, unable to keep yourself from reacting to the stimulation, your body remembering it all over again, squirming underneath his frame as he pinned you down. That sound you made had his cock twitching inside his pants, member already growing hard and throbbing with rushing blood. He made sure to let you know by rutting himself against your clothed pussy, his hardness big enough to poke at your entrance through the layers of clothing. You bit your lips, so hard you could've drawn blood, just too keep yourself from moaning at the friction, your pussy already becoming slick and dampening your panties.

Then he was pulling back, earning a confused sound out of you, which then turned to a cry when a large hand crept up to the top of your dress, pulling it down to free your breasts and let them bounce bare for him. You tried to cover yourself on instinct, but Touya caught both of your wrists and held them down.

"God, I had missed these two. Now I remember why I started calling you sugartits." He chuckled lowly, one hand letting go of your wrist just to grope one of your breasts.

Fingers roughly sinking into the soft flesh before he drew his hand back, and slapped your breast, hard. It made a dry sound only matched by the cry you tried to muffle with your free hand. It stung, it hurt, you could swear that it burned. Then he slapped the other breasts as well, flesh jiggling as the skin turned red and raw, nipples become hard and stiff.

"Fuck, Touya...!!" You hissed through gritted teeth, and he only laughed. "D-Don't do that so suddenly."

"What? You used to love that, don't tell me you and Natsu don't do shit like this?" Of course you didn't. It was so different that being with Natsuo, the heat, the roughness, it was nothing like when he gently made love to you. This was not what you wanted, not anymore, and yet...you felt that familiar arousal in your gut, the tingly sensation in your core as more slickness dripped from your folds.

Touya was soon leaning over one of your tender breasts, mouth latching to the nipple and teeth scrapping the pebbled skin around the puffy areolae, his tongue lapping around the nipple, you could feel his tongue-piercing against the skin. He hollowed his cheeks as he sucked with fervor into his greedy mouth, drool and spit coating your chest.

"Hey wait!! Don't leave marks, don't leave m—oooh!!" He growled against your breast and you felt his teeth bitting at the flesh, your toes curled and you threw your head back with a pitiful whine. That definitely was going to leave a mark, he did it on purpose.

Just like he purposely lifted the hem of your dress and ripped your panties off you like a savage. You hated the memories it brought, of the countless pairs of panties you had lost this way when you were with him, Natsuo never did things like this.

Natsuo was not like this, he was gentle and sweet and—

The abrupt feeling of two fingers breaching through your outer pussy lips and into the heat of your core had your back arching, eyes wide open and tears pricking your eyes because the sudden intrusion. Dabi's long digits slid inside of your pulsating walls, the slippery flesh wrapping around them as you involuntarily clamped down. You moaned, barely muffling the sound using now both of your hands to cover your mouth in a desperate attempt to stop making noises.

"Fuck, baby you are still tight as shit." He spoke with his mouth still muffled against your breast, you could feel the shit-eating grin on his face. "I thought I'd have to prepare you a little more, but you are nice and wet, ready for my cock."

No, you weren't ready. You didn't want to be ready, you were doing this for you and Natsuo, and that was it. Shaking your head, Touya only snickered mockingly, as if he knew better, but he didn't. He absolutely didn't, whatever you two had was in the past, and you didn't want to be fucked by any other man than your boyfriend!!

"Just make it quick, please..."

"That depends on how good you squeeze me, baby."

Touya pulled back, hands unbuckling his belts and pulling down his pants. Your eyes almost bulging out of your head at the sight of his hard cock as it sprung free, bobbing against his abdomen with a pearly dollop of precum dribbling from the supple head, his shaft was as long and thick as you remembered, a pulsating vein on the underside that went from the head to the bushy white hair at his base.

You hated yourself for moaning at the sight, for being so weak. Touya somehow didn't make fun on you for that, he was too busy grabbing your ankles and pulling you down towards him, his own eyes fixated on the sight of your soaked pussy. The look of his eyes was ravenous and absolutely enthralled, his breath had quickened as he stared at the pretty slick flesh, bringing his cock to your puffy pussy lips, sandwiching his it in between them and sliding himself up and down, coating himself in your wetness.

It was driving you crazy with need, a maddening need that was awakening after years. And something you hated yourself for, feeling that fire in your loins in a way you never felt with Natsuo. You hated yourself for wanting to be fucked the way Touya used to fuck you.

"Oh, baby. I'm not even inside and you're already squirming." He grinned down at you, watching you through half-lidded eyes burning with lust.

"Shut up! Please just...just...ohh."

You didn't know what were you were begging for, but it didn't matter when you felt the tip of his cock positioned at your entrance, before the feeling of him entering you slowly, he wanted your every muscle to feel every part of him. A violent wave of pleasure rocked your body, Touya's cock stretched your walls like no one else could, even after years it was like your pussy had never forgotten the feeling and shape of him, welcoming him into your heat and betraying your need to cling to your convictions.

"Holy shit, oh fuck...this is what I was talking about. Best pussy I've ever had." You heard him pant and moan above you, his mouth gasping for air with eyes shut, like he was savoring the best feeling in the entire world. Your fleshy walls were sucking him in like crazy, he shuddered grabbing you by the hips with his large hands. "Hnng, so tight, fuck...it's like you're trying to rip my dick off. You sure Natsuo's been fucking you enough? Can't believe you're still so tight."

"S-Shut up!! Don't...bring him up now...please."

You couldn't stop wishing that Touya would just start moving already, fuck you already, in your heart you apologized to Natsuo over and over, you were doing it for your sakes, you were doing it for him.

"You are right, let's forget about him. Right now, this pussy belongs to me."

Touya pulled out his length until only the head was nudging at your heat, before he slammed his entire cock back in until he was balls deep inside, filling you up entirely. The head of his cock could almost hit the entrance of your cervix, god he was so big, it was different than Natsuo, he reached deeper than anyone you had ever had, you felt absolutely stuffed.

Gasping for air, you clung to his shoulders, trying to remember how to breath. But Touya didn't give you any chance to adjust before he began thrusting himself in and out your pussy, scrapping your walls with his cock following a brutal, bruising pace that had you pinned down against the futon as Touya jackhammered himself into you.

"T-Touya, fuck, fuck." It hurt, it really fucking hurt, and yet your body was craving that pain and heat you had been deprived from for so long, and you hated yourself so much for it, tears started to run down your cheeks.

Touya watched you with furrowed brows, licking his lips at the erotic sight of your bruised tits bouncing like crazy, but it wasn't until he noticed your tears that he felt himself swelling up inside you, cock harder than ever before. He leaned over you, face inches away from yours with his tongue out. He lapped at your salty tears, groaning in pleasure.

"Dabi, call me Dabi...for old times sake...oh fuck" He whispered against your skin, his hand leaving your hip to delve down towards your clit. He started playing with that little bundle of nerves, flickering it until you were just about to lose your mind, dizziness making you feel near to fainting.

"Dabi...!!"

You orgasm ripped through you violently, abruptly, toes curling and mind going black before you knew it, before you could even hope to do anything about it. Your walls were clamping around Touya and coating his cock in your release.

"Fuuuuuuck..." He groaned, you were so impossibly tight around him he almost came in that very moment.

You went limp, exhausted, but he kep fucking you until he reached his own release soon after. His cock throbbed, and you feel the warmth of his cum inside you as he filled you up in a sloppy creampie, and god he came a lot, jets of semen coated your insides until your womb was filled to the brim. You felt his cock softening inside, before he pulled out.

"That was great, babe. I knew you were the best." He sighed lightly and content, smiling shamelessly at the mess he made of your pussy, cum flooding out of your hole. "You didn't even tell me to pull out."

You tried to get up, but your body ached already, so you remained on your back with him still on top.

"The pictures...delete them."

"Nah, I don't think so."

The fact those words only shocked you halfway was perhaps sadder than him playing you for a fool again.

"You promised..." You said softly, weakly smacking Touya in the chest, barely phased anymore.

"I'm a bastard, sugartits. Can't lose my number one slut that easily, not when I finally found you again."

What an absolute douchebag.

—————

Natsuo knocked on the bathroom door, worriedly calling your name.

"Hey, [Name]? Are you okay? You've been gone for a bit."

After a moment, you replied, opening the door and exiting the bathroom. Seeing Natsuo's relieved smile made you so happy, and you smiled back.

"Don't tell your parents but I got lost, so it took me a bit to find the bathroom." You said with an embarrassed expression, voice to match, distress that was in a way still real.

"Oh no, I knew I should've accompanied you." Natsuo sighed, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "Sorry love, but didn't you see my brother? I told him to tell you where to go if he saw you."

You quickly shook your head. Hoping that the toilet paper you held between your legs would keep Touya's cum from spilling out.

—————

That night, when everyone had fallen asleep. You sneaked out of your room, careful not to wake up Natsuo. You planted a sweet, chaste kiss on his lips, gazed at him lovingly. You were doing it for you and Natsuo. You keep telling yourself.

Hearing a soft knocking sound, Touya smiled to himself. He walked to open the door of his bedroom to find you there, fingers lifting the hem of your dress to show your naked pussy underneath. Folds already glistening with the fluids of your arousal.

You heart was doing it for Natsuo.

But your body would always do it for Touya.

[harryspet]

wrapped in red | p.parker & b.barnes

[Warnings] dark? peter parker x reader, dark bucky barnes x reader, peter is still pretty sweet and bucky is evil, aged up peter, mafia/gang au, gang boss!bucky, waitress!reader, noncon/dubcon sex, light bondage, kidnapping, bucky likes to watch 

A/N: idk its 7 am and I still haven’t slept and now I’m posting this. THIS IS ADULT & TRIGGERING CONTENT READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

In which Peter likes you and Bucky makes you both regret that. 

main masterlist

word count: 2.9k

“Can I get you anything else, sir?” You asked the blue-eyed man sitting at table eighteen. Your coworker had an emergency call so you found yourself tasked with tending to the table of two men. You didn’t recognize the man at first but as your eyes connected with his left arm … your breathing hitched in your throat. You smiled through your worry though, trying not to be too obvious about the fact that you knew exactly who he was. 

Bucky Barnes ran this neighborhood, but since you had never run into him, it was easy to believe he was just a myth. 

“No, doll. Just the check please,” He spoke simply and you might not have been intimidated if you hadn’t noted the many expensive rings on his right hand. The man sitting across from him was younger, his eyes were nervous too as he looked you over. His face was familiar and you thought you might have seen him in one of your classes. 

There were several empty beers on the table as well 

You nodded your head before turning away, “I’ll be right back.”

Peter’s eyes lingered on you as you walked away from the table. For a moment, he forgot that he was supposed to be counting. His pen roamed over the sheet and over all the numbers. 

“See, you’re only making a hundred grand from this guy's shipments. He’s using all your resources to make sure the product is clean but you could easily just do that for yourself. You cut out in the middle man and I think you could triple your profit,” Peter turned the paper so Bucky could look over all the numbers he was running. Peter folded his hands, trying to read the man’s expressions. 

As you returned to the table with the check, Peter was once again caught in the trance you put in. He recognized you from his anatomy class. He arrived at class five minutes early every day just to make sure that he could watch you come in. Part of him was unsure of what you’d think of him now, knowing who he was sitting with. 

Money didn’t grow on trees and Peter was the man of the house. College was expensive and the rent was even more expensive so he had to do what he could to get by. You were working minimum wage at a rundown restaurant, Peter didn’t doubt that you could understand that. Still, what you did was honest work and Peter couldn’t say the same for himself. 

“Thank you, doll,” Bucky thanked you, resting his arms against the table as he smirked up at you, “You doing something tonight? What time do you get off?”

Your lips parted as you stared in shock. Could you just answer a simple no? “I actually have to close up today … so I … uhm-”

“I-It’s okay,” Peter rushed out nervously, seeing the way that Bucky was eyeing you, “That’s it, thank you.”

Your smile was thin and awkward before you walked away. 

Peter’s eyes widened with frustration as he stared across the table at the older man, “What are you doing?” Bucky chuckled as he grabbed the check, clicking his pin in order to sign it. Peter didn’t know it but the man was leaving you a hefty tip, “Were you trying to scare her?”

“I was trying to get you a date!” Bucky retorted, “Your good with numbers, kid, and I appreciate you helping me out. I really do but your game with women is a little laughable.”

Peter shook his head in disbelief, “Why does it matter?” Peter lowered his voice as the realization set in that Bucky was right, “Why does it matter what kind of game I have? I’m just here to count your money, right?”

The look in Bucky’s eyes was almost sympathetic, “You count money for now but you’re strong, I can tell. You could become a very valuable person to me if you work at it. And part of being in my little family is having some fucking confidence. You were drooling over that girl instead of manning up and asking her out.”

Peter crossed his arms, “What if she said no?”

Bucky smirked at the younger boy, “She wouldn’t if you had some fucking balls,” Peter rolled his eyes, “But if she did said no … then you chase her. That’s the best part.”

There was something evil in the man's glare but Peter brushed it out. The man was a professional, drug dealing murderer. “You want to ask her to prom or something?”

Peter shook his head, annoyed, “I’m not in high school, Mr. Barnes. I just like her, okay? And it doesn’t matter that I like her because it’s not like we can date. I’m sure we both have bigger things to focus on. Now ... can we go back to talking about the deal that’s going on tomorrow?”

Bucky seemed amused by the kid’s awkwardness, “I like your idea. I hate that Brock guy anyways. He’s overcharging me because I used to mess with his sister. You know … maybe if he’s out of the picture then his sister is free territory.”

“Out of the picture how?” Bucky sensed Peter’s worry and grinned. 

“That’s right, you’ve never been on one of my infamous boat rides. You should come,” Peter knew exactly what he meant. If Bucky didn’t like you, you did not want to go on a “boat ride” with him. That was a quick and easy way for your body to end up chained to a brick at the bottom of the Hudson. 

“I have a biology project to work on,” Peter said.

“It wasn’t a question, Queens.”

+

Your heart skipped a beat as a black Escalade pulled up beside you while you were walking home. You didn’t look over as you heard the window roll down. You winced as you continued to walk. You only turned to look as you heard a whistle. 

You thought he’d give up after the weird encounter at the restaurant but here he was in all his handsome and dangerous glory, “You need a ride, doll?”

“Uhm, no. But thank you!”

What was it with kids your age? Perhaps Bucky was losing some of his edginess with the younger crowd, “Get in,” Bucky said, much more forward this time, “I just want to talk.”

You took a deep breath as you clutched your purse tightly. You found your feet moving before your mind could catch up. Your body thought you’d be safer going with him rather than arguing with the famous criminal. You heard the rumors about people that went missing because they pissed him off. Every time they seemed to arrest him, he was back on the streets weeks later. The cops, ones who he didn’t pay off, could never pin him to any of the murders. 

If you went missing because of Bucky Barnes, you and your legacy were effectively wiped away. 

He opened the back door for you and you climbed into the leather seat as he slid over. Shaking, you grabbed your seat belt and buckled yourself in. Bucky was used to the lack of eye contact and shaky fingers. It usually annoyed him but, for you, he found it endearing. 

As the door closed, the man in the front seat drove off, “What exactly do you want to talk to me about?” You asked, still confused about the entire situation. 

“My friend that sat at the table with me. Peter Parker,” Bucky spoke vaguely. 

“We don’t really know each other,” You explained, hoping that guy wasn’t somehow in trouble with Bucky, “We just go to the same college.”

“No, I know,” Bucky continued, “I just know that he’s interested in getting to know you better. And Peter’s a good friend of mine, you know?”

You nodded slowly. That meant Peter was dangerous, “Right. He’s … he’s never talked to me.”

Bucky chuckled, “He’s the shy type. You’re a pretty girl, he probably doesn’t think he’s good enough. That’s why I’m here talking to you.”

“What do you want me to do?” You asked hesitantly.

“That’s a good response,” Bucky gave you a smug look, “You’ll find out soon, doll. Sit tight.”

Your eyes widened as you looked out the tinted window, watching your apartment building pass by. Bucky’s driver gazed at you through the rearview mirror before focusing back on the road. 

+

Peter thought he wouldn’t be able to stomach. Watching a grown man cry and beg for his life before being tossed over the edge. You watched him sink and the bubbles slowly start to disappear as he went deeper, “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Bucky had said to him.

Peter hated to say that it wasn’t as bad as he believed it would be. Perhaps the years of struggling had blackened his heart. After the murder, Bucky proceeded to drag you back to his million-dollar apartment, wanting to share a drink or to. 

Peter almost opened his mouth to say that he wasn’t twenty-one yet but knew the exact reaction he would get from Bucky. Bucky had his arm wrapped around Peter’s shoulder as he showed him to the kitchen, “One day, you’re going to have a place just like this,” He said, hinting at your luxurious surroundings, “You stick with me and you won’t need that piece of shit degree.”

Peter only nodded, accepting a beer from the man. Bucky watched as the boy chugged the content of his glass. Peter hoped it would get him through the rest of the night and help give him some liquid courage, “You’re a weird kid, Queens,” Bucky laughed, “I like it. C’mere, I want to show you something.”

You followed Bucky down the hallway, hoping it wasn’t another disturbing thing that the man found amusing, “What is it?”

“A present,” Bucky grinned, guiding Peter to the door at the end of the hallway. Peter would’ve preferred to be wowed by a million other things. Instead, his mouth was agape because he saw you. 

Whatever drugs he had given you to keep you relaxed had completely worn off. It kept you from fighting them when your clothes were cut off from your body. Your vision was blurry and your muscles were weak as they restrained your body. Now, clear as day you could see your captor … and his friend Peter. 

You were laid out on the bed, your hands handcuffed behind your back and your ankles tied together by a red ribbon. A red thong barely covered your lower region and a red ribbon wrapped around your front barely covered your nipples. Right in the middle of your chest was a red bow to compliment the red ball gag in your mouth. 

Peter flashed Bucky a mortified look. Bucky only sipped at his glass of beer, “Happy fucking birthday, kid,” Bucky beamed, “Aren’t you going to say thank you?”

It wasn’t Peter’s birthday and he was definitely not feeling thankful. Peter watched as you struggled in your bondage, frightened tears staining your cheeks. “What the hell are you doing?” Peter asked, his teeth gritted in anger, “I-I didn’t ask you to do this.”

“What?” Bucky sounded offended, “It’s creative! Think of it as a welcoming gift. I know you want to fuck her so here’s your chance. Fuck her and get rid of her-”

Get rid of you?

Bucky was interrupted by a muffled scream which only caused him to roll his eyes, “Or fuck her and keep her, I don’t care.”

“No, no, I’m letting her go-” Before Peter could take a step forward, Bucky’s metal arm gripped his shoulder. 

You felt relieved only for a moment.  Bucky stepped in front of him, “I’ll fuck her then, no point in letting the opportunity go to waste.”

Peter’s heart stopped, “Mr. Barnes, please.”

“You do it or I will,” Bucky said firmly, “You’re smart and I want to keep you around but if you can’t … take a few fun risks then maybe you’re not the type of person that should work for me.” Bucky’s words settled over him. Peter thought about losing this opportunity and all the money that would come along with it. Looking into your teary eyes, Peter thought about how rough Bucky would be with you. Maybe he could explain that … Peter mentally cursed. 

Peter didn’t answer verbally, only pushed past Bucky, walking towards the bed. Peter felt a sudden rush of adrenaline as he stalked towards the bed, “That’s my boy,” Bucky spoke excitedly. He moved towards a lounge chair in the corner of the room, still taking swigs of his drink, “There’s no point in asking. If you want it, take it. Now put on a good show for your dear boss.”

Peter knew there was no going back now. He reached out to touch your arm, only to have you flinch away from his touch. Peter had imagined touching you for the first time and it was nothing like this. Peter turned that sadness to anger in order to fuel his adrenaline. 

Peter undid the ribbon around your ankles first. As soon as they were free, you were struggling against him. Peter was much stronger than you assumed and held you in place easily. Next, he moved to your gag, “Pl-Please don’t hurt me,” You begged, your voice hoarse. 

You saw something in his eyes similar to regret. Regret for the inevitable. As you shook your head, he said, “I won’t. Just … just don’t struggle,” He tried to assure you but as he moved your body over the edge of the bed, parting your legs and settling between them, you panicked again.

“Peter, please don’t.” He perked up at the sound of his name on your lips and you thought for a moment that you had gotten to him. He paused for a moment, only for a moment, before lifting his shirt above his head. He leaned his body over yours, his mouth brushing over your ear.

“Trust me, you don’t want him touching you. Just relax,” A shiver ran down your spine and you turned your head. Your scared eyes connected with Bucky’s and he smirked. It seemed the two of you were his sick entertainment for tonight. Your breathing was heavy but you tried to keep your muscles calm. 

You tried to convince yourself that Peter was the better option. He was your age and he didn’t have that evil look in his eyes. You hated that you preferred him. You hated that you were preferring this. 

Peter placed soft kisses along your collarbone and up the side of your neck. It baffled you that you got the feeling that he wanted to be gentle with you. You were ready to jump out of your skin when you felt your panties being moved to the side but you were interrupted by Peter’s lips crashing onto yours. 

Soon, you felt him at your entrance, teasing your opening. You gasped against his lips as he slowly sheathed himself inside of you. You wanted him away but you still found that your legs wrapped around him for support. 

Peter moved his lips against yours and you felt his own body shudder as your warmness wrapped around his length. He started to move in and out of you and it took you time to get used to the invading feeling. As Peter kissed your tear-stained cheeks, you bit down on your bottom lip. His pace quickened and wished desperately that your hands weren’t handcuffed behind you. 

“Y/N,” He grunted into your ear as he made long, deep strokes inside of you, “Fuck, I’m sorry… y-you feel so good.”

As he pushed deep inside of you, your head tilted back and a frustrated moan escaped from your throat. You hated that he was making you feel good too. You felt his hand running up your thigh  and then it was between your leg, slowly rubbing that sensitive bulb between your legs. That was enough to have you moving your hips against him. 

Bucky watched intently, the blood rushing to that area between his legs. He’d keep you in mind when he was deep inside Brock’s sister. 

“Ah, ah,” Peter kissed you, swallowing your moans as you both climaxed together. 

This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. Peter was supposed to finally gather the courage to ask for your number towards the end of the semester. You were supposed to text back and forth for a few weeks and then go on a few dates. You were supposed to fall for each other the natural way. 

Bucky had stolen all that. 

As Peter pulled up his pants, zipping them up, Bucky stood from his chair, “That was moving. Very romantic,” By his tone, Peter could tell the man was hoping for something for brutal. Peter scowled at his boss, “I knew deep down you were a ladies man-”

Peter interrupted, venom in his tone, “What do you want me to do now?”

Bucky only chuckled, “Nothing like some emotional trauma to toughen someone up,” He patted Peter’s shoulder as he made his way to the door, “Why don’t you buy her dinner and then take her home? You can take my car.”

“That’s fucking it? After all that?”

Bucky turned his head as his hand grabbed a hold of the doorknob, “She knows what’ll happen if she runs to the cops. Welcome to the team, Parker.”

+

hope you enjoyed!!

[cherryblossomtease]

Chapter 18

18 + only (sub reader/bucky, dom zemo, first time m/m, collars/leash kink, and more please see masterlist for full warnings)

Warnings and summary - Masterlist

The directions were simple

“Go into the bedroom, you may help one another, and when you’re done getting ready, wait for me on the bed. The collars are in the bottom drawer…”

Bucky follows you, his hands wandering; stroking your hair, your back, your neck. He’s never going to be able to follow rule three if he keeps this up. You laugh swatting his hand away, trying to avoid his touch as you open the door to the bedroom.

Inside, he watches as you go to the closet and find the items just as Zemo said you would.

“How do we know which are which?” He asks from the bed.

You turn and grin holding them up.

His is thicker, heavier, and you wonder if these were in the crate Oeznik did not open.

“Me first?” You offer going to him.

“Sure” He says and watches you pull your tank top off over your head and toss it onto one of the plush chairs in the room. Bucky surprises you and finds the zipper of your skirt, pulling it down easily. He tugs the silk organza off your hips with a cocky smile as the fabric falls, giving you a little wink that makes you roll your eyes, giggling with your tongue between your teeth. Oh fuck it—your underwear comes sliding down your thighs too— no use pretending this won’t escalate quickly.

“Come closer.” He says and you stand between his legs.

He’s breathing hard already, his eyes bright with the excitement.

You look him over thinking about how beautiful he is. This is an established fact stated so many times it doesn’t need to be said. But you can’t stop looking at him tonight and you know it’s because you’ve lived with and loved him for more than a year now. The many connections between you run deep and now you’ll share in this singular experience with him. You feel… special.

Does he feel hesitant, you wonder eyeing his profile. You did the first time you ever had sex and you desperately want him to know that every time he’s ever tried to play the hero to you, tonight you will be his should he need it— but James is a lucky man. Zemo actually loves  him. He won’t find himself under some greasy haired, overly perfumed son of a Low Town gangster who thinks he’s hot shit. You hold in a laugh at the memory of your “first” and his sad, selfish attempts to satisfy you.

Watching Bucky from the corner of your eye, you raise your chin and keep close so he can gather the leather around the back of your neck. He buckles it easily, and you feel that familiar sensation of your body waking up. The clink of the metal, the touch of the leather, your nipples perk, you feel the slippery response between your legs— it’s all nice but you want to focus on him and you hope your desire to care for Bucky as he would you shows through in your own movements.

Pressing the center of the strap to his strong neck, you pull one side and then the other, pausing to kiss his jaw, nipping at his ear, you make him practically giggle involuntarily. He tucks his ear to his shoulder, leaning away from you. You smile and loop the ends, finding the perfect notch. “How’s that?” You ask softly, running your fingers back around and down his neck.

His eyes close as he smiles. “Good. A little tight, but— I like it.” How the tides have turned you think, remembering the first time he ever heard those words from you when he reluctantly fastened you into your restraints.

Your smile matches his as you stroke his scruffy cheek. “Perfect” You quickly unbutton his shirt and smooth your hands under the lapels sliding it off his shoulders and in doing so actually catch a glimpse of a metal loop you hadn’t noticed on the back of the collar at first. “Oh wait. I think there’s more.” You say realizing what that other thing was in the drawer. “Hang on.” You tell him, leaving Bucky shirtless on the bed.

“What is it?” He asks as you go back to the closet and open the bottom drawer. You don’t answer but when you return with a matching leash he tilts his head —a little like Zemo does— looking slightly suspicious.

“This is meant to clip on.” You say wondering how he’ll respond.

Bucky’s eyes go wide for a second. He pushes his palms to his thighs letting this layer of information settle as he leans in and chuckles shaking his head. “He thinks I’m dog now?” He inquires with a brow raised high. He sounds ever so slightly disturbed.

You snicker sweetly “Hush.” You say and go to him. You lean around and clip it on, feeling his hands on your ass as you smooth the length of it out. The leash is long, but not overly done. It’s the perfect length for Zemo to wrap around his hand once and really get a tight grip. “More like, a puppy. A good boy.” You tease trying not to laugh too hard.

Bucky’s look of outrage does it and you can’t hold the laughter in. Still grinning you try to soothe the sting. “Im sorry, I’m only teasing. You’re a very grown man with very large muscles who could probably crush everyone on this ship if he wanted. You’re very scary and we all fear you.”

“Oh ha ha. You’re so funny,”

“Aw, okay I’m sorry. Really.” You say meaning it.

He glances up and you can tell he’s not really mad, you’ve teased him about looking like the least intimidating killer before, which truth be told is something you probably shouldn’t joke about given the hurt he’s caused but it was never his choice. “Listen.” You say and lay your hands on his chest. “I think he made it very clear how he feels about you James.” You say his name so he knows you’re not playing anymore and it works like it always does.

Bucky looks up at you, studying your face for a second or two before he breaks, and looks away flashing the widest smile.

“By the way. When did you tell him? How you feel I mean.”

He thinks back as if he can’t remember. “This morning.” He says a little awkwardly.

So that explains why he was acting so off and sort of fidgety all day, and why Zemo has been so quiet. “And he clearly didn’t say it back.”

Bucky looks down as though he still feels the sting of rejection. “It was —not good. We were on the top deck laughing about something and I just, well I went for it. I looked him in the eyes, I held his hand and told him. He just stared at me. Eventually he said something like thank you, I think, I dunno, I sort of blacked out a little.” He says looking towards the windows “He said he needed to “attend to something” and walked away. He kissed me first though” He says with a sad laugh.

“And you’ve just been acting like nothing happened all day?” You hate that he’s kept it to himself, what an awful thing to suffer through; then again, it is Bucky. He’s known worse.

“What else was I supposed to do?”

“Tell me?”

“Why so you could make it a thing?”

“Well yeah?”

“I’m not a kid.” He says your name and you back down a little “I’m a grown man. I’ve had my heart broken”

“And put back together.” You remind him.

His eyes dart up to meet yours and slowly his smile returns. You know he’s thinking about the dance and the beautiful moment that followed. “Yeah. Turns out he wasn’t as ready as you thought he would be. But it didn’t take long.” He says sounding a little smug.

“I never had a doubt about Helmut’s love for you. I wouldn’t have wanted you to come with me if I weren’t sure. So,” You gently pull the strap around letting him see, “when it comes to things like this you just have to be honest. He trusts that you will, that we will. If you don’t want the leash James, don’t have it. Never be too proud to say no.”

He’s listening and you can see him actually thinking about it. Probably assessing his boundaries and weighing them against his love for Helmut and his level of comfort. He’s not used to this feeling, you can tell. He’s so physically strong, there are times he probably feels invincible. He’s certainly not used to being intimidated by the idea of the unknown. But tonight you suppose it’s more than that. “Are you sure you want this?” You ask wondering.

Bucky leans back surprised by the question. “More than anything.” He says without hesitation. You exhale the breath you’re holding feeling elated for tonight to become the start of so much more.

“You look beautiful by the way, you have all night.” He says softly “I meant to say so earlier.”

Damn it Barnes.

Your lips meet in a soft kiss and you lean against his chest feeling small in the warm space between his legs as his hands slowly glide across your back holding you so close…

The bedroom door opens and you part.

Turning in Bucky’s arms you’re fully aware that together you must paint the prettiest picture. The way Zemo gazes across the room at the two of you, this notion is quickly confirmed.

He has to stop in the doorway and just take it in. You’ve never seen him at a loss like this before. But you’re standing naked wearing the collar he chose for you with your arms around the man he thought he would never have, now in his own soft black leather restraint and that leash held loose in your hand.

You slide it up slowly over Bucky’s bare chest letting it drag across his skin and he closes his eyes against the rousing tickle until it falls over his back. You know damn well what you’re doing as you look back at the Baron with big, innocent eyes.

“Get up.” Zemo says, his already rough voice gone deep like it does when he’s ready to destroy you both.

Bucky gently moves you aside and stands.

“Take off the rest of your clothes.”

You stand beside Bucky watching him strip.

“And why are you still standing?” Zemo asks the second Bucky is finished, as if it’s laughable that either of you should think to do anything other than kneel before him. Funny though, he doesn’t have say it again before you’re both on your knees.

“Safe words” Zemo says unbuttoning his shirt as he comes closer.

“Rapunzel.”

“Streusel”

“Songs” He says, undoing his pants, slipping them down and off.

“Anything from the sound of music.”

“Penny’s from heaven.”

“Colors James?”

“Red means stop, yellow means slow,” Bucky’s breath catches and you glance over to find the Baron pulling his head back by the hair just a little “Green— means go.”

Zemo slowly reaches with his other hand and grips the leash letting go of Bucky’s hair, but he keeps him in this back bent position as he trails his fingers down over Bucky’s face and traces his lips, lowering to kiss him before letting go of the leather strip. Bucky’s soft moan as he melts into the kiss makes the deepest center of your belly quiver as you take a stuttered breath in.

Zemo holds his face in both hands now, the tip of his nose grazing over Bucky’s, his lips gently kissing his closed eyelids and his forehead before leaving him.

Moving silently Zemo comes to you so quickly you hardly have time to catch your breath before his mouth closes in and your eyes roll shut as his tongue finds yours with ease. It is an unexpectedly calm kiss that makes your skin tingle. He knows that when he kisses you like this, you feel both his affection for you and completely overpowered; so much so that you do nothing but submit to whatever it is he wants. He licks the crest of your top lip, presses a soft kiss to you again moaning very quietly and smiles at you.

“Sweet girl… you taste like James tonight. Have you been kissing him?”

“Only a little.”

He laughs “It’s all right. I like it.” He lifts your chin holding onto your jaw as he smooths his hand onto the top of your head, keeping it there. He sighs deep in his chest, and you look up at him waiting, wondering if he will show you his gentle side…

He sighs and smiles at you shaking his head just a little “You do like to tease me don’t you?” He clicks his tongue with a disapproving tsk-tsk. “Oh, I will enjoy this.” He pets your head and you watch the way he looks you over; naked, on your knees, willing to be his completely and there is the most beautiful darkness in his kind eyes.

You swallow feeling your throat resist the collar. You want to smile but you’re a little afraid of what he means and you know better than to assume.

“James.” He says looking over, with you still held close in this slightly awkward position.

“Yes Baron.”

“Go to the center of the room, sit and wait.”

“Yes Baron,” He says and gets up leaving your line of sight.

His grip on your face tightens. “Beautiful girl.” Zemo says looking back down at you, his eyes wild like they were before he was sent away, “Forgive me. I will enjoy this…”

**

Bucky never looks away from your punishments anymore. Now he watches with a jealous sort of lust that makes it all the better.

His eyes are fixed on you as he waits from his place in the center of the room and you are momentarily distracted by him which is nice because you need a break from the pain.

“You do like to tease, don’t you.” Zemo says circling you slowly. He sighs pretending to feel sorry for you.

Your fingers are interlaced on top of your head and you don’t dare put them down again after he gave your palms a slap with the leather— how silly that you hadn’t considered that the leash could be used against you. Now you’re here paying for underestimating Zemo and your earlier actions.

Your lips and eyes shut tight but you manage to open you mouth and answer him. “Yes Baron.”

“I know.” He says, his tone all too cool. He steps in front of you again and you wait breathing fast knowing that it’s coming.

That thin leash strikes the tops of your thighs licking your skin with the heat of fire and you hold in your cries, looking across the room at Bucky whose narrowed gaze shows some ounce of sympathy, but mostly you see how badly he wants to get up, push Zemo out of the way and fuck you.

When the next few strikes criss cross your thighs in a pattern of pain you give in, unable to take more and sink down onto your heels, your shaking breath nearly turning to tears.

Zemo stops and comes over pulling you back up onto your knees by your elbows. “Look at me.”

You won’t

“Look at me.”

You open your eyes but you hate him right now.

“Don’t tease.” He says shaking his head. He smiles and kisses your cheek, ignoring your angry face. “But, I have to admit, you are an incredible dancer. Next time, let me touch the parts I like most, yes?” He asks tweaking the tip of your nose.

You roll your eyes but quickly mumble. “Yes Baron”

He laughs a little and kisses your forehead. “So feisty tonight,” He says petting your head. “Should we continue until I’ve whipped it out of you?” He asks, standing with the leash dangling in his hand, both the front and backs of your thighs stinging.

“No! I’m sorry.” You insist while thinking back to how you shook your ass in the lounge and how you can’t wait to do it again. Maybe next time you’ll be able to take more of the consequences…

He smiles stroking your face.

“Fine.” He gazes down at you for a little while until you calm and eventually his hand feels as good on your skin as it ever has. “James.” He calls.

“Yes Baron.”

Zemo walks over going around behind Bucky and clips the leash back onto his collar, the sound is soft but chilling. You see the way Bucky’s eyes close and his muscles tense. “Come, let’s make her feel better. I think she’s learned her lesson enough for tonight.”

Both their eyes are on you.

You watch Zemo take that leash in hand and wrap it around his palm closing it in his fist like you knew he would, but you’re curious if he’ll actually take the next step, so you wait holding your breath. Sure enough, as he orders you to lay on your back with your legs spread, Zemo pulls Bucky along making him cross the short distance on all fours.

Holy shit…

“I want to hear her say your name.” Zemo says as Bucky lowers “I want you to make her come like you did while I was away.”

Bucky does not hesitate and your entire body responds to the warmth of his mouth closing in on you. Your toes curl to points, your knees bend boxing him in, your back arches high letting your chin lift until the top of your head is nearly touching the floor.

He licks up the center of your divide parting your lips to circle your entrance quickly, you can hear and feel his arousal as soft, muffled moaning against your wet center and when he slides his hands under your ass and raises you up like a plate to be licked clean you nearly scream.

As he finds a good rhythm it does begin to feel just like New York. Bucky always loved burrying his face between your legs for as long as you wanted him to, there was never a rush, never any pressure to hurry, just this sort of lazy enjoyment that consumed you both.

Helmuts voice sounds very distant as he asks, “Does it feel good?” He already knows.

“Yes” You sigh feeling relaxed after a while, Bucky’s fingers press into the fleshy parts of your backside and you smile.

The sharp crack of leather on skin makes you jump and your eyes fly open. Bucky gives a surprised but subdued yelp that gets lost against you.

Helmut doesn’t want you relaxed, he wants you screaming.

You’re dropped to the floor and the flicking of Bucky’s tongue becomes a heavy, more determined effort, amplified by the way he moans as Zemo takes a knee behind him and directs his attention to parts of the soldier’s body that you can’t see.

So it’s like that tonight.

It might be out of your line of sight, but you can imagine what’s happening based on the lovely sounds Bucky is making; all those deep moans laced with a hint of pain and you open your eyes gasping as he vigorously begins to suck your clitoris.

From the throws of your rising orgasm, you sense eyes on you and manage to look. Helmut is watching, left hand down busy with Bucky between the two of you.

“Let go, don’t hold back.” He says looking in your eyes as you pant. “I like to see it. I like to see the way you nearly cry when he makes your thighs shake and you say his name when you look at me.”

When you moan it’s the sort that you’re not in control of, it’s a response to the things Zemo is saying to you, a reflex that grips and holds as tight as your collar.

His right hand glides across the horizon of Bucky’s raised ass, the leash rolling along with it and you toss your head back and flex every muscle as Barnes puts his all into devouring your pussy.

His head moves up and down as he works his tongue, but it is the sight of that single, otherwise innocuous bit of black leather held by the man in control of it all that sends you over the edge.

“Would you like to come?” He asks his favorite question.

“Please,” You beg.

He pulls the leash; you feel the loss of pressure which is maddening. That smug little smile on Zemo’s mouth making it both better and worse.

“Please Baron.”

“Did you ever think of me when he fucked you?” He asks suddenly curious. "When he licked you like he is now?”

“Sometimes,” You confess still breathless.

Zemo frowns and pulls the leash harder. The muscle of his arm flexes and you hate him when he denies you a climax but he looks so good doing it. Bucky rises up to sitting to stop from being choked.

On even level with Bucky now, Zemo reaches around to grab his wet chin. “You were a good substitute soldat I’ll give you that much… she does seem ready to come, what do you think?”

Bucky gazes down at you licking his lips slowly—tasting, you, smelling you— he’s happier than he’s letting on and you know he’s just thankful for the permission to have your legs wrapped around his neck again. A hint of his own dominance flickers in his eyes. He stares at you with your thighs parted for him, moaning softly as they rock open and shut from wanting more. “Yes Baron. She does.” He says and the way they look, towering over you together with Zemo like a dark shadow behind the tightly wound power of Bucky; you bite your lip and swallow hard so ready to be devoured.

“Go on, finish her off,” Zemo says and gives him the slack needed. He pushes Bucky back down and the wonderfully obedient Sergeant dives back in.

The pause only makes the continuation better and when you see Zemo reach between Bucky’s legs again, you feel, not hear Bucky’s response as a deep, heavy moan that vibrates against you.

Your orgasm is nearly instant.

The rhythmic pressure rises until its inescapable; your voice goes high and your body jerks once with the perfect shock of pleasure, holding tight until you melt into the pulsing release, moaning again and again, thrusting against his face until you are shaking and yes, in the end you say his name. Just as your Baron wants. You breathe it, gasp it, reach and pull his hair, shoving his face deeper into the throbbing result of his skilled tongue as you smile “James” You sigh releasing him as you sink to the floor with a shiver so happy to have said it.

In the dizzying afterglow — your arm draped over your eyes, your breath shallow, your legs completely useless— you keep your eyes closed until their sloppy kiss breaks the silence.

“And now, you taste like her” Helmut says with a soft laugh against him, followed by the distinct sound Bucky makes when anyone touches him, especially on the underside of his shaft where he’s so sensitive it’s almost cruel— you really do love that sound.

From under lazy half open eyelids, you watch the smooth motion of Zemo’s hand stroking Bucky a few times. His smiling approval has a warm humming tone as the solider grows harder in his hand, and then Zemo kisses Bucky’s cheek, gets up and leaves him throbbing.

You just close your eyes again, still feeling so high.

Helmuts return rouses you and when you manage to open your eyes it’s just in time to see the blindfold come down covering Buckys’.

He goes stiff, alerted and resistant for a moment, but Helmut is there whispering to him in Sokovian to calm him like one would a prize stallion. He takes a knee behind Bucky and gently slides the elastic band further down around the back of his head.

With a look of lust and wonder at the man he gets to have, Helmut smiles and smooths his hands down both of Bucky’s shoulders, kissing the metal one as he slips his hand through the space between his arm and waist to lay it flat against Bucky’s stomach pulling him close.

“Can you feel how hard you make me?” His deep voice sounds needy in Bucky’s ear.

You sit up a bit, somewhat recovered from your climax and watch the way Bucky’s pretty mouth opens, how he doesn’t know what to say, how his powerful form looks both stronger in his bondage and yet so ready to submit.

“Answer me.”

“Yes Baron.” He says, barely audible.

“Are you afraid of this? Of me?”

“No…”

“Good” His eyes peer down at you in the dark “Come” He motions with his free hand, two fingers like he does inside of you, “Take him to the bed.”

You stand slowly, accepting Bucky’s leash, raising it high as it can only be done from the back and pull him up. For a moment you feel every ounce of control and power that Zemo must, then you take his hand and lead the man along.

“We’re at the bed” You say and lay his hand down letting him feel it. Bucky’s not so timid as you might be without your sight and you’ve been in his position many times before, but you can feel him being careful as he follows you onto the cool bedding.

“On your back” Zemo tells you not far behind.

You crawl up to the pillows and turn over.

“Legs open, he’ll find you.” Zemo says with confidence in Bucky.

“Go to her James.” He says, his eyes flitting from you to Bucky’s profile and along the length of his beautiful form.

For a second you don’t think he will, but he does in fact make his way to you and quite easily. Super heroes— you grin and roll your eyes. Bucky finds your foot and you flinch, giggling from the tickle. He smiles too and gently grabs your ankle, smoothing his hand up to your knee, his fingers reaching and then closing over the curve as he waits to be told what to do with his head tilted ever so slightly as he listens for Zemo’s voice.

Watching from the edge of the bed, Zemo looks distant and detached in a way that sends a chill down your back but you don’t mind, there’s something thrilling in the voyeuristic nature of it. “You may break rule three.” He finally says.

With a soft gasp of surprise you stare at Helmut a little shocked to hear him say it. Bucky however does not need to be told twice.

He parts your knees and you suck in your bottom lip watching the White Wolf hover over you.

His silhouette is stunning. Just long curving lines of tense muscle and power and that vibranium shining black and gold, reflecting the moonlight from the large windows.

Both his hands move up to your thighs before you can stop him and you hiss from the pain— a reminder of Helmuts earlier punishment. Bucky loosens his grip instantly choosing instead to slide his metal arm under your hips, pulling you down flat onto the bed. You look down between your bodies and see him so hard and so ready that he’s making you eager for it in spite of already feeling spent. He however could go all night.

Bucky lifts your ass while lowering his own to blindly find and spear you without hesitation.

You gasp like the air has been knocked from your lungs. Your fingers dig into the flesh of his shoulder and neck and his open mouth finds yours as he starts to thrust, punching his hips forward. Your loud, awful cries are muffled by his deep kiss. He’s been craving you since the last time and it shows.

“She feels so good after she comes.” Helmut says now on the bed with you. “Theres nothing quite like it” He’s close, you hear him just over Bucky’s shoulder but your eyes stay shut.

“Yes” Bucky exhales in your ear holding you so tight. “She feels incredible” He moans.

“So do you.” Helmut says, and you let your eyes open to find him beside you. He’s watching with the hard look of a man who loves as much as he wants to destroy. It makes you smile before you look away just as Bucky jerks his hips forward drawing a loud cry from you. “Don’t stop James. Whatever you feel, don’t stop,” Helmut says, his voice fading.

You slide your head over a little and see him behind Bucky running his hand down the man’s back. He then reaches back and you hear the snap of a bottle but you can’t see so you close your eyes to listen.

“Don’t stop.” Helmut mumbles again.

Bucky disobeys almost instantly. The leash is pulled. The smack to his ass is loud. He starts again and you smile, loving the feel of his ordered thrusting, though it is hesitant. He lets go of you and reaches up, running his fingers over the black satin that blinds him like he might take it off but thinks better of it and keeps fucking you instead.

“You’ve had this before.” Helmut says assuring him that it’s nothing new.

Bucky groans a little slowly grinding against you though he turns his head to the side. “You’ll make me come.” He says, his jaw clenched, voice deep and harsh in warning as he licks his lips, pressing them tight with a tense moan.

“Not yet.”

You stroke his hair where it’s very short at the nape of his neck and nip at his ear, “Don’t come” You say softly and he turns back to you, the tension easing in his shoulders a little as he fucks you just a bit faster.

“Slowly.” Helmut tells him and Bucky moves his hand in close to touch your face, his thumb stroking your cheek. You kiss it and lay your own hand over his, letting him feel your smile as you moan from the way he moves. “Like before, yes?” Helmut says.

“Mmhm” He agrees.

”Just like before so that you will know what to expect, even when it’s not the same” Helmut says softly and you open your eyes. Bucky turns his head left to right, curious, excited and nervous. He opens his mouth and you stare at it, hypnotized by the way he expresses every second of what he feels. He bites down on his lip but lets go just as quickly with a gasp, a moan, a sharp hiss and you feel his cock twitch inside of you.

That, must have been two fingers.

He takes it though, and turns back to you slowly, cautiously starting to draw back and push forward again enjoying the stimulation that will make what comes next easier.

“Are you okay?” You whisper through your own shallow breathing as you kiss along his collar bone and run your fingers down his arms.

“Yes” He damn near growls and kisses you hard.

Lost in the feel of his perfect lips and thick cock, just as he starts to find the perfect rhythm, you’re taken by surprise when you feel Bucky groan deeply. He pulls away, turning his head again and even through the blindfold you can see his deep frown.

With one hand firm on Bucky’s side, his fingers pressing deep into his ribs, the Baron’s words melt into Sokovian and his eyes close. You aren’t sure at first, not until you see his right hand on Bucky’s back pushing down just a little and Bucky’s thrust stop completely— not because he’s been told to. Then you know.

The sound, god that soft, unmistakable sound of being taken fills the room and for once it’s not coming from you.

You hold your own breath and reach up cradling his face. You want to look into his eyes but the blindfold was put there by the man you both obey and you think you understand why. It has him so keyed into every touch, it’s heightened even the lightest sensation, that you wonder if it’s fair, it must be so intense, but it’s already happening. And you realize that as good as Bucky still feels inside of you the fact that Helmut is almost inside of him nearly pushes you over the edge.

With his hands tight on Bucky’s waist, you listen to Helmut moan deeply as he pushes past the resistance to smoothly but very slowly, inch by inch, fill him.

Bucky is loud in your ear, louder than you thought he would be and you smile holding him tight until he sighs sounding somehow both relieved and overwhelmed.

“It’s done.” Helmut says between tight breaths leaning over him, “Are you all right?”

Bucky nods against you.

With his cock finally sheathed and the two people he loves beneath him, you get a taste of what the future holds as the Baron starts to, in a sense, fuck you both.

Helmut pulls back. You can tell because Bucky shakes his head in protest, just a little. He pushes up between you like he might want to stop but you stroke his face and bring him back down showering him with kisses until your tongues are playfully rolling along and he seems to be reminded of how good it feels to be buried in your tight walls with you flexing and pulsing around him, so that when Helmut thrust back into him again you both moan together.

He pulls from your lips mouthing “Oh… fuck” with a stuttered breath and if he’d said it, it would have been a shout.

It’s enough to make you moan again beneath them and for a second you close your eyes just letting it happen to you instead of being a part of it until his tone changes and you think maybe its to much…

Helmut pulls the leash and brings Bucky up somewhere halfway between the two of you. “Are you all right?” He asks again reaching to turn Bucky’s face to profile, letting his lips brush his ear. Bucky flashes a breathy smile and nods reaching back, his cold fingers spreading across the top of Helmuts thigh. “Yes.” He manages.

Helmut smiles then, thrusting slowly up and in, laying his head on Bucky’s shoulder to make them moan together and the resulting slow return of Bucky's cock into you makes you join them.

Helmut lays a slow line of kisses across his neck, towards his shoulder, one hand curved over the black and gold, the other snaked around his waist and against his solid stomach as he controls himself, fucking him just a little faster now.

Bucky is as noisy as you are. He hisses when Helmut draws back, his fingers gripping harder on the top of the Baron’s thigh. Zemo unwraps the leash from around his hand and pushes Bucky back down wanting to see you both again.

You moan at the feel of him deeper inside of you, but look beyond Bucky to Helmut; he’s so beautiful with his brow furrowed as he fucks. He looks down at you, legs spread, pussy filled with another man’s cock. He loves it and reaches for you and you for him, your fingers finding one another to interlace. He looks deep into your eyes, his gaze fixed and he refuses to break the link between you even as he bluntly thrust into Bucky until any notion of his “first time” is completely destroyed. Bucky so perfectly becomes this submissive, moaning mess between you.

“Please,” He gasps, your fingers tracing his collar as he raises up “Please, I can’t hold back.”

Helmut just leans over him sighing against his back, holding him tight.

“It’s too much” Bucky says and you try not to moan but the weight of Helmut pushes Him into you and he feels so good.

“Do you want me to come?” Helmut asks sitting up.

“Yes” Bucky answers.”

“And would you like to come?”

“Yes. Please!” He pleads.

Helmut smiles at you, quickly taking your hand to kiss your fingers before letting go and grabbing Bucky’s waist to hold him down. He draws back and snaps his hips forward making the man truly cry out for the first time and you wrap your arms around his neck feeling yourself pulse. You try to hold back too.

Helmut moans deeply enough to get your attention but when you open your eyes and see the look on his face, you know it’s not over yet.

“Beg.” He demands

“Please.” Bucky says in your arms.

“Louder.”

“Please may I come.”

Helmut leans down, his cock drawing back and out, Bucky’s head raising as he does his mouth open looking anxious.

“Louder.” He shoves forward again driving into him which pushes him deeper into you and you press your forehead into his his chest as Bucky nearly cries into the pillow.

“Please Baron.” He actually begs. “Please, I can’t take it… I can’t take more.” And you can hear it in his voice, he’s not talking about the denial.

“Yes.” Zemo exhales in his ear. “Yes come.”

Bucky pushes up showing just a fraction of his strength, and you truly don’t know who is fucking who harder.

Someone has taken hold of your ankles, some else is pushing down on your knees. Bucky’s body flexes and he thrust deep, pushed further by Zemo. He moans through a clenched jaw going stiff before the pulse and warm rush which sends you over the edge with your own climax and you gasp as you cling to him wondering if you’ll always come together now.

The familiar sound of Helmut sighing loudly and breathing hard tells you that he’s only a second behind the two of you. You wish you could touch him…

Bucky is very still as it happens. You watch him openly accept Helmut’s warm ropes of come. You watch him feel exactly what you do right now, what you have countless times— that explosive finalization of being claimed by the man who dominates you so perfectly.

And when the heavy breathing slows, when everyone calms a bit, when you all start to ease back and away— it’s over.

“Bucky” You whisper.

He turns his head towards your voice and knows the tone. Its how you say his name when you’re worried. He smiles a little and leans down to kiss you lightly. Good. He’s not broken.

But maybe you are…

You can’t move, you don’t even want to try, you just wait until the layers of bodies fall away and the cool bedroom air hits your skin and slowly, scared to know what shape your lower half is in, you close your legs, feeling the deep ache in your hips. Your body is spent.

Time passes slowly before you move again and when you do, you prop yourself up onto your elbow somewhat surprised to find Helmut beside you and not Bucky. He’s on the other side lying on his stomach.

The blindfold is on the pillow and his eyes are open. His unfocused gaze seems a little shaken but at least he’s smiling.

“Did we hurt you?” He asks blinking and glancing up when he notices you staring.

Still the damn hero. After all that. “No Bucky.” You smile and roll your eyes laying back down, curling up beside the Baron who rubs your thigh. “You didn’t hurt me.”

You sigh deeply and let your mind go blank closing your eyes again, welcoming the calming silence.

**

“James” You hear from the edge of the bed.

You must have fallen asleep.

You think Bucky might have too, but you can’t tell. He looks down and Helmut motions for him.

He’s moving slow, rubbing his eyes, groaning as he twists onto his back, but Bucky does finally go and sit beside him.

Helmut motions for him to lower his head which he does and gently he unclips the leash and takes the collar from around his neck, pulling it free.

Bucky raises his head looking into those soft brown eyes for a while, the unspoken affection enough for a moment until he slowly folds into the Baron’s arms.

You turn onto your back wincing from all of your aches listening to their softly spoken words some of which are so low that you can’t make out exactly what they’re saying and that’s okay— but what you can hear is everything it should be.

“Not always.” Zemo is saying in answer to a question you missed. His arm is still around Bucky’s shoulders. “Whatever you want is what I’ll give you. You know my nature and I know yours but, never forget my many sides James.” He teases calling back to the earlier conversation.

Bucky sits up “I haven’t. And like I said. I want— well all of it— everything. You. Her.” He looks back over his shoulder and you smile at one another as he reaches back and strokes his hand down the curving arch of your foot.

Bucky looks back at Helmut and sighs. “I thought I knew how it would be… I had no idea.” He says still processing everything thats just happened.

Helmut looks at him and your heart aches with love as you’re sure his does. Bucky is the oldest person in the room with so much to learn. “It’s late, and if we keep on I’ll start getting emotional, I think Whitney Houston has a song about it and she’ll start fucking, dancing again” He tosses a nod in your direction like he just doesn’t know what to do with you.

You laugh from the pillows “Hey!”

“Go on,” Zemo says smiling “Get cleaned up and I’ll send her in after you.”

Bucky nods happily accepting a firm but quick kiss. “Yes Baron” He says with a hint of sarcasm. The submission is fading to the confines of the collar for now and Helmut watches him get up and walk away, with only the slightest change in his gait.

When he says your name you take Bucky’s place and bend your head letting Helmut remove your collar next. He unbuckles it and slides it off, dropping it to the bed; rubbing your neck, kissing where the buckle was. “Now lie back, let me see the rest” He says softly.

You don’t know what he means, but you do anyway.

Helmut bends over you and kisses the now dull, nearly forgotten marks left behind from the leash, but you still flinch. “I don’t mind when you dance, not in the least.” He confesses against your skin and you shut your eyes smiling. Oh. “You dance as much as you want to” He kisses the other leg tracing the fading lines towards your inner thigh. “When you want to and how you want to. So long as you know I’ll probably always find a reason to punish you” He says squeezing your hip, making you laugh. He pulls himself up coming closer and lets his chin rest on your stomach for a second. Helmut looks up at you and sighs rubbing your stomach with his hand flat. “You know that I love you? You— feel it?”

Your heart flutters with an unexpected rush of so many things. You know why he’s asking. A lot of this has been about Bucky, so now Zemo is checking in, making sure you still feel seen —Your dear, wonderful Baron.

You stroke his hair back lost in the clear brown gaze. “I need you to know, to always know.” He sits up sliding close along the edge of the bed so that he can look down at your face as a stream of Sokovian words tumble from his lips, his deep voice laying over your naked body like a blanket. “It’s clear this relationship involves three people and I may share my heart with him, but my love for you is no less. If anything I’m thankful to have a woman like you,” He pauses to lay his hand to your face, the heat of his palm against your cheek feels calming. “Someone capable of bringing the three of us together, no one else could have made this happen, just you.”

“Me?” You ask looking up at him leaning against his touch just a little more.

He nods “Yes, of course. Don’t be modest.” Helmut says stroking your cheek. “I may have loved him first, but you reminded me that it was safe to feel that way in the first place after everything… and to say the words out loud” You can see him thinking back, probably to the night you first declared your true feelings for him as only you would, and it makes him laugh softly. “I loved him first, but you were and are the one I need, so that I may love without fear.”

You feel that sunlight on your face, that warmth that only comes when Baron Zemo looks at you. Sometimes you feel like you will burn too bright from the heat of it; like a struck match. Sometimes you fear you will burn to ash…

You shut your eyes. Anything to break the spell.

He says your name softly and you open them a little embarrassed to find tears blurring your vision. Helmut wipes the stream that falls before you can stop them from falling down the side of your face with the back of his hand and bends to kiss you gently.

He pulls you up to sitting keeping you close.

“Thank you.” You say in his arms. He nods as he looks you over, like he’s looking to make sure you have no physical injuries he needs to care for and brushes a lash from your cheek before smoothing another tear with his thumb.

“No more tears. Go and get cleaned up, yes? You look tired, I was hard on you again."

You laugh hanging your head. “Both of us.”

He joins the laughter rubbing your back inhaling deeply through his teeth, the memories of tonight so good they hurt. “You don’t know; you have know no idea what it’s like to see the two of you…” You lean to the side to see his face clearly, “When you’re both beneath me, and you look small enough to break and he looks like a god” He smiles, a warm laugh mixed with a breath “And you’re both mine.” His smile fades into a look more serious. “And I am yours.”

You’re hopelessly in love with this man and lean in kissing him until you both feel the possibility of it becoming more which really should not physically happen, so you pull away.

“Go on.” He says tapping your leg. “Go and get clean and then come to bed.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll use the smaller bathroom across the hall”

”Okay, I’ll make sure Bucky’s okay too” You add and he smiles but looks up towards the door like he’s suddenly very worried “I’m sure he’s fine.”

You get up but stop and turn back to find him just sitting there looking off, lost in his thoughts. “Helmut?”

“Yes?” He looks at you, the shadows along his face making the sharp angles so pretty.

“Did you think you’d end up loving us both?” You ask and you can see that your question has surprised him.

He looks past you to the bathroom door again listening to the running water of the shower, then back at you for some time before finally answering. “I didn’t think I would give myself the chance.” He says and flashes a smile, the truth surprising even him. “Luckily I don’t always listen to the voices in my head.”

Authors Notes: I'm busy working on the final parts of this story as I've been learning how to work Tumblr thanks to the ever patient, ever wonderful, ever amazing @natbarnes1917 who is basically the best human alive and you should all go and read all of her stuff because it will make your day infinitely better. Thanks for your support and help bestie! and for encouraging me to never delete a single smut scene because why have one bj when you can have two!

[pixie-cocaine]

Down A Peg

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Businessman!Brat!Jinyoung × Dominatrix! Reader

Warnings: Pegging, slight mistress kink, dirty talk, Jinyoung cries lol, pretty harsh punishment (rough caning. don't worry tho, the after care makes up for it. Probably.), mentions of breaking skin from caning wounds and bruising 😬, slapping, hair-pulling, strapjob, fingering (m receiving), nipple play, degradation, just pure filth man 💀

Requested: months ago, but yes

Note: Jinyoung has a key at some point and it disappears, but you're not gonna say shit about it. Also it gets lazy near the end, excuse the grammar mistakes.

Word Count: 6.3K (pls don't let this flop, I am exhausted 🤩)

The last thing Jinyoung thought he’d be doing, was going to a professional Dominatrix session. If anyone had even dare mentioned the idea, say a month beforehand, he’d give them the nastiest grimace manageable and avoid them like the plague, not that he didn’t do that to anyone who tried to weasle their way into his private life anyways. It made even his own subconcious howl with laughter at the position Jinyoung had put himself in now.

So much for trying to s tay away, huh?

He didn’t even think something like this could happen. Hell, one minute he was filing more stacks of papers as his assistant talked his ear off, which he had vehemently told her not to do, and the next he found himself bored, and scrolling through a Domme website the night that followed.

But here he was; standing outside the neat black building with his phone in one hand, and a hand cupped in his pockets as he raised an eyebrow before going in. Past the glass doors, he found his surroundings consiting with soft shades of brown. A mahogony reception desk sat to the front of him against a wall, a long hallway next to the desk, and neutral white lights giving the atmosphere a professional look. His legs moved on their own accord while he focused on stabalizing his breathing, not used to the clamminess now making his palms sweat against his sides, and before he knew it, he was standing at the front of the office. 

A woman in her early-to-mid twenties sat before him, smile sweet and chestnut brown hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. Her eyes were soft, almost inquisitive as they assessed Jinyoung’s appearance and outfit, which consisted of a beige turtleneck and black dress pants. She seemed pleased with the effort he put into his looks if her satisfied hum was anything to go by. 

“Hello, are you here for an appointment?”

Her voice was cheery, like the chime of a bell, and her face beamed with a radiance that Jinyoung wouldn’t think someone who worked in her place of job would exude. He cleared his throat, “I am, yes.”

“Your name?”

“Park Jinyoung,” she nodded and typed something into the computer to her left.

“And your mistress for the night is Madame Black, correct?”

Jinyoung felt odd with how casual this was going. He’d expected.. something else? No, that was a lie一Jinyoung didn’t know what he expected. Maybe a bad experience, he guesses. He just wasn’t used to the way this was such an open transaction, as if he was going to the doctor’s for a checkup or something. It left him confused as he thought of a couple of his previous encounters with people he trusted on his sex life. The way they scrunched their faces in a disapproving frown when he said he wanted to try subbing, only to backpedal at his embarrasment. The rest just flat out didn't know what they were doing. It was almost laughable how little they knew. But this... This seemed like a whole new ballgame.

“Yeah,” He shook his head in confirmation, the sudden movement making him look like an overenthusiastic dog. The woman laughed at the new show of excitement and leant over the console so she could murmur to him despite the space being completely empty, save for both of them, of course. 

“Third door down the hall, you’ll know it’s hers when just standing outside of it makes you wanna piss your pants. Don’t forget to change into one of the robes in the room just to your left. Oh! And just a heads up, Jinyoung,” She smiles with a mischevious glint in her eye and reaches out to drop a black key into his awaiting hand, “She may seem nice, but Madame is not one who tolerates brats. Do go in with the knowledge that she’s not afraid to bite.”

Jinyoung raises a brow at her tease, but smiles back at her nonetheless, "Who says I'm afraid of being bitten?"

With a jerk of his head in what he hoped was a nod, he fought not to not scurry down the hall in his newfound anticipation, smirking to himself at the knowing face of the desk worker. 

Jinyoung was jittery with each step that brung him closer to his destination, which now stand a couple feet from him, the deep ebony-shaded door looming with a question that made Jinyoung have second thoughts despite thinking it through for hours; ‘Can I handle what’s behind this door?’

Jinyoung rakes a shaky hand through his hair, trying to take deep breaths as he pushes the cold metal of the key into the lock, twisting it to the right until he hears the telltale Click! Of the latches unslotting while he turns the handle and pushes the inlet open, taking a moment to survey the room before him, then kicks the door closed after he steps inside. Of course he can. If the voice in the back of his head said anything, it probably wouldn’t even be a good experience much different to the other ‘dom’s’ he’s had sex with.

Almost immediately, the tart scent of lavender wafts into his nose. The room was spacious, dimly lit by the soft golden glow of candles occupying the corners which cast shadows across the silky wine carpet, and the delicate shades of a peachy pink had consisted of the walls surrounding him. A king-sized bed with fluffy red covers sat against the back wall, a plush pink chair facing it, and you perch right at the bottom of the bed. Jinyoung feels his heart shake at the sight of you.

Just the way you sit with your legs crossed over one another had his cock stirring behind the silk black robe that curtains his naked frame. You wear a gorgeous tan lingerie set, the top is a thin see-through camisole which stops just above the curve of your upper stomach, displaying the supple mounds of your breasts over a sheen of lace, and the bottoms are a simple high-arch panty, the same fabric and look of the top, but with a skirt-like covering which flutters around the curves of your hips whenever you move. The fact that the set shown your bare body in such a delicate show of wispy materials was what made Jinyoung even more worked up. Your position was relaxed as you sat, holding a glass of champagne, and you cocked your head to the side slightly upon Jinyoung’s arrival. You offer a smile.

“Why hello there!” You gleam, and at the sheer enthusiam which you eminate, Jinyoung finds himself mirroring the smile without his own accord. Something about you just dusts away all of Jinyoung’s previous nerves.

“Hey,” Jinyoung sifts through his head to find the right words, “Madame Black?”

You giggle at the way he says it, obviously giving away that he wasn’t fully aware of what he was about to get himself into, “Yes, that’s me. You must be Park Jinyoung, I’m assuming?”

A nod was your answer.

"Don't be shy, take a seat," you nod towards the chair before you, and Jinyoung obliges, smiling at you as he goes to sit himself down in front of you.

"First of all, I would like to discuss boundaries, even if I’ve already gone over the form you filled out," you begin with a wink, "what’s your opinion on rimming and ass-play in general?”

Jinyoung feels his eyes bug out slightly at the way you so seamlessly jump into it. Shameless, aren’t you? But he isn’t complaining.

He clears his throat and, suddenly unable to look you in the eye, settles his gaze on his lap as if it were the most interesting thing in the world, “I’ve dabbled in it by myself but never really experienced proper ass-play things with somebody else,” mustering up his courage to flick his eyes back to yours, he smirks, “I’d like to try it with you if possible.”

You nod, “how about being rough with you? Hair-pulling, slapping, throat-fucking, etcetera?”

He seems to strongly approve if the fast dipping of his head means anything, and if that weren’t enough to give you a gist to how much he liked the idea, he isn’t afraid to say so.

“Anything that will leave me sore, I’m completely into. I like seeing the after effects.”

“Cum-eating and degradation?”

“Very eager to try.”

“Alright, anything else you’d like to add into the mix?”

Jinyoung muses, then shakes his head, to which you hum at. 

“Now, Jinyoung, I’m going to ask you a question, and you’re going to answer with a very well thought-out response,” you raise an eyebrow at the brunette, eyeing him down like the first meal you’d seen in days, “Are you sure you want to do this?

Jinyoung can feel his heart thrum against his ribcage, like the hard beat of a drum, when he hears your words. You were definitely experienced in this, even someone with half a brain could tell. He could feel his lips stretch into a smile, an idea coming to mind as you gently set your champagne glass on the floor a couple steps away from your feet, then sit back up to cock your head to the side. 

“If I’m being honest, Madame,” He scorns the name out, mocking your authority, “I don’t think you’ll be any better than the self-proclaimed ‘dom’s’ that I’ve been with.”

"Huh."

"I mean—look at what you're wearing—how am I supposed to believe that this is a dominatrix scene and not a sub session where I can easily just knock you around?"

Wow.

You can’t quite bite back the loud, boisterous peals of laughter that bubble up frrom your chest fast enough when you finally register his words after staring at him for a couple seconds, vacantly blinking at the brunette and trying to figure out if you heard him right. You wipe a tear from your eye, still tittering, “And what makes you think that just because I'm wearing delicate and frilly lingerie doesn't mean I can't fuck your guts out, Mr. Jinyoung the powerful CEO?”

Jinyoung frowns, “How do you know that I’m a CEO?”

God, this was getting more interesting by the moment.

Shaking your head, you rake your eyes up the sultry expose of his hardened calves and legs, slowly meeting his eyes once more, and grinning as you do so, “You must think I’m dumb. You act like that smug little face of yours isn’t plastered all over the city. Regardless..,” You lean forward, "Yes or no, Jinyoung? I promise, I'm well worth the money."

Jinyoung thinks for a moment, still in shock from the mention of his job, even if he already knows his answer before he says it. This was his chance to experience what he'd always wanted. Maybe. You already knew his kinks due to the form he had to fill out, as well as the little transaction, so he had no doubt that you knew which buttons to press, but he wanted to know if you could take him beyond his limits like he's always hoped for. If you knew how to press those buttons just right, or if you were just another let-down with a more professional look and platform. This was it, and he was going to make you work him over as much as you could.

"Yes, I'm sure I want to do this."

Jinyoung feels a shudder wrack his shoulders at how smoothly your facade transitioned to one of pure intimidation and stony expressions. The smile that once graced your seemingly sweet attributes was now wiped away and replaced with a carefully adept mask of indifference.

You keep his stare whilst you bend down to retrieve a big, black wooden box from beneath the bed, setting it beside you as you stand from your spot and lift the lid from the case to pull out a leather clasping, as well as a thick and textured blue dildo which was, admittedly, one of your biggest straps. You look to Jinyoung as you began attaching the proper clippings and belts in order to fasten it around your hips.

“On your knees.”

Taking his bottom lip between his teeth, Jinyoung slowly pushes himself away from the chair and sinks down to his knees, mouth watering at the authority in your tone of voice, and blood beginning to heat underneath his skin as you secure the harness and move to close the distance between the both of you. Deft fingers trace the sharp lining of Jinyoung’s jaw, trailing a line to the dip of his chin before taking it between your thumb and forefinger with a force that worries the bone slightly. 

He's pretty, you think. One of the prettiest men that have ever occupied your time as a dominatrix, with full lips and features that would deem him model-worthy. You smile. You would have fun making a mess of him.

“Safeword?”

Jinyoung is taken aback for a moment, allegedly in a daze to the golden view from below you. “Hm... 'Promotion'?" He smiles at his own small joke.

You hum, grabbing the ribbed silicone that stare back at Jinyoung, and pressing the tip to the seam of his mouth with short, prodding impels.

“Open,” you murmur.

He obeys, albeit after frowning slightly; letting his lips part to engulf the width of your strap, wasting no time in stooping his head lower so he could stop midway on your cock, his throat constricting around the foreign object now lodged in his passage. You moan down at him with a hand raking through the soft tresses of his hair in appreciation at his eagerness. 

“Suck.”

And he does.

Jinyoung started out strong at first; bobbing his head as he craned his neck this way and that to really go in on you without hesitation, hollowing his cheeks and looking up at you with a determinbed look, but after a while of swallowing your cock like he had one chance to impress you, he makes a rasping sound in the back of his throat, vaguely like the creaking of bed springs, followed by a lewd slurping noise before he goes to pull away. You catch the back of his head with a hand, raising an eyebrow as you shove him back down to where he’d stopped previous.

Jinyoung gags, a beautiful, surprised chuck of sound that makes you sigh at the way he sought for purchase at your thighs, a poor attempt to steady himself when you were already pulling back to drive your cock back down his throat with a fist-full of his hair. A range of noises that originate from Jinyoung bounce off the walls of the room, mostly different variations of kecks and physical strains on his trachea, but some being choked-off whimpers and half-strangled gasps of which he could actually get in between you fucking into his face and withdrawing. 

You finally slow your pace to more shallow strokes, and looking past the pretty shine of Jinyoung’s now tear-stained face, you can see the tent in the flap of his robe. You favor him with a devilish grin, one that he sadly can’t see due to staring down at where you had your cock in his mouth.

“Look at me, whore,” the stern demand comes out in a throaty growl as you use your hand, still laced within the damp tresses of his hair, to yank his head back and up at you, resulting in both a muffled yelp and the back of Jinyoung’s neck popping at the sudden movement.

The sight was immoral in every sense of the word. His swollen lips, which were wrapped around the pink cock strapped to your hips, were left hanging open with obvious smears of glistening drool, still seeping from the corners, his cheeks streaked over with it in some places and mixing the stream of drying tears falling from his wide eyes. You can hear him begin to gag around the strap, considering he is shoved down to the hilt, but you only push his head down and keep him there. Instead, staring in amusement at the way he sputters and coughs, wanting to savor how his face begins to turn a lovely shade of red. When you are certain he can’t breathe, you pull him off and let him drink in desperate gulps of much needed air, the soft peach color returning to his face when his lungs begin to relax. 

Stunning, you think.

Jinyoung gasps when you force him up to his feet by his hair, practically stumbling when you turn the two of you around so you can then proceed to to shove him onto the bed, ignoring the groan of the springs due to the impact. His head is a mess from the influxion of air he experiences. Only the ache between his legs keeping Jinyoung tied to this world as he softly pants, laying on his forearms with glossy eyes locked on yours and how you follow suit; crawling onto the bed and taking place hovering right over him. Jinyoung moans lowly when you lean in to press open-mouthed kisses, hot and wet, against his jawline, your hand snaking down the expanse of his hidden body to pull at the tied robe sash, and you treat yourself with a peek down at how it falls open to reveal everything he had to offer. Smoothing your fingers along the breathtaking show of defined muscle and healthy flesh, you curse.

“Of course such a little brat would have a fantastic body...”

Jinyoung lets out a complacent laugh at your subtle annoyance. He knows he has a good body, and he knows he's attractive, which makes you all the more irritated, considering he is perfect in every way, and you have no doubt in your mind that he uses it to get what he wants. 

“You sure are taking your time,” He gripes out, hoping to stir your anger.

You snicker at him, and without thinking too much of it, strike him across the face, not waiting for his head to fully turn to the left before you grab his cheeks, force him back to you, and slap him again. 

Once. Twice. Three times.

You feel his cock twitch against your thigh, and his mouth parts in pleased shock as he breathes.

“Say it again, bitch"

"I said, you sure are taking your—Ah!"

He's momentarily shocked into silence when you immediately shove your hands under his waist to hoist Jinyoung's legs behind his head, essentially folding him in half and displaying his exposed bottom, which is just as gorgeous as everything else about him. That's saying something, because an asshole, dick, and balls shouldn't even be in the same sentence as 'gorgeous.'

Jinyoung doesn't have time to protest, because as soon as he opens his mouth to fuss, he feels a strong, harsh slap land right on his hole. He yelps, kicking his feet out the best he can until he cries out again upon registering the next three smacks that rain down on the same spot.

"Rude, rude, boy. Has nobody ever taught you that you shouldn't speak back to your Mistress?" You growl, blowing cool air over his fluttering rim before patting his ass gently, "Stay like this or else I'm shoving an inflatable plug up your ass and stretching you until you rip."

Shaky and wanting, Jinyoung let's out a breath, doing as you say and hooking his hands into the back of his knees in order to press down and stay in said position. It unfortunately does put a strain on his lower back, but as much as he likes punishment, he's not betting on having his poor butt mercilessly torn open like you promised.

"What's your favorite color?"

The question half-startles him, "Red...?"

"Good choice," You chirp, and like that, you're holding his legs in place again; dangling a bottle of reddish-tinted lube over him as you happily squirt the cool gel onto his hole and two of your fingers. You tease him—gently running your hand up the soft skin of his left leg whilst you push the pad of your digit against his entrance, letting it breach slightly before pulling back to do it again.

"Tell me you want it."

He groans, "I want it..."

"Yeah?" You lie your cheek on his thigh, staring down at him with narrowed eyes. You love how exposed he is right now. Vulnerable to your gaze, and letting you touch him in such lewd ways. You always liked these parts of your sessions—where you could see the raw arousal in their faces. Letting your hand slide from Jinyoung's thigh to his cock, you begin simultaneously stroking him and, finally, pushing your fingers into his ass. He suddenly jerks upwards the best he really can with his legs behind his head, and you already know that both the sensations combined feel odd for him.

"Does it hurt?" You ask, half-wanting him to say it does so you can see the look on his face when you add another finger. But he doesn't, thankfully, and you whisk away the sadistic thoughts that you don't really want there. Instead, he shakes his head with a weak noise of slight discomfort.

"It doesn't hurt, but it feels... Weird?" Jinyoung doesn't seem so sure of himself when he actually says the words out loud. The confused frown knitting his eyebrows together mimes that of someone who was deciding on whether they liked something or not.

"Mm. Give it a minute."

And he does. He breathes heavily at the still-going stimulation to his cock, furrowing his brows everytime you move your fingers in a strange way as you try and find a pace, then, like clockwork as your digits graze upwards of his walls, he gasps, loud and surprised.

"Oh? Did I find it?" You grin, raising an eyebrow whilst continuing to abuse that spot inside of him. You revel in the way he moans. It's actually very melodical, everytime he reaches a high note it sounds like he's about to start singing, and it catches you off-guard when he keens before letting his lower body fall against the bed.

You tsk and shrug, "I was gonna be nice but it looks like you're just itching for punishment."

"Well what the hell did you expect when you put me in a painful position like-"

Thwap!

You give him another good slap to the face, then, almost too aggressively, force him to the edge of the bed so you can bend him over.

"Don't look at me, keep your eyes on the floor or I'll make it worse," you murmur, and with a mischievous smile, you walk over to the large black closet to the side of your bed. You can hear Jinyoung's heavy breathing reverberating throughout the room the entire time it takes to fetch your trusty cane and take position back behind Jinyoung.

The cane is long, about the height of a relatively high-standing desk, and decorated with accents of blood red while the rest is tinted a ravishing mulberry purple. It's thick at the top which makes it easy to hold onto, and it begins to slight as it reaches the the tip, which is skinny and carefully rounded.

"So, here's what we're gonna do," you begin, running your fingers up and down the polished rattan, "I am going to hit you with this cane as hard as I can, and you are going to count each and every stroke that I put on your thighs and backside. Do you hear me?"

Jinyoung sucks in a breath, but nods his head nonetheless.

"Come on, you know better. I need you to say it."

"Yes, I hear you."

"Hear you, what?" You lean forward to whisper into the shell of his ear, enjoying the way he lets out a small whimper and pushes his ass back against you.

"Yes, I hear you, Mistress..."

"Good Boy. Now, spread your legs a bit, and when you feel the cane, begin counting."

Jinyoung does as told easily enough; widening the space between his feet until his legs stand out in a small 'v' shape, and waiting in anticipation for you to begin the punishment. He can hear the blood rush in his ears.

Shwoop- thwack!

The pain that surges in a line against both cheeks is nothing short of winding. He thought it'd sting a bit at most but fuck, he had trouble keeping his legs from wobbling.

"One!" He shrills.

Shwoop- thwack!

"Two!"

Shwoop- thwack!

"T-Three!"

It feels like it goes on for forever if he's being honest. It's the same pain, but it gets worse with each swing and cut. It doesn't help that your cane had broken skin and drawn blood every couple strokes to both the backs of his thighs and cheeks, and you kept on hitting the same wounds.

"Twenty... twenty-one.."

"My good boy.. you did so, so well," You all but coo, dropping the cane to the floor with a thud as you lean forward to drape yourself over his back, careful not to make contact with his injuries whilst you trail your fingers between his legs so you can continue stroking his cock, grip loose and barely touching him with each swipe over his shaft.

"It hurts...!" Jinyoung's voice wavers, and you can finally hear the submission in his tone. You like hearing him like this; on the edge of breaking down, sobbing out his pain and pleasure, and all for you.

You smile, tightening your fist around his tip and holding it there just to savor the way he cries out and reaches down to try and stop your administrations, "But you like when it hurts, don't you? You like seeing how bad of a boy you'd been, and you like feeling those repercussions wear off even more, no?"

"N-no..."

"Mistress doesn't like liars, baby. Say you're sorry and maybe I'll make the pain feel better," You hum, only the slightest of touches ghosting against Jinyoung's nipples, butterfly kisses on the back of his ear.

"I'm sorry.. I-I'm sorry..!"

"Move up the bed. Hands and knees, still."

He's crying as he carries out your command, you realise. Tears, shiny, like the first drops of rain, run in flexuous tracks down his cheeks, and a blush dusts the ball of his nose. He makes no noise, but you can see the stutter of his chest and the way his breath hitches everytime he tries to take in a full inhale.

"See what happens when you don't listen to your Mistress? She has to hurt you, and she doesn't quite like hurting you to the point of drawing blood," you sigh and can't help but frown at the marks left on his body, especially the way you can identify the blooming bruises, which range from pretty shades of red to slowly darkening purples. Not to mention the many long cuts that litter just above the bruises.

"I-I'm sorr-sorry," Jinyoung involuntarily hiccups, and the way he reaches back and out for your top, tugging at the hem to get you to come closer, undoubtedly makes your mask slip a bit.

"Don't-.. don't look at me like that.."

But he keeps doing it. He keeps looking at you with those eyes. Those eyes that plead and beg in only the ways that make your body light aflame with desire to see him break completely under your touch.

"Fuck me... Please fuck me," He whispers, still looking at you from over his shoulder and holding onto your camisole.

"I bet you do. You've had that look in your eyes ever since you walked through the door. Don't worry, though. I'll fuck you. I'll fuck you hard enough to make your mind go blank, and I'll fuck you good enough that everytime you touch yourself, you'll wish it was my hands instead of yours," you crawl onto the mattress and keep direct eye contact as you do so. You want him to take in the fire in your eyes, and know that you mean everything you say.

And from the way he whines upon your hand encasing his throat when you take place behind him, lining yourself up with his entrance with your breath hot on the back of his neck, he gets the memo.

"Have you ever had a cock inside you, Jinyoung?"

"Only finger-ers," He gasps out, still catching his breath to make coherent sentences as his crying dies down.

You nod into his shoulder, "We're gonna take this part slow, then, okay? Deep breaths.. I'm pushing inside, now."

The stretch is slow and, admittedly, overwhelming; the way your strap's textured shaft tenses his walls around the thickness of it's outer layers has him clutching and the sheets and making all sorts of noises, from groans to whimpers, from low-tones to high-notes, then finally, you bottom out. Your hips meet the plush skin of his ass, which he yelps at, and you take a moment to massage the column of his neck, trying to get him to relax as much as possible. It is his first time with a dick up his ass, after all, and he'd just taken a brutal punishment with, from the looks of it, painful consequences.

"What's the traffic light say, Jinyoung?"

He knows what it means, and when he's actually asked the question, it sparks a sort of satisfaction in him. He means wow, someone who actually checks in with him during sex and doesn't just do whatever they want without making sure he's ok with it.

"Green. Just go slow, please? It still hurts a bit."

He's surprised when you actually listen to him, and begin pacing yourself slower; careful movements of your hips, barely even registered as thrusts, and soft brushes over the hardness of his nipples once again as a distraction from any lingering uncomfort.

"Is it ok to go faster?"

He nods, and turns his face to the side so he can look at you properly. He looks so good like this; watery eyes and a needy expression painted on his face like glass.

It's then that you find yourself kissing him.

It catches him off-guard, obviously, but he leans into it nonetheless, and damn did you know how to kiss. Your lips were sweet against his, mouth moving in tune with his own and it was quite easy for you to take control of things. One squeeze to his throat and he was putty.

You don't even notice that you're thrusting into him too fast until he grabs at your hip from behind and whines into your mouth, which makes you want to go all the more faster, but you don't. You groan, nibbling his lip before you pull away with a grin, and weave your hand into his hair so you can gently push his face into the covers. His arch is gorgeous. Just like the rest of him, you think.

"Jesus, you're a sight.. you know that?"

From the neat curtain of bangs, you can faintly see Jinyoung smile, "Do you like it?"

"Baby you know I like it," You curse as you smooth a hand down the sultry slope of his back, all muscled and strong yet delicate in a way that you find hard to explain.

He moans, loud and clear for you, "Then show me, mistress. Please?"

'Showing him' would be an understatement of what you did. It was like you were possessed; one moment he was on his hands and knees, looking back at you with that fucking face, and the next, you had him flipped over on his back, drilling into him like your life depends on it. You don't know how long you fuck him, but you know that you were in a daze as you snap back to the present.

It's brutal, the way you pound into him. Rough, animalistic, and downright cruel. He's trying his best to stay tethered to this world, but you make it extremely hard with the way you bull his knees into his own chest and stare at him, long and heavy, with each other's foreheads touching and a hand jerking him off at a rapid speed. He wails and cries out every couple seconds, his voice now strained in his throat and wearing thin like the threads of an old spiderweb.

"Is this what you fucking wanted? Huh? Well here it is so fucking take it, bitch. Take it all and don't you dare waste it or else I swear you'll regret it," You growl, your teeth clenched hard enough to put pressure on your gums as you unhook your arm from under his left knee and instead use it to choke him. He struggles at the lack of blood going to his brain, but nods regardless.

"I-I'm c—oh my god please—I'm cumming! I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna-"

"Then fucking cum, you filthy whore. Do it, all over your stomach. Make Mistress proud, hm? Make her proud of her good little fuck doll, I know you can do it, baby."

Letting go of Jinyoung's throat has more of an effect than you anticipated. The influx of air and blood, paired with his approaching orgasm, quite literally throws him headfirst into his climax. His mouth falls open in a silent scream as he writhes and twitches, spilling white on his lower abdomen, and one shot even glances him on the collarbones.

It's silent for a moment as he catches his breath, still shaking, and that's when you make the decision of discarding your strap-on into the basket near your closet with a single toss. Jinyoung, on the other hand, is on cloud 9. He feels like he's floating in a golden sea of bliss, which clouds of cotton candy hanging overhead, and he barely registers it when he feels your fingers on his body once again.

He looks down, "Hm..?"

"Pfft holy shit, look at you," You bring your palm to your mouth as you giggle at the man's euphoria, "Yeah.. Oh yeah, you're definitely feeling it, huh? Told you I was worth the money."

"No shit. That was... Jesus, that was insane."

"Mm thanks, pretty. Sit still, I'll be right back."

You hop up off the bed with another quick glance at Jinyoung before you disappear behind a misty glass door. While you're doing.. whatever you're doing, Jinyoung takes the time to sit up and try and find a comfortable position because of course it's now that everything finally settles in.

"Ow, fuck!" He hisses at the pain of trying to sit on his ass with all the cuts on it.

"Yeah, about that, put your butt up for a moment?"

He frowns, but upon seeing the tube of ointment in your hand as well as baby wipes and a lollipop, sighs and reluctantly bends over.

"I know, I know, but don't worry, it'll only sting a bit. Also, make sure to apply some Neosporin or disinfectant on the backs of your thighs and bottom until they begin to scab up." You drone on about how to take care of the injuries whilst applying the salve, the basics on how to not exercise while they're still open because the sweat can cause an infection, the usual things. When you're done both rubbing the medicine on him and giving him a jog through cautions, you finally twist the covering on the tube of ointment and reach for the wet wipes before meeting Jinyoung's eyes again.

"Roll on your back, please. Feet up in the air and spread your legs so I can see everything."

"Why?"

"Because," you smile, already nudging him to move into position, "You're all messy. I need to clean you up, don't I? Now come here, I even have a lollipop for you since you did so well."

It's soft how you take care of him, Jinyoung thinks. The mood switch is completely different from what you were like when you were fucking him like you hated him, because now, you're so concerned about whether you're pressing the wipes too hard onto his skin as you swipe the cold sheet between his legs and rear end.

"I'm sorry," you say, slowing down on cleaning him to snort at how hard he sucks on the light green candy, admiring how at peace he looks with the warm expression he wears.

"For what?"

"I probably went a little too hard on you. This was your first actual time with an experienced domme, and I'm afraid that I could've ruined it for future references."

"Oh no, don't feel bad. I liked it."

"You did?" Your eyebrows shoot up.

"Of course. This is probably the best I've felt in literal months."

And he smiles. He smiles genuinely one of the most breathtaking smiles you've ever seen, with a slight fan of creasing around his eyes from the rise of his cheeks, and a laugh like pure beauty. You return it.

"Well, I'm glad I could help, Jinyoung. Now, I think it's about time for you to go, considering the session is officially over, and you most likely have a lot of work in the morning," You wink and stand from your spot on the bed.

Jinyoung allows you to help him back inside his robe, even rub the dried tear tracks off his cheeks, and before he knows it, he's slowly walking away from your assigned room, looking back at you as you stand in the doorway with a hand on your hip.

"Goodbye, Madame Black."

"Goodbye, Mr. CEO. Come again sometime, I'm sure you'd love to be taken down another peg."

[maariarogers]

Thoughts on True Beauty and Why I’m On Team Suho

Ever since the tv show started, I’ve begin thinking and noticing for a while now that, more than anything, I’m more #TeamSuho than I am #TeamSeojun.

And the thought of “why do I think like that?” kept repeating in my head, because, if I’m honest, the casualness that Seojun and Jugyeong shared early in the series (I’m talking webtoon and, truth be told, a bit of the tv series) really struck me as them having a much easier and playful, therefore fun, relationship. Which makes for an interesting dynamic than what Jugyeong had with Suho.

So, here are my thoughts why I think I prefer Suho with Jugyeong towards the end.

To warn, this is, firstly, have nothing against any of the characters or the ships! I’m merely sharing an in-depth analysis of my thoughts on my own view why I prefer Suho with Jugyeong. Secondly, I’ll be referencing a lot of the webtoon rather than the tv series (although I feel like I’d like to spill my thoughts on that soon, so I don’t know if that long analysis of “why I surprisingly find myself enjoy the adaptation more than I thought I would” is coming soon, buuuut yeah, we’ll see) so, please be aware of spoilers.

As reference, I’m currently at Chapter 124 of the English-translated version of True Beauty as I’m writing this, but I am aware of spoilers ahead of the chapters.

Another Warning: This is so long. Oh my god. How did I manage to write it this long? So. There’s that.

Okay. So. What brought this on?

Honestly, it was just the excitement from knowing that True Beauty was airing soon and I was just so interested to see the dynamics the actors were going to play out rather than just seeing the characters across the a page screen in comic strips as I’ve been following them since I stumbled into the webtoon about, yikes, a year ago?

But – more than anything, I just really wanted to see how Suho played out.

1. So, What’s The Deal With Suho?

If I’m honest, I’ve always thought that Suho is laughably (yikes) boring. Not necessarily in a bad way, no! I actually think it’s one of the things that’s made him quite appealing — in ways that, in other settings, I would have actually found him uninteresting and easily passable as a main lead. But not in this particular world.

To add: the Author also referenced this many, many times throughout the webtoon. Quite brilliantly, in fact — specifically, from Sua’s point of view, as she points out quite a few times that, besides from Suho’s looks, “he’s really got nothing going on for him” or that “he’s boring”. (I frickin’ love Sua in both the webtoon and tv show!)

This was also a really important plot device during the Prince of Princes (Did I get this name right? Omg) competition TV show when the influencer (again, I really can’t be bothered with what’s-his-name) actually called Suho out for basically “not trying his best” when everybody else was clearly giving his all. This triggered Suho to actually act outside of his comfort zone and actually wanted to pose for a sexy photoshoot.

I do also honestly think he’s clinically depressed on top of just having had naturally adapted a much calmer composure to compare with an easily expressive Jugyeong and a very charismatic Seojun. But the thing is, the author really made Suho “boring” on purpose — and the best thing is? It works.

Because as much as Suho is “expressionless” — as in, he doesn’t really emote whatever his feelings as honest or as obvious as the other two leads — he can still carry his character well. Like Jugyeong has learned over time, we start to figure out that, oh, Suho has to put his act together because his father’s famous and he doesn’t want to tarnish that reputation. He’s ruthless to admirers because he’s logical about rejecting unwanted advances. He’s surprisingly rigid and slightly cold, but only because he’s used to only have himself as company.

In all honesty, I’m still trying to wrap my head around Suho. I still don’t quite understand why I’m so fascinated by his personality when, if those sort of “dark brooding” tropes were played in other medias, I would have rolled my eyes and rejected it instantly for how much it’s overplayed.

But I didn’t. Not with Suho. 

Perhaps, an angst-lover at heart, his unrequited relationship with Jugyeong really struck with me. His patience when he’s obviously hurting as Jugyeong dismissed their almost-romance, or when Seojun and her were being lovey-dovey in front of him was really incredible. Suho rarely lost his composure, which was quite a feat considering as readers we know he still has lingering feelings towards Jugyeong, and I felt like that spoke volume about his character.

(Besides that, Suho was always so incredibly respectful — not only towards Jugyeong but also towards Seojun. Seojun obviously learned it much later on, but Suho never once carried any ill-intention when he learned Seojun and Jugyeong were together. In fact, again and again, he congratulated and cheered them on, even when we knew later that he feels awful for the lost chances. Still, Suho never acted violently or aggressively. Not once. It was only Seojun who had easily misunderstood him and thus, reacted badly.)

(Although again, that’s so brilliant on the author — because Seojun’s quick-temper is such a staple and big part of what made Seojun Seojun. I’m happy that he acted that way, because that meant his characteristics are consistent from when we first saw him in the webtoon. Of course, that doesn’t mean the temper in and of itself is always good, but — it’s realistic for him.)

2. So, Why Jugyeong and Suho?

Now, this is the part where it gets tricky.

A lot of the fans — some of which are my own friends, and people I knew — abandoned the webtoon because the drama has gotten “tacky” or Jugyeong’s growth has been “stunted” for a few chapters. I can’t say I totally disagree, because I do see there’s quite a lag in the plot, buuuuuuut.... I do feel like the author adds that in on purpose.

Of course! I might be wrong! But hear me out.

I think it’s on purpose because it wants to show the development of Seojun and Jugyeong’s relationship – and why it didn’t work. (Again, anything can happen; I’m only at Ch124, so things might still change for Team Seojun!) Of course, for all those who are aware of the spoilers, the answer was simple: they didn’t work because the agency asked Jugyeong to stop dating Seojun due to his rising status as an idol.

It’s more than that, though.

I’ve also been reading a few comments and some of them pointed out how they thought that Jugyeong has always seemed more relaxed and more playful when she’s with Suho than she is when she’s with Seojun. But... I do have to slightly disagree. Only slightly. Because, if we review the arc during their high school when Jugyeong liked Suho, she was obviously more comfortable and were able to tease and be more playful with Seojun — but she was a little guarded with Suho, which was understandable. She didn’t want to look bad in front of her crush.

I’ve always felt a little threatened at this point because, man, Seojun and Jugyeong’s chemistry was so, so good during this arc. I love Seojun, I really do. He is such a nice and considerate man in ways that I really didn’t think he could be when we saw him as a teenager — but the author really pulled him off well. And he’s so sweet, too? So loyal? Ugh.

The downside is, though — he doesn’t push Jugyeong.

More than that, their relationship (perhaps because they were each other’s first true, committed relationship) really caused each other massive anxiety. Jugyeong wasn’t really honest all the time due to this — not her feelings and not her concerns, and Seojun became an unnecessarily worry-wart even when he shouldn’t be. This had, several times, led him to become inconsiderably possessive i.e. during the time he fought with Suho when Suho had only wanted to help.

Of course, they sort the issue out in the end and Seojun started to reform himself to be an even better partner. But... you can tell, in a lowkey sort of way, that the good-feeling they had when they were just friends, it isn’t really there anymore. They don’t really have fun together. (Although maybe that’s just because Seojun became busy and/or the author skip most of their dates along, so — I might be biased a bit regarding this!)

But with Suho, even as friends, Suho has always pushed Jugyeong — more than just about her bare face, he pushed her to pursue what she wants to do. Not only that, he encouraged it; he helped her.

Which is why I think the plot became slightly stagnant in the moment: because, like Jugyeong, we’re focusing too much on her relationship with Seojun and what would it mean when Seojun became an idol. We’re carried along with her anxiety, with their upside down, with Jugyeong’s worries. We’re stuck in Jugyeong’s first relationship — and that’s it.

But with Suho, the plot moves: Suho pushes Jugyeong to study, Suho talks to her about her ambitions, Suho makes her confronts her fears, and one of the best parts of the series so far — when Suho was consulting her after Selena scolded Jugyeong for messing up on set — Suho recognised what she wants to do, what she likes to do, and he encourages her for it. He comforts her, and tells her to not give up. So now, we see her wanting to try her best in wanting to help Selena.

With Suho, I feel as if... Jugyeong’s focus grows more than just her being upset about one single relationship. Suho’s calamity and logic straightforwardness probably helps — it doesn’t cause as much anxiety as Suho’s relatively honest, which Jugyeong can depend on and seems to explicitly trust — and Jugyeong’s story, once again, grows to be more than just another love story.

It’s become a story of her trying to find a place in the world again, of her trying to figure out what exactly she can do for herself despite all these obstacles and hurdles.

I’m not saying with Seojun, she doesn’t go through any character development at all, no — but her focus tends to single-handedly narrow towards Seojun directly and their relationship, and it leaves very little for Jugyeong to really consider anything else, specially her own growth, which is equally important.

With Suho, she’s just able to do that a bit better, and we can see she’s slightly more comfortable too.

(And, before anybody comes at me, yes, I do think Jugyeong pushes Suho too. She literally recommends Suho books that he doesn’t seem he was going to read anytime soon, or he could’ve overlooked it easily — but she does that. She pushes him out of his comfort zone and suggested a new author / series. And Suho reads it, and he learns that he likes it. It’s the same when she recommends the music app. Or the hairdo. She’s always been a giant force pushing Suho forward; Suho’s always trying to change and/or improve himself when Jugyeong comes in.)

3. Conclusion

This is sooo long so I thank you if you’ve made it this far! I’m just really, really happy with the TV series and these thoughts about why I adore Suho have been nagging at me.

I hope everyone likes the full analysis of my messy thoughts as much as I enjoyed writing it fully on a whim at 1am.

[darker-soft-starker]

Starker High School AU, Pt. 2 (Pt. 1, Pt. 3, Pt. 4, Pt. 5)

-----

Peter will admit that during he took an extended moment during his journey home to grieve the loss of his free afternoon, and indeed the impending headaches.

And the rest of his future, if he was honest.

Not that Peter was prone to melancholy by any means, but with this assignment his fate was officially sealed, there was no misunderstanding. He was going to fail this assignment. He was going to, for the first time in his academic career, be forced to submit garbage of a caliber worthy of Tony Stark. It will forever be a black mark on his academic record.

No respectable college is going to accept him after this. In fact, he might as well drop out of school now and hit up Mr Delmar for a job. All of his prep for his MIT application is as good as useless after this. Extracurriculars? Goodbye.

Because it’s confirmed.

He’s doomed.

Swaying with the motions of the train, Peter types a text to Ned, the only person who might provide him with some much needed sympathy.

>  I’m doomed >  paired w/stark for an assignment lollllllllll.  >  help

Maybe Peter could trade with Ned. Maybe he could plead with their teacher, for honest fear of his life and scholastic integrity. He wasn’t even exaggerating. In no known iteration of this universe could Peter amicably work with Tony Stark. It would be like Harry Potter sitting down for tea with Voldemort, or Frodo and Sauron chilling with a pint and a pipe in Bag End. 

It was unthinkable. Implausible. Laughable.

And Peter would laugh, were it anyone but him in this situation.

The feeling is unusual. Never had he found reason in his life to truly dislike anybody before, everyone could be redeemed or given the opportunity for penance. Natasha has said more than once that Peter would offer the devil himself a sandwich if he appeared. 

Tony Stark on the other hand? No sandwich for him.

Well, maybe a slice of bread. A stale one.

While he waits for Ned to responds he catches sight of his injured reflection in the train window, which is admittedly pretty gnarly. Even with his hood drawn up, there was a noticeable berth allocated to him in the busy carriage between himself and the other passengers.

< sux. can I have ur lego hogwarts if u die?

> dude :( pity me.

< lol. so, can i?

Peter sighs.

> sure. Look after May for me, bro. delete my internet history.

< deal. godspeed

Pocketing his phone, Peter wonders if it’s too late to take up praying.

---

By the time he’s back in his apartment his mood has managed to swing back up.

Tony Stark is not going to be the arbiter of Peter’s fate. Hell no. He’s smart, he’s creative and hardworking - it isn’t up to anybody but Peter to determine his outcomes. If he has to do the assignment with Stark then he will. And he will work his hardest. 

If he has to do it sharing the credit with Stark, well, Peter knows a concession when he sees one.

No matter how reluctant he is.

But he powers through it, like ripping off a bandaid. It’s fine! He’s a Parker and he’s come this far in life already against ill, Parker-like odds. What was being paired for one assignment with someone who escaped the nearest hellmouth? 

It’ll be fine. 

Probably.

Not letting himself linger on his fears, Peter clears out his previous plans of going on a YouTube spiral and eating sour gummies until his teeth stick, instead utilising the time to get his foot in and and begins prepping for the assignment. Cursory, preliminary research at first, before the inevitable deep dive begins.

Neanderthal, Peter scoffs, mad all over again. Who is Stark to call Peter a neanderthal? He’s second in his class. He’s a straight A student. He likes school.

And as much as he is moderately skilled in, and enjoys JV, it’s not like he received his scholarship to study at Midtown based on his physical prowess.

The graze on his cheek that stings every time he yawns is proof of that.

Stark can eat his entire ass and choke on it, he thinks darkly, as he continues his research. He doesn’t know the first thing about Peter.

The data is sobering as he delves into job listings and statistics of his projected salary in a three year margin. This is really what his teachers earn? Wow. Depressing.

The contrast of expected salary versus the forecast of steep student loans is disheartening further still.

Teaching quietly slips from second to third on his list of ideal occupations.

Turning on a playlist on his phone, Peter continues to compile notes, amassing a truly gargantuan amount of tabs on his browser. His computer, old enough to be on its’ last teeth, whirrs loudly in protest.

It’s not until his room goes dark that he thinks to check the time.

Ah, shit. It’s nearly six.

Peter pauses. Should he tidy up the apartment?

...Nah, no point in breaking a sweat for Stark.

He continues typing. Then he hesitates, fingers suspended in mid-air. 

But what if Stark sees his unfolded laundry out on the dining table and publicly shames him for his old-but-comfortable Bulbasaur themed boxer shorts?

Goddamnit.

---

A quick, cursory clean ensues and leaves a relatively orderly Parker apartment. No freshly laundered underwear is in sight.

Peter wraps up just a few minutes before six. Right on time.

Taking a seat at the now clear dining table Peter drums his fingers on the surface and waits.

And waits.

And waits.

---

He knows when Tony finally arrives when he hears the sound of a car pulling up outside his apartment block. The riffs of a Roxette remix can be heard playing loudly  from the ground to the seventh floor of his apartment, the bass so thunderous it reverberates the windows all the way up to his floor.

Drumming his fingers on the kitchen table, Peter checks the wall clock again. It’s nearly seven.

Tony’s late.

Not that Peter is particularly affected with surprise that Tony is incapable of following basic instructions, but still. Really? Really?

By the time there is a knock on his door, Peter is already before it, his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face. Every second between Tony pulling up and his ascent to Peter’s floor has him positively fuming. He can’t believe how this day played out. It started with such promise. He had such innocuous, but high hopes.

Clearly, he miscalculated.

Feeling a touch petty, he waits to answer, listening to Stark knock a second and then a third, more insistent time before he rouses enough calm to open the door.

He instantly regrets it when he does. 

Tony’s expression is curious one as he breezes right passed Peter without waiting for further invitation. There’s a smudge of something dark on his brow, his otherwise white undershirt smeared in dark stains.

Peter watches incredulously as the other boy drops his backpack by the door with a thump.

“You’re late.”

He closes the door behind Tony and scowls at the other boys easy posture, hands shoved into his pockets, eyes taking in the apartment.

“I didn’t realise you lived all the way out in fucking Queens. Do you have any idea how bad traffic is at this time of day? Also, your elevator doesn’t work. I just climbed seven flights of stairs, where’s the hospitality?”

“Try earning it.”

The other boy rolls his eyes. “Like it’s worth my time.” He breezes past Peter and slides his leather jacket off his arms, tossing it atop of his backpack in the corner. “Look, I’m here now. Okay? You can unclench now. So, do I get a tour or what?”

“Or what. This wouldn’t have been an issue if we had just started straight after class like I said.”

“Oh I’m sorry,” Tony clutches his hands to his heart before gesturing to the room. “I didn’t realise I was interrupting your busy Friday night, Parker. You got a keg and the rest of the meatheads stashed away somewhere?”

Without waiting for a response, Tony wanders around the living room like a curious child in a new play room. His gaze inspects everything all at once, from peering at up close at the wall mounted photos and hovering his grubby hands over the oddments and knick-knacks speckled throughout the space.

Apprehensive, Peter can’t help but shadow him, afraid he just let loose a hurricane in a china shop.

Without asking, Tony picks up May’s old Magic 8-Ball and gives it a good shake. Peter’s fingers itch to reach over and stop him, but stops himself because then that would require actually making direct skin contact the other boy.

Not worth it.

“Cannot predict now. Huh,” Tony says to himself before placing the ball back in the wrong spot. 

They both watch silently as it rolls precariously close to the edge. 

“Anyways,” Tony helps himself to an armchair, lounging back and spreading his legs wide. “I know your long-term memory is probably as defective as the rest of you, so don’t strain yourself recalling that I had other priorities.”

“Like what?”

“Like literally anything that isn’t being around you,” the other boy grins. “Now, are we doing this thing, or did you invite me over so you could bitch at me?”

“I didn’t invite you,” Peter grumbles, swiping his notebook from the dining table before sitting on the sofa, as far away from Stark as possible. Shifting, he takes his phone from his pocket and opens the notes he’d taken earlier.

“So, I cross referenced some websites and current job listings,” Peter scrolls through his research, adjusting his glasses as they slip down his nose. “Assuming you have no savings, we’re looking at an average of sixty-thousand per annum based on my salary alone. The average rent in --”

“-- Uh, why are we assuming I have no savings?”

"Because... we’re being realistic?”

Tony springs to his feet and paces across the living room.

“Well,” he says, gesturing to Peter, “if we’re being realistic, does having no savings also that mean I have no debt -- or are you paying off two student loans on your salary?”

“I don’t --”

“Do we have car loans? Health insurance?”

“Wait, slow your roll, Stark. I haven’t yet --”

“-- Of course you haven’t. I mean really, Parker, do you ever think ahead? You should try it, we do have a baby on the way, you know.” Tony clicks his fingers and points at Peter. “Oh, names! I want to call it Molly.”

“As in the drug?” 

“No, as in Ringwald. Anyhoo, seeing as only one of us has the intellectual capacity to construct a budget,” Tony gestures to himself, “that would be me, consider maybe that I spent my savings paying off my student loans and bought a car for me and Miss Molly, leaving you with just your own stagnant debt. Happy?”

“Thrilled,” he says through clenched teeth, feeling utterly steamrolled. “But we’re not calling the baby Molly.”

“Yes, we are. Think of all the great nicknames. Hey wait,” Tony pauses in his pacing, “are your parents going to be home soon?”

It was in that moment Peters world narrows down to one, botched cosmic joke.

Turning his gaze heavenwards, Peter prays silently for mercy. What did he do to deserve this. This is all his bad karma come at once. This is the bad place.

“Ah, no,” he replies, eyes widening. “No, my parents are not going to be home soon.”

“Cool. Lucky you.”

Oblivious to Peter’s existential turmoil, Tony resumes his patrol through the living room, picking up a frame on the mantle. It houses an old photo of Ben, May and a young, bespectacled Peter. 

It is one of the more embarrassing immortalisations of his younger self, eleven-years old and grinning widely, bearing his silver braces to the camera as he holds up a science fair trophy, curls wild and untamed.

Oh god. That was exactly what Peter needed on this unholy day - Tony Stark in his living room, witnessing Peter in his prepubescent glory. 

Quick, create a diversion.

“So, as I was saying,” he says loudly, “rent is reasonably affordable with a sixty-thousand budget in --”

“Who’s the babe?” Tony points to a younger Aunt May in the photo.

Peter gets to his feet and removes the frame from Tony’s grasp. He glowers as he places it back on the mantle. 

“No one you would have a chance with. Can you stay focused? Like, are you physically capable of it?”

“Okay, calm down,” Tony holds his hands up in surrender. “You’ve got a lot of anger for someone so vertically challenged, you know that, shortstack?” 

“Focus, dumbass.”

“I’m focused! Let’s see, we’ve established that I am excellent at managing my money. You have a shitty job and a shitty salary, and apparently my imaginary future self has terrible taste in men. So. Have I got that right? Where are we living?”

“Queens. LIC has some one bed, one baths that could be affordable.”

“Uh, rewind. Going to have to eighty-six that - I am not living in Queens.”

Peter stares at him.

Tony rubs his hands over his face and sighs. “Fine, whatever. But I want a Pontiac Firebird in this imaginary life if I have to deal with you.”

“For someone so keen on getting away you’re doing your best to prolong this experience. It’s literally painful.”

“Well, I just like to see you get all riled up, Princess,” Tony grins, leaning back against the mantle and folding his arms over his chest. “You have this vein that bulges on your forehead when you’re mad. Makes you look like a pitbull.”

Peter swallows the particularly acidic retort sitting on his tongue and tries not to let Tony’s words sting. Be the bigger man, Ben used to say. As difficult as it is to channel even a modicum of the mans’ eternal patience, Peter takes a deep breath and reminds himself to stay focused. The less he gets sidetracked by Tony’s fuckery, the sooner it’s over.

He mentions the next part with unease. 

“...Miss Ahn said that we need references and should do field research. Speak to realtors. Ask people who have a similar lifestyle and budget.”

The look that comes over the other boys face is one of unequivocal revulsion. Peter can relate. The thought of having to spend more time with this guy makes his stomach turn.

“Well, Parker, any bright ideas who we can ask?”

The hinges of the front door squeaks before Peter can respond.

Moments after, Aunt May walks into the living room, placing her bag down on the dining table. She looks between the two boys curiously.

“Hey, Pete,” she comes to his side to squeezes his shoulder. “Who do we have here?”

Tony rushes over with his hand outstretched, an eager grin on his face. 

“Tony Stark, ma’am. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Oh, ah, okay, well,” May laughs as he enthusiastically shakes her hand. Her eyes are soft as Tony smiles brightly at her. “Nice to meet you too, Tony. I’m May, Peter’s aunt. Are you... friends with Peter?”

Peter snorts. 

“Definitely not. We just have an assignment --”

“-- Great friends, actually,” Tony talks over him, taking a seat beside Peter on the sofa. To Peter’s utter disgust, the other boy puts an arm around his shoulders, squeezing his bicep encouragingly. “Aren’t we, Pete? Hmm? Best buds. We go way back.”

Peter freezes, feeling the line of heat from Tony’s against his side, the weight of his arm on his body. 

Eyes widening, he feels his skin crawl. 

“That’s sweet,” May smiles, putting her hair up in a loose, messy bun. “Well, I don’t know about you boys, but I’m starving. I’m ordering pizza, Friday special. You should stay for dinner, Tony.”

Tony places his free hand on his chest.

“I would be honoured.”

May looks at Tony strangely before retreating to the kitchen to retrieve the menus.

As soon as she’s out of sight Tony takes his arm off Peter and quickly shifts away from him like he’s been burned. 

“Dude,” Peter whispers, bewildered. “What the fuck?”

“Oh my god,” Tony whispers, shuddering as his face scrunches up in disgust. “I’m going to have to pour scalding hot water on all the places your skin just touched me. Ugh, I feel like I just touched toe fungus.”

Peter slaps his arm.

“What is wrong with you?”

Tony backhands Peter’s arm in retaliation and then shudders all over again.

“Your aunt is crazy hot, okay, I couldn’t help myself. It was an instinctual reaction. Is she taken? C’mon. Vindicate me.” 

“I’ll eviscerate you --”

“-- I mean, clearly she married into the family, she doesn’t share your unfortunate phenotype, but I didn’t see a ring on her finger. So? Yes or no?”

“You’re unbelievable,” Peter hisses as his aunt comes back in. “She’s not available to you. Not now, not ever.”

“But she is available?”

“Don’t even, Stark. You’re like, sixteen. Don’t you have any shame?”

Tony smiles, as she nears. “Not a shred.”

“So,” May waves a menu at them. “You boys happy with pepperoni?”

Closing his eyes, Peter wishes for death.

As fate would have it, he gets pepperoni instead.

-----

If you had ever told Peter that he would be sitting down for dinner with his Aunt and a dirt-streaked Tony Stark, he would have laughed.

And if Peter were outside himself he would probably find the sharing of pizza and soda over their plastic, chequered table-cloth comical -- in that uncanny, Dogs Playing Poker kind of way. But in reality there was nothing funny about the discomfort of having Tony in his personal space or the heavy, suffocating tension that has removed the air from the room. 

The entire time Tony has been hamming it up, cracking jokes with his aunt, complimenting her on the decor, asking what she does for work. Peter doesn’t know if he���s being sweet to May for the purpose of buttering her up, or, given the wealth of his family in contrast to the Parkers, if he’s being cruelly facetious. 

Nonetheless, Peter has felt on edge. It’s disconcerting, is what it is. Every single movement Tony makes, every time he opens his mouth -- frequently to sweet-talk his aunt -- has Peter’s anxiety standing at attention, hyperaware of everything the other boy does.

He’s beginning to feel like a meerkat whose den has been invaded by a lion.

Through the course of a single meal Peter’s attention moves from the sky to the floor. There is no grace or higher power that is coming to save him from this profound, unusual torture. 

So he focuses his hopes to the south, seeing through their tiny, cramped, dinner table, past bargaining. He’s willing to trade his soul to end it all. Surely some wayward being from hell would come to his rescue. 

May has Peter’s chin between her fingers. She turns it this way and that, inspecting his injuries.

“What happened this time, bubby?” She frowns, brow furrowing. “You look like you got beat up.”

Peter, very aware of Tony’s amused gaze on them, gently pulls away from her grasp. He smiles placatingly and picks at his pizza slice. God he’s never going to live this down.

“Training accident. It’s okay, I feel fine. ‘Tis but a scratch,” he brings himself to joke.

“You sure?”

“Yep.”

She leans in to kiss his cheek, carefully avoiding the fresh scabs and injured flesh. “God, you bruise like a peach. Be careful, baby, you’re our money maker,” she laughs. “What about you Tony, do you play football?”

Tony, who is mid way through chewing on a mouthful of pizza, momentarily chokes, beating his chest with his fist to swallow down the obstruction.

“Uh, no,” Tony gulps, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Nope. No recreational sports for me. Can’t.” He gestures to his chest and sighs heavily. “Asthma.”

Peter sips his coke and rolls his eyes, knowing full well there’s a half-empty pack of Marlboro Light’s in the pocket of Tony’s jeans. Asthma. What a schmuck.

“That’s a shame. Do you boys have classes together?”

Unfortunately, Peter thinks.

The other boy seems to have the same thought, as he glares at Peter from over the table. When he picks up his can of coke, he gives Peter the finger outside of May’s eye-line.

“That’s why Tony’s here,” Peter twists his napkin in his grip. “We have an econ assignment together on microeconomics. Teach says Tony’s destined to be on welfare.”

Tony leans in, chin rested on his hand. He addresses May but his stare, dark and odious, rests on Peter.

“Not accurate. Stay-at-home parent, actually. One might say that is the most important job of all. Wouldn’t you agree, May?”

She raises her Coke.

“Hear, hear.”

Tony grins roguishly, the same grin he gave the girls at the lockers earlier. “Petey here was just saying that we should ask you about your experience running a household on a single salary. We’d love to have you as a reference.”

“Was I saying that?” Peter narrows his eyes. “I can’t remember.”

Tony kicks him under the table. The hit lands right in his knee cap.

Wincing, Peter kicks back, satisfied when the other boy bites his lip to hold back a pained groan.

“Yeah, well, not surprising,” Tony says airily, waving his hand. “Hit your head today, didn’t you? Maybe you should get all that damage looked into.”

The napkin rips in Peter’s grasp.

“Maybe you should go f--”

“I’d be more than happy to help with your assignment, boys,” May cuts in.

Whatever snide reply he has in his mouth instantly wilts when he looks over to his Aunt. She looks...pleased. Delighted, almost. Her eyes under the dull, yellow kitchen light seem to get warmer, and her smile is small but softens around the edges.

Instantly, Peter feels like the worst person in the world. Of course May would be the best person to ask. She does so much for him, the least he can do is set his pride aside for one moment to make her feel good about how hard she works for their life.

He reaches over to squeeze her hand, smiling as gratitude swells unexpectedly in his chest.

“Thanks, May. That would be great.”

Across the table, a smug Tony looks like the cat who got the cream. 

Without warning, Peter’s chest goes hot with contempt, his fingernails dig into his palm. He’s not sure he’s ever met anyone he couldn’t like, until now.

I hate you, Peter mouths while May busies herself with rounding up the pizza boxes.

Kiss my ass, Tony mouths back. 

In an instant his expression flips from contemptuous to angelic when he stands and offers to help May clean up.

Peter stands too, sparing a disdainful glance to the floor. Turns out not even the devil was willing to give him a hand.

Natasha was right. It’s going to end in murder.

---

Peter walks Tony to the door after dinner to say goodbye to his ‘friend’. Following him into the hall, Peter closes the door behind them.

“What do you want, Parker?” Tony asks wearily, retrieving a cigarette from his pocket. “I’m trying to make a getaway here.”

Peter crosses his arms over his chest. “Don’t do that with my aunt. I’m not joking, asshole. It’s not cool.”

“Relax, princess,” Tony rolls his eyes, fishing for his lighter in his backpack. “I’m not actually interested. Just trying to get under your skin. Worked, see? You’re easy like that. Hey, why do you live with your aunt anyways?”

“None of your business,” he frowns as Tony holds one hand up in surrender and lights his cigarette with the other. “Dude, you can’t smoke in here.”

“Can’t, shouldn’t, gonna. By the way, you’ve got sauce on your chin, it’s very distracting.”

Peter wipes at it without thinking. When he pulls it away there is indeed a smear of red sauce on his hand.

Tony walks backwards down the hall and exhales a cloud of smoke, waving in a sardonic imitation of a farewell.

“See you Monday, bubby.”

Peter doesn’t bother with a response, too tired from the week, exhausted by this whole darn day, and it’s not like the other boy cares what he has to say anyway. He takes a moment to swallow his anger before he heads back inside, sighing. 

Well, at least he has an entire weekend free of Stark to look forward to.

May looks at him curiously when he reemerges, but says nothing. He considers for a moment about heading to his bedroom and playing a video game to disassociate - but then, suddenly, remembers her smile earlier, and how alone she looks now. A surge of affection hits him right beneath his breastbone.

He checks his watch and then catches her eye.  Tilting his head towards the living room, he says, “Hey. You wanna eat some ice cream and watch some Colbert before bed?”

She smiles just like she did earlier and kisses his cheek. “Sounds nice, Pete.”

Maybe the whole day wasn’t lost.

As May heads to the sofa and switches the TV on, Peter catches sight of the Magic 8-Ball from the corner of his eye. He walks over and gives it a shake.

Outlook good.

*

*

----

tagging: @bylerboyfriends @ravens-starker-stuff, @starker-rays, @ironspiderstarker, @notfor-temporaryuse, @tabbycat1220, @sugarfreecult, @rebel13lion39, @muse-of-gods

[tepkunset]

@avatarfandompolice​​​ is a blog that likes to misuse progressive language in attempt to make ignorant, racist posts sound more intelligent than they are. While most of their blog consists of arguing about ‘zutara,’ (which I recently learned is a ship name for Zuko and Katara from an anon), there is also a large number of posts and reblogs under the premise of being “hot takes” on how unfair it is to address racism in fandom and in media.

Avatarfandompolice is very sensitive about people pointing out that Avatar: The Last Airbender is not, in fact, flawless. That a show made by two white men featuring Asian and Indigenous characters and influences is fully capable of getting things wrong. That their western colonial views are influences all on their own, and it shows. Rather than listen to fans of colour point out things like these posts for example: [Link] [Link] [Link], avatarfandompolice has decided that such things must simply be fake, and has made multiple posts complaining it. This is not just regular ignorance, this is wilful ignorance. The dismissal of critique simply because they cannot fathom not everyone being able to handle the amount of issues they are freely educating others on, or people holding the ability to like something overall while also pointing out where it could be better.

It is my firm belief that you should never absorb media with an uncritical eye. If this was the case, if people just accepted everything given to them, then we would never see any progress. We need to be able to look back at something and say here’s what we did right, and here’s what we need to do better with.

The argument that A:TLA was made in 2012 and therefore should not be analyzed with a modern understanding of the world is downright hilarious, too. As if we aren’t taught to write literature analysis on books and plays that are centuries old in school. In particular regards to the whole cop thing... if anyone reading this seriously thinks that hate and fear of the police is just a 2020 trend, you can meet me in the pit. I was four years old when I learned how terrifying cops are. If your experiences differ, let me tell you that does not make them universal. And as for all the 20-somethings talking about it today, well, gentle reminder that as said by avatarfandompolice right here, the show aired in 2012. Little 10-year-old kids don’t have social media, (at least I hope they don’t,) and unless they grew up experiencing first-hand police terror, probably were not aware of it at that age. I do not know why avatarfandompolice insults people's ability to grow and learn. I can only guess it’s jealously from their lack of ability to do so.

Now let’s address their defences of whitewashing, which is easily the most backwards reaching I’ve seen on this issue in a while. Primarily their defence relies on four repetitive “points” —

Fake minuscule percentages to downplay the high prevalence and extremity of whitewashing in the fandom

Deflecting the addressing of whitewashing with rapid-fire fake scenarios and claims of “reverse racism” / “blackwashing”

Claiming whitewashing isn’t real because people only care about it with Katara

Claiming that calling out whitewashing in fandom is wrong because it hurts artists

I have only so much as dipped my toes into the A:TLA fandom, and even I have seen a lot of whitewashed fan art. If you do an image search for fan art, I guarantee within the first couple rows of results, there will be in the absolute least, a few examples. The idea of these artworks not substantially lightening skin is also just plain inaccurate. Just from a quick Google search, this is literally the first result for ‘Avatar The Last Airbender Katara fan art’:

Avatarfandompolice is also hyper-focused on the lightening of skin, and seems to be under the impression that this is the only component of whitewashing. I come to this conclusion because when someone pointed out the equal prevalence of depicting these characters of colour with Western European features instead of their actual eyes, noses, etc., they rip a giant turd out of their ass and scrawl the words “but stereotyping” over it. No, not all Asian peoples and Indigenous peoples look the same. The original poster made no such claim of this at all. Avatarfandompolice jumped to this conclusion all on their own... (which really says a lot in itself). It is entirely unrelated to the point. The point being the erasure of how these characters look, in favour of giving them whiter features. And guess what? This does hurt. But I’ll get to that below.

The lack of understanding of whitewashing is on full display when avatarfandompolice talks about “blackwashing”; the idea that colouring characters with darker skin is just like whitewashing. Firstly, there is no such thing as “blackwashing.” “Blackwashing,” “brownwashing,” etc. does not exist because it is a false equivalency to whitewashing. It is a false equivalency to whitewashing because white people are not even in the slightest loosing representation when a white character is re-imagined as a racial minority, whereas when racial minorities are re-imagined as white people, they are taking away from what is already very little representation for us. If we lived in a world where the statistics of representation were not so drastically disproportionate, then there would be something to talk about. But if you are really wanting to support equality, you should focus on equitably supporting those who actually need it, not white people. As for specifically depicting characters like Sokka and Katara with darker skin than what they have in the show, the same applies, (so long as it’s not racebending them as we really shouldn’t be taking representation away from each other, and the artist avatarfandompolice ridicules above has done no such thing,) because colourism also exists within nonwhite communities as well.

As for the fake questions about cosplaying, the answer is really simple: Cosplay however you want, but don’t make pretending to be a different race part of your cosplay. If you want to cosplay Katara, you can do it without painting your skin darker, aka brownface. If you want to cosplay Zuko, you can do it without editing yourself to look East Asian, aka digital yellowface. The racist history behind this is an internet search away, but I suppose that is too difficult for avatarfandompolice to do.

Avatarfandompolice has made multiple claims that people must not really care about whitewashing if they only call it out for Katara. It is laughable at best, and sad at worst, that this is the conclusion they come to, and not the fact that unfortunately Katara just happens to be subjected to more whitewashing than other characters. I assume this is from a mix of her popularity as well as being a WOC and not MOC. This is not to say that whitewashing does not exist with male characters—not in the slightest. Half the images on this “10 fan art pictures of Sokka that are just the best” list from CBR are whitewashed. Only that across fandoms, whitewashing is more prevalent in female characters, by my observations at least.

Finally—and this one pisses me off the most—avatarfandompolice claims that whitewashing is no big deal, but calling out whitewashing is too harmful to justify. How fucking dare you put the feelings of artists who can’t handle critique of their work (that they publicly share) over fans of colour, who are constantly subjected to seeing our identities and looks not being worth respecting. As if it doesn’t imprint on your mind from a very young age how only villains ever have your facial features, because they’re ugly and I guess that means you’re ugly. As if there is something wrong with you. As if respecting you is regarded as extra effort, and not just common courtesy.

Whitewashing is a form of colourism, which is a form of racism. It is the favouritism, unconscious or not, of white features and the erasure of visible characters of colour. It is not fandom drama. It is not being too lazy to focus on “real issues” because it is part of a real issue. It is yet another part of why fandom spaces are so uninviting to POC. We live in a society that favours lighter skin. Corporations make fortunes from selling products to bleach your skin, products to contour your features away or go as far as surgery, all to meet beauty standards set by and influenced by white colonizers. That does not exist in A:TLA, and that’s called refreshing escapism. But it’s hard to escape that when the fandom constantly reminds you otherwise. It is a perfect example of how the classic “just let people enjoy things” complaint is nothing but disguised racism, because it’s only ever said regarding white fans’ enjoyment, at the expense of fans of colour.

None of the characters in A:TLA are white. Redesigning them and recolouring them as if they are, be it out of accident or intent is wrong. If you get called out for it, apologize, learn from the experience and do better going forward. You’ll also improve your art this way.

Beyond excusing whitewashing, avatarfandompolice has overt racist posts as well. A Black fan said they like to headcanon Katara as being partially Black; “I swear Katara was a sister. Im convinced there ain't no way she didn't have some black in her.” Avatarfandompolice jumps in saying “She's literally an Inuit but ok” as if being an Inuk person means Katara can’t possibly also be Black. The OP never claimed Katara was not Indigenous, simply that they also saw her as Black. Black Indigenous peoples exist. Black Inuk peoples exist. It is overtly anti-Black to say otherwise. But what even is the point of talking to avatarfandompolice about that? You know, you would think in trying to put such a front up of caring about the Inuit, they would do the most basic learning of the proper grammatical use of Inuit and Inuk. (As is the case with a great many Indigenous Nations, Inuit is both the Nation and plural. Inuk is singular. “An Inuit” / “Inuits” as avatarfandompolice has used just makes their dressed-up racism all the more pathetic. It’s similar to as if you said “Chinas” instead of “Chinese”.)

But all this is nothing, nothing compared to the worst post I had the displeasure of seeing. In a single post, avatarfandompolice manages to squeeze in insult against low income people, Mexican people, Jewish people, and Black people in a mockery of financial help posts. Absolutely disgusting, childish behaviour from a place of privilege. As someone who has had no option but to make such a post before, more than once, let me fucking tell you that the embarrassment and desperation when in that situation is unparalleled. It is not done lightly. It is done when you are at the last resort of having nothing but hope that the combined generosity of others will be enough to save you and your family. And what adds a whole other level to the odiousness of avatarfandompolice’s post is that they specifically targeting low income minorities to boot. Because we’re all poor beggars, right?

All in all, for someone who prides themselves in calling others ignorant, avatarfandompolice has to be one of the most obtuse fandom blogs I have ever scrolled through. They are as vile as they are pathetic, and my sincere sympathy for anyone who has been unfortunate enough to interact with them. It has been a while since I so strongly recommend blocking someone.