#maybe it just goes unbeta’d and that’s okay

[limit-list]

and what if i hyperfixate on my wip from three years ago to update during pride month instead of working on my thesis 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

[minisugakoobies]

Paradise | JJK - Epilogue

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: smut, neighbors to lovers (not quite friends but not quite strangers), slow burn, love triangle, Stripper!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: it's happy ending time!, lots of domestic cuteness, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), shower sex, teasing, dirty talk, someone gets a lap dance 👀, sex in the champagne room, aka sex at work (don't be that coworker!), unprotected sex (monogamous relationship with alternate bc), multiple orgasms

Word Count: 9.1k

Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own BTS - they just inspire me

Summary: That sexy man on stage - the one currently giving your friend the lap dance of her LIFE - is your super shy neighbor, Jeon Jungkook?!

A/N: And now we've reached the end! I can't believe it's been three years this month since OC and Jungkook's story began!! A gigantic THANK YOU to everyone who has liked, commented, reblogged, recommended, and/or sent asks about Paradise. This is for you! 💜

Unbeta’d as usual. Please don’t be a silent reader, I’d love to hear from you!  Tell me what you think of the ending! 💕

Previous Chapter ♦️ Paradise Masterlist

Bzzzzzzt

Saturday afternoon dawns bright. You can hear birds chirping outside the windows, joined by the buzzing of bees.

Those are some loud fucking bees.

No wait, that’s your phone.

Bzzzzzzt

You grab it off the nightstand.

Huh, nope. No missed texts or calls.

Bzzzzzzt

What the hell is that sound?

Throwing back the covers, you lug yourself out of bed, snatch a t-shirt from the floor and yank it on, and traipse down the hall, following the incessant hum.

Bzzzzzzt

The noise leads you to the bathroom, where your boyfriend stands over the sink, examining himself in the mirror. 

“Hey, jagi,” Jungkook greets you warmly. “Did I wake you? Sorry.” He leans over, planting a soft kiss on your cheek.

“No, it wasn’t you. I heard some sort of buzzing.”

“Ah, yeah, that was me.” He holds up some sort of metallic grey tool. An electric razor? But he doesn’t have one of those. You know by now that he waxes for his job, and what little hair ever appears on his face he takes care of with a simple disposable razor. “Testing this out.”

“I didn’t know you had one of those,” you say, leaning against the doorway. 

“I don’t. Namjoon-hyung let me borrow it.” He tilts his head left and right, staring at his reflection.

“Borrow it for wh-oooh my god, Kookie, no!” 

Your question becomes a wild wail as your boyfriend brandishes the razor and in one swift move shaves off a chunk of his hair. Watching the dark locks tumble into the sink feels like a scene from a horror movie, unfurling in slow motion.

You glance at Jungkook. Where glorious waves once adorned the side of his handsome face, there is now naught but stubble. 

Meanwhile, Jungkook chuckles as he examines his handiwork. “What’s wrong, jagiya? You don’t want to see a fresh new me?”

“Not if it means sacrificing your gorgeous hair!” you pout.

Of course you love all of your boyfriend. Goes without saying. But his hair! It’s so pretty and thick and silky and fluffy and - 

-and he’s going to shave it all off??

Bzzzzzzt

Another swath joins the first. Two sad curls at the bottom of the sink. 

“Kookie, why?” you lament. “Your pretty hair!”

“Relax!” He laughs, running his tattooed fingers over the scruff that remains where he’s shaved so far. “It’ll grow back eventually. You’re starting to make me think you only love me for -“

Upon catching sight of the expression on your face, he trails off, eyes widening.

“Don’t be stupid,” you reassure him. “I love you for so many reasons. More than there are stars in the sky.”

He grins, turning away.

“Your hair is just, like, 25% of that. Maybe 30.”

“Okay, I’m kicking you out now.” 

“Don’t bother. I’m going. I can’t bear to watch anymore.” You spin on your heel, heading for the kitchen. “If you need me, I’ll be crying into my cereal, mourning over breakfast.”

“Could you mourn me up a smoothie while you’re at it?” 

As you raise your hand over your head to flip him off, he giggles, pausing in his task to admire the way your ass peeks out from under the t-shirt of his that you’re wearing, before disappearing back into the bathroom.

In the kitchen, you quickly whip up a banana smoothie, appreciating how the obnoxious whirr of the mixer drowns out the evil buzzing echoing down the hallway. Sticking the smoothie into the fridge to keep cold until your boyfriend finishes murdering his hair, you sit down to enjoy a bowl of your favorite sugary cereal.

It hasn’t taken much for you to acclimate to Jungkook’s schedule over the last few months since Jennie’s wedding. You’ve all but moved in, hanging around his apartment (usually napping) until he gets home from work in the early hours of the morning. Most of the time, you stay up for a bit, talking and helping him unwind (sometimes fucking, sometimes giving him a gentle massage to soothe his muscles, sometimes just letting him lay with his head on your chest). Usually near dawn you fall asleep, and then wake at noon to spend the afternoon together until he leaves for Paradise in the evening. 

So you've become accustomed to a midday bowl of cereal by now. Of course, it helps that you’re no longer bound to the 9-to-5 life, ever since you quit your job.

The bathroom is rather quiet for several minutes, so you figure Jungkook’s completed his horrible task. So you brace yourself for the sight of a shorn head - 

-only to be surprised when he strolls into the kitchen with a sharp undercut.

“Well?” He turns this way and that, striking poses as he walks over to you. “What do you think?”

His dark hair is slicked back, revealing a shorn section on each side of his head, perfectly highlighting his brow piercing. Long strands still flow on top, a swoop falling into his eyes as he smirks at you.

It defies the laws of reality, the way something like this can make your hot boyfriend even sexier. How is it even possible?

Standing, you extend your fingers, letting them run over the short hairs, enjoying the pleasant prickle. 

“I think I owe Namjoon a thank you card,” you murmur. The soft stubble tickles your fingertips, like fuzz on a peach. “Maybe even a gift basket.”

His smile grows as he draws you into his arms. “See, you were worried for nothing.”

“I really thought you were going to shave it all off!” you exclaim. Nuzzling his face into the curve of your neck, he laughs, amused huffs of breath dancing over your skin. 

“Nope.” He slides your hand into what remains of his hair, lithe fingers encouraging yours to wrap around his locks. “I am thinking about dyeing the rest, though. What do you think sounds better - cherry red or buttery blonde?”

“Blonde!” Did you blurt that out a little too fast? Maybe, judging by the cock of his eyebrow.

“Blonde it is.” 

“Do you want your smoothie?” You reach for the fridge door, but he stops you.

“I gotta clean up first. All those little hairs…” His eyes drop to your lips. “Time for a shower.” It’s an invitation that you’re all too happy to accept. 

Jungkook first steps under the spray of water to rinse away the hairs still clinging to his face and neck. But as soon as you join him, he crowds you against the wall of the tub, mouth meeting yours, hand diving between your legs, opening you up to take his cock. He’s a bit rushed in his movements, driven by a fervent need to bury himself inside you as quickly as possible, but you don’t care, just as desperate to feel him yourself. It doesn’t matter how many times the two of you do this - every time you need him just as much as you did the first time. 

When he slides into you, you let out a loud moan, knees already too weak to stand on. He holds you pinned against the tiles as he thrusts into you, wrapping one of your legs around his waist to help keep you up. “So good, jagi,” he grunts, setting a fast pace. All you can do is hang on, every stroke of his thick cock into your throbbing cunt making you sob his name, until your panting gives way to cries of ecstasy. He spills inside you then, his lips pressed to your cheek, breathing soft words of love across your skin. 

In the afternoon, after Jungkook has gone to meet Namjoon at the gym, you decide to take a walk downtown to get a little work done. It’s surprising to you how much has changed in the last few months. Before, the thought of working on a Saturday would’ve sent you into an anxious (and annoyed) spiral. But now? You’re not bothered by it at all. Apparently that’s what happens when you like your job. 

Not long after the wedding, you’d gone to the interview Wendy had graciously hooked you up with. Jungkook had helped you prepare, but you were still nervous as fuck. You needed to escape your current company. You needed this new job.

But as the interview progressed, that nervousness turned into a different sinking feeling. Because as the interviewer droned on and on about your responsibilities in this new position, it became more and more clear that you were essentially interviewing for the same job you were trying to leave. It wasn’t a way out. It was a trap. If you took this job, you’d be caught in the same quicksand, dragging you down again. 

Despite your growing sense of trepidation, the interview went incredibly well, and you felt pretty confident that you would be hearing from the company soon. Which left you with little time to figure out if you wanted the new job or not. 

In the end, it was your promise to Taehyung that made the decision for you. His presentation to the bank was a success, and with his new loan, he’d opened his own studio. Even though you’d done countless presentations over the years at your company, helping too many of their clients to count, this was the first time you’d actually felt joy at the result of your hard work. Helping Taehyung to achieve his dream was a special moment.

It also gave you an idea. A week later, you declined the new job offer. And turned in your notice to your employer. No more working for others.

Time to be your own boss.

It’s just a few blocks from your apartment building to where you’re headed. The bell hanging over the door chimes pleasantly as you let yourself into the little shop. Taehyung’s photography studio is technically closed on Sundays, but with the key he gave you, you can come and go as you please. It’s an arrangement that suits you well. 

As you’d expected, Taehyung is sitting in his office in the rear of the shop when you get back there. He nods a quiet greeting, then perks up when he sees the second cup in your hand. You’d stopped at the coffeehouse on your way here, knowing that Taehyung is still splitting his time between Paradise and his studio, which means he’s usually exhausted on Saturdays.

“You really are an angel,” he murmurs, grabbing the cup.

“I know,” you grin, taking a seat at the makeshift desk Taehyung had created for you. He’d been so grateful for your help that he’d insisted that you use his office as your own temporary workspace while you established your consulting business. You were in no position to turn down free rent, but you’d agreed to only if he let you act as his interim bookkeeper. It was only fair. “Where’s Yeontan?”

“I gave my assistant the day off,” Taehyung replies. “He’s back at the apartment with Ji and Min.” He pauses to stretch lazily. “Thanks again for helping with the move the other day. We still owe you and Kook dinner.” 

“Don’t worry, we’ll make sure you pay up.” You never turn down a free meal, though honestly, it was enough of a reward for you that you’d gotten to watch your friend Jisoo fall in love with her two boyfriends over the last few months. That’s the word she’d used for them both the other day, when you all helped Taehyung move into Jimin’s place. You hadn’t seen Jisoo this head over heels for anyone since… well, since you’d known her.

Taehyung sips his iced Americano. “What are you working on today?”

“Going over the stuff Felix sent me. We’re meeting with the bank on Tuesday.” 

Having Taehyung as your first official customer had been a blessing. After he’d raved about you to the other dancers at Paradise, you’d suddenly found yourself with a whole list of potential clients. There was Felix, who wanted to buy a food truck for his baking hobby and start a brownie delivery service; Namjoon, who was considering creating an urban nursery for the plants he grew in his tiny greenhouse; and Bang Chan, who wanted to discuss the possibility of running his own gym. Even Hoseok wanted to introduce you to a friend of his who was thinking about opening up a male strip club called Outlaws. You’d barely struck out on your own and yet your calendar was already packed.

You pull out your laptop and settle in. “What about you, what’s on your slate today?” 

“Just going over some shots.” 

The other dancers at Paradise were the best hype team. They’d spread word of mouth about Taehyung’s photography and the studio had been booked since day one. Not that his talent didn’t bring in customers on its own. But it was so touching to see the others rally around Taehyung like that. 

The other dancers had also embraced you warmly. You’d already met most of them from your visits to Paradise or the night of Taehyung’s exhibit, but once Jungkook introduced you as his girlfriend, it was like you’d gained an entire family of siblings overnight. And now that you’re on the inside, it’s so easy to see the way they care for one another. No wonder Jungkook loves working there so much. 

Well, that, and the tips he makes.

Taehyung slides over so you can see his screen. “It’s Jennie and Yoongi’s session, if you want to take a look.” 

“Oh, yes, please!” 

Jennie and her husband had recently booked a photography session to announce Jennie’s pregnancy. As Taehyung slowly scrolls through the shots, you try and fail to will yourself not to tear up. Your friend’s baby bump gets bigger every time you see her and it’s unreal to think that it won’t be long until Baby Min is here. 

Wordlessly, Taehyung hands you a tissue. 

“Thanks.” 

After spending so much time with Taehyung over the last few weeks, you understand why Jungkook adores him so much. He has a very comforting presence, which is nice for you right now, since building a company from scratch is a nerve-wracking experience. 

“So, tonight’s the night, right?” 

Again you grin, nodding. “Yeah.” 

“How are you feeling?”

“Excited. But also if I’m being honest, a little scared.” 

Everyone - all of your friends and family - has been super supportive for you during this time, lending their help whenever asked. But no one has been more supportive than Jungkook. He’s listened to you rant about your worries and fears at two in the morning when you know he wants nothing more than to hit the pillow and snooze until noon. He’s made you meals when you were too busy to tear yourself away from your computer to eat. He’s spent so much of his own time taking care of you that you started to fret you’d turned into another job for him. 

But when you voiced this concern to him, Jungkook shook his head. “Taking care of you isn’t a job,” he’d said. “I do these things because I want to, not because I have to.”

You’ve never known anyone like him before. Never known someone who could be so selfless, so freely giving of himself all the time. So freely giving of his devotion, in every sense of the word. You can’t help but want to worship him yourself. 

Despite his claims that he’s doing these things of his own free will, you still feel like you owe him something. A sign of your appreciation. Hence your plans for tonight.

“Why scared?” 

You finish your drink, but don’t put the cup down, twirling it in your hands as you think. “What if I make a total ass of myself?”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Easy for you to say,” you snort. Of course he’d be confident, if he were in your shoes. Taehyung radiates an aura of exceptional self-assuredness. It’s difficult to imagine him being rattled by anything. If tomorrow he was told that he needed to perform emergency brain surgery, he’d snap on his surgical gloves without so much as batting an eye. 

“Listen, I know Jungkook. More importantly, I know how much he loves you.” Taehyung flashes you a reassuring smile as you look at him. “There’s nothing you could do tonight to change that.”

The funny thing is, you’re pretty sure he’s right.

Jungkook’s already making dinner when you get back to his place. The delicious scent of gochujang jjigae draws you into his kitchen, where he stands facing the stove, his back to you. Walking up to him, you can’t resist sliding your arms around his waist.

“Hi,” you sigh, burying your face between his shoulder blades, breathing deep the ocean scent of his cologne. 

“Hey jagi,” he hums, a happy note vibrating through his chest as he rests his tattooed hand on top of yours for a second. “Food’s almost ready. Can you grab some bowls?” 

As you reach into his cabinet, it strikes you just how domestic this moment is, getting ready for dinner with Jungkook, like you’ve done so many times before. Thankfully, he’s the one who usually does the cooking, while you help however you can (typically just by staying out of his way - it’s what you do best in the kitchen). It’s unbelievable how easily you’ve fallen into this routine with him. Not a trace of fear in you as you reflect on it. 

“I wasn’t sure if you were gonna be back in time to eat with me, but I made enough for two just in case.” He joins you at his little table, ladling stew into your bowls, before he takes the seat across from you. He’s dressed like he usually is for work, just a hoodie and sweats, since he’ll be changing into costumes all night.

“You’re too good to me, Kookie,” you simper playfully with a sweet grin, but you really mean it, knowing that if you’d texted him that you wouldn’t be back, he’d still make extra and put it in the fridge for you. 

He rolls his eyes, but the tips of his ears betray him, turning pink. The two of you dig into your meal, quietly enjoying the food and each other’s company. 

“I meant to ask you,” he says after a few minutes, “do you know when Jin-hyung will be back in town?” 

When you’d called things off with Seokjin, you’d made him promise to keep in touch while he was out traveling for his cooking show. He’d taken that pledge to heart, texting you brief updates and sending photos from the road. You’re glad to have made another friend from this whole experience. Especially one whose name you can drop to make hard-to-get dinner reservations. (Seokjin gets a real ego boost when you do that - he’s the one who suggested it in the first place.)

Though things had gotten off to a rocky start between Jungkook and Seokjin, they’d become fairly good friends themselves. It doesn’t really surprise you, since they have more in common than they thought (not even counting you) - both are talented and determined, funny and handsome, not to mention both give a hell of a lap dance. Also, it’s hard not to love Jungkook, no matter how you meet him. 

“Um, I think last time I heard from him, he said he’d be back in two weeks for a short break.”

“Good. That should give me enough time to finish.” He doesn’t say anything else, but you can read between the lines so well with him by now. 

“Jin’s going to love his portrait,” you reassure him. 

As soon as Seokjin had seen Jungkook’s artwork, he’d wasted no time in commissioning the younger man to paint his portrait, to be hung in his newest restaurant. You know that Jungkook is thrilled at the opportunity, but he’s also a little nervous, wanting to impress Seokjin. It’s pretty cute, truth be told. 

You glance up to find Jungkook watching you with a small smile. 

“What? What are you looking at? Am I a mess?” You grab your napkin, dabbing at your face, but he shakes his head. 

“Nothing. I’m happy you’re here. I feel like I’ve barely seen you the last few weeks, you’ve been out working so much.” 

“Oh, right.” You scratch your ear, giving him an apologetic look. “I know, I’ve been busy.”

“I’m not saying that’s bad!” Jungkook raises his hands. “I just… missed you.” 

“Kookie,” you sigh, heart bubbling over with fondness. Your boyfriend is such a sap.

You set down your spoon and rise to your feet, locking your arms around him. He looks up at you with so much love in his eyes you nearly pinch yourself. But you don’t have to. This isn’t a dream, it’s your life. Silently, you thank the universe for everything you did that led you to this man. Then you press a gentle kiss to his waiting lips. 

“I missed you too. But I’m hoping all this will be worth it.”

“It will be, jagiya,” Jungkook asserts, cupping your face gently. “I know it’s hard. But you know what you’re doing. And you’re not alone - you’ve got so many people in your corner. Like me.” He grins, kissing the tip of your nose lightly. “I believe in you.” 

There’s a sudden lump in your throat, making it impossible to speak, so you let your lips express what you feel. What’s left of your dinner sits forgotten as you climb into his lap, kissing him until you’re both breathless. Only then you’re able to whisper a quiet thank you. 

Jungkook’s right. You can do this. Especially with him by your side.

Sparkling Rosé ✨ (8:15): Are we still on for brunch tomorrow?

Bestie 😇 (8:17): Yes! I miss you guys

Bestie 😇 (8:17): This baby’s not even here yet and they’re already keeping me busy

Bestie 😇 (8:18): Plus I’ve been craving waffles for days

Sparkling Rosé ✨ (8:19): We miss you too! 

Sparkling Rosé ✨ (8:19):  And you too, YN! You work too hard

You (8:20): I know 😔I miss you all too

Lovely Lisa 💋 (8:21):  I’ll be there!

Queen Ji 👑 (8:22): Yes we’re doing brunch because YN needs to tell us allll about tonight!

Sparkling Rosé ✨ (8:23): OH THAT’S RIGHT!

Lovely Lisa 💋 (8:23): Ahhhh that’s tonight?!

Sparkling Rosé ✨ (8:23): Break a leg! 🙌

Lovely Lisa 💋 (8:24): LET’S GOOOOO

Queen Ji 👑 (8:24): You are going to KILL IT

Bestie 😇 (8:24): *airhorn.gif*

You (8:25): 🙈🙈

You (8:25): We’ll see

You (8:25): But thank you 😘

Queen Ji 👑 (8:26): Oh no! None of that

Queen Ji 👑 (8:26):  Trust me, you’ve got this

You (8:27): And just how are you so sure about that?

Queen Ji 👑 (8:28): Jimin told me. He never lies

You (8:29): I knew I should’ve asked Namjoon

Sparkling Rosé ✨ (8:29): As if he wouldn’t tell me

Sparkling Rosé ✨ (8:30): I like the guy but he can’t keep a secret to save his life

Lovely Lisa 💋 (8:31): Relax, you’re gonna be amazing! Just have fun with it

Bestie 😇 (8:31): Yessssss have fun

Queen Ji 👑 (8:32): But also put your back into it

Bestie 😇 (8:33): You should probably stretch first

You (8:33): Yes, eomma, I will

Bestie 😇 (8:34): I’m going to kindly ask that you never call me that again

You (8:35): But you’ll be hearing it all the time soon!!

Bestie 😇 (8:35): Not from you though! 🙅

Queen Ji 👑 (8:36): Sorry, eomma, we’ll behave

Bestie 😇 (8:37): Oh god, *especially* not from you

Bestie 😇 (8:37): Okay I’m out. I’ll see you all tomorrow. But don’t forget!

Bestie 😇 (8:38): 📣You’ve got this! 📣

Queen Ji 👑 (8:38): She’s the best mom

A few hours later, you find yourself alone in an unfamiliar space. A small room, containing only a handful of pieces of dark furniture. Velvet curtains drape three of the walls, while the fourth is a mirror. A crystalline chandelier hangs from the ceiling, the glass reflecting the soft lighting, scattering shimmering spots of illumination around the room as the bass pumping from the overhead speaker makes the decoration bounce.

You wipe your sweaty palms on the skirt of your dress, wishing you could take your friends’ advice and relax right now. Instead, your nerves are jumpy and your pulse is racing. The waiting isn’t helping. 

As you switch seats for the tenth time since you got here (you can’t decide which is a better place to sit, on the pleather couch or the matching chair), you adjust your dress, hoping you look more confident than you feel. Confidence is key for what you’re about to do, according to Jimin. 

Maybe you should’ve thought this through more. More practice would’ve been helpful, too. Why did you decide to do this now? You’ve really got to work on your patience, you think, eyeing the couch again before moving seats again. 

The curtains sway slightly as the door to the room opens. Immediately your mind empties of all thoughts as your adrenaline kicks in. It’s showtime. You sit up, trying to strike an enticing pose, waiting for the man who opened the door to finish locking it and turn around. 

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting t- baby??” Jungkook freezes, head cocking to the side in confusion. You knew that Jimin had told him he had a Paradise customer waiting for him in a private room.  “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to surprise you,” you grin, suddenly feeling really shy. Which is the exact opposite of what you need to feel right now, if you’re going to pull this off. “So, um, surprise!” 

Jungkook smiles, obviously thrilled with your surprise, and crosses the tiny space in two strides. You stand to greet him, taking in his outfit, a silky black shirt unbuttoned over a pair of black leather pants. He looks just like he did the night of Jennie’s bachelorette party, only with a new haircut. The fabric of his top is soft beneath your fingertips as you lay your hands on his shoulders, accepting his kiss hello. 

“Not that I’m not happy to see you, but… you know you didn’t have to pay to see me, right?” Jungkook murmurs against your lips. “I’ll dance for you any time.” 

You do know that, because he’s danced for you several times now. Sometimes he likes to get your opinions on a new routine, and other times… other times, he just feels like dancing for you. 

Knowing all this, you nod, smoothing down the folds in his shirt, trying to distract yourself from the way your stomach is tying itself in knots. Relax, you remind yourself, taking a deep breath. There’s nothing to be nervous about. It’s Jungkook. 

“I know. But this actually isn’t about me tonight. It’s about you.” 

Applying a little pressure on his shoulders, you push Jungkook onto the couch. He looks up at you questioningly, but doesn’t say anything, merely takes a seat. That’s so like him - to read you so well that he understands you’ve got something planned, so he’s letting you lead the moment. Just that tiny act of deference heartens you, leaving you more sure about what you’ve got planned. 

You walk over to the panel on the wall that controls the overhead speaker. Your phone is already hooked up, and with a few swipes, you change the playlist.

“I wanted to do something for you, to show you how much I appreciate everything you’ve been doing for me.” For some reason it’s easier to explain why you’re here without looking at Jungkook as you do it, so you fiddle with the phone a little as you speak. “I know the last few weeks have been stressful, because of everything I’m trying to do, and I just… I want to thank you. And I thought this was the best way to do it.” 

When you turn back around, Jungkook’s watching you with such a rapt expression that you can’t help but feel almost foolish about being so worried about this. It doesn’t matter if you can’t give him a show on the same level that he does. You’ve got his full attention no matter what you do. 

You’ve got his love. 

With that comforting thought, you take a steadying breath, in and out, and then begin. 

Dancing is really not your strong suit, but the biggest lesson Jimin taught you is that it’s not the moves themselves that matter - it’s the attitude with which you perform them. It’s all about setting a mood.

So you let the music guide you. Let yourself sink into the groove set by the drums and bass. Jungkook lets out a tiny “oh, fuck,” when you start to shake your hips. You fight the urge to giggle, biting your lip in a sultry manner instead. You’re wearing a cute but simple dress, something that will be easy to remove when the time comes, but you dance like you’re dressed in the sexiest outfit imaginable, sliding the skirt up your thighs a little to tease him. 

Even though you’re only a few feet away from Jungkook, you take your time approaching him, dragging out the anticipation. His hands rise automatically, reaching for you, but you dodge his grasp, taking them in your own hands instead. Something else Jimin taught you - lay down the rules right away. 

“I’m here to dance for you, Kookie. So let’s get one thing straight - I’m the one in charge.” You squeeze his hands to draw his attention to them as you place them at his sides. “That means no touching me, unless I say it’s okay.” 

Jungkook blinks at your words, but he doesn’t argue or try again to touch you. “Yes, baby,” he says, eyes brimming with adoration as he nods at you, and again you feel a surge of confidence. 

With your back to him, you place a hand on both of his knees, guiding him to spread his legs apart. Then you lower yourself into his lap, laying back against his chest and tilting your face towards his. If either of you leaned forward the slightest bit, your mouths would touch, but you resist the urge, and he waits breathlessly to see what you’re going to do next. 

You bring your arm up, then trail your hand down his chest, across your breasts and stomach, and on to his thigh, just skimming past his crotch. His hips buck slightly beneath you, and you grind in his lap, giving him the friction he seeks. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll touch you all you want,” you whisper. 

Jungkook groans loudly. You glide around the couch until you’re behind him and run your hands down his arms and over his chest. The silk of his shirt is starting to stick to him where he’s sweating. You’ve barely started and you’re already having an obvious effect on him.

It’s not just his temperature that’s rising, you note with a smug smile when you return to your spot in front of him. The tight material of his pants barely restrains his erection. Again you sit on his thighs, facing away from him, throwing your legs out in a wide stance as you pop to the beat. 

“Shit, baby, yes,” Jungkook praises you with a deep groan when you lean forward, giving him a good view of your ass as it bounces. “Where’d you learn to dance like this?” 

“Well, um…” you pause to bend further, nearly touching the ground, enjoying how Jungkook swears quietly when he gets a glimpse of your panties, “you know how I’ve been so busy lately?”

“Uh-huh…” Jungkook responds mindlessly, far too occupied with the sight in front of him. He’s being so patient, keeping his hands at his side like instructed, but the telltale twitching of his fingers lets you know that he’s fighting hard to behave.

You decide to take pity. Just a little. Turning, you straddle him, and grab his wrists. “Here you go,” you wink, placing his hands on your hips. “Just hold on for me.” 

Jungkook hums, vision trailing up your body from where your hips are swaying to where your breasts are now in his face. 

“I was working, but I wasn’t at Taehyung’s studio. I was taking some lessons from Jimin.” 

He looks up at that. “Wait, you were what?” 

The surprise on his face makes you giggle. There’s that wide-eyed Bambi look that you love so much. As the next track on your playlist starts, something a little slower, you shift into a grind, dragging your ass over Jungkook’s lap. He hisses, fingers tightening their grip, almost bruising in their hold, but he doesn’t try to guide you like he usually does when the two of you are in this position. It impresses you, the restraint he’s showing. 

It makes you want to make him lose control. 

You run your fingers through his hair, lifting it off his face, and lean close to his ear. “I wanted to make this good for you, baby. Give you exactly what you deserve.” Your lips hover across his cheek, not touching, but your breath caresses his skin, making him shudder beneath you. 

“Jagi,” Jungkook swallows thickly, eyelids heavy with desire as he peers at you. “You’re amazing. I can’t believe you’ve been hiding these moves from me.” 

You bite back another big smile. “You haven’t seen anything yet.” 

His hands fall from your waist as you spin around, nudging his legs apart. Following the rhythm of the music, you undulate your body down his, your back sliding down his chest, then down his lap, until you’re on your knees. Then you place your hands on the ground in front of you, lowering your bottom half to the floor in a slow humping motion, before flashing him as you whip your legs into a split in order to roll yourself onto your back.

“Holy fuck, jagi,” Jungkook gasps, digging his hands into the couch on either side of his thighs, desperate for something to clutch. “You’re finally gonna do it. You’re going to be the actual death of me.” 

Despite yourself, you start giggling. “Kookie! Don’t make me laugh.” You take your time rising to your knees, then to your feet, playing with the hem of your skirt. “I want you to take this seriously.” 

“Oh, I am, baby, believe me.” Jungkook bites his lip, nodding. His eyes follow the path your hands take, dragging the skirt up to reveal your lower stomach. Meanwhile, one of his hands has found its way to his crotch, squeezing his hard cock through his pants. You’d considered making another rule earlier, that he couldn’t touch himself, but truthfully, you want to watch him enjoy himself. 

“Good boy,” you purr, and Jungkook whimpers loud enough for you to wonder if you’ve tapped into something previously undiscovered about him, but you’re too busy to ponder it any further as you swing your hips, using his knees to help you drop yourself down to the floor again in a low squat. 

The power you feel as he watches you is beyond intoxicating. What you’re doing right now is nothing compared to the skill he displays when he dances, but you understand a little better why he does this for a living. You feel like you could do anything right now. 

As you come back up, you lean into him, hands on his chest, your face so close to his, and this time the need to kiss him is too strong, so you stop denying yourself, connecting your mouths briefly, just enough to have him chasing you when you pull away. Before he can protest, you distract him by pulling your dress over your head in one swift movement. 

“Baby,” he moans, eyeing the matching lingerie set you picked out especially for tonight, his favorite color and his favorite texture, the black lace just begging him to run his fingertips all over it. “Is that new?” 

Of course he’d notice. He’s got the contents of your underwear drawer practically memorized. Not surprising since most of the sets are from him. He’s got a thing for nice lingerie and you’re more than happy to indulge him. 

“Bought it just for you.” With your back to him, you straddle one of his thighs, centering yourself on the thick muscle, and roll your hips in slow figure eights. Grabbing his hands, you wrap them around you, placing one on your bra and the other just over the band of your panties. “Do you like?” 

Jungkook’s answer is a wordless growl as he strokes the lace. You hum, tossing your head back so it rests on his shoulder, and slip the hand over your lower stomach down further, until he’s cupping your mound. 

“Ah!” you gasp, hips jutting forward when his eager fingers go rogue and press against you in a sign of his slipping control. “I - I’m guessing that means yes.” 

“It means fuck yes,” Jungkook declares. “You’re driving me insane right now, you know that?” 

“I think I’m getting the idea,” you reply, trying to focus on finishing your dance and not just outright humping his hand. Tracing your fingernails down his forearms makes him loosen his grip enough for you to climb off him. As the next track plays, you drape yourself over the side of the couch so your back hits his lap, and lie there shimmying to the beat for a few seconds before unhooking your bra and tossing it aside. 

“Jagiya,” Jungkook rasps roughly, tongue licking furiously at his lips, and even though you’re only maybe halfway through the routine you’d been practicing, you decide to skip to the end, because clearly your boyfriend is close to breaking, and frankly, so are you. 

You throw your leg over his lap, straddling him again. Taking his hands, you lace your fingers together, using him as a counterweight to help you dip backwards, so low your head nearly brushes the ground, before you roll back up, pressing your forehead to his. You stare at his mouth and he stares at yours as you inhale a steadying breath to speak.

“You can touch me now.” 

The current of electricity simmering between you suddenly blazes out, igniting the air around you. His hands slide to the small of your back, and your arms loop around his neck, both of you pulling each other as close as possible as you meet in a charged kiss. Jungkook moans into your lips, tongue chasing the sound. Your mouth parts to let him in. 

Jungkook’s hands keep moving, gripping your waist, your ass, your breasts - it’s like he’s been starving for you, like those few minutes that he wasn’t allowed to hold you were an eternity and now that they’re over he must take his fill. Your skin vibrates beneath his fingertips, so much pent-up energy ready to burst, and you seek an outlet, grinding your hips down onto his. 

“Kookie,” you whine helplessly, and Jungkook grunts in response, rutting his erection against you, fitting between your legs so perfectly, the two of you like puzzle pieces coming together to form a complete picture of lust. 

“I’m here, jagi,” he murmurs, lips brushing along your jawline and back to your mouth before continuing down the other side. “I’m here.” 

In a second, you’re on your back, watching Jungkook peel off his shirt before he covers your body with his. His kisses are just as greedy as his touches, and you lose yourself in him, devouring the desire on his lips with a wild ravenousness of your own. 

But as he trails kisses down your body, you open your eyes and stare directly at the chandelier hanging over you, and a thought hits you with startling clarity - oh, right, you’re still at Paradise. At Jungkook’s place of work. 

“Jungkook. Jungkook,” you repeat, threading your fingers through his hair to tug his head off your breast, where his tongue was lapping at your nipple. “Should we do this here?” 

Jungkook blinks at you a few times. “Isn’t this - don’t you want to?” 

Of course you want to. But all those times you’d pictured this moment, your best hope was that he’d enjoy the dance and promise to thank you in private later when he got off work. You hadn’t really considered that you’d do such an amazing job that the two of you would fuck on the spot. (Okay, that’s a lie, you’d considered it a lot. But still. Imagining fucking your boyfriend at his job and actually fucking your boyfriend at his job are two very different things.)

“I want to,” you reassure him, brushing a wandering drop of sweat from his brow. “I just don’t want to get you in trouble.”

Jungkook laughs, leaning up to press a kiss to your cheek. “Baby, trust me, I’m not the first one to do this. There’s a reason “no sex in the champagne room” is a saying.” He sees the mix of confusion and disgust on your face and laughs again. “I’m not worrying about it and neither should you. But if you are, we don’t have to do anything. This has been more than enough for me.”

“So… you liked your dance?” you ask in a tiny voice.

Jungkook lets out a pained groan. “Baby, I loved it. I can’t believe you did all this for me.” His hand brushes over your hip, playing with the lace there. “You’re too good to me, you know that?”

“Not true.” If anything, he’s the one too good to you. “But I’m trying.” 

He kisses you again, slow and sweet. You feel yourself melting into his embrace. Any remaining concerns vanish as Jungkook lowers his head, taking your nipple into his mouth again with a messy kiss. If he’s not worried, why should you be? Besides, as you arch your back, chasing Jungkook’s tongue as he drags it down your torso, only an apocalypse could stop you now, and maybe not even that. 

“You know,” you start, gasping slightly when his teeth graze lightly over the swell of your stomach, “I’ve fantasized about this.”  

Jungkook glances up at you. “Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah. I mean, I usually pictured you dancing for me, but, um, we always ended up fucking.” A flash of heat licks the back of your neck as you meet Jungkook’s eye. 

“That’s usually how I imagine it, too,” Jungkook informs you. The casual admission of this mutual secret fantasy stokes your arousal. Jungkook flames it further when he ruts his hard cock against you. “Sometimes you ride me, sometimes I bend you over this couch, but it always starts with me giving you a private show.” 

Your breath leaves you in a hiss. “Fuck. That sounds good.” 

“Which one?”

“Both,” you groan, rolling your hips. “All of it.” 

Jungkook kisses your neck to smother his laughter. “It’s not too late, you know. I can make those fantasies come true.” His tone deepens as he speaks, becoming darker. Oh, you know this tone so well. He’s shifting to demon mode. 

“Another time. I mean,” you clarify immediately, not wanting him to misunderstand, “you can give me a private dance another time.”

“Aww, is my baby too worked up right now?” he teases, and this time he doesn’t bother to even try to hide his laughter when you whine, pressing your hips into him again. “Okay, jagi, I promise I’ll dance for you another time. I won’t make you wait any longer.” 

Again he slides down your body, kissing over the soft lace of your underwear. He pulls your thighs apart with his hands so he can stick his face directly between them. His stuttered breath blows hot over the damp material barely covering you. Impatient, you reach to push your panties down, but Jungkook grabs your hands and pins them over your head. “Kook!” 

Jungkook shakes his head at your pouty cry. Leaning over you, he catches your bottom lip with his teeth, pulling it to his mouth for another wet kiss. 

“Let me, baby,” he coos sweetly, and then he takes the lace band in his teeth and slowly drags your panties down your body using only his mouth. 

“Fuck that’s hot,” you moan, unable to tear your gaze away. Jungkook hums, dropping the sodden silk on the ground before lowering his lips to kiss your pussy. He’s sloppy and loud, and in a brief lucid flash of sanity you pray that the music covers the sounds out in the hallway. 

Jungkook always moves at his own pace, in his own time, and nowhere is that more evident than the way goes down on you. He loves building you up slowly, so slowly, until you’re going out of your mind begging him to let you cum. Tonight, however, he’s moving fast, slipping two fingers inside you, getting you ready for him.  If asked, he’d claim it was for you, but the truth is that he needs you as much as you need him right now. 

“Love the way you taste,” he murmurs, fingers spreading you wider, dragging his tongue over your clit. He curls his fingers, smirking at your gasp, and repeats the movement. It feels so good, too good, so your hand snakes out and grabs his wrist, and he stills, looking up at you in confusion. 

“Wanna come on your cock,” you explain.

He groans, reclining back on his knees. “Whatever you want, jagiya,” he says, fingers flying to the laces on his leather pants. He’s used to taking his time untying them on stage, drawing the moment out seductively, a marked contrast to the clumsy way he tugs on them now, trying to undo them as quickly as he can. 

With only a little bit of struggling, he pushes his pants down, then kicks them off completely. He wraps one hand around his hard length, thumb and forefinger pinching slightly just below the flushed head. Your teeth sink into your lip as you stare at him, taking in sight of this gorgeous man kneeling between your legs, looking every bit as hungry as you feel. 

“Tell me how you want it.”

You clench unconsciously at Jungkook’s command, mind running through all the possibilities. Honestly, you don’t care how, you just need him inside you now. 

So you reach out, gently prying his fingers away from his cock. Jungkook sighs when you take it in your hand, a sound of deep-seated contentment, like he’s been waiting all night for you to touch him. You understand the sentiment, thighs twitching as you slowly pump him a few times, using his slickness to make your movements easier. 

“Just like this,” you say, guiding him towards your slit. He hisses as you slide his head through your folds, and presses forward a bit, helping you coat him in your arousal. 

“Okay, jagiya,” he murmurs. He arranges himself between your legs, lifting one calf, then the other, over his broad shoulders. You shiver, breathless with anticipation as you catch the feral glint in his eyes. “Just like this.” 

A harmonious pair of moans fill the room when he enters you. He waits for a moment, because as rushed as his fingering was, it wasn’t enough to fully stretch you out enough for him. When you whisper, “okay,” he starts to move. The first few rolls of his hips are slow and easy, him savoring the tight warmth of your cunt around him, you delighting in the sensation of being filled so completely. He kisses the side of your knee, staring down at you as you whimper beneath him with every languid thrust. 

When your hands stretch out for him, he leans down, bending you in half to press his mouth to yours. He sinks deeper into you, your bodies locking together more closely, and you lace your fingers through his hair, until you’re breathing each other’s kisses like air. You whisper Jungkook’s name and he sighs yours back. 

“Love you so much, jagi.” 

His mouth nudges your head to the side in search of that sensitive spot behind your ear, and you open your eyes to catch sight of the two of you in the mirror. Even if the room were pitch black right now, you’d be able to see yourself lying there, the way you’re lit from within. Your love for Jungkook burns inside you like a star in the night sky, pulsing bright and steady. 

“I love you, too.” 

Jungkook’s pace steadies, his pelvis starting to bounce off your ass with more speed.

“Oh, fuck, yes, baby,” you moan, watching him piston his cock inside you. “More, please, Kookie! More!” 

Never let it be said that your boyfriend doesn’t listen. He pulls out, getting off the couch, and, with strong hands gripping your thighs, positions you with your hips resting on the arm of the couch, to raise you high enough for him to plunge back in from a standing position. 

And then he gives you exactly what you asked for. 

Jungkook fucks you hard and fast. His furrowed brow drips with sweat as he snaps his hips into you. You know nothing could break his concentration now - eyes sharply focusing on your expression, ears listening for the change in the pitch of your voice. When he feels your walls starting to constrict, he grips your thighs to tilt you just enough to find the right angle to tap your sweet spot with every pump - 

“Jungkook!” With a loud gasp of his name, your climax arrives. Your cunt pulsates so tightly around him that Jungkook clamps his arms around your legs, pulling your ass flush against him so he can grind into you.

“Oh, fuck, jagi, ‘m so close.” His voice is already wrecked, sounding rough and broken. He bends slightly at the waist, forcing your legs closer to your stomach, putting you at an odd angle, but you’re still buzzing with pleasure so you don’t notice the stretch, just let out a low moan as Jungkook starts to move again. 

He bends further, sliding his hands behind your back, and then he lifts you, using that surprising strength of his to hold you as he slides around to sit on the couch. Your legs support you just long enough to straddle him, and then you sink down onto his cock, more than happy to collapse against Jungkook as he fucks up into you. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants, bringing one of his hands up to cup your cheek. “Always so good, jagi.” You meet his gaze, struck by the love you see in his eyes. No matter how often he looks at you like this, it makes your heart sing every time. You kiss him before sitting up, meeting his thrusts with your own movements.

“Come for me, Kookie,” you murmur sweetly, drawing your boyfriend’s eye with the movement of your hand as it heads down your stomach. Your fingers rub at your clit, rolling the engorged nub around, and the delicious drag of his cock inside your constricting walls has you hurtling towards a second orgasm just as Jungkook reaches his first.

Your playlist begins the last song as the two of you cling to each other on the couch. Jungkook’s arms are still locked around your back while you rest your head on his shoulder. He sings along quietly to the music, his soothing voice wrapping around you like a blanket. It’s a favorite song of his, just as it’s a favorite of yours - the song from your rooftop dance at Jennie and Yoongi’s wedding.

When the music ends, Jungkook sighs. “We should definitely do this again.” 

You laugh, sitting up. He grins at you and you lean forward to press a light peck to the tiny mole under his lip. “I may have booked you all night.” 

“Like I was gonna let you walk out of here anytime soon,” he scoffs. He stops your giggling with his kiss, lips soft and lingering, and you sigh, hugging him close again. 

There’s a part of you that can’t believe you just fucked your boyfriend in a strip club, but somehow it felt inevitable that you two would end up here like this. Like from the moment you walked in here all those months ago, there was no other way this would go. 

It was such a strange trip to think about. You had to go all the way to Paradise to meet the love of your life who lived next door. Fate could really take the most roundabout way, but the journey was more than worth it. 

“You really didn’t have to do all of this for me.” Jungkook’s voice brings you back to the moment. 

“I want to do everything for you,” you reply with a shake of your head. “You deserve the world, Kookie.” 

“I have everything I could ever want, jagiya. Right here in my arms.” 

Normally, this is where you would roll your eyes at him for being so sappy, but that’s hard to do when you’re blinking back tears. Instead, you squeeze him a little tighter, so he knows that you feel the same way. 

“You know…” Jungkook starts after a few seconds, then stops. You shake him a little to urge him to go on. “There is something else I’ve been thinking about. Something I want to do, but I wasn’t sure if you’d be into it.” 

“What is it?”

He glances down, and there’s the shy bunny smile that you remember from all those months ago. “I’d love to paint you.” 

“Naked?” you whisper, hand to your chest, looking scandalized.

He laughs, nose wrinkling in glee. “That actually wasn’t what I meant but I’m absolutely down if you are.” 

“We’ll see,” you grin, kissing his cheek. “One thing at a time. Right now, we’ve got this room to ourselves, and I believe you promised me a dance.”

“Yes I did,” Jungkook agrees, chin jutting out to catch your next kiss with his lips. “Anything for my love.” 

“I love you, too,” you sigh, kissing him back. 

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

A/N 2: Yes, there will still be some drabbles down the line, but this is the end of the main story! Thank you for sticking with me! 💕

If you liked this fic, please consider reblogging! Likes do not help it get seen by other readers. 💕

Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜 

© 2021-22-23-24 by sunshinerainbowsbts/minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost.

[asirensrage]

Saudade - Chapter 10

Rating: Explicit Pairing: Mikey x OC, Hanma x OC, Ran x OC, Mikey x OC x Draken Fandom: Tokyo Revengers Warnings: swearing, violence, threats of violence, murder, smoking, sex, consensual sex between teenagers, alcohol, recreational drug use, mention of trafficking, torture, family neglect, mentions of sexual violence. isekai OC. memory loss. unbeta’d **warnings are not exhaustive** Summary: No one seems to realize she doesn’t belong until she finally runs into her “new” brother, Hanagaki Takemichi. Now, hearing his story, Takara makes the choice to help him and hopefully find her way home, but faking it til you make it only lasts so long when you start losing the memories of the life you had before. As Takemichi becomes the only family she’s ever known, how far will she go to protect him?

notes: Thank you all so much for reading this and for your comments. They mean the world to me. I'm so glad you're enjoying this. Please let me know what you think about this chapter. I'd love to hear your theories about what's going to happen. 😏

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fic masterlist - prev chapter

She doesn’t sleep.

How can she when she has to sort through the shit in her head? She doesn’t regret her choice to threaten Taiju. He nearly killed Takemichi and she’s not prepared to let him die, now or in the future. She’s already planned to do whatever it takes to keep him alive. Accepting Toman’s help would be another shackle around her neck. She’d be subjected to the orders of Mikey and the other leaders…including Kisaki. On her own she would have less protection, but she’d be free to make her own choices. 

She ignores the texts that make her phone buzz and instead buries herself in her blankets. It would be easier if she didn’t give a shit about her brother, but Takemichi is the only one she has. He’s the only one who knows she doesn’t really belong here and that…he’s the only one who actually sees her. She has to protect that. 

🏍️

By the next morning, the bruise on her face is mostly yellow with some splotches of red, but the one on her side where she took the direct hit was a mix of red, dark blues and purple. It is a bit hard to see. It hurts like hell though now. The lack of sleep didn’t help, nor did the call demanding her presence at a meeting she definitely didn’t belong at. She was also warned not to bring her roller blades which felt like a punishment already. 

“What happened to you?” Takemichi cries out the moment he sees her. 

“A funny thing happened on the way to the market…” she says lightly, hoping she could avoid telling him. Considering the order she received to follow her brother to the meeting, it isn’t likely. “I met the Black Dragon giant last night.”

Takemichi drops the cup he’s holding in shock before darting over to her. “Are you alright?! Did he do this?! Was it because of me?”

She winces and steps out of his hold, shoving his hands down so he stops touching her face. “Knock it off. I’m fine. I just had something to tell him.”

“What could you possibly need to tell the leader of the Black Dragons?” he asks, looking at her incredulously. 

“That if he ever touches my family again, I’ll kill him.” 

Her brother’s mouth drops open, staring at her in shock. “What?!”

She ignores him, grabbing something to eat for breakfast. She gets enough to make some for her brother as well. She goes through the motions of cooking, keeping an eye out for their parents. None of them are around, or if they are, they’re avoiding them. It feels weird. Parents should be more invested in her opinion. Or maybe that’s just what she was used to. 

“Takara, tell me you didn’t threaten that monster!”

“Okay, I won’t.”

“Taka!”

“Take!” she quips back. “Hurry up and eat. I gotta go with you to your meeting because of this,” she motions to her face. 

“You’re like five feet tall! He’s ginormous! He could kill you, Takara! He wanted to kill me!”

“Yeah, but you’re the idiot who doesn’t know how to duck.” 

“What?!”

🏍️

They continue to go back and forth, heading to meet the others until Takemichi stops her to admit that she’s not the only one who did something without thinking last night. 

“You told Chifuyu?!”

“I didn’t mean to! It just slipped out and then the next thing I knew, I was saying everything!” 

“And he believed you?”

“Yeah, he said it made sense. That it was like I was two different people at times.” 

She falls silent. It was true. The Takemichi standing before her now is familiar and comfortable. It’s the one who actually feels like her brother. His present self that returns when he leaves back to the future…it doesn’t feel the same. 

“This will be good,” Takemichi says. “Another person on our side! Who can help me.”

The way he says it rankles, digging into an old wound when it sounds like she’s not good enough. She swallows the feeling back, knowing her brother is an idiot and probably didn’t mean the way it sounds. “Sure.” 

“On the inside,” he says quickly as if he realizes he made a mistake. “With Toman.”

She sighs. “I get it, Takemichi.” Takara shoves her hands in her pockets and continues to walk, her brother following quickly behind. “Don’t worry about it.” 

“Are you sure? I really didn’t mean that you can’t help me! I just meant that having someone in the gang who knows the people better than either of us do…”

She tunes him out. This Takemichi doesn’t know that she’s been dragged into a friendship with Draken and Mikey. He doesn’t know that Hanma has hounded her for her attention and that there’s a bet out there to sleep with her. It’s driving in the reminder that she’s alone in this world, that she doesn’t belong here. 

Takara hasn’t made friends outside of being adopted by her brother’s friends. Her parents here have only acknowledged her when she was arrested after trying to save Baji. The only reason she’s not failing school is because it was driven into her as a child that failure was not an option. All she has is Takemichi and the sports she keeps telling herself she’ll join again but she hasn’t because it’s not the same. She doesn’t have anyone telling her she needs to do something. She’s left to her own devices and she’s floundering. 

🏍️

The only ones who don’t look surprised to see her when she shows up at the executive meeting are Mikey and Draken. Hanma stands instantly, gaze darkening as he takes in the bruise on her face but he’s prevented from heading towards her both by Kisaki’s hand on his arm and Mikey calling her forward. 

She straightens her shoulders, ignoring the looks of concern she’s getting from Mitsuya and his vice-captain she knows she’s met before, and the confusion from the others she doesn’t completely recognize. 

Mikey moves forward from where he’s sitting, perched above the rest like a king on his throne. He leans down, face turning as he inspects the damage. “It’s not that bad.”

Draken has his arms crossed, watching them. “Lift up your shirt.”

“Hey!” Takemichi protests. “That’s my sister!”

“Not like that!” he shouts back, sounding annoyed at the accusation. “She’s injured.”

She glares over at Draken but he stares back, unimpressed. She exhales sharply as she lifts up the side of the shirt she’s wearing, trying not to wince at the pain the motion creates. 

Someone swears. 

“Takara!” her brother cries out. “You said you were fine!”

“I am fine!” She jolts to the side when Mikey pokes her bruise. “Ow!” She swipes at his hand, forcing it down instantly. “Stop that!” 

He moves back to his perch. “What happened?” 

“You mean Draken didn’t tell you?”

“I want to hear it from you. Everyone here should.” 

“Your choice will impact ours,” Draken says, reminding her of what’s coming. 

She can practically feel Hanma’s gaze burning into her back. “Fine. I came home yesterday to find my brother beaten to hell. He told me what happened. I…picked up my bat and left, tracking the giant asshole down, which wasn’t hard by the way,” she admits. “I rolled up on him, broke my bat across his head and gave him a warning that if he ever touched my brother again, I’d kill him.” 

There’s a moment of silence as her words are processed. Someone behind her laughs. 

“The bruises are because he managed to hit me once on the side. I crashed into a wall,” she motions to her face. 

“You’re saying you hit Taiju Shiba?” She looks back to see that the one who asked was one of the guys she doesn’t recognize with blond hair. 

“Princess does pack a strong hit,” Hanma grins. “Especially with a weapon.”

“It’s sports equipment,” Takara says. “And yeah, I hit him.” 

“You’re…tiny.”

“No shit.” She turns back to Mikey. “I ran into Draken after. I didn’t know about the rules or anything like that. He told me I gotta choose which direction I want to go in after that.”

“What?” Takemichi interrupts. “What choice?”

She ignores her brother.

“Did you?” Draken asks. 

“Yeah,” Takara nods. It was an easy one when it came down to it. “I’ll remain unaffliated with Toman.”

“You’re sure?” Draken asks, looking between her and Mikey who hasn’t looked away from her. “You know what that means.” 

“Yeah. No protection but it’s fine.”

“It’s fucking stupid!” She rolls her eyes at Hanma’s voice and doesn’t bother to turn to look at him. “Come on, princess!”

“I don’t need your opinion,” she snaps, glancing back at him. 

He scowls darkly. “What? You think the fucking Haitanis are going to protect you?”

“Haitani?” Multiple people ask, a mixture of confusion and accusation. 

“You running with another gang?” the blond one she doesn’t know asks. It sounds more like an accusation. 

“I’m not running with any gang,” Takara says, looking back at him in confusion. “I went to a rink and they found me. They just wanted to talk,” she shrugs. 

“About what?” the blond asks before taking a step towards her.

“Mucho!” Draken snaps. “She’s not a traitor.”

“Can’t betray anything I’m not a part of,” Takara adds. She rocks back on her heels slightly, wishing she was wearing her skates. Despite the confidence she has in her brother having her back, he’s a terrible fighter and she’s starting to feel cornered. 

“Are you sure?” Mikey asks, eyes meeting hers as he ignores the others. He’s steadfast as he waits, exuding confidence as he acts as the leader he is. It’s such a contrast to how she’s seen him when it’s just her and Draken. 

Takara nods. “I thought about the pros and cons last night. I’d rather be free and face the consequences. No offence.”

“None taken. Wait outside.” 

She nods again and leaves, ignoring the stares that watch her go. She can practically feel both Hanma and Takemichi wanting to say something. It’s a miracle her brother doesn’t.   

🏍️

She makes her way outside, sitting down in the dirt and leaning back against one of the walls. Her legs ache like she needs to stretch but the pain of her side and face are enough to ignore it.

Looking back, it was a bad idea to go after the giant. Still, she couldn’t get over her anger that led to her lashing out. Takemichi faced not only death now in the future but incarceration as well. He refused to tell her where she was, only that they weren’t close, and her day earlier with Ran and Rindou had been ruined by Hanma’s arrival. Mainly because of the possessive way he spoke about her to them and the fact that she knew it was only going to get worse if she enacted her plan. 

She leans back and closes her eyes, letting out a sigh. She wants to be back on the ice, a hockey stick in her hand and…and..she wants her family back. Her friends. She wants to not have to worry that her brother is going to die and there’s nothing she can do about it. She wants…to be able to remember what they look like. In detail. She can remember her brothers, her mother and father, but her friends' faces are slipping away. When she thinks of her friends, she only thinks of the people she knows here. 

A lump grows in her throat and she takes a deep breath, swallowing it back. It’s a constant ache that leaves her feeling empty and the worst part is she knows something is missing but she doesn’t know what it is. It’s like the way she likes things now she knows she didn’t before, not who she used to be. 

If she’s losing pieces of herself…what is she left with? Is she anyone except Takemichi’s sister? 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

She jolts in surprise, looking up to see Hanma storming towards her. The grief slips to the back of her mind as she forces herself to her feet to face off. “The fuck do you want?” she snarls back, instantly on guard. She sees the others coming out of the shack they had their meeting in, but they’re all moving slower than Hanma and she doesn’t see her brother yet. 

He moves closer as if he can force her back and corner her. 

She digs her metaphorical feet in and doesn’t back down. He’s not the first to attempt to cow her into submission with his size and he won’t be the last. “What the fuck do you want?” she repeats, slower this time, sharpening her words to a point as she glares up at him. 

“Why didn’t you come to me for help?”

“Why would I?” She asks, almost genuinely curious. “We’re not fucking friends, Hanma, and in case you haven’t noticed, I don’t want you around.”

“I would have helped you, princess,” he says, voice slightly softer than before as he stares down at her. Takara stares back, confused at the insistence and the way he’s looking at her. 

“Fuck off, I don’t need help.”

“Yeah, you made that fucking clear when you refused Toman’s. Why didn’t you ally with us?”

“Why the fuck would I trust you?” She asks, glaring up at him. “You forced a kiss on me the second time we met. You fought against my brother. You want to help me? Suck my dick.”

“Kara-chan. Come.” Mikey calls out, breaking the tension between the two of them. He’s emerged from the shack with Draken at his side and both her brother and Chifuyu following. 

“What am I, a dog?” she mutters before shoving her way past Hanma to join him. She gives him the finger before ignoring him completely as she follows Mikey.

“Takara–”

“We’ll talk later,” she murmurs to Takemichi as he tries to stop her. “Don’t worry.” She smiles at him before heading to meet Mikey at his bike. He climbs on and offers her a hand to get on behind him. He waits until she’s ready, feet on the pegs and arms wrapped around him, before he takes off, leaving everyone else behind.

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[sortofanobsession]

Will o’ the Wisp - Ch. 4 (Umbrella Academy WIP)

Author’s Note: Okay, so I managed to get some more done. I have more sketched out but not sure how soon it will be done. I have plans. So stay tuned. Unbeta’d.

Please see chapter 1 for explanation of characters and character name details for Viktor. (again I am willing to take suggestions on this)

Minors DNI

So as it goes, Y/N = your name. Y/N/N = your nickname.  Reader pronouns She/Her.

Tag Requests are Open just message me.

Primary Pairing: Diego Hargreeves x Female!Reader (Slow Burn)

Luther tries to be a decent brother, he isn't the best at it.

Series/TUA Masterlist

Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 5

Word count: 5k+

Content Warning: Canon typical neglect, manipulation, violence, angst, anger, fire, flames, knives (cuz Diego is gonna Diego) guns, gunshot wounds, blood, cauterization, head wound, mentions of death, mentions of murder, poison, depression, anxiety, fear, mentions torture (I probably missed something, so let me know and I'll tag it.)

Chapter 4: Discussions and Distractions 

Y/N and Luther get back to the academy. She lets out a long sigh as she rolls her shoulders and lets the Wisp form behind her. Luther had gotten so used to her doing that, that he didn’t usually bat an eye, but this time he takes a second to study the hue and intensity of the glowing form. After everything, they had talked about, and the fact they probably talked more now than they had since they were really little, he really looked at both her forms. How could she stand constantly having dueling perspectives? The more he tried to think about it, the more it seemed nauseating. Like, split-screen video games or picture-in-picture but 24/7 and beyond just audio-visual. They’ve been together their whole lives, and he is just really putting it into perspective now. He clearly sucks at being the sympathetic brother. He looks away from her glowing form and to her actual human one. She looked weary, almost drained. He wonders how much it takes out of her to have this extra entity that is constantly battling for space. It might not be a mental thing, but it clearly took a toll. Would she even tell him if she needed a break or help? Would any of them? He guessed that was kind of the situation they were all navigating now. Learning to work together again. And all it took was someone killing their dad. Maybe he was thinking too much about this.

"What?" She asks when her much larger brother just keeps staring at her.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but-"

"I know," she says knowingly. "I need to get more sleep.” She huffs a sort of tired laugh and smiles. “Wisp is more of a ragged refulgence right now."

Luther wasn’t about to admit he wasn’t actually sure what that meant. Ragged, made sense. That one he got. Refulgence? Well, that one he would have to look up. Why did his sisters have to genuinely be so much smarter than he was? But he ignored it. It wasn’t meant as a dig against his intelligence or anything like that. That she usually reserved for Diego. He knows her tone made it clear it was supposed to be, at least partially, a joke.

"Yeah," he nods. 

She gives him an amused look as he seemed to be in his head again. “Remember to get some sleep yourself, Luther.” With that, she goes off to her room. He goes to find Allison.

Y/N wakes up to Pogo telling her she had a call. She isn’t too surprised to find her boss on the line. She had given him the number as an emergency contact. She had not really expected him to use it, but then again, the guy wasn’t great on boundaries at times. For what feels like hours but is probably just a few annoying minutes, they argue about her next shift. She tells him how her family needs her and that she can’t come back yet. She can’t tell him the details. She can’t even guarantee a timeline. Eventually, her boss agrees to give her a few more days unpaid. To which she begrudgingly agrees. 

Grumbling, she goes to get something to eat. Her annoyance is clear in the slight red tint to her fluorescent facsimile.

"Whoa, looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed," Klaus says. She glances up at the Wisp but shrugs. 

"My boss called."

"Fun, clearly went well," Klaus gestures to the aggravated aura.

"He is not happy about having to find someone to cover my shifts. But he did give me more time off, unpaid time off, but that's not a surprise."

"Why do you still work there if your boss sucks?"

"Because I have rent to pay," she says. "And I was lucky to find that job. Not a lot of people want to hire someone like me."

"That is their loss. You're great. A literal ray of sunshine."

"I love you, Klaus, but I think you're a bit biased."

"There you are," She smiles as she sees Five. "If I didn't know better, I would think you were avoiding me."

"You?" Five says. “Nah.” 

"I've seen Luther and Diego more than you, and that's saying something."

"That's because I trust you,” he insists, “I know you can do what I asked you to without me hovering. Hovering is more your thing." He gestures to the Wisp.

"I appreciate that, but I still miss you."

Five smiles sadly. "I miss you too, but once I sort out what I need to, then we'll have all the time we need for you to get sick of having me around like you do, Klaus." 

“You sure you have that much time?” She grins.

“For you?” He pretends to need to mull it over, but he knew the answer. He had genuinely missed her. He’d missed them all, but she had always been up to any challenge he gave her. She never used to back down. She may have lost some of her edge and her warm light, but she was still his sister. “Sure.”

She studies him. "Are you okay?"

"I promise you, Y/N/N, I am not the one you need to worry about."

She narrows her gaze at him. "See, that just makes me worry more."

He chuckles. "I know, but I trust you to do what needs to be done."

"But what is your end goal, Five? I can't help you much if you don't tell me."

"I'm handling it," he insists.

"But-" 

He squeezes her shoulder. “Just keep working on getting everyone on the same page."

She snorts a laugh. "I'm not even sure they're all using the same book, let alone page."

"You, Diego, and Luther were all in the same room and walked away agreeing on something last night, right?" She nods. "Then you are already doing better than I expected."

Grace approaches them. 

"There you are, Y/N," she smiles, "you have a call." 

"I'll fill you in later, okay?" Five assures her.

"Okay," she nods before going to get the phone. She was only partially surprised to find out it was her neighbor, Joan. Someone else she had given the number to for emergencies. 

"Hey Joan, I'm sorry I didn't let you know but my trip home is taking a bit longer than I expected." She informs her only friendly neighbor. "Oh, I told Allison you were a fan…"

"There you are. I think we found something about Dad." Luther pulls Y/N to the side. 

She is instant to inquire, "What did you find?" 

“Pogo gave Allison the key to the surveillance videos. Dad had been using them again. Getting paranoid, I guess.”

“So you have video from the day he died?”

“Exact moment and before it.”

“So?” she prompts him to continue when he doesn’t elaborate. 

“Grace gave him a cup of tea, and then he died.”

“So you think she did it?” She finds that hard to believe. She was their mom. She helped raise them when Reginald Hargreeves couldn’t be bothered to. 

“You can see for yourself once the others get here.” They stand in silence for a moment while she really thinks about it. What would have been Grace’s motive? Why was he telling her now if they were going to show everyone later? Unless…  

"Please tell me you don't think what I think you're thinking, Luther."

"I'm just telling you what we found. Figured you would want a heads up, going to have a family meeting."

"Luther," she starts. 

"I'm not saying it was him, just you know how he is with Grace," Luther says.

"He would never ask her to do anything like that, never put her in a position like that. I don’t even know if that would be possible. He…no, there has to be something else going on."

"Just don't miss the meeting," Luther says.

Before Y/N turns the corner she hears Diego in Grace’s sitting area. She thought about her conversation with Luther.

“Mom, we need to talk.” 

“Okay,” Grace agrees, “but only for a minute. I need to finish this cross-stitch.” 

“Everything you did for us when we were kids... for me... why'd you do it?”

“Because being your mother is the greatest gift of my life.” 

“Is that you saying that?” 

“I'm not sure what you mean, Diego.” 

“I mean, our father, he... made you.” 

“When you think something, is it like he's telling you what to say?” 

“Your father isn't here, silly. Did I do something wrong?” 

“No, it's... it's not... Look. It's okay... if you hated him. He was terrible to you, to all of us.” 

“Don't say that.” 

“Why not? We were just tools in an experiment to him. Nothing more. So I'm saying, I would understand if... you know, if... if you wanted to hurt him.” 

“Now, now. Mr. Hargreeves was a great man. Industrialist, inventor, Olympic gold medalist. He made the world a better place.” 

“Stop it! Do you hear me? Stop trying to defend him! Mom, you gotta feel something. Look, he treated you worse than anyone. You worked for him for 30 years. He didn't even give you a room to sleep in.” 

“But I've got such beautiful views here.” 

“Mom, those are just paintings.” 

“Of course they are. What a wonderful world she lives in. Sometimes I wonder if she is lonely.”

Y/N can almost sense Diego’s frustration from where she is, but she doesn’t say anything. She just continues on her way. 

The Wisp hovers a few feet behind them all, just high enough not to heat any surfaces. But very little of Y/N’s focus is on the scintillate secondary entity. It was back to its usual melancholy tone. Her focus is on her siblings as they all gather. 

“I mean, do you really think Mom would hurt Dad?” Vanya asks.

“You haven't been home in a long time, Vanya.” 

“Maybe you don't know Grace anymore.”

“Not sure that’s fair,” Y/n mutters. “Most of us have been gone.” 

“If he was poisoned, it would have shown in the coroner's report.” 

“Well, I don't need a report to tell me what I can see with my own eyes.”

“Guys…” she starts.

“Look closer.” 

“Dad has his monocle.” Diego narrates. “Mom stands up. Monocle's gone.” 

“Oh, yeah!” Klaus agrees with a chuckle.

“She wasn't poisoning him. She was... taking it.” 

“To clean it.” 

Luther isn't convinced. “Then where is it? No, I've searched the house, including all her things. She doesn't have it.” 

“That's because I took it from her,” Diego admits. “After the funeral.”

The Wisp flashes a vivid shade of vermillion for a moment before it settles back to its usual melancholy blue. An action that earns her a few winces and nervous looks, but no one mentions it. They instead choose to focus on Diego.  

“You've had the monocle this whole time? What the hell, Diego?” 

“Give it to me.” 

“I threw it away.” 

“You what?”

“You’re a dumbass,” Y/N grumbles as she rubs at her temples. The glimmer of the Wisp changes slightly as she does, intensity ebbing and flowing with the pressure on her temples. Like angry waves on a stormy coast. She misses the glare Diego sends both of her forms. 

“Look, I knew that if you found it on Mom, you'd lose your shit,” Diego explains. “Just like you're doing right now.” 

Y/N shook her head. This meeting was going nowhere fast. She shifted her attention to the Wisp and decided to search for Five. She barely registers the continuing conversation, giving it just enough attention that she couldn't be accused of ignoring it all.

“Diego, you son of a bitch.”  

“Hey, no,” Vanya tries, “Calm down. Look, I know Dad wasn't exactly an open book. But I do remember one thing he said. Mom was, well, designed to be a caretaker, but...also as a protector.” 

“What does that mean?” 

Vanya explains, “She was programmed to intervene if someone's life was in jeopardy.” 

“Well, if her hardware is degrading, then…We need to turn her off,” Luther states. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, wait,” Diego starts. “She's not just a vacuum cleaner you can throw in a closet. She feels things. I've seen it!” 

“She just stood there, Diego, and watched our father die.” 

“I'm with Luther,” Allison tells them. 

“Surprise, surprise.” Diego snarks. 

“Shut up,” Allison glares. 

They look at Vanya. “I... I don't…” 

“Yeah,” Diego doesn’t let her finish. “She shouldn't get a vote.”

“Wh... “ Luther starts.

“I was gonna say that I agree with you,” Vanya points out. 

“Okay,” Diego accepts, “She should get a vote.”  

“What about you, stoner boy? What do you got?” They look to Klaus.

“Oh, so, what? You need my help now? Oh, 'Get out of the van, Klaus!' 'Well, welcome back to the van'."

“What van?”

“What's it gonna be, Klaus?” Luther asks.

“I'm with Diego, because screw you!” Klaus glares at Luther. “And if Ben were here, he'd agree with me.”

“So far, that's three to two.” 

They look at Y/N, but she says nothing.

“Y/N?” Luther calls to her, and when she doesn’t respond, he asks, “Where’s the Wisp?”. 

“What?” Allison looks around. “Not here.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Diego seethes. He can see the faint blue glow under her eyelids. 

“Hey!” Allison shouts as Diego grips their sister’s shoulder and violently shakes it. He fails to duck out of the way when a fist hits his chest, landing him on the floor.

“Asshole,” Y/N mutters as she gets up, flexing her fingers as she does. 

“Were you listening?” Luther asks.

Y/N glares at him. “You doubting me too?” 

She steals Klaus’ booze and takes a swig, earning a laugh from her usually inebriated brother. “Easy, Sunshine,” Klaus says with a grin. “Where’ve you been?”

“Looking for Five,” she pats his cheek as she answers. “So we can end this pointless discussion.”

“Successful mission or no?” Klaus asks with a tilt of his head as she takes another drink before handing it back to him.

“Sadly, I was rudely interrupted.” She glares at Diego.

“You are such a bitch,” Diego grits out from clenched teeth. She ignores him. 

“But did you-” Luther starts on topic again. 

“I heard you, Luther, unlike either of you fellas,” she gestures between Luther and Diego. “I can use both my brain cells.”

“You know what-” Diego starts at her, gesturing with his knife.

“No,” she begins with a sharp tone as four versions of the Wisp cage him in. He freezes. He can feel the intense heat surrounding him. “It’s my turn to vote.”

“Whoa,” Allison says in shock.

“Y/N,” Vanya moves towards her. “I don’t think that’s…”

“I’ve got this V,” Y/N slowly walks in a circle around Diego, just outside the Wisps’ blazing boundary, as it shifts, and he is enhaloed in a ring of light. It twists and coils around him. He feels like he’s surrounded by hellfire. “You want to know my vote, hmm? Fine,” the next part comes out almost saccharine sweet. “I heard your little chat with Mom. She didn’t even remember Reginald Hargreeves was dead at his memorial. She acts like he is just out of town. She has no clue what is happening. I think Mom needs a bit of a time-out or a nap. Isn’t that what she would have us do? Considering she is clearly so out of sorts.” It looked like Diego was going to take a swing at her despite the Wisps.

“That’s new,” Klaus states, somewhat in awe.

“When did she learn that?” Vanya inquires.

“Does it matter?” Allison asks. “She needs to stop!”

“Let him go, Y/N,” Luther says.

“Whatever you say, Number One,” she acquiesces and takes a few steps back before pulling back most of her powers between her open palm until it resembles a large orb she wills down in size. She keeps it there for a moment before letting it shift to its usual form and place behind her. Her everpresent coruscating companion.  

Allison sighs at the dramatics. “Are you trying to burn the place down?”

“I know what I’m doing, Allison,” she replies. 

“So it’s three to three,” Vanya says, trying to shift the focus back to the main topic before her sisters start to fight. 

“Five will have to be the tiebreaker,” Luther admits.

“A vote we’d get done a lot faster if someone had let me finish my search,” Y/N complains. 

“I’m sure he’ll be back soon,” Vanya says.

Y/N goes to leave without saying another word. 

"Hey!" Diego snaps and follows her. “What the hell was that?!”

"Something I haven’t done in a very long time.”

“You had no-”

“No what, Diego? No right? That’s funny, because you can’t be serious. I have every right to be mad. Just like they do. You lied to them, to me. You hid this from them, from me! Let me guess, you don’t even think you did anything wrong, do you?” 

“I was protecting, Grace,” Diego grits out.

“I defended you,” she pokes him in the chest. "You know that?”

"What?" He glares as he swats her hand away. 

"At the gym, before you got there, even earlier today. I told Luther you didn't have anything to do with this. That it couldn’t be you. And yeah, you didn't kill him, but why hide it? Especially after he found out you were in the ring that night. I told him I trusted you, even if you hate me."

"Will you stop saying I hate you!" Diego shouts.

Her jaw dropped momentarily before closing with an audible click of her teeth, and her eyes flash red. But Diego continues his tone a touch less angry, "Does it frustrate the hell out of me when you don't listen, hell yes. Or how you never consider your own safety and choose to focus on everyone else's? Absolutely. Or when you push yourself so far past your limits you look like a shell of your usual self? Damn right it does. But I don't hate you. Never have. I hate that you won't let me explain or even help without you fighting me."

"That's rich coming from you,” she says with an eye roll. “How many times since we got here have you literally screamed you don't want my help."

"Really?” He crosses his arms. “We're going to do this now?"

"Yes, because you don't trust me."

"That's not true!"

"You don't even trust me to protect myself when I'm the Wisp. In the courtyard-"

"That is because I know you push yourself too hard when you're in a fight. You always do. And you are out of practice. And sure, in that meeting, you came out swinging, but in the courtyard? Your focus was on Five's portal, on looking after us, and you didn't even react when I touched you. Not a flinch, not a move to block. Nothing. That’s why I shook you so hard this time. Before, you were leaving just enough in your actual body to keep breathing. What was I supposed to do?"

"I knew you all wouldn't do anything that put me in danger. I knew you wouldn't hurt me,” she tells him. “No matter how much you-"

"I swear if the next words out of your mouth are that I hate you, I might-" He points his finger at  her. And it’s like the anger bleeds out of her. Exhaustion creeping in from manifesting first multiple full-formed Wisps, but then the halo ring for the first time in years. She sways on her feet slightly. On instinct, Diego reaches out to steady her, one hand on her shoulder.

"Point taken, Okay?” She nods. ”Next fight, I'll focus differently."

"Need a hand-to-hand combat refresher, you know where to find me, but it's not just that, okay? If you're going to use your little lights to follow us again, don't scramble your brain too much. I know you're going to keep doing it, just don't push it."

"You've been talking to Luther, haven't you?"

"That too, but the others might not notice when you follow them around with your little lights, but I do. And yeah, you both straight-up confirmed that. I'm shocked you didn't see me toss the monocle. I went to the donut shop crime scene right after. Part of why I was shocked you were defending me."

She punched his shoulder. "Then why didn't you tell me?"

"You were too busy lecturing me to get a word on."

"You're such a jerk."

"Just to you, Luz."

"That's a new one," she grinned.

"Well, if we're supposed to get along, I can't very well call you Bruja anymore."

When she hears the start of a scuffle, Y/N splits into the Wisp and is in the thick of it before she even knows what is really happening. Bullets flying has her transferring enough of her mind back for her body to hit the floor before putting most of her focus back into her illuminated form. Moving to immediately back Diego up and trying to draw as much of the focus on the Wisp as possible. Shoot at her in that form all they want, even if they could. The main issue was these opponents seemed smart enough not to fall for her usual tricks. Especially when she realizes that Klaus and Vanya could be caught in the middle of it all. So she resorted to some older tactics, some of the first ones she learned. Klaus had always called it the flash and crash. Use the Wisp to blind one of the attackers and tackle them from behind. She gave her brother just enough warning to shield his eyes before the Wisp turned blindingly bright, and she went for the masked assailant's knees and panting a superheated fist against the masked face. Earning a litany of curses from Diego as she did. But he was right back at it, using his powers to keep his sister out of his blade's path as he did. He fought back the instinct to put himself between her and the fight but could tell she had actually listened to his earlier advice. Flames in her eyes matched the smoke coming off almost any hit she landed. Even singed the wall when she pushed off in an attempt to get a better angle to attempt to take out the gun. But that earned her a shout from Diego when the barrel of it trained a little too close to her torso for his liking, and a bullet nicked her arm as she dodged. A grunt of pain and shock has her pulling back and ducking into a doorway. She hears her name called before an angry noise from Diego. He was beyond done by that point. Throwing blade after blade to distract and hopefully overwhelm the gunman. He missed the way Y/N tore at the fabric of her sleeve, the fabric burning ever so slightly as she did. She let the Wisp take form and allowed her to split her attention to making sure nothing worse came her way while she dealt with the injury. Most of her heat faded as she wrapped the fabric around the wound and secured it enough before pulling her powers back to her and getting back into the fight. Diego and the fight were no longer right outside the door by the time she was sure the makeshift bandage was secure, and she was ready to get back out there. She goes looking for the fight but finds Vanya hiding in the process. Vanya pulls away as violently as Y/N stops in front of her. “Shit, V,” Y/N says, willing the heat out of her left hand, so she can get a better look at her sister's injury. “You're okay, V. I've got you. If you want I can-”

“Do it,” Vanya nods, wanting to prove that she can handle this stuff. 

“Okay, but this is going to hurt like a bitch, and it only works on surface injuries. You sure?"

"Yeah, we're wasting time," Vanya says.

"Okay, V, brace yourself.” Vanya bites down on her sleeve as her sister superheats a fingertip and, as fast as humanly possible, closes the small wound on her sister’s head.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Y/N repeats before letting the Wisp take all her heat with her into its form. “Let me check.” She brushes Vanya’s hair out of the way and nods. Letting her hand rest against Vanya’s forehead to help calm her ever so slightly. “We should-” They both startle at the sound of the chandelier crashing and running toward the foyer. They are both momentarily stunned when they see Luther before he runs off. Allison goes over to Vanya, and Diego pulls Y/N aside.  

"Let me see," Diego insists, quickly using one of his knives to remove the bloody fabric from her wound as soon as the shock of Luther's reveal wore off. 

"It's a bad scratch," she tries to downplay the fact she barely missed getting shot in the side. She pulls away. "I can take care of it." 

"It's a gunshot wound," he corrected.

"Wait, what?" Vanya says, coming over to look at her sister's arm. “Why didn’t you say anything?” 

"I'm fine," Y/N assures them as Allison joins them. The sisters don't miss the grumbled curses from Diego before he storms off. "If I could, I'd have done the same thing I did to your head." 

Allison looks at Vanya's injury and adds, “You should put some ice on that.” 

Vanya nods, wincing slightly as she does but focuses back on Y/N. "But that doesn't work on skin that's used to being superheated, does it?”

"Nope," Y/N replies before hissing in pain as Vanya carefully wipes away some of the ash from the burned sleeve to keep it from getting into the open wound. 

"Sorry," Vanya winces.

"It's okay, V at least I could help you, although it probably hurt more helping than if I had left it. If I had known the fight would be over that quick, I’d have-"

“Diego?” Allison asks when he returns, and he is still furious. He tosses a first aid kit onto the table toward his sisters. 

“What are you still doing here?” He says to Vanya. 

“I'm just trying to help,” Vanya admits, reaching for the kit to attempt to help the sister that had helped her. 

Y/N recognizes the look Diego has. “Please, Diego,” she cautions him.

He ignores her and continues to focus on Vanya. “No, you could've been killed. Or gotten any of us killed. She is a liability.” He looks between his sisters that do have powers. 

Vanya looks at Allison. “Allison?” 

“I think what he's trying to say is that this kind of stuff is dangerous,” Allison says. “You're just…”

“Not like you,” Vanya finishes for her. She sets the first aid kit back down.

“V, it's…” Y/N tries to say something at the same time Allison says. “No, that's not what I... Vanya, wait.” But Vanya is already leaving.

“Let her go,” Diego tells them. “It's for the best.”

“Says who?! You?!” Y/N snaps. "I miss the meeting where you became Number One or something?"

“You know I’m right,” Diego attempts to not lose it. He knew she and Vanya were closer than he was with either of them. He also knew she was exhausted before getting shot. So he tried to keep his wits about it.

“She’s injured, Diego! And you just drove her away! What if she-”

“You’re injured too, and unlike her, you still have an open wound.” He retorts.

“She needs our help!” 

"She’ll survive. She is safer as far away from all this as can be. And you!” Diego finally shouts. What happened to your two brain cells huh? You still using them," he turns on Y/N. "When I told you to be more aware of your actual body in a fight I did not mean for you to just throw yourself at a gun!"

"I am just as trained in this as you are. I had it covered."

"You got shot!" 

"Would you prefer I left my physical self unattended while those assholes shot through the walls?"

"No!"

"Then pick a fucking lane, Diego! You can't have it both ways! And I sure as hell am not backing out of a full-on assault of my own home just because you want me to! So quit yelling at me!"

She rubbed at her temples as the last bit of adrenaline seemed to fade from her system. She stormed off, taking the first aid kit with her so she could patch up her arm.

Y/N isn’t sure how long she sits in her room. Too exhausted to keep track but too on edge to actually sleep. She wasn’t sure what to do. Her head hangs low as she sits on her bed and leans against the wall. She looks up when through the Wisp that hovers near the center of the room, she sees shadows move outside her door. She sighs as she hears a knock on her doorframe. “It’s open,” she greets. 

The door opens, and Luther asks, "How's the arm?" 

"I've had worse," she assures him. He gives her a skeptical look. "We dealt with enough dicey shit as kids that we both know this is nothing."

"Didn't seem like nothing to Diego from what I hear," he counters.

"Diego was acting like I took a fatal hit," she grumbled. "Though I'm not the one that took a whole ass chandelier." She narrows her gaze at him. "Are you okay?"

"Barely a scratch," he deflects. 

"Luther, I'm not going to push, and you don't have to tell me anything, but…" she saw him physically flinch like she burned him as she spoke. "Is this…is this why you were worried about me checking in on you with my powers?"

"A bit," he admits.

"Because you know I don't care, right? Like, I know what it's like to be the one that gets stared at and whispered about for being…well, a freak. Not that I think you're a freak. I know that you guys think the Wisp is freaky. I know you guys think it's even more unnatural than most of your guys' powers. Ben always got that. Polar opposites powers wise, and he at least could hide his but-"

"You're not a freak,” Luther says, rather bluntly, “Okay?"

She rolled her eyes at that.

"No more than the rest of us ever were,” he adds. “Or at least when we were kids. This is not coming off right," he groans and moves to stand beside the glowing form and gestures to it. "This was never a bad thing, especially not when we were little. You literally lit up a room when you walked in. Always warm, and so…" he frowned at the way her shoulders seemed to shift, and it was like he was watching her close herself off. He groaned again and moved to sit somewhat carefully next to her on the bed. "No one came back from losing Ben, well, you know that, right? You are just the one that has a big flashing, what you call, a neon sign, of what's going on in your heart. It's like a mood ring on steroids. You get mad and glow red. And so bright it's like staring at the sun and standing too close to a forest fire. It's just tough sometimes because it's always blue nowadays. And we know there's nothing we can do to change that. Nothing I can do. I can't bring Ben back. I can't take away the pain of the shit dad put you through. And I can't make Diego less of an asshole." That earned him a laugh and made him grin. "So yeah, it isn't always easy to know there isn't anything I can do. We aren't kids that can just pull pranks or make stupid jokes to make ourselves feel better anymore. But the Wisp doesn't make you any different, any freakier than we were when we were kids. And as you keep pointing out, you're still my sister. Still the same person that refused to listen to half my orders if you think someone needs you."

"Exactly, you're still my brother. You're just even more so my big brother." She grinned. “Really big, big brother.”

"We're the same age, Y/N," he deadpans. 

"Sure, Number One," she shook her head.

“Fine, then as your big, big brother, I say you get some sleep. You look like a strong breeze could take you out.”

“Wanna fight me on that?” She grinned. 

“I would, but you’re injured, so I’ll take the L on that one,” he chuckles.

“Fine, I’m kicking you out,” she conceded. “But only because you asked so nicely.”

“Deal,” Luther stands and heads back to the door. 

“Luther?” she calls before he closes her door.

“Yeah?” 

“Glad you found your other brain cell. You were a badass from what I hear.”

He huffs a laugh. “Sleep, or you might lose yours.”

[ironmandeficiency]

that’s not a shirt

pairing: marcus pike / reader

word count: 1584

summary: marcus comes home from work & finds the strangest thing in the laundry.

a/n: for @autumnleaves1991-blog and her wednesday writing challenge! writing domestic marcus pike is my therapy. unbeta’d and posted from mobile (honestly my laptop is becoming less convenient to post from even tho posting fic on tumblr is literally the reason i bought it last year)

three long, miserable weeks. that’s how long marcus has been out of town for a case that had him jetting all across the country, far away from you and your comfortable bed. he’s almost never at the apartment he pays rent for every month. most of his clothes and his favorite pillow are at your place, and the small quilt his grandmother sewed decades ago is draped over the back of your couch. in everything but name, he lived with you.

when he entered your apartment with his key, he took note of the fact you weren’t there and got set to cleaning up a bit. work leaves you exhausted more often than not and he doesn’t want to leave everything undone for you to worry about when you get home.

upon first glance, he could see the laundry was half done. a heaping load of clean clothes was in the hamper in front of the dryer and there were wet clothes in the open washer. when he looked further, there was also a load in the dryer, which told him that you stayed up late to get things done then fell asleep on the couch waiting for the dryer to finish. with a fond smile, he started the dryer for a few minutes to get wrinkles out of what’s in there. when those are done, he can get what’s in the hamper unwrinkled and hung and folded.

dinner was next on the to-do list. something nourishing to welcome you home after a long day but simple enough to do while catching up the clothes: spaghetti. there’s something about his mom’s recipe for the sauce that makes his spaghetti absolutely heavenly — your words, not his — and he can’t wait to see your reaction to having marcus home two days earlier than planned along with his best dish.

in the time it takes him to get the sauce cooking and the water boiling on the stove, the dryer announces that it’s finished with the first load. he hums as he folds the bath towels and dish rags without a care in the world, making the trip to stow them in the bathroom cabinet with a spring to his step.

checks the sauce for flavor and consistency before putting the second load of wrinkled clothes in the dryer, finding it needs just a smidge more rosemary before it can be left to simmer. picks another sprig from the plant you keep on the windowsill and cuts the leaves very fine before sprinkling them in with a flick of his wrist.

satisfied with his efforts, he turns back to the laundry. he dutifully empties the lint filter (you’re adamant on emptying it after every load and the trait passed onto him) before he begins to grab things to toss into the dryer. about a third of the way through the basket, his hand grabbed onto something weirdly solid and plump.

“mroww!”

last marcus checked, shirts don’t make noises like that. he tore his gaze from the inside of the dryer to the hamper to find a grey and white kitten lounging in the hamper. the little thing was nudging his hand with their head, clearly wanting the attention of the man slowly depleting its bed. he was perplexed. you didn’t have a cat when he was last here, but there was one seeming to be perfectly content in making itself at home in your apartment.

“where did you come from?” he knew the cat wasn’t going to give him a coherent answer but he felt the need to voice his confusion anyway. the first thing to do now: check to see if it’s male or female. it’s a female, looks to be about three months old and is perfectly content with being handled by marcus.

marcus can’t recall the last time he had a pet. with him being too busy with work, he never thought it would be fair to a pet to have an owner constantly gone. he didn’t have enough stability in the past with where he lived and didn’t want to only be a half ass pet parent. the past several months, however, have been nothing but stable. not counting the seldom out of town cases, he goes to work in the morning and comes home to you in the evening, and he rinses and repeats as needed. maybe this kitten is the perfect prelude to taking the next big step in his relationship with you.

for now though, marcus doesn’t let himself get carried away with his daydreams about living with you full time. he’s got laundry to finish and dinner to cook, and now he has a sous chef to accompany him. he holds the kitten to his chest, scratching her chin with a hooked finger and melting at the way she looks up as if telling him to keep going. “alright sweet girl, let’s finish up dinner.” a soft “mrrow!” is her reply and it makes marcus huff a quiet laugh.

dinner is completed with marcus using one less hand than normal, his sous chef being fabulous company. the few times he had to use both hands, his feline friend perched on his shoulder (which he thought was the best thing ever) and waited to be held again. however this cat got here, marcus didn’t know; the one thing he did know is that it wasn’t leaving anytime soon.

the front door was unlocked when you came home and you knew with absolute certainty that you locked it before you left. your walmart bags filled with cat supplies were immediately dropped to the hallway floor as you began to inspect your front door and the area around it. marcus taught you how to spot the basic signs of forced entry (like the protective sweetheart he is) and when none of them were there, you cautiously entered your apartment, mace in hand.

the adrenaline washed away when you spotted your loving boyfriend in the kitchen, gently bobbing his head along to whatever music he had playing. one hand was stirring a pot on the stove while the other was plenty preoccupied with the kitten. shit, you forgot to warn him about the kitten before he got home!

this was the last thing you thought would be here to greet you, but it was a very welcome sight; the feline was finicky and marcus wasn’t due home for another few days, a double whammy. “i see you’ve met the kitten.” you’re honestly just thankful he didn’t get upset about the little thing. neither of you have talked about pets or whatever your living situation is becoming, so the way he seems so taken with the kitten is a sign pointing in a great direction.

when he hears your voice, marcus visibly lights up. “hi honey!” the hand with the spoon immediately drops the wooden utensil into the pot and waves at you happily. “this is my sous chef, say hello, pasta!” he grabs one of her little paws and waves it at you before resuming his stirring, a beaming smile on his face.

did he really just name the cat pasta? and how in the world is she so calm with him right now?

you found the kitten, now known as pasta, huddled in a cardboard box beside a gas station dumpster headed home from work. she was mewling her little head off back there and you were lucky enough to hear her. taking her and her box, your list of things to do was thrown out the window as you rushed her to the vet. they cleaned her up real good and schedule her vaccinations, and sent you home with a list of supplies to buy and advice on how to take care of the little thing.

she was pissed at you after the vet trip. didn’t let you pet or hold her unless she was in the mood for it and if you tried to pick her up otherwise, she would scatter and give you a glare from a safe distance away. but here was marcus holding her like a baby, and the little brat was eating it up! to be fair, you were the same way with marcus when he was being affectionate so you didn’t completely blame her.

“why pasta?” you knew that cats were more likely than dogs to have strange names. you just didn’t think your boyfriend would be the type to give a cat a name like pasta. at that rate, you might as well name a dog goose and call it a day.

he smiles at the furball, giving her a few affectionate pets while he talks. “i was cooking spaghetti when i found her in the laundry hamper, and then i noticed a little spot right on her hip that looks like penne. i couldn’t choose between the two so i went for the middle ground. is that okay with you? or did she have another-”

“marcus, i love it.” and you really do; that sentimental dork just made you love the name pasta with nothing but two sentences. “and honestly, i’ve just been rotating between baby girl, squeak toy, and dumbass since i found her the day before yesterday.”

he scratches pasta under her chin as he laughs at the thought of you calling his sous chef a dumbass. “pasta is not a dumbass! you tell ‘em sweetheart, tell them how smart you are!”

“mroww!”

“see? she’ll be the next einstein.”

marcus pike taglist: @likeshootingstarsinthenightsky @obirain @themarcusmoreno @catsnkooks @torradoza @stardustsunrisekisses @darthadeline @max--phillips @jedi-mando @darklingveracruz @andysficrecs @pedropasscals @qhbr2013 @seasonschange-butpeopledont @greeneyedblondie44 @princess76179 @kaermorons @lv7867 @whovianwar @purelypascal

[maeve-writes]

Beautiful Hell

Inspired by:  Beautiful Hell by ADNA 

Pairing: Bucky Barnes (tfatws) x Reader (experiment/mutant!Reader) Rating: 18+, Minors DNI Warnings: Angst, fluff, smut, fingering, unprotected sex, dirty talk. Summary: Your past shows up in an unexpected way thanks to Bucky Barnes. You just wanted to be... normal, not caught up in the life of a hero or worse, and yet you’re drawn to him, addicted to him even. You thought that part of your life was over, but your relationship opens up a whole new chapter that you’re not sure you’re ready for. a/n: Unbeta’d, any mistakes are my own and please forgive me. I have not written anything that wasn’t work related in about three years, so I’m a little rusty. This is just a dip of my toe back into the water. I’d like to continue this if there is any interest! Thanks for reading!

There’s very little that makes you upset these days. You have a great job, a cozy apartment, and wonderful friends. It’s taken a long time for you to find stability and even longer for you to accept that it was okay to have it. Most of that struggle was on your own, but you eventually found others like you that were dealing with the same inner turmoil and you’ve grown.

The group still meets twice a month, but now you run it. You see the same pain and anger in the eyes of strangers that you once held, you’ve been in their shoes and you want to help start their journey of healing and self discovery. You would never turn someone away who wanted help, who sought out the chance to better themselves, but six feet of muscle and adamantium shuffles into the recreation room of the local Boy’s and Girl’s Club, and you bend the already folded aluminum chair in half. 

The squeak of the metal catches his attention and his brow knits together. His eyes dance between your face, the chair, and back again. “Cheap material,” you say weakly with a lift of your shoulders. You watch as he puckers his lips in thought and his hands are shoved into his jacket. 

One of your regulars, Sarah, takes the chair from you and tries to right it once more, but finds it more difficult than you played it up to be. “Set up the rest, I’ve got this,” you tell her, happy to tear your attention away from the man. You reset the bars of the chair and unfold it, placing it on the floor to see if it will act as it should. It’s a little wonky, the bend leans it too far back, but it will hold you - it’s a chair.

You sit among the circle and begin. People sip their coffee and share their stories for the week. The new people introduce themselves, including him, but everyone already knows his name. He didn’t share this time, but you could tell he wanted to from the way his jaw clenched and the uncomfortable shifts in his sheet. You were like that once, you know just how he feels.

Two hours pass and the crowd slowly trickles out. You start the clean up, the putting away of the chairs. You move around the room and do your best to ignore his eyes burning into you - into your soul. “You could at least help clean,” you tell him without looking up from the sink against the far wall where you now stand. “Chairs still need to be put away.”

It takes a few beats, but you hear his heavy footsteps fall behind you and the eventual scrap of metal as the chairs are being folded. There’s a steady rhythm to his method, a clink of his metal arm against the chair, the screech as the chair is closed and his footfalls to the corner to put it away.

You finish your last coffee pot, drying your hands and turn to see the wonky chair in his hold. “Cheap material,” he repeats, looking down at it before he bends it back and forth. You see him trying to mold it back into better shape than you had earlier as your face grows hotter by the second. When he deems it “good enough,” he brings it over to join the others. “Who are you?”

“No one,” you reply instantly. 

His head snaps around, blue eyes burning, “You’re a horrible liar.”

“Not true,” you counter, “I’ve lied to myself for years.”

He turns to you fully and crosses his arms over his broad chest. He doesn’t find your attempt at what he thinks is a joke funny. “Who are you,” he asks again, his voice becoming clipped and impatient. 

You tell him your name, your full name but it does not ring any bells to him. It wouldn’t, not in a way he would realize. “You saved someone years ago, not as… you, but as,” you pause and wave the towel you used to dry your hands, “you know.” You try your best to ignore how his body tenses up and you continue, “You killed his wife and his unborn son. You changed him. Changed everything, really. Somehow, I got caught up in it all.”

His hardened stare quickly shifts into curiosity and you force yourself to look away before you crash into the stormy blue. “They pumped us full of all sorts of stuff. A lot of us didn’t make it. I can still hear the screams if I try.” You grind your teeth to make yourself stop falling into that abyss. “But my dad raised me by himself, he taught me how to survive, how to be strong. He always told me: Girl, if you’re gonna go down, go down swingin’. And I forced myself to keep going, no matter what they did, I wasn’t going to let those assholes get the best of me.”

The towel was back in both of your hands now, pulled and stretched as you tried not to think about the pain and the loneliness that followed. “But eventually I was freed, just like you freed that other guy. I got a chance to be him now… but I didn’t take it.” The terry cloth ripped in half and your arms fell by your sides. 

You dared to look up at the man and you inwardly swore. His face was so painfully beautiful, full lips were in a pout and his eyes twinkled blue in their sadness, in their empathy. “They wanted us to be something and I wasn’t going to let someone else define me. I ran for years, scared and alone. I had to change my life over and over because I didn’t want them to find me, then I realized I was actually doing what they wanted… I was being someone I’m not.”

You crossed the room to the trash can nearby and not too far behind he followed. The two of you began to toss half-eaten pastries and empty disposable coffee cups. “So, I settled down here, started to go by my real name and took any threat that came my way.” You watched him sniff at an uneaten danish, “Cherry, I think.” His shoulder lifts in a ‘what-the-hell’ kind of way and he takes a bite. “It took about two decades for them to stop,” you finish, “and I was able to finally start to live my life.”

He silently offers half of the danish to you, which you decline. “And when the world went to hell in a hand-basket, you what, sat here and lived your life?” The blow was meant to sting and it did. He didn’t know if you were gone in The Blip but from your recoil, he got his answer. “I don’t know what they did to you, but you obviously have the ability to help people, you should use it.”

“I do,” you reply, offended. “This,” you wave your hands around for the second that evening, “helps people. Just because I don’t strap on leather and beat up bad guys doesn’t mean I don’t make a difference.”

Bucky stills completely, even his breathing, and he looks down into the trash can he has been pushing around for you. It looks as though he wants to toss himself in it. “You’re right,” he says with a heavy exhale, “that wasn’t fair of me. It’s just… the world is running low on heroes, they’re now relying on a guy in a bird suit.”

“I thought that guy was your friend,” you ask with a tilt of your head.

When the corner of his mouth tips up into a boyish smile, you mirror it with a toothy grin because of how infectious it is. “Yeah,” he nods, “I guess he is. But I just hate being the only muscle.”

“You’re plenty enough for this hemisphere,” you laugh and reach out to pat his shoulder, when you feel the muscle packed there, you whistle through your teeth, “and maybe the other one, too.”

He laughs and rolls the shoulder you tapped, tossing off your hand playfully. “Yeah, well it wouldn’t hurt to have more because getting hurt hurts.” You two exchange smiles and finish trash detail. He ties up the full bag and prepares to bring it out while you work on putting a new one in the can. 

You lead him out back to the dumpsters and he tosses the bag in after you open the heavy metal lid. When it falls closed again with a loud, ringing bang, you pull out a pack of sanitizing wipes and offer him one which he gladly accepts. “This might not be the right time,” he begins, eyes drawn to the large, smelly trash bin next to the pair of you, “but would you like to have dinner with me sometime?”

“Who knew you were so romantic, Sergeant Barnes,” you tease to hide your fluttering heartbeat that he can undoubtedly hear. Under the pale yellow beam of the streetlights you can see the flush forming on his face that mirrors your own. “I’m free tomorrow around seven.”

Bucky straightens to his full height and his eyes sparkle brightly when that boyish curl makes its way back to his lips. “Then it’s a date,” he nods as you both pull out your phones to exchange numbers and you give him your address.

“Don’t be late,” you warn him, tone playfully serious, “I get angry if I don’t eat before eight. Bad things happen if I don’t eat.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he nods with a low rumbling chuckle, “I don’t plan to disappoint you.”

Your face splits into a smile and you lead your way back in, “See you tomorrow, Sergeant.”

“Tomorrow,” he says, his eyes trained on your every move. “And it can’t come soon enough,” he adds under his breath.

x

Your day goes by in a blur. Work is stressful but rewarding. Even though you love your job, your mind was not completely on it. Just past noon you received a text: Just seeing if this works. I’m looking forward to tonight. Have a good day. BB

It is unclear if he does not really know how texts work or if it is his excuse to send you one, but either way it makes you giddier than a schoolgirl. You reread it several times, answer a few work related calls and emails before you finally answer back: It works! I’m also looking forward to tonight. My day was good, but your text made it better. Hope yours is fantastic! xx

You are hesitant to hit send, but if you are going to shoot your shot, then you might as well go all in. Your phone doesn’t even go to sleep before you get another text in return: I’m about to see the prettiest gal in town, my day will be more than fantastic. How do you feel about sushi and bowling? BB

Of all of the things to do, especially together, you would not think of Bucky Barnes to pick that as your first night out together, but you had a weakness for sushi and your competitive side could never say no to a game or two: I haven’t been bowling in years, but I’m sure I can teach you a few things. xx

Oh, sweetheart, you’ll be learning a thing or two before the night is over. BB

You aren’t sure if you guys are talking about bowling anymore and that thought lights a fire in your belly. With a shaky breath you send your last reply: I’ll be happy to learn anything as long as I get to call you Professor Barnes and I can stay after class for extra credit. ;) xx 

It isn’t until two hours after your lunch that you get your last reply from him: Looking up that reference sent me to the part of the internet that I’m still not used to, but I’m glad I did. You don’t happen to have a skirt and some of those socks that go up to your knees, do you? Don’t answer that, I won’t be able to make it through dinner. See you at 7. BB

You did happen to have just what he asked for and it was tempting to wear it, but you tucked the idea into your pocket for another time. Instead, you picked something more appropriate for bowling, a pair of navy skinny fit cotton dress pants with enough stretch to not rip when you bent over to toss a ball, a curve hugging camisole that was draped by a soft, cream colored cashmere sweater. 

After messing with your hair for an hour, you settled for a messy bun and just finished your makeup when your doorbell rang. You call out to him to “hold on” as you shuffle through your apartment, trying to wriggle into your loafers on the way to open the door. “Sorry. Sorry, sorry,” you apologize as you pull open the door.

He’s standing in the doorway dressed in a canvas jacket over a plain black shirt, dark jeans over his long, thick legs and his normal boots top it off. “You look gorgeous,” he says, forcing you away from your lingering gaze as it continues to travel up and down his body like he’s the one for dinner. “These are for you,” he presents a bouquet of flowers with an unsure smile. “They’re beautiful,” you say wistfully, taking the flowers and stepping aside to let him in. “Thank you.” He nods and stands near the door as you finish putting on your shoes. “Let me put these in water and we can go.” “Take your time,” he says and trains his eyes on you. They follow you through the apartment, to the kitchen as you look through your cabinets for a vase. When you bend over, his head tilts ever so slightly which you can see out of the corner of your eye, but when you turn to try and catch him, he just smiles innocently. “Need any help?”

“I’ll manage,” you laugh and eventually find a vase. The flowers are arranged not so elegantly into the glass, but you add water and place them in the center of your kitchen island. “Now, I’m starving and getting hangry.”

“Hangry,” he repeats. “That doesn’t sound good. I guess I should feed you before that happens.” He holds out an arm and like a magnet you are drawn to him and latch to it, maybe it’s because of the metal. Nevertheless, you walk arm and arm to the sushi hole-in-the-wall two blocks away, eating in a small booth in the corner to hide away from prying eyes.

You learn about Bucky Barnes for the first time. Like everyone else, you hear things from the news, from the internet, you try to shift through the lies and mess. But here you’re learning what he likes, what he’s learned, what he wants to learn. He doesn’t give his past up as freely as you did, it’s obvious he’s still coming to terms with it, but everyone travels at their own pace.

He learns about you, too. He asks you about things none of your past dates have asked. Hell, even your past boyfriends and girlfriends weren’t interested in half of the stuff Bucky manages to squeeze out of you. And you find it so easy to talk to him, so natural. You’ve only known him for two days, but it feels like decades.

Your hand slips into his when you leave the restaurant and head to the bowling alley. He laces your fingers together two blocks into your walk and you once again wrap your free hand around his arm. It pains you to move away when you have to go in and put on the bowling shoes.

“Before we begin,” he says to you as he watches you put your names into the computer, “let’s make a bet.” You finish entering the ‘y’ of his name and lift an inquisitive brow his way. “If you win, you can have one thing you would want from me.”

You twist in your seat and narrow your eyes, “And if you win?”

His tongue darts out to lick his lips, you watch it disappear with a pout, “I get a kiss.”

“You could just ask for one,” you laugh and slowly lean towards him.

Bucky, too, leans in and bumps noses with you, “Yeah, but it’s more fun if I work for it.” He sits back and winks, trying not to laugh at your deflated and deepening pout. “C’mon, sweetheart, you’re up first.”

You sigh heavily and pick up the bright green ball that you picked from the line waiting to be thrown. “Okay, if I win, then I get to wear that skirt and socks for you,” you say over your shoulder before you toss the ball down the lane. It rolls down the center and knocks down all ten pins as STRIKE flashes on the screen above you.

When you flop down in the chair next to him, he’s still staring at the spot where you stood moments before, gears still churning. “Hey,” you laugh, snapping your fingers in front of his face to knock him out of his daze, “are you okay?”

“Would it be wrong of me to lose on purpose,” he asks sheepishly. You roll your eyes and cross your arms and he lifts his own in surrender. “Okay, okay. I get it, that’s no fun. Just know, darlin’, I don’t go down without a fight.” He steps up and takes the same ball you used and chucks it halfway down the lane before it, too, knocks down all ten pins. He turns to you, a smirk plastered on his face.

As much as you loved to have fun, you loved to win more. “Is that how it’s going to be,” you asked, getting up to pass him on the way to take your turn.

He laughs, pressing close as you both slow when you come into each other’s orbit. “That’s how it’s going to be,” he nods and rakes over his lip with his teeth. A challenge is set and you don’t back down. Strikes and spares are thrown by the both of you in between lingering touches and whispered sweet nothings. 

In the hour you two have rented the lane, you managed two games and with one point over you, Bucky wins. He doesn’t claim his prize right there, it’s too public and there’s far too many people around. Instead, he offers to walk you home and you happily accept as long as you can wrap yourself around him once again, which you do.

You two try to take your time on the way back, enjoying the crisp evening air, but more so each other's company. The conversation from dinner continues as a flow of likes and dislikes between more sweet nothings. You’re lovedrunk by the time you’re at your front door and you don’t want the night to come to an end.

Reluctantly, you release him from your hold and he looks as disappointed as you feel. “Tonight has been wonder-” “I had such a great-” you both begin simultaneously and trail off together, ending in nervous laughter. 

“Thank you,” you tell him, leaning up to kiss his cheek, “for such an amazing night.”

“I should be thanking you,” he says, a hand timidly reaching out to rest on your hip. “I’ve been a little rusty at this kind of thing, but you made it easy.” His thumb traces the arc of your hip bone and you step closer to him. “But, you know, I might need some more practice.” You resisted to roll your eyes, but the laughter bubbles between the both of you. The distance closes by one of you, and you don’t care who, but you find your hands splayed across his chest, “I think I can help you out there.”

“That would be my second win of the night,” he grins down at you, his eyes trained on your lips.

“Speaking of my win,” he trails off. His flesh hand raises to your cheek and you instinctively lean into it. Your nose wrinkles at his chuckle but it doesn’t stop you from raising on your toes to close what little space there was between you.

You could sense his hesitation, the silent question of what was enough and what was too much. A small hum bubbled in your throat as you pushed your hands up his chest, nails scraping up his neck and into his hair. You could feel the shiver ripple throughout his body and his teeth came out to bite down on your bottom lip.

It was your turn to laugh now and he licked into your mouth in return, turning it into a whimpering moan. You could feel his triumphant smirk against your lips and you reward it with a tug of his hair. His hips instantly buck against you which throws you off balance, but he catches you with his metal arm winding around your back and pins you against him. 

Your tongues slip and slide against one another, the taste of his sushi and beer choice mixes with your own. Your nails once again claw along his scalp and cause him to growl into your mouth. He surges forward with you in his grip and crowds you against your door, reluctantly breaking away for air, “We should say goodnight,” Bucky whispered against your kiss swollen lips.

“You can tell me good morning when you wake up next to me tomorrow,” you shoot back and roll your hips against his, causing both of you to react with a strained moan.

“Are you sure,” he asks, tucking a stray hair behind your ear.

“I’ve got a spare toothbrush with your name on it,” you nod. You watch him debate the issue with himself before placing one last chaste kiss on your lips before losing his grip just enough to let you open the door.

You two stumble in, Bucky pulling you back to him, his mouth kissing along your jaw as you try to lock up for the night. You barely got the deadbolt turned when his teeth sank into your sink causing you to cry out. He instantly licks at apologetically and turns his attention to getting you undressed instead.

When your sweater is pulled over your head, you push off Bucky’s jacket, both falling to the floor near the door. Shoes are next to go, sloppily kicked off near each other and once again you two are drawn back together, tongues dancing. Your fingers twist into the short brown locks and his hands snaked down to your ass. He lightly cups each cheek, using them to bring you as close as possible, and even though your bodies leave very little room for air to pass through you still try to move closer.

“Bed,” he breathes into your mouth. You give him a quick nod. With a happy groan, he squeezes you by your bottom, picking you up to carry you to your room, your legs instantly wrapping around his waist. 

Your small one bedroom apartment isn't anything special, but it is yours and it has the biggest, comfiest bed that you are in love with. Bucky easily guides you both there, not once breaking your kiss aside from grunting or growling from your teasing hair pulls or the rolls of your hips. 

He climbs onto the mattress with you still wrapped around his upper half, crawling up to the pile of pillows near the headboard where he eventually lays you down. His weight settles above you, and normally, you would welcome it’s warmth and comfort, but at that moment, you want it to be rough and needy. “Bucky,” you whine, this time the one to break the kiss.

Flushed cheeks and blown pupils, he looks down at you, boxing you in with his arms on either side of your head. “What is it, sweetheart?”

“You’re wearing too much,” you tell him as you try to pull off his shirt, it makes it up to his shoulders before it stops. His laugh shakes his entire body and yours, which makes you pout in return. 

“You’re wearing the same amount, doll,” he reminds you, looking down to see your breasts sway in your camisole. “Far, far too much, in my opinion.”

You roll your eyes and playfully slap at his chest, “Then do something about it.” He mutters something about impatience and sits on his knees between your parted thighs as he pulls his shirt over his head to toss it aside.

“Your turn,” he nods to your shirt while he works on the buckle of his belt. You hastily pull the top over your head and work on your slacks, wriggling out of them just as does his own. He sits back on his hunches and looks you over, laying spread out in a matching white lace bra and underwear set. Now at he’s down to his boxer briefs, you can see how big he his, how hard he is, and when his wandering eyes rest on your covered sex, you can see it twitch with anticipation. “Holy shit, you’re beautiful.”

You didn’t think your entire body could blush from embarrassment, but Bucky just proved you could. “That’s my line,” you return, taking in every inch of his exposed skin over hard muscle. Super serum or not, Bucky Barnes was a gorgeous specimen. When you two finally lock eyes once more, you both shiver. “Are you going to touch me?”

He lets out a shaky breath and reaches out to run a hand lightly over your damp panties, slick from your want for him. “I’m afraid I’ll never stop,” he replies honestly, instantly addicted to the needy whimpers you are giving him.

“I don’t think I would want you to,” you groan. “Please?” You feel his fingertips dance over the lace, tracing over the pattern and causing you to throb with need. “Bucky!”

“You need me, don’t you,” he asks, voice dropping to a low rumble that hits you right at your core and makes your toes curl. “You need my touch. Need me to satisfy that ache?” You nod desperately trying to sit up to pull him down on top of you, but he pins you down before you could rise. “Tell me,” he purrs.

“I need you,” you respond instantly. You’re rewarded with his fingers pushing the panties aside and begin to dance along the slick folds.

“You need what,” he goads. He finds your clit and rubs it once to draw a happy mew from you but stops much to your disappointment.

“I need you, Bucky. I need you to touch me, to kiss me,” you whine with a rock of your hips, trying to get him to move again, but he doesn’t. “I need you to taste me, to lick me, to fuck me.”

Smile on his kiss bruised lips, his thumb swirls around your bud and he sinks his middle finger into you with a groan. “You’re tight,” he hisses as he sinks knuckle-deep, “and dripping. Shit, you’re going to feel like heaven.”

You can’t focus on what he’s saying too much. The feel of his fingers pumping in and out of you feels good, feels right, but it’s not enough, even when he adds two or three. He works you open, your slick starting to run down his fingers, and he palms himself over his briefs.  “Bucky, please,” your voice cracks, “I need more.”

He nods, he has time to take you apart with just his fingers later, but it’s been so long since he’s been with someone like this, someone he’s felt like this with, he needs it as much as you do. When he removes his fingers from you, you whine at the loss but it cuts off into a gasp as you watch him lap and suck off your slick from his hand. Bucky freezes, eyes narrowing, and for a moment you’re wondering if you did something wrong. “What? What is it?”

“Trying to stop myself from eating you alive,” he says through clenched teeth, jaw visibly flexing with the effort. You blink up at him, confused, but he shakes his head and forces himself to remove his boxer briefs. “I’m having you for breakfast,” he decides.

“Uh huh,” you reply absently, your mouth watering as his cock bounces against his stomach when it’s free. It’s long, thick, and leaking, trying to hypnotize you and very much succeeding. 

“I’ll let you return the favor, sweetheart,” he laughs. His flesh hand spreads his pre-cum down his shaft and he pumps slowly while his metal hand pinches your chin between his forefinger and thumb. “Still with me?”

Blinking free of your daze, you stare at his lustful gaze and nod. He moves closer, hooks your legs over the bends of his elbows and runs the head of his cock along your folds. Your hole twitches desperately for him, “Such a pretty little pussy, so needy.” Your hands wrap around his wrists and grip at him tightly, hard enough to make him hiss. “You’ve been a good girl, I guess I can give you what you want.”

He pushes in agonizingly slow, the head of his cock sinking in what felt like centimeter by centimeter. You clench around him, trying to draw more of him in, but Bucky takes his time to bottom out. When he is finally fully seated in you, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, and apparently so did he. “Fuck,” you say simultaneously. 

Your legs are positioned around his waist and he once again frames your head with his forearms, which, in turn, pushes him further inside of you. “You feel so good, doll,” he whispers against the ‘o’ of your lips. “So warm, so tight, taking me so good.” Your hands find their way up his arms and into his hair. All it takes is one tug that has him growling, “And I’m going to ruin this pretty pussy so good that it’s going to feel me all week.” He rolls his hips back as slowly as he originally pushed in, “And I wanna hear you tell everyone who it belongs to while I do it.”

He snaps his hips forward driving you up the bed and further into the pillows, a cry getting caught in your throat from it. His pace is brutal, skin slaps against skin, and his mouth seeks out yours. The kiss is sloppy, but hungry, just as primal as his pistoning hips. You hold on to him the best you can as the bed rocks, headboard slamming against the wall. Your nails trail against his skin, egging him on and drawing sinful noises from love-swollen lips. 

His hips shift angles and eventually find that spot that makes you see stars. “Bucky,” you cry out breathlessly, uncurling your toes and removing your nails from his shoulder blades. He buries his face in your neck and marks you with his teeth and tongue as he relentlessly fucks towards your brink. “So… f-fuck- so close.”

“Cum for me then, sweetheart,” Bucky growls against your skin, snaking a hand between your bodies to work at your clit. “Show me how good I make you feel. Cum for me.” His thumb rubs over your bud once, twice and a white hot punch in your gut blossoms throughout your body as you let out a strangled cry of his name. 

You can feel yourself clamp around him, working him impossibly deeper, begging him to fall down into the abyss with you. And he does, hard. He chases his bliss with you, your name a mantra spilling from his lips as he spills inside of you. He doesn’t stop until you’ve both become too sensitive to handle anymore. He pulls out of you with a heavy sigh and falls next to you on the bed onto his stomach. 

“Holy shit,” you finally break the silence, “that was…”

“Yeah,” he agrees, his head turned to look at you with tired, blissful eyes. “Goddamn, yeah it was.”

You weakly reach around to search for his hand and eventually find it, he lances his fingers with yours. You don’t break eye contact when he leans over to share a few chaste kisses before collapsing again. “You’re fantastic, Bucky, and I want you to know that was the hottest sex I have had to date.”

His post orgasm bliss is shattered and replaced with a furrowed brow, “I sense a ‘but’ coming.”

“...but as hot as it is feeling you drip out of me, I need to shower,” you finish. You can see the relief wash over him and he nods in understanding. 

“I’ve got a good memory,” he yawns and taps at his head, “that image is stored right here.” You fight a blush and slide off of your bed to head to the bathroom when seconds later you hear him do the same. He shrugs at your questioning look, “No need to waste water, right?”

You laugh as you turn on the faucets only to be crowded against the wall and your mouth is covered with his once more. The water splashing against your bodies and the echoing sounds of your moans drown out the repeated calls to Bucky’s phone. Mission. Suit up. SW

Answer your damn phone. SW

It’s the green button. SW

Green button and slide right. SW

Dammit, if you blocked me again, I stg. SW

Man, what are you doing in Soho? Yes, I’m tracking you. OMW. SW

a/n: To be continued? 

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Succumb to Your Urges

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: ~2k

Warnings: fluff, implied smut?

Summary: Every thought you have is of Natasha, and it’s starting to interfere with your missions and your job. How can you get her out of your head? More importantly, does she know?

sharing a bed for @blackwidowbingo

secret romance (2020) for @avengersbingo

free space (2021) for @ladiesofmarvelbingo

Author’s Note: This is unbeta’d and any and all mistakes are all on me.

You’re supposed to be focusing on the mission at hand. Loki had manipulated a bunch of people into doing his bidding, scattering them all over town to gather supplies for something he’s cooking up. Thor can’t be reached, you have no clue where he is, but you do know that Loki is up to something. After all, he is the God of Mischief.

Loki ordered his men to scour the city looking for supplies, but all the men seemed to gather at the same place: the downtown mall. You’re not sure why they are here or what they want, or if Loki is here with them. He has magical powers that will turn him into anything and anyone. He could be right next to you, and you wouldn’t know it.

You and your entire team are wearing normal clothes so as to not attract attention. If people know that the Avengers were at the mall, then you wouldn’t be able to get anything done. They would surround you and ask for pictures and stuff, exposing you directly to Loki. You’re supposed to keep an eye on the man Steve assigned you with, but you haven’t been paying attention to him at all. In fact, you haven’t looked at him in the past ten minutes.

The only person who you’ve been staring at is Natasha.

She’s assigned to the same man like you because there are fewer men on Loki’s team than there are Avengers. Steve and Tony are in charge of one, Wanda and Vision are with another, Bucky and Sam are a team, and Bruce and Peter are together. Who knows where the other teams are in the mall since it has two stories, but you're communicating through the earpieces with the assistance of Friday.

“We’re all good here,” Natasha mutters.

“Yeah nothing is happening on our end,” Steve responds.

“Guys, are we supposed to move in or just watch them? Our guy is just eating in the food court,” Peter asks.

“If nothing happens, then we do nothing. We don’t want to give Loki the advantage of knowing we’re here. Stay put and wait for our signal,” Tony instructs.

Natasha crosses her arms, causing her breasts to push up and spill over her shirt. Damn, she looks so good right now. You mean, she looks good all the time especially in that tight little uniform she wears on almost every mission. It shapes her ass very well that has you daydreaming about slapping it. However, it’s a rarity to see her in normal clothing.

She’s wearing skinny blue jeans that hug every curve, heeled ankle boots, a black tank top with a brown leather jacket. Her hair is down in soft curls, and her makeup is done just right. Man, if you had things your way, you would have already gotten her in bed. She is oblivious to your feelings about her, but everyone on the team knows how much you like her. Maybe that’s why you two are on the same team.

Natasha feels your eyes on her, burning a hole in the side of her head. She looks over at you, and you quickly look away as to not give away you’ve been staring at her. You looked away so quickly that you didn’t see the smirk forming on her face. The man you’ve been watching is now on the move, and you’re back in action, your focus on the mission—eighty/twenty.

The man leaves and you two begin the chase. You need to be at a safe enough distance to not get spotted, but you need to be close enough so that if he makes an abrupt turn somewhere, you are able to see where he goes and what he is doing. The man heads to an electronic store--the biggest store in the entire mall.

Why is he here? What does he hope to gain? More importantly, what is he getting? If you can see what he’s buying, then you can try and determine what exactly Loki is up to. The man maneuvers through the aisles slowly, looking at things as if he is interested in buying them. He moves on seconds later, never staying in one place for too long. You and Natasha have split up so that it doesn’t look like two women are following this man. One of you is in one aisle and the other is in an aisle two rows back.

The man looks around as if he is stretching his neck before making a beeline to the back room. You and Natasha follow him until he disappears into the room.

“I’ll wait here, you go find him,” she whispers.

She stands guard and makes sure that no one goes in and that no one but you two come out. If you really need her help, then you’re going to ask for it over the earpiece. You push open the door and quickly head inside, wanting to get this over with. The man is nowhere to be seen, so you head in further until you hit the very back wall. The room isn’t that big, to begin with, so you can only assume that this isn’t the big warehouse where they keep all their merchandise. There is nowhere to go once you enter the room except for the door you came through, and the man is nowhere to be found.

He just… disappeared which either means it was Loki in disguise or that Loki popped him out of the room. Either way, Loki knows you’re here. You rush back to Natasha and sigh angrily.

“I think we may have been made. We need to go now. Loki isn’t going to be here anymore.”

You two leave the store and head back to the rendezvous point that Tony set up for cases like these. If no one gathered anything or if something bad happened, then everyone should meet up back in this spot. Tony, Steve, Bucky, Sam, Wanda, and Vision are already at the meetup. When you and Natasha join, Peter and Bruce jog to the area.

“Our guy just vanished,” Peter pants.

“Yeah, same here,” Bucky nods.

“I think Loki knows we’re here. We’re not going to get anywhere now that he knows. Either we wait until tomorrow or we have to figure something else out,” you groan.

“We’ll come back tomorrow. I can get some facial scans done of our faces, and have virtual masks made for us so that we can stay undetected,” Tony reveals.

“Why didn’t we do that in the first place?” Natasha asks.

“Because I didn’t think of it until now,” he says quickly before moving on. “Okay! Everyone, get some shut-eye if you can because we meet here first thing in the morning.”

The entire group disbands to the hotel Tony bought for everyone to stay in for the night. It’s better than going back to the tower and possibly expose yourself to onlookers. People really have nothing better to do than to stare at Tony’s tower all day and wait for one of the Avengers to walk through the front door.

Because the hotel had almost all of their rooms booked, Tony was able to get rooms for two people each, and that means you and Natasha would be sharing a room. The room you got stuck with only has one King bed, so to her, it’s no problem, but all you’re going to be thinking about the entire night is her sleeping right next to you. You enter the hotel room tiredly, tossing your jacket onto the nearest chair.

“I’m going to take a shower first if you don’t mind.”

“Yeah, go ahead. I’ll take mine in the morning.”

Natasha heads to the bathroom with her pajamas, and you plop down on the bed in exhaustion. The only two things that can be heard is the soft hum of the air conditioning and the shower. You look over at the bathroom door to see it open a crack. Did she forget to shut it? Is it opened on purpose? Does she know you’re ten feet from the door and can practically see in it?

No, Y/N, bad girl. You can’t just look into the bathroom when someone is showering. That’s creepy and wrong.

Still, you can’t seem to stop yourself from quietly approaching the bathroom door. Natasha takes crazy short showers since she claims that she knows where everything is, so why spend twenty minutes in there just staring at the wall? It’s very hot and steamy inside the bathroom, but you can clearly see the shower door open and Natasha steps out.

If you thought she looked good with clothes on, then she looks breathtaking naked. Besides the fact that she is wet, you can see the curve of her breasts with her nipples hard and puckered out. Her skin looks silky smooth, almost as if you could lick every inch and feel how smooth it is. Her ass is plump and round, and you imagine tapping her ass and watching it jiggle.

No, stop this! This is wrong! Look away!

But you can’t seem to look away. Not now. Natasha dries herself with the towel before grabbing her clothes. She is going to come out soon, so you force yourself to peel your eyes away and head back to the bed. You can’t seem to get the image out of your brain, even if you were to go to sleep now. You scramble to get under the covers, turning your back so that when she walks out, all she is going to see is your back.

You don’t hear anything for a few minutes, but then you feel her slide into bed. Thank God you have a King bed instead of a Queen. You won’t be able to feel her when she is on her side of the bed, and it provides you with extra space as if you were in a separate bed.

“Goodnight,” she drawls.

“Night,” you say quickly.

She turns off the light, sending the room into darkness. All you can what is your heart pounding, scared that she can hear it from her side of the bed. You can’t bear to turn over and face her, scared that she will say she caught you looking at her. Even if sleep wanted to come earlier, it can’t now. Every time you close your eyes, all you see is Natasha… naked. What the hell were you thinking peeking in on her while she was changing?

You’re so caught up in your own thoughts that you don’t hear or feel Natasha move until she is practically right behind you. She touches your waist and slowly slides it south, keeping her hand on your leg.

“What are you doing?” you whisper, not turning to face her.

“I know you like me.”

“What? No, I don’t,” you shake your head, denying the obvious.

“I left the door open on purpose.”

You turn around for this. She’s so close that you can see the color in her eyes and the freckles on her face.

“You did?”

“I know you were watching me.”

“I’m sorry, Nat--”

“Don’t be,” she whispers, cutting you off. “I like you too.”

She takes this moment to lean in, giving you time to think about this and to pull away if you wanted to. If you really wanted to, you could say no to this and she would let it go just like that. Or you could enjoy the moment and just be with her. You can worry about the details and the feelings tomorrow morning.

You opted for the latter.

She presses her lips to yours gently at first to test the waters before giving in harder. Her hand slides over your ass to grip at it, and you scoot closer just to feel her next to you. You can’t believe this is happening right now. You’ll get shit for it later from the rest of the team, but nothing else seems to matter.

It’s you and Natasha, and you may not go further than just kissing for a bit, but you know your relationship is about to take a hard right onto a one-way lane with no way back… and you’re okay with that.

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[minisugakoobies]

Paradise | JJK - Eleven

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: smut, neighbors to lovers (not quite friends but not quite strangers), slow burn, love triangle, Stripper!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: swearing, drinking, kissing, grinding, special guest appearances by Stripper!Namjoon and Stripper!Hoseok as well as Jimin and Taehyung, dirty talk, fingering, wall sex, slow fucking, mention of sex toys, the body chain returns, Jungkook is a smirky teasing demon (but what's new), Jungkook's stamina is insane, capitalism is a cockblock, gratuitous use of comic book character dog names, more dirty photos

Word Count: 16.4k (I'm sorry!)

Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own BTS - they just inspire me

Summary: That sexy man on stage - the one currently giving your friend the lap dance of her LIFE - is your super shy neighbor, Jeon Jungkook?!

A/N: Sorry this one took so long! I thought about splitting the chapter but ultimately felt it worked best kept as one. I'm technically on a tumblr hiatus, but I finished this today and want to get it out there. I appreciate everyone's patience with this story - I can't believe it's been over a year already! I'm really trying not to have such lengthy periods between chapters, but muses are pretty fucking fickle.

Been excited about getting to this chapter for a while, so I hope you like it! 🥺

Unbeta’d as usual. Please don't be a silent reader, I’d love to hear from you! Taglist is open. 💕

Previous Chapter ♦️ Paradise Masterlist ♦️ Next Chapter

Friday morning arrives with a sense of relief. Not just for the end of the work week, but also for your run-in with Wendy last night and the tiniest possibility that you might have a way out of your job already. Would you seem too desperate if you emailed Wendy as soon as you logged on for work? It’s not like she didn’t understand your current situation - she left your company as soon as she could. But maybe you should wait a few days before reaching out.

The first thing you see upon logging in is an email from your boss, informing you that there will be a mandatory video call this afternoon for your entire department. The announcement is cryptic, only providing a time of one o'clock and a topic of “department changes.” This strikes you as ominous. Then you read an email from one of your coworkers that mentions whispers of possible layoffs looming at the end of this quarter. 

You immediately open a blank email and start composing a message to Wendy. 

The flowers that Jungkook gave you on your date last week are still sitting in a vase on your desk. Knowing you have a long day ahead of you, you pause long enough to lean over and breathe in, inhaling the sweet fragrance of the bouquet. The scent conquers up a memory of the soft smile on Jungkook’s face when you’d opened the door that night. The vision lingers in your mind as you dig into your work. 

An hour later, as you’re fighting with a report that has your head aching with frustration, your phone trills, "Be still, my heaaaaart…”

Of course it’s not Wendy, that would be ridiculously fast for her to be calling already with news of a job opportunity, but you still have a split second of nervous excitement when it goes off. And then you see who is actually calling and grin anyway. 

“Good morning, gorgeous,” a cheerful voice greets you. “Hey, Jin.” 

“I hope it’s okay that I’m calling. I realize you’re probably working.”

“I am, but I could use the break.”

“Great.” There’s a sigh on the other end. “I’m glad you got home okay last night. I know you said you didn’t mind, but I feel like I should apologize for leaving you at the reception like that.”

“Oh, Jin, it’s fine! Really.” Okay, yes, you were rather disappointed that that’s how your night ended, but you couldn’t exactly blame him for jumping at a great opportunity. The Nosh execs were clearly trying to woo him, he would’ve been a fool to walk away last night, no matter the reason. Right? “Tell me how the drinks at Dionysus went!”

“Well, my agent and I are having dinner tonight with their head of marketing, if that gives you any idea…?” 

“Jin! That’s fantastic!” There’s a chime from your laptop. Email from a supervisor asking if your report is finished yet. You stifle a sigh. “It sounds like they’re really excited to possibly work with you.” 

“Apparently Hongjoong-ssi’s wife is a big fan of my show, and when he went home last night and told her we’d met, she freaked out!” His windshield wiper laugh makes you giggle. “Told him he’d be an idiot if he didn’t sign a deal with me. So I guess I need to give her a shoutout on my next stream.” He laughs again. “It’s a little surreal how quickly things are moving.” 

“But it must be so satisfying, too.” If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Jin in the short time you’ve been dating him, it’s how hard he hustles. There’s something so admirable about the way he’s chasing his dream. Makes you wish you had one of your own to fight for. 

“Well, I’m not complaining. But speaking of satisfaction…”

“Smooth.” 

“Thank you. Listen, I still want to make last night up to you, if you’ll let me. What’s your weekend look like?”

“Um, tomorrow I have maid of honor duties in the morning, then I have a hot date with Jisoo.”

“Oh, really?” he hums. 

“Mmmhmm. But I’m free all day Sunday.” 

“Let’s go back to the hot date with Jisoo.” 

Rolling your eyes, you grin. “Nothing that exciting, I promise you. I think we’re just planning on doing face masks and a movie or two. What did you have in mind?”

“Oh, there are plenty of things on my mind, if you’d like to know…”

“For our date, Jin, not for me and Jisoo.” 

“I was talking about our date! What are you trying to imply?” His pitch rises in mock indignation before your giggles break him. “My offer to teach you how to cook still stands. Any interest in making dinner together?”

“Hmmm, free cooking lessons from an in-demand chef? Why would I say no to that?” 

“Perfect. I thought maybe I could take you to see the site of the restaurant my business partner and I are working on. We can use the kitchen there, since it’s bigger than mine or yours.” As if the massive kitchen in his luxury condo would be too small for the two of you to work in. “I can give you a private tour before the place opens and the waitlist gets long.” 

“You know, that brings me to an important question - how does it work when one’s dating the chef? Do I automatically get a reservation whenever I want, or…”

“You know I’ll take care of you,” he purrs, and you shiver at the sudden change in his tone. “Don’t you worry about that.”

“Oh, well, in that case…” you trail off, giggling. Your laptop chimes again. Same supervisor, same question. Can’t these people understand that you’re too busy flirting to work right now? “I gotta get back to work. Supervisors are stuffing my inbox.” 

“Kinky,” he squeaks. “I suppose I should get up and get moving myself. I need to start planning a menu for Sunday night. Is there anything in particular you’d like to learn how to make?”

“Ummm… honestly, I am a true novice here, Jin. The most complicated dish I can make is a basic stir fry. So I guess… whatever you think would make for a nice beginner meal?”

“All right. I’ll take care of it. And then I’ll see you on Sunday - let’s say I’ll pick you up at 6?”

“Yeah. That sounds good.” A third chime. Your supervisor is really testing you today. “I’ll see you on Sunday, Jin.” 

He murmurs a sweet goodbye, and you close your eyes, savoring the gentle tone of his voice before diving back into your report before your supervisor has an aneurysm. 

The rest of the morning passes in a blur of emails and spreadsheets. When noon arrives, you pad out to your kitchen to grab a granola bar and some grapes, too into the thick of things to want to stop and pick up a real meal. 

At 12:30, there’s a jarring beeping next door. 

You wonder if Jungkook slept as soundly as you did last night. That’s twice now that you’ve gotten an amazing night’s sleep thanks to your neighbor. He just seems to have the magic touch… even though he didn’t actually touch you last night. Didn’t seem to matter. 

If only he didn’t have to work tonight. The offer he made to test Lil Jackson Wang’s range is super tempting, knowing he could put you to sleep with just a few deft swipes on an app, but you want more than just another restful slumber. Not that an orgasm wouldn’t be welcome, but… what you’d really like, tonight, or maybe right now, as you yawn and stretch, would be to fall asleep in his arms again.

Hmmm. Well now. That’s a thought you’ve not really had before. You’ve repeatedly found yourself daydreaming in the past few weeks about Jungkook, but typically in these visions the two of you are doing anything but sleeping. 

Staring into space, you sigh, imagining being curled up in Jungkook’s warm embrace at this very moment. Picturing his messy bedhead and soft sleepy smile. Maybe you should’ve called out from work today. Then you could be experiencing this vision instead of simply dreaming about it.  

Maybe you could try to convince Jungkook to take a sick day himself. 

You grab your phone. 

(12:45): I have a confession

Kookie 🦌 (12:45): morning jagi

(12:45): Good morning, I have a confession

(12:46): Something I’ve been waiting for years to tell you

Kookie 🦌 (12:46): fuck

Kookie 🦌 (12:46): keep talking

(12:46): I hate your alarm clock

Kookie 🦌 (12:47): not exactly what i was hoping to hear

(12: 47): Just had to get that off my chest

Kookie 🦌 (12:47): feel better? 

(12:48): I do, actually. Thanks for listening

(12:48): What about you? Is your leg okay?

Kookie 🦌 (12:48): just woke up but feels ok so far

Kookie 🦌 (12:48): you want me to get rid of my alarm clock?

(12:49): Would you? I could replace it for you

Kookie 🦌 (12:49): i’m not going to say no to that

Kookie 🦌 (12:49): you can wake me up every day if you want

It’s funny how you can feel his smirk in his words. 

(12:49): Not what I meant but

(12:50): Not opposed either

(12:50): Although I don’t know if I’d be any good at getting you OUT of bed

Kookie 🦌 (12:51): come over

Your stomach swoops at his response, and you shift in your seat, rubbing your thighs together, suddenly feeling needy. Just from two innocent words! What is this power that this man has over you?

If only you could go over there right now. Stupid capitalism. 

(12:52): For what, practice?

(12:52): Make sure I can get you up?

Kookie 🦌 (12:53): jagi i’m already up

Kookie 🦌 (12:53): just for you

His next text is a photo.

You nearly drop your phone. 

(12:53): I can’t believe I’m saying this but

(12:54): I have a stupid important call to jump on in a few minutes 

(12:54): Like possibly career changing important

Three grey dots appear and disappear, over and over, making you frown. You just said you don’t have much time. What is taking him so long to respond? 

A sudden knock on your door startles you off your chair. 

Kookie 🦌 (12:56): let me in?

As soon as the door is open, Jungkook’s arms are around you. Your fingers curl into his thick hair, tugging him as close as you can, and your eyes flutter shut as he kisses you, pressing himself into you, and holy fuck do you regret not calling in sick today.

With a happy sigh, you open your eyes to find him smiling at you. “Good morning.”

He’s shirtless, just a pair of black joggers slung low around his hips, doing little to hide his current condition. His hair is in fact just as shaggy as you’d imagined, a dark cloud on his head, and his eyes are scrunched in happiness to the point that they’ve become thin crescents. 

“Mmm, good morning, Kookie.” You sling your arms over his shoulders, keeping him close. His skin is so warm, heat radiating everywhere he touches you, and it’s all you can do not to just drag him into your apartment and straight into your bed. 

Why can’t you do that, again? Oh, right. Damn responsibilities. Adulting sucks. 

His cheeks redden a little. “I won’t keep you long. Just wanted to say hi.” His eyes fall to his hoodie, which you’ve cloaked yourself in again, and he yanks on the drawstrings playfully.

“Oh. Well. Hi,” you beam, and his eyes crinkle once more as his shy bunny smile makes an appearance. Fuck, how you love that smile. “Be honest. You just wanted to tease me.”

“Always.” The cute bunny disappears, leaving behind a smirky demon, who suddenly grinds into you, and you clap a hand over your mouth to keep yourself from moaning loudly in the hallway. After last night’s vocal exercises with the toy, you really don’t need to annoy your other neighbors any further. “Don’t be late for your call, jagiya. And make sure you stay focused.”

You swat at his shoulder. “Fuck, you play dirty, Jeon Jungkook.” He just nods, looking way too pleased with himself, and you laugh as you untangle yourself from his embrace, pushing him away. 

He grins as he strolls backwards towards his apartment. “Go on, get on your call. You said it’s important, right?”

“Yeah.” 

“Then good luck.” 

After your meeting, in which your boss informs you that your department will be reorganizing, which is code for ‘downsizing,’ your coworker emails you again, this time to ask just what the hell was making you smile so much.

For the rest of the day, your phone barely leaves your hand. If Jungkook hadn’t already left his apartment while you were on your call, you might’ve been easily swayed to take the rest of the day off to hang out with him. But he had to head to the club to help Namjoon and Hoseok with a new routine they’ve been practicing. From the sound of it, Jungkook helps a lot of the dancers there to perfect their performances. You can’t blame them for wanting his help, replaying Jennie’s lap dance in your mind for the millionth time. 

The conversation winds on and on, the two of you discussing anything and everything. Your annoyance with work. His latest commission (a portrait for one of the bartenders at the club). Your excitement about Jennie’s wedding. 

When he sends you a photo of himself hugging Taehyung’s puppy, a guest at today’s practice, you make him promise to invite you the next time he dogsits. Then Jungkook mentions wanting a pup of his own, and together you brainstorm dog names that make you giggle harder with every increasingly ridiculous suggestion. Jungkook really likes Peter Barker, named after his favorite superhero, while you prefer M’Barku yourself. 

After ordering some takeout for dinner, you crash on your couch for the evening. There’s a random movie playing on the big screen in your living room, but all your attention is focused on the tiny screen still glued to your hand. Even once Jungkook’s started his shift at Paradise, he pops in during breaks between dances. Every time your phone vibrates, there’s a matching flutter in your chest. 

The previous night’s lack of sleep catches up to you, though, and soon you find yourself starting to drift off between Jungkook’s replies. He seems to be getting busier as the night wears on, taking longer and longer to respond. You close your eyes for a second, wondering if he’s performing the same routine again, with that same wicked smirk….

A thudding sound wakes you and you sit up with a start, realizing you a) fell asleep on your couch and b) managed to kick your tumbler off the end table in your sleep. You also discover that you’re still clutching your phone, and glance at the time. It’s almost three in the morning. 

You have messages waiting.

Kookie 🦌 (11:21): you still there? 

Kookie 🦌 (11:56): always falling asleep on me

Kookie 🦌 (12:45): sweet dreams jagi

Saturday morning arrives with sunny weather, a nice break from the gloomy cloudy grey of the week. Despite having slept most of the night on your couch, you feel pretty refreshed, even before you treat yourself to an iced coffee on your way to meet your friends for Jennie’s final wedding dress fitting. 

The dress shop is a tiny boutique only a few blocks from your apartment. Halfway there, you cross paths with a man walking an adorable little beagle. The puppy stops to sniff your sneakers, so you snap a quick photo and send it off to Jungkook. Even though it’s early for him, the hour being before noon, he responds immediately, and you’re so distracted by your chat that you walk a block past the shop before realizing you missed it. 

While the seamstress helps Jennie into her gown in the store’s only dressing room, you and the other girls mill about, flipping idly through the racks, catching up on each other’s weeks. Your friends are aghast when you talk about your evening with Jin and how he left you at the networking reception. Not even Lisa, the captain of Team Worldwide Handsome herself, thinks it was okay, even though you keep stressing how much it might’ve helped Jin’s career. But you just wave their concern away and change the subject, asking Rosé about her big date Friday night. Clearly, it went well, given the way she’s currently spinning about the room with a giant smile on her face.

“So then Namjoon and I were talking about our hobbies and I mentioned how I’ve been trying to take better care of my houseplants. You remember that orchid you got me for my birthday, Ji? Poor thing’s not doing so hot these days. He offered to give me some tips, because apparently he’s like an amateur botanist! He even said I could bring it over to his place. He’s got a tiny greenhouse out back, and he’ll nurse it back to health for me.” She beams. “Isn’t that cute?”

“Super cute!” Lisa confirms.

“Adorable,” you second.

“I couldn’t believe how sweet he was! Like, he was telling me how his halmeoni taught him about gardening, and he kept giving me this shy smile…” she dips her head, looking up at everyone bashfully, and giggles. “I swear to God, if our waiter hadn’t returned at that moment with our dessert, I was this close to leaping over the table and just eating him up.”  

“Okay, you had an amazing time at dinner, we get it. Get to the good stuff,” Jisoo demands.

Rosé sticks out her tongue. “This is the good stuff! Some of us like to actually talk to our dates.” 

“I talk to mine!” Jisoo retorts. “How else will they know what I want them to do?”

“I’m talking about having a real conversation, not giving out orders.” 

“I have conversations!” Rosé scoffs and Jisoo’s eyes narrow. “I’m serious! I go deep!”

“That’s what he said?” you whisper to Lisa, who giggles and shushes you.

“Oh yes, I’m sure “Come for me” has led you to some very profound discussions about the human condition!”

“Actually, not that you need to know, but yes, it has!”

You and Lisa just roll your eyes as the two squabble. It’s nothing new. They love winding each other up and usually spar until one of them gets bored. Holding a floor-length white sequined dress up to herself, Lisa tips her head as she stares at herself in the mirror near the dressing room. 

“So when do I get to meet one of Jungkook’s handsome friends?” She pauses. “Or Jungkook himself, for that matter?”

“You’ve met him,” you insist, and she shakes her head. “Uh. Haven’t you?” 

“Not really. Just said hello in passing a few times.”

“Huh.” Apparently you were so used to seeing your neighbor around now, you’d just assumed your friends had all met him. “I guess I could probably see if he and his friends wanted to hang out sometime, if you all wanted to? Like I’m sure Taehyung and Jimin would be in if Ji will be there, and now Namjoon and Rosé…” 

“Well, what about next Saturday? The wedding?” Rosé asks. Having abandoned their bickering, she and Jisoo join you at the mirror. 

“What about the wedding?” 

Rosé gives you a strange look. “Won’t we all get a chance to meet Jungkook there next week?” 

“Oh. Um, I’m not sure how you’re gonna do that, since I don’t think he was invited?”

All three of your friends groan your name at various volumes. 

“What??” 

“Babe. Why haven’t you asked him to be your date?” Jisoo inquires. 

“Well, for one thing, I didn’t tell Jennie I was bringing a plus one, and it’s a little late to throw one at her now…” 

“Oh, please,” Jennie’s voice calls out from the dressing room. “You know if you want to bring Jungkook, we’ll find room for him! I just assumed you and Jin would be coming together?”

Jisoo snorts.

“Um, well, actually…”

Another chorus of groans. 

“Look, I don’t want to make things awkward!”

“How would going with Jin be awkward?” 

“I think she meant picking one over the other might be weird, Lis.” Rosé replies.

You sigh, rubbing your temples with the tips of your fingers. “I just don’t know what will happen if they’re both in the same room again. You remember what I told you about Jungkook when I ran into him at Dionysus, right? The way he reacted to seeing me on my date with Jin?” 

“Oh yeah,” Jisoo hums as the others nod. “That was ridiculously hot of Bambi.” 

Hot or not, it had left your head swimming. “Yeah, well, I’m not looking for a repeat. I mean, what if they get into some sort of argument or something?”

Lisa cocks an eyebrow. “You think they might fight over you?” 

You shrug. “I mean, no. Not really. Neither of them seem the type to punch another guy over a girl.” Although Jungkook does seem to have a sharp tongue when he’s drunk. Would he say something rude directly to Jin’s face? How would Jin react? “I don’t think, at least.” 

“Well, if you’re unsure, how about we not find out at my wedding?” Jennie suggests cheerfully. “Let’s just keep everything nice and neat and as drama-free as possible!”

Jisoo sighs. “Speaking of drama, Jennie, will you come out already? I think you’ve amped up the anticipation enough.” 

“Okay, but only because you asked so sweetly, Ji.” 

The kindly grey-haired seamstress reappears, throwing open the curtains to the dressing room, and Jennie emerges. She’s a vision in white, swathed in lace and satin, the train of her gown trailing behind her as she slowly approaches the rest of you. 

“Jennie!”

“Beautiful!”

“Oh my god, you’re gorgeous!!”

A loud sob makes you all turn. As you watch with your mouth agape, Jisoo bursts into ugly, full-body-wracking tears. The rest of you coo and rush to hug her as Jennie shakes her head.

“You’re such a softie, Kim Jisoo!” She reaches into the scrum, careful not to get too close and wrinkle her dress, and squeezes Jisoo’s hand. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine! Just - just happy for you!” comes a muffled response from where Jisoo’s face is buried in Lisa’s shirt. 

“She’ll be okay,” you assure Jennie, rubbing Jisoo’s back gently. “I’ll pull her back together tonight when we’re hanging out. But how do you feel right now? I’m honestly surprised you’re not in here crying with her.” 

Jennie inspects her reflection, fingers straightening the lace over her bodice. After a moment, she catches your eye in the mirror. The smile that lights up her face is blinding, and for a second you’re afraid you might start bawling like Jisoo. 

“I’m tempted to text Yoongi right now and tell him to get his cute lil’ peach down here so I can marry him this very minute. I can’t wait, I’m just so excited!” 

The subject of your wedding date (or lack thereof) doesn’t come up again as the morning fades into afternoon. Your friends are more interested in showering Jennie with love. As are you. But it gnaws at you anyway, as you listen to your friends breathlessly discussing the upcoming ceremony. 

Should you ask Jungkook to be your date? Would Jin get upset if you didn’t ask him? How weird would it really be to have them both there? Maybe you’re making a bigger deal out of this than you should. 

God knows it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve done that. 

Jisoo knocks on your door around eight with a bottle of your favorite green grape soju in hand, dressed like she’s ready for the club - black crop top with a keyhole cutout over her chest, scandalously short pink leather skirt, hair pulled up in a high ponytail and eyeliner winged straight to the heavens.

“Holy shit,” you greet her. “You look amazing, but uhhhh maybe a little overdressed for a movie?”

She swans into your apartment, the heels of her boots clicking on the hardwood floor. “The movie can wait. It’s Saturday night. Time to get fucked up.” 

“Uh.” The last time you got quote unquote ‘fucked up’ was the night you went to Dionysus, and recalling the morning after makes your stomach lurch a little. Following your friend into your kitchen, you watch as she pulls two shot glasses down from your cupboard, then pours you both a dram. “Okay. I’m not opposed to having some soju with you tonight, but the outfit still seems like overkill.” 

“Babe.” Jisoo holds out your glass for you to take. “Obviously we’re going out. We’re too young and gorgeous to be wasting ourselves away on your couch tonight! Do you really want to deprive the world of this?” She waves her hand to indicate the two of you, and you look down at yourself with a raised brow.

“Actually, I think the couch is the only place for this,” you reply, gesturing to your clothes. Leggings and Jungkook’s hoodie. The sweatshirt has become your second skin at this point. 

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll take care of that,” Jisoo informs you. “We’ll find you something to wear. But first things first.” She lifts her glass in the air. “Geonbae!”

The liquor goes down so smoothly. For all her deadpan ability, Jisoo can’t stop herself from making a face at the tang of the shot. It’s the same face she’s made every time you’ve shared this soju over the years. A wave of nostalgia rolls over you, bringing with it all the memories of evenings spent drinking and laughing with your friend, and you throw your arms around her and give her a tight squeeze.

“I know it’s good soju, but this is a little much,” she mutters from where her lips are smushed into your shoulder.

“Sorry. I’m just really happy we’re hanging out. I’ve missed you.” 

“Oh god, you’ve bypassed the funny drunk phase and gone straight to sappy reminiscing, haven’t you? Let’s get you some water, lightweight.” 

Double fisting soju and water, you let Jisoo lead you into your bedroom. There’s no point in trying to argue with her about going out, so you don’t. At the very least, maybe if you get ready quickly, you can come home sooner than later. Sitting on your bed, you play dj and queue up some music on your phone while Jisoo stares at your closet in horror. 

“There are just… so many hoodies. Why?” 

“You sound like Jennie. And what’s wrong with hoodies, anyway?! They’re comfortable!” 

Jisoo merely grunts while rifling through your clothes. For a few minutes, you just vibe to the music as your friend rummages, mumbling the occasional “What on earth” or “Oh, babe, no,” under her breath as she flips through the hangers.

“You know I can hear you, right?” 

She simply shoots you a tragic look.

“Anyway… I noticed you didn’t say anything in the shop earlier about what you did last night.”

“Nothing to report. I stayed in.” 

“Alone?” 

Your phone buzzes. 

Kookie 🦌 (8:15): matt murdog

Grinning, you glance at Jisoo, still elbow-deep in your closet, before replying. 

(8:15): That one’s a bit of a stretch

Jisoo pauses, hands in mid-pull on a shirt you immediately veto with a shake of your head. “Yes. Alone. I’m not always out with someone.” 

“Y’know, it seems like you haven’t been seeing a lot of different someones lately. Just Taehyung. Or Jimin. Or both.” 

Kookie 🦌 (8:17): pupper potts

(8:17): Honestly, not the worst

(8:18): Woofsbane

Kookie 🦌 (8:18): deep pull

Kookie 🦌 (8:18): respect

Jisoo hasn’t said anything while you’ve been texting, and you put your phone down to watch her studiously skim through your clothing. “Is there anything there you want to tell me, Ji?”

She stops again, this time with a dress you haven’t worn in ages. You start to shake your head, then reconsider, gesturing for her to hand it to you. “If I had anything to tell you, I would. Don’t I always?” 

“Yeah. I suppose you do.” Shimmying out of your clothes, you tug the dress over your head. It still fits, and if anything, looks even better now that you’re curvier than you used to be. “Is it me or does my ass look amazing in this?”

“It’s you.” Jisoo laughs, ducking the pillow you throw in her direction. “No, you’re right, you look fucking fantastic. I think we have a winner.” She pours another round of shots for you to tip back. 

Settling in front of your makeup mirror, you smile sweetly at your friend. “Do my makeup? Please? I can never get my eyeliner to wing as perfectly as you do.” 

“Flatterer.” 

As Jisoo rummages through your makeup, you pour more shots. Jisoo clears her throat. “They were both working.” 

“Huh?” 

“Last night. Tae and Min were both at Paradise.” She gently swipes some color over your eyelids. “That’s why I was at home, alone.” 

“I’m sorry, Tae and Min?” 

“Stop smiling like that and hold still!”

But you can’t stop grinning at your friend as she frowns, trying not to poke you in the eye with a liquid liner. “You gave them nicknames? And sat at home alone because they were at work? Ji, are you even dating anyone else right now?”

Jisoo rolls her eyes. “Calm down, will you? Otherwise, your eyeliner is going to be less of a wing and more of a smear.” You hold as still as you can, despite the and she sighs. “No, I haven’t seen anyone else in a few weeks. Just Tae and Min, and yes, that is what I call them, and no, it is not technically exclusive. We’ve never discussed anything. I just… haven’t wanted anyone else.” She scowls. “Stop looking at me like that!” 

“Like what?” You glance in the mirror as she finishes your eyes, turning your face left and right to admire her skill. 

“Like I have little cartoon hearts in my eyes. I’m not in love. But I am happy right now, and I don’t see any reason for that to change by bringing someone else into the mix. Or whatever. I just… I want them. And right now, I have them. That’s all I need.” 

“Well, fuck.” 

She arches a brow at your pithy response, and it’s your turn to sigh. 

“I just envy you sometimes, you know?”

“Of course you do,” she drawls, flashing you a grin. “But what in particular is it this time?” 

“The way you just know what you want, and go for it!”

Jisoo plops down on your bed, assessing you with one of her scrutinizing looks. “Okay, who got in your head now?”

“No one. I’ve just been thinking a lot lately. About what I want. Take work, for example. I’ve gotten stuck in this job because I’ve just gone with the flow for so long. I never intended to end up where I am, but the company kept promoting me, kept moving me around from department to department, and I just went along with it. I never really stopped to think about what I wanted.” 

Your friend nods slowly. “And now you’re starting to?” 

“Yeah. And there’s just so much to consider.” 

“Is there, though?”

“What do you mean?” 

Jisoo shrugs. “You said you didn’t think about what you wanted. So that’s all you need to do now. Just go for what you want.”

But you don’t know what you want. Isn’t that obvious? And even if you did, it’s not as easy as Jisoo makes it sound. For you, at least. For her, it is. Anything she’s ever wanted, she’s gone after. No second guessing, no worrying about what others might think or say, not stopping until she obtains whatever her heart desires.

When you don’t answer, she frowns, brows knitting together in concern. “Come on. It’s not that hard, is it?”

“I guess not. I just don’t know where to start.” 

“Do you want me to try to help you? Or do you wanna keep drinking and forget your problems?”

Both, honestly. “Help. Help me please.” 

Jisoo motions for you to join her on the bed. Curling your legs under you, you glance at the phone in your hand. No new messages. “Let’s play a round of rapid fire answers. I’ll ask you a few questions and you have to answer immediately, no thinking.”

Lifting your head, you give her a funny look. “This is going to help?” 

“Yes. It’ll force you to bypass the portion of your brain prone to overthinking, where all the ‘what ifs’ dwell. Trust your instincts, and answer right away. Okay?” 

“Fine. Why not.” 

“Okay.” She nods, clapping her hands. “What’s better, spring or fall?” She speaks quickly, words clipped as she spits them out, and you answer just as fast.

“Spring.” 

“Do you prefer pants or skirts?” 

“Pants.” 

“Favorite soju flavor?” 

“Green apple.” 

“Black or white?” 

“Black.” 

“What’s your favorite word?” 

“Mellifluous.” 

“Night or day?” 

“Night.” 

“Jin or Jungkook?”

“Jung - Jisoo!” 

“Haaaa!” Jisoo claps again, either to end the questions or to applaud herself for her cleverness. “I knew it!” 

“Fuck you, you don’t know anything! I was just in a rhythm.” Your lower lip slides out in a pout. She plucks it between her thumb and forefinger and you dissolve into giggles. Jisoo’s little game might not have helped you figure out your problem, but it did make you laugh, and you feel a little lighter now. 

“Sure you were, babe. Also, mellifluous? Really?” 

“I think it’s pretty!” 

She grins. “As pretty as Jungkook?” 

Your phone buzzes. 

“Okay, who keeps texting you??” Jisoo snatches the phone before you can, eyebrows rising as she glances at the screen. She whistles before tossing you the device. “We summoned the sexy demon himself. Bambi says hi.” 

You flip the phone over in your hands and suck in a breath. Jungkook sent you a photo of his wardrobe for his shift tonight. He’s wearing the body chain again, trailing beneath a low-cut leopard print shirt and tight satin pants. Low-cut doesn’t really do justice to describing the top, which is open all the way down to his navel. That familiar smirk is back, igniting a fire inside you. 

“Speaking of nicknames… Kookie?” 

Heat creeps into your face. “What? It’s cute!”

Jisoo snorts. “I guess he’s just too sweet, huh?” You resist the urge to whack her with another pillow. “You know, if you want to invite him to go out with us, I would be okay with that.”

“What happened to tonight being just the two of us?” 

She shrugs. “I’m just saying. I might want to dance tonight, and I know you’d rather stick your tongue in an electric socket than dance.” She’s right. “He’d probably dance with me, at least. And he looks like he’s going out, anyway.” 

“Ah, yeah, that’s actually his stagewear. He’s working tonight.”

“Mmm, I see.” She leans over to glance at the text again, but you tip the screen away before she can read the message he sent after the photo, not wanting to explain to her what he means by asking if you want to play with that app again tonight. “He sent you a photo the other day of his outfit for work, didn’t he? With the same chain?” 

“Yeah.”

“So is this a regular thing, then?”

“I guess?” Trailing off, you turn your attention back to your phone, careful not to scroll back too far to the pic Jungkook sent you this morning. No need to share that one with anyone else. “We text. He sends photos. Is that so surprising? I mean, I am dating the guy….”

“You ever send any back?” 

“Not yet.” It has crossed your mind, the idea of taking some photos of your own. But you’re not as comfortable in front of the lens as he is. And as long as he enjoys sending you these pictures, you’re sure as fuck not going to complain. “How am I supposed to compete with that?” You gesture to the screen.

“It’s not about competing? But also, have you seen yourself lately? You’re hot as fuck, babe. Stop selling yourself short.” She holds out her hand. “Let’s send him one right now.”

“Ji…”

She keeps her palm out, and you hand the phone over. You can always just delete it if you don’t like it. 

“Ok, tuck your legs under you more. Yeah, like that. Now arch your back a little.”

“Seriously? I’m just sending him a photo, not working on a thumbnail for a camgirl vid.”

“Do you want my help or not?”

You grouse a little more, but you do as instructed. Jisoo hums happily as she snaps a pic.

“Oh, that’s perfect.”

She tosses the phone back and you blink. You actually look kinda… hot? Quickly, you send the photo off. 

(8:27): Jisoo’s dragging me out tonight

(8:27): Save me?

“Fuck, I might need you to do a whole photoshoot, Ji. Did Tae teach you some tricks or something?” 

She wiggles her brows and you roll your eyes. 

“Forget I asked.” 

“So does Jin ever send you any pictures?”

You shake your head, rising off the bed and grabbing your drinks, heading for your kitchen. “Nope. We’ve mostly just texted about making plans. He has called me a few times.”  

“He calls you? Huh.” She snorts. “That’s surprising. You hate talking on the phone.”  

“I mean, we haven’t really talked. They’re not conversations so much as us planning our dates.” Not that you’d really paused to think about it much, but Jin hasn’t reached out to you very often. Not like Jungkook has. Of course, communication goes both ways, and you haven’t texted Jin out of the blue, either. 

But that doesn’t mean anything, really. Other than the group chat, you’re not much of a texter.

Usually. Except for the last few days. With Jungkook.

“Interesting.” Jisoo hums, and you sigh.

“Ji, enough with the questions! I thought you said the other day you were gonna let me figure this out at my own pace?” 

“Figure what out?” The head tilt you give her makes her laugh. She knows you know exactly what she’s trying to get at with all these questions. “Okay, fine, I’m sorry! I just feel like maybe you know what you want, babe. You’re just afraid to voice it.” 

Your head is starting to get that swirly sensation that drinking brings. You yearn to lean into it. “I think I’m going to need more alcohol if this is how the night is going to go.”

“That can be arranged.” She starts to pour another shot of soju, but your phone goes off, and she snatches it up instead, dodging your hands as she reads the message out loud.

Kookie 🦌 (8:29): goddamn jagi

Kookie 🦌 (8:29): if i were there you wouldn’t be leaving that bed

“I think he liked the picture,” Jisoo informs you while you chase her down the hallway, cursing your friend’s natural athleticism as she continues to sidestep you. “What should we say back - ooh, wait, what did he say now?” 

Kookie 🦌 (8:30): take that toy with you and i’ll make sure you have a good time tonight

Her eyes widen, as does her smile, and you finally manage to grab your phone back, holding up a finger to silence her before she begins. 

“Let’s get going and I’ll tell you on the way, okay?” 

“Bitch, you better!”

With one last shot of soju, the two of you head out. Jisoo orders a ride, saying it’ll be cheaper to drive out to a bar on the edge of town where she knows the bartender so you can drink for free. You’re too tipsy to question her logic, letting the alcohol carry your thoughts away, hoping your worries will go, too. 

Your driver is an older gentleman who politely ignores the two of you as you giggle in the backseat. True to your word, you fill Jisoo in on Jungkook and Lil Jackson Wang’s introduction the other night. Jisoo then regales you with a story of the time she wore a pair of vibrating panties to work, only for them to malfunction and get stuck on the highest setting while she was trapped between floors in an elevator with her boss. By the time the car stops, you’re snorting with laughter at Jisoo’s tale, too swept away in your delight to realize where you are, until you climb out of the vehicle. 

To be greeted by the bright neon lights of Paradise.

“Um. Jisoo.” You stand and stare at the building in front of you. “What are we doing here?” 

“I told you. I know the bartender here!” Jisoo’s smile is the smuggest of grins. “Come on!” 

“You know the… are you kidding me?!” You drop your voice, grabbing her arm as she tries to walk towards the door. “You were talking about Jimin?!” 

“Yes, I was talking about Jimin! Why are you whispering??”

“I don’t know!” you hiss back.

Truthfully, you don’t know. You’re caught off guard, not expecting to be here of all places. Although as well as you know your friend, you probably shouldn’t be surprised that she’d decided to bring you back here.

“Well, stop it, because it’s freaking me out.” Jisoo uses your grip on her arm to pull you towards the entrance. “I need a drink!” But she stops at the look on your face. “Uh-oh. What’s going on? Do you not want to be here?” 

No, you very much want to be here. When it comes to want, at this moment, unlike earlier, there’s no confusion clouding your mind whatsoever. You want to walk straight through that door and find him. 

The question is, should you be here? 

Will Jungkook think it’s creepy or strange to have you show up here unexpectedly? It’s not like he’s your boyfriend or anything. Is it weird to visit someone you’ve just started dating at their place of work? Especially if they work at a strip club? 

Fuck, maybe you’re overthinking things again. It’s enough to make you dizzy. Or maybe that’s the soju. Maybe you should ask the soju what it would do in this situation - go home? Or go inside? 

You’re not sure who made the decision but suddenly you’re walking, gesturing for Jisoo to follow.

“Come on, Jimin’s not going to give me any free drinks if you’re not with me.” 

The strip club is packed tonight, blue and pink lighting bathing the other customers in a vivid kaleidoscopic glow. Jisoo heads directly to the bar, propping herself against the counter. The pink-haired man behind it has his back to you, so Jisoo clears her throat until he turns around. 

“Kitten!” Jimin smiles brightly, eyes crinkling in joy. Unlike the waiters here, Jimin wears a shirt, but it’s a black mesh top that leaves very little to the imagination. Your eyes dip a little to find “Nevermind” tattooed on his side. “Just give me one second.” 

He turns his back again to finish whatever he’s concocting and you take advantage to catch Jisoo’s eye and mouth “Kitten?!” She flips you off before he turns back with a cocktail in each hand, placing them on a tray on the bartop before leaning over. 

“Did you come to visit us?” Jimin purrs, fingers lightly tracing over the back of Jisoo’s hand. “I missed you last night.” 

“Aw, poor baby. So you mean the video I sent wasn’t enough?” 

Oh, you’re so texting the group chat later. But right now, you keep your gaze fixed on a drink menu, trying to pretend like you’re not hearing every word Jimin and Jisoo exchange. They appear to have completely forgotten you’re standing there. It’d be cute if it didn’t feel like they were two seconds from fucking on the bartop.

It occurs to you that that’s not beyond the realm of possibility of things they’re already done, and you delicately remove your clutch from the counter.

“You know it wasn’t nearly enough. Not when I could - “ Jimin whispers something into Jisoo’s ear, making the corner of her mouth curl. The heated look they share lasts so long, you start to feel like you’re intruding on something, and look away. 

There’s no one on stage, a slight lull in the usual din as the crowd waits for the next act. As your friend and her bartender murmur quietly beside you, you scan the floor. There are several incredibly handsome shirtless men wandering between the tables, flirting and bringing drinks, but no familiar doe eyes to be found. 

So he’s probably giving a private dance right now. That’s cool. That’s a good thing. Make that money. Your nose scrunches. The soju’s loud.   

A dark-haired man slides up behind Jisoo, leaning over her and across the bar to grab a couple of drink umbrellas, and you hear, “Well, if it isn’t my favorite kitty cat,” before he moves towards you with a boxy grin. “And my dear friend.” 

“Hi Taehyung.” With a smile of your own, you accept the hug he gives you. 

“Hi angel. Have you come to see Jungkook?” Taehyung’s deep voice rumbles in your ear as he reaches past you to grab the tray of drinks. You try your best to keep your gaze from wandering too low, but it’s difficult when he’s standing next to you in naught but a tight pair of black leather pants and a smile. You do get a good eyeful of his toned stomach before you divert your gaze.

“She’s here because I promised her free drinks,” Jisoo answers. You catch a slight twitch of Jimin’s eyebrow at the word ‘free.’ “But if Jungkook happens to be around, I’m sure she won’t mind. Right, babe?”

Three pairs of eyes lock onto you. You feel like diving over the bar and hiding, for some reason. 

“I mean, if he’s available…” you trail off lamely. Very smooth.

Taehyung surveys the crowd. “He’s out there somewhere. I’ll find him for you.” He flashes that brilliant smile again. “I know he’ll be happy to hear you’re here.” 

“Thanks, Taehyung.” He nods and disappears into the throngs of drunken revelers starting to come alive again as another dancer takes the stage. The volume in the room suddenly doubles as people start shouting and throwing money, and you crane your neck until you can make out the figure on stage, spotting blond hair. Not him. With a sigh, you turn back to the bar. 

“So, free drinks, huh?” Jimin inquires, smirking at Jisoo. 

“Just a line to get her out of her apartment.” You’d protest, but there’s no point. Jisoo and Jimin are in their own world as she skims her fingers up his forearm. “You know I’ll pay. I wouldn’t deny you what you’ve earned.” 

Another heated look. You can’t wait to torment her about this later. But right now, you’d like a cocktail and to sit down for a minute, so you bump her with your shoulder.

“Ok, kitten, can we please get our drinks now? I can’t stand in these heels all night.” 

With your cocktail in hand - an Adios Motherfucker because they were strong as fuck the last time you were here - you spy a couple of customers vacating a table not far from the stage and claim the spot for yourselves. The rest of the crowd is busy cheering on the very cute blond man working it out on stage. His hypnotic hips have whipped the other patrons into a frenzy, and you and Jisoo happily join in. 

“Yes, baby, take it off!” As he tears away his shirt and pants, Jisoo reaches into her clutch and pulls out some cash, tossing it in the direction of the stage. You watch her make it rain with an incredulous expression.

“Let’s give it up for Bang Chan!” the DJ booms, and the man on stage takes a bow before running off. The spotlights dim, the lights in the room coming back up, as the stage is cleaned for the next performance. 

“Came prepared, huh?” Snatching one of the bills from where it fell on the table, you wave it in front of Jisoo’s face. “Be honest - were you planning on bringing me here all along?”

Your friend is the picture of perfect nonchalance as she shrugs, sipping on her whisky. “I just thought we could have some fun here tonight. It wasn’t something I’d considered when we made plans earlier this week. Just a spur of the moment decision.” 

“But the cash?” Who carries cash anymore?

“Maybe I’ve started keeping some bills on me.” Her shoulders are up around her ears. “Just in case!” 

“Just in case…” You trail off as you remember something she’d said in the group chat a while ago, about Paradise being a great place to take a date. Of course. She’s probably been here with one of her boys. Or both. Perhaps she comes alone, to watch them work.

That seems supportive, in a weird way. Or maybe it’s not weird. Maybe you just think it’s weird because now you’re wondering if you should be doing that. 

Before you can fall any further down that thought spiral, Taehyung appears at your table. He places two drinks on the table, even though you haven’t ordered more yet, before he brushes his hand down Jisoo’s arm. “Are you ladies having a good time?” 

“Of course we are.” Jisoo smiles up at the handsome man, letting her fingers glide lightly over his. 

“That’s what I like to hear. But I’m afraid I have some bad news, angel.” You cock your head curiously as Taehyung gives you an apologetic smile. “Jungkook’s a little tied up tonight. He and a couple of the other dancers have been booked for some private parties.” He leans a little closer. “He was very disappointed that he couldn’t come out here and say hello himself.” 

“Oh.” And just like that, your heart sinks, nearly knocking you breathless with how unexpectedly fast it dives. Well, of course he’s busy. Who wouldn’t want a dance from him? Or a whole evening of dances, apparently, if he’s been requested for a private party. Multiple parties, actually, if you heard Taehyung right.

There’s a tiny voice whispering in your head right now, filling your mind with all the possibilities of what’s happening in that room. The way he’s probably grinding up on someone, watching them with darkened eyes, teasing them with his moves. You try to shut the flood of images out but can’t. 

Your gut twists sharply. 

Oh god, you’re jealous, aren’t you? This is so stupid! It’s literally his job to do those things, to entice and seduce, and you know this, yet if you think about it another second longer, you might burst.

“Aw, I’m sorry, babe.” Your face must telegraph your dismay, because Jisoo finds your hand under the table and gives it a little squeeze. 

Taehyung nods, warm hand patting your shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t worry, even though Jungkook can’t see you right now, he’s still going to make sure you enjoy yourself.” With one last gentle touch, he winks at you both before sauntering away. 

“You gonna be okay?” 

Nodding, you drain the last of your drink and reach for the fresh cocktail. “I’ll be fine. I mean, of course he’s busy, right? He’s at work. It was nice of him to send us some drinks, at least.” 

“Very sweet of him,” Jisoo agrees. “I’m still sorry, though. I just thought from all those messages from Jungkook earlier that he might like it if you stopped by here to see him. And vice versa.

Obviously, I didn’t count on him being so in demand.” She shakes her head, swirling the ice in her glass. “That was pretty dumb of me in retrospect.”

“Aw, Ji! Stop it.” 

She ignores you, rambling on. “I thought we’d have a few drinks, watch a few dances, you’d go sit on your neighbor’s face in one of the champagne rooms. You know, have ourselves a killer night. But now it’s just the two of us.” 

“Ji, that’s all I wanted earlier!”

“To sit on Jungkook’s gorgeous mug? I know.” 

Smacking her arm lightly, you shake your head. “Fuck off, you know what I mean. I thought tonight was going to be just the two of us anyway. So don’t apologize.” 

“All right, are we ready for more?” The speakers overhead suddenly buzz as the DJ addresses the crowd. 

The room practically vibrates with anticipation as the lights go down again and the other spectators around you shout their response to the mc’s question. Okay. Sure. You’re sad that you can’t see Jungkook right now (don’t think about what he’s doing, don’t think about it), but that doesn’t mean you can’t have fun, right? Just let it all go, all the thoughts and questions and worries, sit back, and enjoy the show. 

“Well, it sounds like you’re ready, but I don’t know…” the DJ playfully responds, and the crowd whoops louder. “I’m not sure if any of you are ready for this next double act! Coming to the stage now, please welcome Hoseok and Joon!” 

The platinum blond and the blue-haired man bound onto the stage, dressed identically in tight white buttoned-down shirts and even tighter black pants. Instead of heading towards the chairs that have been set up facing each other in the middle, they roam the edge of the stage, pointing into the fray. 

“We’re going to need a few volunteers for this one. Is there anyone out there who’d like to help these two out?” From the audience’s enthusiastic reaction, you’d say that yes, there are a few people who would like to help. Just a couple.

Clapping your hands in glee, you grab your clutch, ready to fire off a text to Rosé, knowing she’s going to lose her mind when she finds out you’re about to watch Namjoon dance. But before you can dig out your phone, Taehyung reappears, placing a hand on both you and Jisoo’s backs. 

“Ladies, your assistance has been requested. If you’ll please follow me?” 

“What?” Eyes widening, you glance up at Taehyung, who smirks, prying your clutch from your grip and placing it on the table. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll watch your things. Just come this way, please.” 

Jisoo gives Taehyung a questioning look and he bows his head to whisper in her ear. She grins and rises. “Come on, babe!”

Taehyung offers you his hand and you take it, feeling confused. Neither you nor Jisoo had jumped up, trying to get the men on stage to pick you. As Taehyung pulls you to your feet, he dips his head to speak into your ear, to be heard over the yelling of the crowd. “I told you Jungkook was going to take care of you.” 

Oh, shit. This is what he meant? 

Well, all right. Why the fuck not? The first Adios Motherfucker has joined the soju spiraling through your system. At the moment, you feel pretty fucking good. Why not indulge in a lap dance?

Taehyung stops at the bottom of the stairs and helps you climb onto the stage until Namjoon steps forward, sliding your hand out of Taehyung’s and covering it with his own. “Hi, love,” he rumbles, leading you over to one of the chairs. “You ready to help me show this crowd a good time?”

“Absolutely!” 

He laughs at your effusive response, motioning for you to take a seat. Instead of helping Jisoo onto the other chair, Hoseok sits, then pats his lap. Jisoo doesn’t hesitate, looping an arm around his neck as she perches on his thighs. They both look over at where you and Namjoon are as the music begins to play. 

“Grind With Me” by Pretty Ricky thumps through the soundsystem as Namjoon drops to one knee. He’s still clutching your hand, lowering his plush lips to the back of it to gently kiss your knuckles. Then he glances up at you with a mischievous look, one of his dimples popping as he suddenly leans forward, burying his face in your lap. 

You hear Jisoo hooting gleefully above the rest of the crowd as you cover your mouth with your hands. Hesitantly, you reach out for him, but he slides away, rising off his knees. He dances around the chair, trailing his hands along your shoulders behind you, before he appears in front of you again. With another smirk, he unbuttons the cuffs of his shirt, rolling the sleeves up as he dances, slowly exposing his forearms. LIke he’s about to get down to business. 

And then he straddles you, rolling his hips, and you realize with embarrassment that the loud “Oh shit!” you just heard came from your own mouth. Namjoon winks down at you, grabbing your hands and placing them on his thighs. They’re huge. Like tree trunks, except you’ve never felt a tree flex like that as Namjoon moves. Did Rosé get her hands on them last night? She’s going to completely combust when you tell her about this tomorrow. 

Namjoon body rolls himself backwards a few feet, reaching for the collar of his shirt. Rather than unbutton it, he simply tears it off, and both you and Jisoo shout as he tosses the ripped material into the crowd. He dances around you again, toying with the howling audience, throwing out flying kisses and winks, before he places both hands on the back of the chair. 

“Come on, love, on your feet.” Again, he takes your hands, urging you to stand. Then he sits, pulling you into his lap. You rest your shoulder against his broad chest, and the spotlight shifts to Jisoo and Hoseok. 

“By the way, thank you for setting me up with Rosé,” Namjoon murmurs into your ear as you watch Jisoo and Hoseok switch places, your friend settling herself comfortably on the other chair. 

You give Namjoon’s shoulder a friendly squeeze as you nod. You’re about to ask him if he had a good time on their date last night when Hoseok tears off his shirt, whipping it over his head and directly into the audience. He spins around, coming up behind Jisoo’s chair, and you scream with laughter at the surprised expression on her face when he grabs her arms from behind, tugging on her wrists and guiding her to raise them over her head. Then he presses her hands to his chest, sliding them down the rippling muscles of his torso. 

“Oh my god!” Jisoo shrieks as Hoseok whirls around the chair again, thighs astride hers. You’re dying, watching her reaction. Jisoo’s the queen of the poker face, but right now, there are a million micro-expressions flitting rapidly across her face as Hoseok takes her hands and puts them directly on his ass. He grinds himself into her lap, hips bucking as she grasps him through his skintight pants, and you know your other friends are going to be absolutely devastated that they’re missing this. 

You’ve honestly forgotten that you’re part of this routine too, just having a hell of a time laughing at your friend, when Namjoon gives you a gentle nudge. “Okay, love, let’s switch.” 

Once you’re back in the chair, Namjoon and Hoseok glide towards the center space. In unison, they launch into a series of sharp b-boy moves, popping, locking, and dipping down towards the floor. Your voice starts to crack as you cheer for them, catching Jisoo’s eye. She blows you a kiss, and you send one back, feeling nearly euphoric with joy. 

But the routine isn’t done. The two men high five as they return to your sides. Still in unison, they both dolphin kick, pushing themselves off the floor with devious grins. Then they slide on their knees over to each of you, grabbing the sides of the chairs and shimmying their way up your bodies. Namjoon takes your hand and runs it through his hair and down his chest, and Hoseok does the same over his shoulder with Jisoo. 

The look Namjoon gives you makes you giggle helplessly. It’s too hot, and you glance away, into the crowd - 

- to find a pair of dark eyes gazing at you fiercely. 

There’s a wild stutter in your chest as you realize that Jungkook is standing by your table, intently watching the performance. Is he done with the private party? Parties?

Namjoon suddenly places his hands on your thighs, lowering his head towards your lap again, and the shift draws your attention back to him. His hair tickles your bare legs and you shiver, giggling, looking back at Jungkook again, automatically seeking him out.  

You expect to find him laughing at you. Maybe flashing that sweet bunny smile, nose scrunching in pure bliss at your reactions to Namjoon’s movements. But the expression you spy on his face knocks the wind from you instead. Eyes narrowed under a furrowed brow, mouth drawn in a thin line, jaw firmly clenched.

What the hell?? Is he mad? Or wait. He couldn't possibly be… jealous? 

That makes no sense. As dumb as it was for you to get jealous earlier, it’s even stupider to think it’s also happening to him. After all, this was his idea! And even if it wasn’t, he knows this is all an act!

So why do you feel like his gaze is burning through you right now? 

And why do you like it?

Instinctively, your thighs twitch, and you attempt to close your legs, but Namjoon holds them apart. “Keep these open for me,” you hear him say before he rises to his feet again and takes a step to your left. Before you can react to his strange instruction, you gasp as he launches himself into a headstand, the top of his head coming to rest on the chair. 

Directly in between your legs.

There’s no more thinking about Jungkook, there’s only you screaming as Namjoon thrusts his crotch right into your face. How the fuck is he holding himself up like that? Just gripping the sides of the chair, veins in his forearms popping as his body undulates smoothly. The crowd around you has totally lost their minds, a hurricane of money flying into the air, fluttering in the lights illuminating the two men grinding upside-down over you and Jisoo. 

Both men hurtle themselves out of their headstands, deftly landing on their feet before they turn back. Then Namjoon straddles you again, body undulating in time with the heavy beat, and you find Jungkook in the crowd again. 

His expression hasn’t changed. Still so sharp. So intense. 

A wicked idea comes over you. Maybe it’s time the teaser becomes the teased. 

Slipping your hands around Namjoon’s waist, you urge him closer, tilting your head up to peer into his face, biting your lip as you do. He plays along, fingers pressing into yours, leading you to grab as much of his round ass as you can. “That’s it, love, help yourself,” he grins, making you toss your head back in unbridled laughter as he continues to wind. 

But you don’t get a chance to see if Jungkook saw your reaction before Namjoon lifts you out of your seat, large hands cupping your thighs as he carries you to the edge of the stage. At this point, the only words you can say are “Oh my god,” which might explain why you’re chanting them over and over. 

He lays you on your back, and you turn your head to see Jisoo lying next to you. She’s laughing hysterically as both men simulate fucking you, hips grinding into yours. Namjoon lifts your legs into the air, making your ass bounce with the power of his thrusts, and suddenly it’s Jungkook in your mind, the night of your date, when he’d danced for you. Tipping your head back, you look towards your table again, but from your upside-down point of view, Jungkook’s nowhere to be found. 

The music ends and the room erupts into chaos again, more cash pouring onto the stage as Namjoon helps you to your feet. He gives you a big hug, sweeping you into his strong embrace, and you hug him back, a little loopy from all the thrusting. Jisoo slips her arm through yours as you make your way back to your seats, where Taehyung is waiting with a knowing smile. 

“Enjoy yourself, kitten?” 

You don’t catch her response, scanning the crowd. Where did Jungkook go? There’s no sign of him anywhere. Did he run out of the room? After giving Jisoo and Taehyung a minute, you clear your throat.

“I thought I saw Jungkook a second ago. Was he out here?” 

“He came out for a minute to grab a few bottles of champagne for the next party,” Taehyung replies. Of course. He wasn’t done. He only had a second to watch before he had to get back. Totally explains why he didn’t wait. 

Makes more sense than him being so jealous, he couldn’t watch any more. 

But that look on his face….

“Water. I need water. Can you grab us a few glasses, Tae?” Jisoo flashes Taehyung a sweet smile and he nods, heading for the bar. She leans across the table and grabs your hand. “Okay, so, that happened.” 

Despite the disappointment you feel yet again that Jungkook’s not around, you can’t stop giggling about what you’ve just experienced. It hits you that this is probably the routine Jungkook told you about earlier, the one he was helping Hoseok and Namjoon to perfect. If it is, he did a fucking bang-up job. 

“Is my head supposed to spin after a lap dance? Because it is!” 

“That just means they did it right.” Jisoo’s not a giggler, but she collapses onto her arms on the table, and you feel another bout of delirious laughter bubbling up inside you. “Holy shit, I thought Hoseok was going to hump me right off the stage!”

“I know! Fuck. If Namjoon’s stroke game is anything like his dancing, Rosé’s in for the ride of her life!” 

“You’re definitely going to have to give Jungkook my thanks for that one,” Jisoo smirks. “Probably should thank him twice, actually, once for the both of us.” 

“I mean, I guess,” you sigh dramatically. “If I must.” 

The two of you cackle as Taehyung returns with two waters and two more cocktails. As you recover from your lap dance, downing more drinks, that euphoric feeling comes over you again. Thank god Jisoo dragged you out of your apartment tonight. You’re having the time of your life right now, swaying in your seat to the bass pounding through the club. 

Eventually all the drinks you imbibe have you in search of the ladies room. Stumbling down a dimly-lit hallway, you realize you must’ve made a wrong turn somewhere, because you can’t find any doors. It’s nothing but purple velvet curtains lining the walls around you. 

More than a little drunk, you trip over your own two feet and grab at the drapery to stop yourself from falling. The heavy material slides aside and reveals a door behind it. It takes you a few seconds to realize that you’re looking at one of the club’s private rooms. They must all be hidden behind these curtains. You’re definitely not in the right hallway. 

Jungkook's behind one of these doors right now. Part of you wants to open them all up, poke your head in each one until you find him. Maybe it’s a big party he’s entertaining. Maybe no one would notice if you slipped in. 

Oh, but you don’t want to sit in a room full of people and watch him dance. You want him to dance for you. Just you, and no one else. A private performance. 

Well, you’re here. Why not ask for one? You just gotta find him first. Wait, what were you looking for again? Maybe that third drink was a mistake. Fourth drink? Shit. You need to pee. Better find the bathroom. 

Turning to retrace your steps, you run into a wall. No, not a wall. A man. 

“Jungkook!” you yelp, wobbling on your heels. Before you can tip ass over teakettle, he grabs you by the waist, pushing you up against one of the curtains, the velvet softly nuzzling your legs as his arms come to rest on either side of your head. You let your hands curl into the silk of his leopard-print top, helping to steady yourself.

“What are you doing back here, jagi?” 

You hear his question clearly, but it takes you a minute to answer because you’re too busy admiring him. God, he’s so beautiful. The ends of his hair are damp, hanging in his face as he towers over you. There’s a bit of kohl liner smeared around his eyes, giving him a smoky look that takes him from gorgeous to out-of-this-world. And then there’s your little friend, that cute lil mole, decorating his pretty pink lips. 

“Trying to find the bathroom,” you finally respond, giggling. “I think I’m lost.” 

He merely nods, dark eyes wandering over your figure. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming here tonight?” His left hand drops to your leg, rubbing the hem of your skirt between his long fingers.

“Didn’t know. Ji-Jisoo brought me here as a surprise.” You hiccup slightly, extending a finger to tap lightly on the lil mole. 

“Oh. So you didn’t dress up for me, then?” There’s a hint of a sullen tone to his voice that makes your chest ache. You wish you had. You want to dress up for him. Just for him and him alone.

A shiver rolls through you as his fingers leave your skirt, skimming up the bare skin beneath. It’s either the Adios Motherfuckers ganging up on you or it's his touch that makes you blurt out, “Is your party over yet?” The chain of his body harness dangles over his chest, and you reach out, lightly grasping the metal links, winding them around your fingers. “I want a dance.” 

“Oh yeah?” The silver piercings over his eye shift as he arches his brow. “You didn’t get enough on stage? Seemed to me like Namjoon-hyung was giving you more than you can handle. Although you were sure trying.” 

More than you could handle? He has no idea how much you can handle. 

“Is that so?” 

Shit. You must’ve said that out loud.

“Yes. You did.” Jungkook chuckles as you stare at him, wide-eyed. “How drunk are you, jagi?” 

“Dunno. A little.” Tugging on the body chain, you grin as Jungkook is drawn closer to you. The scent of his cologne curls around you, like an ocean breeze. The look on his face reminds you of his expression during your lap dance, and you sigh as you peer at him through lowered lashes. “You wanna know what I think?”  

“What’s that?” His hand resumes its path, traveling around the outside of your thigh.

“I think you’re jealous.” 

The hand stops. Jungkook exhales a laugh through his nose. “Jealous? Of what?”

“Of the lap dance. Of the way Joon was dancing on me. With me. To me?” What’s the right way to say that? 

Actually, should you be saying any of this right now? It feels like you’re talking a lot. 

“Joon?” The hand that was on your thigh is now gripping your hip. If anyone walked by and saw him with his hand this far up your dress, it probably wouldn’t be good for him. But he doesn’t seem concerned, so you figure you shouldn’t be either and say nothing. 

“Namjoon. Whatever.” Flapping your free hand in the air, you go on. “Irregardless. The point is, you’re jealous. And it’s stupid.” 

Even though you’re the one sloshingly full of alcohol right now, it seems like he’s the one struggling to keep up, based on the way he keeps repeating your words. 

“It’s stupid.” 

“Yes, it’s stupid! Like me. Like, I was stupid earlier, because I was jealous! I couldn’t stop thinking about you being back here, dancing and smiling and flirting and - and I didn’t like it.” Pouting, you drop your gaze to the body chain again, watching the light reflect off the links as you twist them around. “And then I realized it’s stupid because it’s your job and it doesn’t mean anything. And it’s the same with Namjoon. He was just doing what he does. It didn’t mean anything. It doesn’t matter if he dances for me, or if Hoseok does, or Taehyung. None of it matters. Because at the end of the day, the only one I want is you, Kookie.”

Wow, that was a lot. The words just sorta wouldn’t stop, just pouring out of you without any thought. Like they’ve been floating around in there for a while now, waiting to be said. 

Maybe you’ve said too much, given how silent Jungkook is in the wake of your babbling. Not that you really notice. You’re hypnotized by the movement of his chest underneath your fingers. His breathing seems to have sped up a little at your speech. Rise, fall. Rise, fall. 

“Jagiya.” His voice is husky when he finally speaks. “Just me?” 

You nod, mesmerized by the way the harness glitters as you twirl it. “Just you.” 

He’s quiet again for a moment before he sighs. “I wish I could dance for you tonight. But I’m not free yet. There’s another party coming in.” 

“Fuck. You’re super popular, huh? You stay booked.” Humming, you tug on the chain again. “So when do the parties end?” 

“Late.” Gently, he covers your hand with his own, untangling your fingers from his harness. Your lip puffs out further, a wordless whimper sounding from your chest. You don’t want to let go, you want to pull him into one of these rooms and ride him like - like - 

“Like what?” Jungkook smirks, fingers slipping under your chin to raise your head. “Ride me like what?” 

“Wow, okay, I think I might be more than a little drunk,” you confess, staring into his eyes again. In the low lighting of the hallway, they seem to sparkle. 

“Yes, you are.” He traces your cheek with a tatted knuckle, and you nuzzle into his touch, leaning forward with pursed lips, but instead of kissing you, he tucks your arm into his and guides you off the wall. “Come on, jagi. Let’s get you back to Jisoo.” 

“Noooo, Kookie, I want a dance!” But the haze of lust is burning off, replaced by the nagging pressure of your bladder, and you let Jungkook lead you back to your table, where your friend cracks up before rising to her feet. 

“Oh, babe, you’re a mess. Let’s find the bathroom together. Thank you, Jungkook, I’ve got her from here.” 

Jungkook nods. His hand rests on the small of your back for a minute before it falls away. “Make sure you drink some more water, okay, jagi?” he murmurs to you. Then he nods at Jisoo again. “Enjoy the rest of your night, ladies.” 

And then Jisoo is dragging you away, but when you glance back, you find him still standing there, surrounded by cheering patrons and flashing lights, eyes focused only on you.

You can’t sleep. 

It’s been an hour since you and Jisoo left Paradise. After Jungkook escorted you away from the private rooms, Jisoo decided you’d had enough fun for one evening. She made you drink a glass of water, brought you home, made you drink another glass, then tucked you into bed. You’d offered her your couch for the night, to save her the trek home, but she’d waved you off. 

“No need, I have a key to Min’s place.” And with one final exasperated “Stop giving me that look!” she left.

And now you can’t sleep. 

It doesn’t help that every time you close your eyes, you picture Jungkook’s intense stare. The end of the night is a bit of a blur. You remember running into him in the hallway, remember him having his hands on you, remember wanting to jump him then and there, but everything else about your encounter has washed away with the alcohol. But that look on his face from when he watched your lap dance burns just as brightly in your memory now as it did at the club. 

It’s keeping you awake. It makes no sense. Between the long day and all the drinking, you should be exhausted. Not fired up. Ready to ignite. 

Why can’t you get that look out of your head? It’s the smirk all over again.

Goddamn it, go to sleep.

…

Well, yelling at yourself isn’t working, so you kick off your sheets with an angry grunt and shuffle towards your living room, yanking Jungkook’s hoodie over your thin satin camisole and shorts as you go. You don’t bother to turn on any lights. Maybe scrolling endlessly through your streaming queue for a while will lull you into slumber. It works most nights. 

Naturally, it’s not working now.

Tonight, no matter how long you flip aimlessly through the options, there’s no tricking yourself into sleep. Eventually, you pick something old to watch, an romcom so treasured that you can recite the lines along with the actors. It’s so easy to lose yourself in a silly story like this, one where it’s completely inevitable that the leads are going to get together but you fall into it anyway. 

As the credits roll, you pick up your phone. Put it down. Pick it up. Unlock it. Lock it. Put it down. 

Inhaling deeply, you breathe in the scent of the ocean. A trace of Jungkook’s cologne lingers in the hoodie. 

You pick up your phone, unlock it, open your texts, and fire off five words.

(2:14): Are you still at work?

A quiet creeps over the room again, a stillness matched by the static image of the movie on the screen, asking if you want to watch again or return to your queue. But despite the calm hush, you’re on edge, fingers tapping, pulse racing while you wait for a reply. 

Will he respond? Maybe he already left. He’s probably hungry, might have gone to grab some food. Maybe he’s hanging out with the other dancers.

Maybe he left with someone el-

Bzzt! Bzzt!

Kookie 🦌 (2:16): shift’s over. having a drink with hoseok

Kookie 🦌 (2:16): you’re still up?

(2:17): Yeah

(2:17): Can’t sleep

Kookie 🦌 (2:18): need some help?

Kookie 🦌 (2:18): been waiting to play with that app again

No. No toys tonight. You want him. 

(2:18): Kookie

(2:19): Come over

His reply is immediate.

Kookie 🦌 (2:19): on my way jagi

As if he were currently just down the hall and not all the way across town, you jump up off the couch, running into the bathroom, pleased to find that you don’t look like a total wreck after the evening you’ve had. You brush your teeth again, then dash into your bedroom, rummaging through the bedside table until you find the box of condoms stashed in there, making sure they’re close at hand.

Halfway down the hall, you turn around, go back to the box, and stuff one in the pocket of your shorts. Just in case.

You know it’ll take him some time to get here. But you’re too keyed up to wait on the couch. So you pace instead. There’s a clap of thunder in the distance. As you roam your apartment restlessly, it starts to pour, heavy drops rapping loudly against the window in the kitchen. Tiny rivulets of water run together, forming large streams that snake their way down the glass while you watch, trying hopelessly to distract yourself again. 

It doesn’t work, and when the knock comes, you’re already waiting by the door.

Even without the flash of lightning that lights your apartment, there’s a charge in the air as you and Jungkook stare at each other. His dark hair is damp, ends clinging to his face, and his clothes drip on the hallway floor. He must’ve gotten caught in the storm on his way out of Paradise. Maybe he rode his bike in the rain again. You hope he was careful, but you get the feeling he rushed over here as quickly as he could. 

“Hey,” he murmurs, voice rumbly and deep.

‘Hi,” you reply softly, fiddling with the knob as you lean against the door, suddenly incredibly conscious of your hands, not knowing what to do with them. You want to bury them in his hair, but you’re frozen under his gaze, waiting to see what he’s going to do. 

“How’re you feeling?” he asks, eyebrow lifting in curiosity. “Are you still drunk?” 

You shake your head. Stone cold sober now. Nothing but anticipation flowing through your veins, though you find that’s almost as heady as alcohol. “No.”

“Good,” he sighs, sounding relieved, and then he’s on you.

One of his hands slides around your back while the other cups your chin, and then his mouth finds yours, hungry and desperate. He nibbles at your bottom lip, teeth sinking into the plump flesh, then sucks it, tongue brushing away the sting. Keening, you hold him as closely as you can, hands wandering over the broad planes of his chest, clutching at the soaking material that covers him. He’s so warm. Or maybe that’s you, aflame for him. 

“Jagi,” he hums, leaving a trail of kisses along your cheek, “Can I come in?”

“God, yes, come in.” Curling your fingers into his hoodie, you walk backwards, pulling him into your apartment. His greedy mouth follows quickly, whining impatiently until he’s across the threshold and the door is shut behind him and then he’s on you again, kissing you fast and hot and breathless.

You keep shuffling backwards, leading him down the hallway to your bedroom, but it’s slow going, because you don’t for one second want to part from his mouth. Jungkook clearly feels the same sense of frustration you do, because his hands slip beneath your thighs to hoist you into the air. Gasping, you lock your legs around his waist, digging your fingers into his shoulders to hold on tight as he suddenly turns, pressing your back into the wall. 

“Do you feel that?” He rolls his hips up into your spread legs, and you moan, feeling him rubbing against you. He’s rock hard. “Been like this ever since you texted.”

His mouth latches onto your neck as he ruts against you again. With you pinned to the wall by his torso and hips, his hands are free to roam, and they paw at your sweatshirt, searching for the soft skin underneath.

“Too many clothes,” he mutters, and then he’s tugging his sweatshirt off of you, dragging your tank top with it. He tosses the offending items to the floor. The vent overhead blows cold air across your skin, making your nipples pebble as Jungkook’s hot hands grope your bare breasts. 

“You too,” you pout, grabbing a fistful of his hoodie and trying in vain to peel it off of him, but he refuses to let go of your chest long enough to raise his arms. “Jungkook! Take it off!” 

He just grunts into your collarbones as he kisses his way across. Undaunted, you keep tugging  until he mutters, “Aish, okay!” and reaches behind his head to pull the sweatshirt off in one swift motion. He barely jostles you, keeping you pressed to the wall with ease, and you marvel at his skills. Probably more tricks learned at Paradise.

Warm metal brushes against your chest. Fuck. He’s still wearing the body chain.

“Better?” he huffs. You nod, running your hands over his soft skin. Your fingertips brush over one of his nipples, and he whines, a high-pitched noise that makes you clench involuntarily. God, you want him so bad.

He grinds into you again, swallowing your gasp with his kiss. His tattooed hand grips your knee, slips up your thigh, and under your shorts, fingers not stopping until they find exactly what they’re looking for.

“Jagi,” he hisses, dropping his head to your shoulder. “So wet. Always so wet for me.”

“Always,” you moan as your lips brush over his ear. He shudders, sliding his finger along your slit. Applying just the right amount of pressure to make you buck slightly, urging him inside. “Please, Kookie.” 

He groans, pushing one long finger into your folds.  “You drove me fucking crazy tonight. Sending me that photo. Wandering around Paradise in that little dress. Just wanted to pull you into one of those rooms.” His finger strokes your tight inner walls. “Touch you. Taste you. Let you ride me like you said you wanted.” 

A second finger enters, joins the first in rubbing away. Meanwhile, his thumb circles around your clit before flicking over the sensitive nub. Your head kicks back against the wall as a jolt shoots through you. Struck by lightning. His husky laugh is the peal of thunder in its wake.  

“Next time, jagi,” he continues, “next time, that’s exactly what I’m going to do. Take you in a room and make you fall apart.”

His fingers start to pump, and oh, he feels like heaven, fucking you open with a fervid urgency. Like he’s just as impatient as you are, just as eager to bury himself inside you as soon as he can. As soon as you’re ready for him.

“J-Jungkook,” you stutter, nails digging into his arms as you cling blindly to him. “More. Please.” 

“You want more?” He licks his lips, tongue pulling the kiss-swollen bottom between his teeth as he adds a third finger. “I’ll give you everything. Whatever you want.”

The two of you are panting, filling the air with hot exhalations and grunts, mixing with the lewd squelching between your legs to create an obscene cacophony. As talented as his hand is, it’s not enough, just has you losing your mind with desire for more of him. For all of him. 

Your words come out a broken mewl. “Want you, Kookie, just you. Please!”

“Ah, jagi, don’t say shit like that unless you want me to fuck you right here, just like this,” he groans, eyes closing. 

“Kookie.” Groaning his name, you grasp his chin to tilt his head until your gazes meet. “In my-my right pocket.” 

He glances at you questioningly, but as his left hand slips into the silky material, his expression shifts, eyebrow rising as he hums. He pulls out the condom and his right hand withdraws. Your feet hit the ground. “Shit, that’s what you want, huh? Right here? Now?” 

“Fuck yes, please!”

In an instant, his joggers are around his ankles, your shorts are on the floor, and the empty condom packet flutters to the ground. You watch as he sheathes himself, hurriedly rolling the thin rubber over his already leaking cock. He grabs your thighs, picking you up again, pushing you up the wall until you can feel his tip rubbing through your dripping folds. 

His hand reaches between you and grabs yours, guiding you to grab the silver links that dangle down his chest. Immediately, you loop the body chain around your fingers.

“Hold on, jagi,” he murmurs as his face hovers close to yours. His lips quirk into that familiar smirk. You bite your lip, waiting. 

And then he slides into you, burying himself to the hilt. 

“Fuck.” Your shaky moan elongates the word, turning it into an entire sentence. An entire song. Jungkook slowly draws back and then thrusts in again, prompting another moan. Another melody. He does it again, and again, building up to a steady pace, making you bounce. “Oh, fuck, Jungkook!”

“That’s it, jagi. I wanna hear you.” His hands squeeze your thighs, kneading the flesh as he pins you to the wall with his pistoning hips. “Those moans sound so much better without that fucking wall in the way.” 

“Hnnngh,” comes your response. Your free hand roams over his shoulders to lock into the damp hair at the nape of his neck. “Fuck!”

White-hot pleasure roils in your gut. That fierce look is back on Jungkook’s face, sweat starting to drip from his brow. His stamina is insane. The fact that he’s holding you up like this while pounding into you like a wild beast rutting away… well, it would blow your mind, but his powerful strokes are already doing that. 

“You feel so good, baby, shit,” he growls through gritted teeth, dark eyes staring at where he disappears into your welcoming heat over and over. “Such a tight little pussy. Wanna fill it up. Leave you dripping with me.” 

“God, fuck, Kookie, your mouth.” Dirty talk drives you crazy, and this man does it so well. Of course he does. He lives to tease you, to wind you up in every way he can. “So filthy.” 

The sound of him fucking into you is just as filthy, between the wet slap of his thighs hitting your ass, and the needy exclamations dropping from your lips. These only increase as he tilts his hips just right, curved cock hitting your g-spot. 

“Jungkook!” you gasp, feet flexing, legs starting to tense around him. Reading your reaction, he does it again, and shit, you might actually come just from his cock. 

“Can’t help it.” His sweat drips onto your chest, rolling down the valley between your breasts. His right hand comes up to wipe it away before he rubs his thumb over your lips. “Need to tell you how you make me feel. Tell you how fuckin’ good you’re taking me.” 

He presses the tip of his finger into your parted mouth, and you obediently suck him in. He groans lowly as your tongue swirls around his thumb a few times before he pulls it back out. It disappears between you, to land on your throbbing clit.

”What about you, jagi? How ’m I making you feel?” He thrusts hard, bouncing you further up the wall, and your eyes roll back in your head. Light reflects off the gleaming body chain with every rebound. You haven’t let go for a second. “You like this? Me holding you like this, making you just fucking take it?”

“Fuck, yes, Kookie, so good!” The fervor with which he fondles your clit is nothing short of relentless. You’re burning up, ready to burst into flames. “Ah, ah, give it to me!” 

No one’s ever fucked you like this before. His movements are so raw, so primal. That feeling from earlier is back - the sense of urgency. Of need. And you feel it too, this untamed desire, surging through your veins, setting every inch of you on fire. All you can do is hold on to him, fingers gripping sweat-soaked skin and metal, lips seeking his again and again. You’re pinned to the wall, completely at his mercy, and all you want is more. 

“Come on, jagiya, I wanna feel you,” he wheedles, whining sweetly. “Come on this cock for me. Show me how much this pretty pussy likes this.” 

His chin tilts up, mouth capturing yours in a sloppy kiss, all tongue. Saliva coats your lips, spills down your chin. Between the sweat, the spit, and your arousal, you’re a sopping mess. You don’t give a single goddamn. All you care about is him. 

“Ahh!” With a wordless wail, your climax arrives. Cunt clamping as your clit twitches, pleasure racing through your body with every beat of your madly thumping heart. Jungkook snarls as your walls grip him tighter, but he doesn’t stop, still pumping away as you ride out your release.

“Jungkook,” you gasp when your lungs finally refill with air. “Come on, fill me up, Kookie. I want it.” 

He whines, kissing you frantically. When his tongue traces the inside of your mouth, you massage it with yours before sucking so hard your cheeks hollow. His body tenses, and with one, two, three hard pumps, he spills into the condom, cock twitching as he breaks the kiss to moan your name. 

Heavy breathing fills the hallway as his hips finally still. He drops his forehead against yours as yours for a few seconds, and then he relaxes his hold on your thigh, helping you ease your legs down until you’re standing on your own. Well, your feet are technically on the floor, at least, but the wall is doing all the work as you lean against it, knees a bit wobbly. 

You already miss the feeling of him inside you.

Jungkook seems to be catching his breath already, and you marvel again at his endurance. If that vigorous fucking didn’t exhaust him, then what exactly would it take to tire him out? 

That’s a thought for another night, when your legs don’t feel like they’re about to collapse.

“Jesus fuck,” you declare loudly.

Jungkook’s eyes crinkle as he laughs. “Is that a happy curse, or…”

“Yes. It’s happy. I’m happy.” You beam at him, wiping sweat from your forehead, your cheeks, your stomach. “I’m a fucking mess, Jungkook, look at me!” 

He steps forward, arms wrapping around your back. “I am looking, jagiya.” This time when he kisses you, it’s a slow, lingering caress. “You’re gorgeous, all fucked-out like this. Makes me wanna wreck you again.” 

“Mmmm,” you hum, leaning back. “I don’t know if I could handle that.”

“Oh?” Goddamn, will you ever get over that sexy smirk? “That’s not what you said earlier. You made it sound like you could handle anything I could give you.” 

“Well, that was then. I’ve never been manhandled like that before!”

“Manhandled?” Oh no. Oh, you don’t like the look he’s giving you now. Like you’ve just challenged him. “You want manhandled?”

Your neighbors are definitely awake now, based on the volume of your shriek as Jungkook bends and slings you over his shoulder. You instinctively flail your arms, seeking something, anything to hold on to, but it doesn’t matter. He’s got a firm grip on your legs, keeping you locked in place. So that’s how he carries you to your bedroom, upside-down, ass pointing at the ceiling. He delivers a sharp slap on one of your cheeks, just enough of a sting to surprise you, and you screech before starting to giggle.

He tosses you lightly onto the bed before he disappears into the bathroom, returning without the spent condom. You giggle again as he crawls over you, kissing his way up your stomach and over your breasts. Cupping his face, you urge him closer, pressing your mouths together in a slow burn of a kiss, a kindling flame that grows hotter and hotter until you’re both panting, desperately pawing at one another. 

He’s ready to go again and so are you, and you tear yourself away from his hungry lips long enough to reach into your nightstand and find what you need. Once he’s sheathed, he’s inside you again. But now his thrusts aren’t frenzied or hasty. Now, he strokes into you slowly, taking his time, groaning brokenly as your tight walls hug his aching length. His fingers lace with yours, pinning your hands to the bed above your head as he fucks you like he has all the time in the world, and he’s going to use every single second to give you all the pleasure he can. 

You arch your back, meeting his movements with your hips, taking him as deep as possible. Trying to make this good for him, trying to deliver just as much satisfaction with every tilt, every clench. Without your hands, you can’t pull his face to yours, and you have a delirious need to kiss him, taste him, claim his mouth with yours. You whimper, tipping your chin up, and somehow he understands your pitiful whines and slots his lips against yours.

This time, your orgasm doesn’t smash into you. This time, it builds, until it overwhelms you, takes over, wipes your mind clear of all thoughts, all sensations, everything except for him. Your body hums like a guitar string, stretched so tight, strummed by his beautiful hands, ringing out one single note. 

“Jungkook!”

He kisses you as his hips stutter, cock spurting hot and white inside you. He doesn’t pull away when his high finally passes, but lies on top of you, head nuzzling into your shoulder. Your hand finds the nape of his neck again, twists the sweaty strands of his hair. It’s a comforting weight, his strong body covering yours. You can’t explain it, but you like it. 

Which is why you pout when he finally props himself up on an elbow to gaze down at you, a soft smile on his face.

His bright eyes will be the death of you. 

“Are you in need of more manhandling?” he asks. 

You laugh, a full, body-shaking belly laugh that jostles him and makes him grin even more brightly. “I think I’m good right now, thank you.” 

He rolls onto his side, slinging an arm over your hip as you turn to face him. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

The rain taps a soothing rhythm on your bedroom window as you consider everything running through your mind at the moment. Should you call it a night and get some sleep? Does he want to take a shower first? Maybe together? Do you think you could go for a third round?

But instead of answering him with any of these, what you say is,  

“Are you free next Saturday?”

Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜 

© 2022-23 by sunshinerainbowsbts/minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost.

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The Smut Challenge (33)

A/N: In celebration of my birthday, I’m giving you guys a longer smut piece today! Not sure if y’all will like it or not (and my apologies for it being unbeta’d) but I figure if you guys like it, I’ll slip one of these longer ones in every once in a while, and if not, I’ll keep to my 500 words or less.  Either way, happy reading <3 

***

July 18th (Day 33) 

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” 

“Yes, Blaine.” 

“Okay, I just want to make sure.” 

“We have a plan, and a safe word, so I’m really, really okay.”  

Blaine takes a second to suppress his eagerness.  Rarely have they roleplayed, so this is a bit of a new thing for them.  But this whole scenario is just as much Kurt’s idea as his own, and after having a lengthy conversation as to how to proceed, they picked a day where they had all the time in the world to act it out.  

Blaine takes a moment to look himself over in the bathroom mirror.  His hair is mostly ungelled, the loose curls doing as they wish.  He’s wearing Kurt’s old football jersey, while over a decade old, is a bit big on him.  And he’s got on a pair of spandex shorts that hide nothing to the imagination.  He thinks he looks a little bit laughable like this, but it’s what Kurt wants, and it’s not like Kurt isn’t giving him what he wants.  With a deep breath he leaves the bathroom.  

Kurt comes out of the bedroom at the same time, and Blaine can barely keep it together.  Kurt’s dressed in his old cheerleading costume that does not fit in all the best ways.  His chest is broader, arms more defined than when he had been in high school.  His ass fills out the pants nicely.  His hair is without product, and softly down, making him look much younger than he really is.  It’s a bit surreal, but Blaine holds back his instincts.  

He remembers his role and the game, and spouts a churlish attitude when he sees Kurt.  “Dude, why are you always lingering around here after the games?” Blaine flops himself down on the couch.  It doesn’t quite double for a locker room bench, but felt much safer trying to do this in their own home as opposed to a more public area.  He lets his legs flop open, and relaxes his posture, doing his best to resemble some straight jock of his imagination.  

Kurt’s lips slide into a wiley grin as turns into a character Blaine’s never quite seen before.  “I just thought I’d come congratulate you,” Kurt’s voice is higher than Blaine expects it to be.  He comes behind the couch, and begins to massage Blaine’s shoulders.  “You did win the game after all.”  

Blaine relaxes into Kurt’s touch, it feels so good, but Blaine down plays it, trying to act as if he’s bored and unaffected by the massage.  Kurt’s warm hands slip under the jersey, rubbing his shoulders hard before they travel lower, pinching his nipples. 

“Jesus fucking christ, what are you doing?” Blaine lets a little anger slip into his words.  He worries it might be too much, but Kurt’s doesn’t seem off put one bit.  

“Just giving you something I think you need,” Kurt says.  “The game’s over and you’re still so tense.”  Kurt goes back to rubbing his shoulders.  

“Well, how am I supposed to relax when a dude’s hands are all over me?” 

“Are you trying to tell me that you’ve never had this fantasy?” Kurt’s grin is wicked now as he backs away to come around the couch.  Kurt goes to his knees, settling in between Blaine’s legs, running his hands up Blaine’s thighs. “I’ve seen you, you know.  The way you try not to look at my ass during a game.  The way you touch yourself after you’ve seen me come out of the shower after practice.  I think you want this more than you know.”  

Blaine gives an unimpressed hand wave.  “Whatever, dude.  You don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Do I?” Kurt’s eyebrow is arched high as he leans in towards Blaine’s crotch.  He doesn’t hesitate to suck a kiss to Blaine’s spandex covered cock.  He lets out an erotic moan as he does it again, and again; and Blaine doesn’t think he’s ever gotten so hard so quickly as he watches Kurt to continue to suck at his cock through the fabric.  He takes a second to run his fingers through Kurt’s hair, encouraging him to do more, even if he’s supposed to be pretending not to be into it.  “Are you sure you don’t want to know what it’s like to be sucked by someone who knows what they’re doing?  Are you sure you don’t want to fuck my mouth even a little?” Kurt looks up at him, his eyes dark and wide, daring him to suggest otherwise.  

His body is already betraying him, but Blaine keeps on character.  “Man, if you wanna - I’m not going to turn down a free blowjob.”  

Kurt licks his lips as he pulls down the spandex shorts, freeing Blaine’s cock.  “I always knew you’d be thick,” Kurt says, dragging his tongue up his shaft.  

Blaine shudders, Kurt always has known how to work his mouth.  Kurt sucks on the tip a little before sinking all the way down, his head beginning to bob up and down as he sucks Blaine off.  Blaine sits back and enjoys the pleasure of it, closing his eyes as he let’s Kurt work him.  God, he’s so good at this.  

Kurt then pulls off with a wet pop, replacing his mouth with his hand as brings the fabric lower to get at Blaine’s balls.  He sucks one in and then the other, making sure to give them proper attention as he continues to stroke Blaine’s cock.  

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Blaine utters, not being able to help himself.  

“Fuck?” Kurt says, his voice a husky whisper.  “I said you could fuck my mouth if you wanted to.”  

“C’mere,” Blaine says.  He grabs onto Kurt’s hair, a little rougher than he would normally, and guides his cock back to Kurt’s mouth.  Kurt grabs onto it, running the tip over his lips before allowing Blaine in again.  Then Kurt lets him take over, lets him fuck his mouth, lets him enjoy the warm, velvety heat.  It’s almost too much.  And just as Blaine gets close, Kurt pulls off.  

“Wha-the fuck you doing?” 

“Hold on, I’d like to readjust.”  Kurt leans back a little, pulling his own pants down, and setting them snug under his balls.  Kurt’s cock is long and hard and already leaking pre-come at the tip.  

Blaine wants to touch - wants to make him come in an instant, but refrains.  “Oh, you want to be a little tease now?  Well maybe you should play with yourself a bit.  I wanna see a show.”  

Kurt smirks, spitting on his hand before he brings it to his cock.  He begins to work his cock, pulling at it as he closes his eyes.  “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting you to see me like this,” he says as he fucks into his own fist.  His free hand begins to roam, hiking up his shirt to tweak at his nipple.  “How after seeing you during practice… a game, I’d get so turned on.  And then I’d touch myself afterwards.  I always hoped you’d see and just kiss me.  You’d kiss me hard and unafraid.  And after we’d make out, you’d just spin me around and fuck me against the lockers because you wanted me so bad.  Anyone could come in, but you just wouldn’t care because you wanted me so badly.” 

Kurt is the utter picture of sex as he arches into his hand.  It’s erotic and beautiful, and Blaine slowly pulls at his own cock because he can’t help himself.  “If you want to be fucked so badly, come and sit on my cock.  Use it to get yourself off.” 

It’s a bit of a demand, but Kurt complies willingly, getting himself quickly out of his pants and climbing onto Blaine’s lap.  Blaine pulls Kurt’s arms around his neck as they come together for a searing kiss.  It’s hot and messy and too dizzyingly amazing for Blaine to quite keep up the scenario, but all he wants to do is taste Kurt, feel him everywhere.  

“Jesus, fuck, Kurt,” Blaine says as Kurt begins to grind their hips together as they kiss, their cocks brushing up against one another.  “Are you gonna ride me or what.”  

Blaine slides his hands down to Kurt’s ass, squeezing Kurt’s asscheeks as he pulls them apart.  Kurt uses a little of his saliva on Blaine’s cock before slowly coming down on it.  It’s torturously slow as Kurt works his way to bottoming out. 

“Like this?” Kurt says, a bit cheekily as he begins to rise and fall.  Blaine steadies Kurt, holding him gently before Kurt begins to pick up speed.  It’s not long before Kurt’s bouncing on Blaine’s cock, letting out little obscenities as he loses himself in the pleasure of it all.  “Fuck you feel so good.  So deep inside me, Blaine, fuck, fuuuck, so good.”  

Blaine can only hold on as Kurt fucks himself on Blaine’s cock.  He can’t even concentrate on the scene anymore.  There’s nothing, just Kurt, and the cresting edge of his orgasm.  And it’s not long before he’s arching his own hips, pushing himself deep into Kurt as he comes.  Kurt’s close as well, and he uses his own hand to finish himself off, letting out an ecstatic cry as he comes over the both of them.  

“Was that okay?” Kurt asks, breathing heavily as they both come down.  He brings their foreheads together.  Gone is the teasing, young cheerleader, and present is his wonderful husband.  

“That was amazing,” Blaine says, drawing Kurt in for a kiss.  “I wasn’t too much was I? I know I got a little rough.” 

“No, not at all,” Kurt reassures him.  “You were perfect.”  

“I love you so much, Kurt.”  

“I love you, too.”

[yespolkadotkitty]

So I read Elixir and I love how you write sex pollen and I was wondering if you could do one for our other federal agent, Marcus?

Jump Start

Warnings: smut. A lot of smut. Unbeta’d writing; soft Marcus. 

Words: 3,500

Summary: What if Marcus only went to DC for a while? And what if he came back for you?

Marcus: Still game for tonight?

You: Are you kidding? Cho and Lisbon have bigged up that Aladdin’s Cave for months. I’ll be there.

Marcus: You sure this is what you want for your birthday?

You: Yes.

Marcus: Okay then… Bring a pillow because I’ll probably bore you to sleep with all the art stories.

When the elevator doors part to reveal Agent Marcus Pike, you’re standing by the door to the lock-up. A smile lights up his face when he sees you, and your heart bumps hard in your chest. He slides his hands in his pocket, a blush creeping up his neck.

“Happy birthday.”

“Thanks, Marcus.”

He ducks his head, a little shy. You know he isn’t always. You’d seen him in the interview room a few times last year, when your team and his had co-run a case. Watched his eyes go hard, his face stern. He’d slammed a file down on the desk inches from a suspect’s face and the surprisingly rough side to him had made you shiver.

Lisbon had sent you a knowing look and you’d ignored her.

She’d had her chance and she’d blown it, and frankly you didn’t want to know what she and Marcus had shared; how close they’d been.

Marcus had gone to DC after that. A year’s undercover work has helped him heal, you think. Get his head back in the game.

He came back for another co-op case, and thankfully, Lisbon and Jane had been away on honeymoon then.

You and Marcus had worked this one together, sometimes late into the night, sharing take-out and anecdotes from other old cases, and then, you’d started hanging out, a little.

He’s interesting. Funny. Friendly. Panty-melting gorgeous.

Heart-stoppingly gorgeous.

Cho dropped that it was your birthday at last week’s after-work drinks, and then Marcus had texted offering you a tour of the art lock up. You’d been rota’d off the day Cho and Lisbon got to see it, last year.

Patrick Jane hadn’t been allowed in. Marcus had muttered something about sticky fingers when you’d asked him about it.

“You ready?” He ducks his head to buss your cheek and you meet him halfway, breathing him in, minty gum, sandalwood, and the gourmet coffee he hides in his office. He shared it with you once and it’s like him, memorable, decadent, addictive.

“Ready.” You pull away, reluctantly, wanting him, but he’s never given you any overt hints that he sees you as anything more than a colleague.

He and Lisbon are cordial to each other when they meet, but for all you know, he’s still pining over her.

You daren’t ask; you don’t want to know the answer.

Marcus punches in a code to the first gate, then plucks the rings of keys from his pocket and opens the dinner door of the lock-up, a smile playing on his scruffy face. He grew the patchy beard during his time in DC and it really suits him, highlights his beautiful jaw and makes his soulful eyes a deeper brown.

This time on a Saturday, no one else is around.

“A private museum,” you breathe as you see all the paintings, sculptures and other art set carefully in frames or on desks or custom made plinths.

“Yeah, I always feel like Aladdin.” He scoffs at himself. “I say that every time. What a dork.”

You turn and grin at him. “I like it. You’re an art geek. It’s sexy.” The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them.

Marcus’ brow wings up. “That so?”

“Um, sure.” You duck your head, embarrassed. “So. Tell me some art stories,  Special Agent Pike. What’s new here?”

He brightens, soulful chocolate eyes going wide for just a moment. “Well. There’s this equine sculpture. Maker’s mark is Italian but we seized it during a raid for paintings. Wasn’t expecting it.” He snaps on white gloves and offers you a pair, then gently turns over the statue to show you the swirling signature on the bottom. “We’re still not sure where the other two are.”

You trace a gloved finger over the horse’s detailed mane, wrought perfectly in cherrywood. “Other two?

“Sure. This is part of a set. You can tell here-” he points out a divot in the base that you wouldn’t even have noticed, and another on the opposite end. “And here. The two connecting statues are missing - other horses, I’d guess.”

“Wow.”

Marcus sets the horse down and meets your gaze. “You bored yet?”

“Nope! More!”

He chuckles indulgently. “Okay. Why don’t you choose.”

You wander around the various lock-up cages for a while, examining instruments, more statues, even a huge quilt that looks woven with gold.

After a few moments, a painting about your height catches your eye. It’s an orgy, but tastefully done, painted in shades of amber and gold, the bodies fluid, enchanting.

“I’ve never seen such a… soft depiction of a group bang,” you smile.

Marcus’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “That came in last week. Rumour has it, the artist was quite the lothario back in the 1800s. A steady stream of, ah, callers to his penthouse in Florence. The accounts of his sexual prowess are something else.”

“I bet.” You eye the curves of the women in the painting; she looks soft, welcoming, her eyes closed in ethereal bliss. “So, how’d you get this?”

“Allegedly, found in an attic. We went to the house to pick it up. The man who gave it to me - said they just moved in - seemed kinda high.” Marcus’ brow furrows. “Very mellow. Pretty sure he’d been smoking something. He was half-dressed.”

You crouch, examine the painting more closely. “And you didn’t… arrest him?”

Marcus shrugs. “Art’s our deal. I did note the address with a colleague in the DEA, so if it gets flagged again, they’ll investigate.”

Something about the painting keeps you enraptured. You spy a little notch in the frame. “Do you think something’s hidden in here?”

Marcus bends next to you to examine the area you point to. He’s been working today, so he still wears his suit, the red tie the little bit of flash he allows himself on the job. His scent weaves around you, the lick of coffee, the gasp of mint, and something uniquely Marcus.

“It looks like something…. Comes undone?”

You both lean in together, and you edge your gloved finger along the groove in the ornate gold-effect frame.

Marcus does the same from the other end. “Wow,” he breathes. “A hidden compartment?” Then his eyebrows shoot up as part of the frame depresses under his finger, clicking. He grins hugely. “Well, now I really do feel like Aladdin.”

“Don’t suppose you’ve got a little monkey wearing a fez around here, do you?” You tease.

“Maybe a magic carpet. I-”

He’s cut off when a hissing noise pops from the painting. You and Marcus both lean in to try and hear it more closely, and just when you get close, powder sprays from the frame, light gold in colour and smelling faintly musty.

You cough, reeling back, your hands over your face. “Gross.”

Marcus steps back too, wiping a gloved hand over his face and examining the golden-hued powder on the cotton fabric. “What the hell-”

You slowly sit down on the floor. “I feel… sort of dizzy. Hot.”

Marcus crosses to you, crouching in front of you, and if you didn’t feel so discombobulated, you would appreciate the closeness of him, the amber shot through his irises, the slight curl of his cowlick. “I’ll go get help. Maybe some water?”

You’re burning up. A slow dance starts in the pit of your belly, something that you think was always there, maybe, but intensified now Marcus is so close. “Please don’t go.”

His brow furrows in concern. “Of course.” He smoothes a gloved hand over your hair, and then you see it; the change in his eyes, the way they go dark and hot. “I… what the fuck is this stuff? I feel…”

You clutch at his forearms, feeling the play of lean muscle under his suit. “What if…. What if this was the reason that painter was such a, um, lothario?”

Marcus’ gaze has dropped to your mouth and at your words, he blinks. “What? Oh. Oh.”

“Yeah,” you say slowly. “Marcus, I…”

He stands up, backing away. “I can’t be near you. Not when I want… I can’t.”

You reach out to him. “What if you stayed?”

He gazes down at you, longing in those bottomless eyes, and now you can clearly see the outline of the powder’s effect on him. “I can’t. Can’t do that to you.”

A flash of hope pierces the haze descending on you. “You want to? Because of the.. Stuff,” you finish lamely.

An expression of half desire, half pain, sketches itself over Marcus’ features. “I’ve wanted to for a while. That night we worked late.” He’s half-panting now, the fingers of one hand curled around the wall of his side of the lock-up. “Wanted to take you over the desk. I - fuck- can’t do it.”

You make to move. “Marcus-”

“Not like this,” he groans, that voice of sin and sex dropping half an octave, California with a lick of the drawl of Texas. “Not… like this.”

“Don’t go!” You beg. Your insides are burning up for him. If he’d just touch you. Just for a moment.

Marcus is shaking his head, fumbling with the door on this section of the lock-up. You lunge for him but he pulls the door closed, locking you in and him out.

He turns the key, then tosses the ring across the room.

“I’m sorry. I can’t. Not like this. Goes against everything.”

“But I want you,” you say. You crawl over to the fencing separating you. “At least… touch my hand.”

You pull your gloves off, slide your fingers through the holes in the mesh.

Marcus takes his gloves off too, tangles his fingers with your the best he can. He sighs deeply. “I had this whole date thing planned. Dinner at an Italian that reminds me of a place I ate at in my gap year.”

“Marcus,” you whisper. “So you do really like me.”

He groans. “Sweetheart, I haven’t been able to think about anything but you since I got back from DC, and there you were, pretty as a picture, working late with me, sharing Chinese food. Making me laugh.”

You swallow, wanting him so badly it hurts. Every inch of you burns for him.

“I wanted to go slow,” he rasps out. “I know I jump in. Get overexcited. But with you.. I wanted to do it right. Fuck.” With his free hand he, almost unconsciously, palms himself through his suit pants, his eyes rolling back. “What the hell is this drug?”

You hungrily follow the path of his hand with your gaze. “Lothario, remember?”

“I remember.” Marcus groans, pressing the heel of his hand against his erection. He’s sitting awkwardly. “Bastard.”

“Marcus.” You squeeze his hand. “I want this. I want you. It’s lonely up on that white horse.”

He shakes his head, vehement. “It’s….not… not right.”

You press against the caging and just the pressure of the mesh on your breasts makes you moan. “So I can’t touch you, and you won’t touch me, but you also won’t leave me.” You watch him squeeze his eyes shut, look at the tent in his suit pants. “Touch yourself.”

His eyes pop open. “What?”

“If you won’t leave and you won’t… give in to whatever this is, although I want you more than I’ve wanted any man, ever…. Let me see you.”

A bead of sweat rolls down his forehead as he looks at you, big brown eyes considering. He’s weighing every option. Marcus is thoughtful, considered. Considerate. He always thinks two steps ahead, encompasses everyone in plans and strategies.

But he’s blindsided by this, and you can’t say it isn’t sexy as hell to see him unravel this way.

“Please,” you add, holding his gaze.

He squeezes your fingers and the air changes between you, and then he leans heavily against the mesh and you take the opportunity to stroke his hair, a little, and it’s so soft. Feels like silk, and you have to touch more of him, but maybe you’ll get to at least see more, so you will your breathing to calm, just a bit, as he fumbles one-handedly with his belt buckle and then slides the zipper of his suit pants down to reveal plain grey boxers, darkened in the centre by a damp patch, and your throat is so dry.

“Have you…” your heart bumps hard, the rush of seeing new parts of Marcus making you even dizzier. “Ever gotten off in this evidence locker before?”

“Can’t say I have.” Marcus’ gaze stays on your face, earnest. “I can go. I can just go.”

“Please. Please don’t go. Come in.”

“Can’t do that.” He closes his eyes; looks like he is silently praying for the power to resist you. His fingers curl into the parted edge of his suit pants.

“Let me see you?”

He sucks in a deep breath, then exhales shakily. “This is not how I planned to seduce you. Just so you know.”

Your pulse rabbits. “You seduce me every moment, Marcus. With every sweet text. Every time you smile at me. All your art stories. When you say my name. Your voice, oh God.”

Marcus’ hand trembles as he holds your gaze through the wire mesh of the lock-up, and he finally, finally parts the opening of the plain grey boxers and draws himself out, and you just drink him in with your eyes, the shape of him, the swollen tip, his length and girth, the curling hair at his base. It looks as silky as the hair on his head and you hear yourself groan needily.

“Marcus.”

He fists himself, his gaze hot on yours. “Not how I planned this date,” he repeats. “I feel like I’m on fire for you.” He rasps out your name and you watch his hand move, and suddenly it’s too much, the heat between your legs cannot be ignored, and you shove your skirt up and mirror Marcus on the floor.

His head jerks around. “Fuck,” he hisses.

“Never knew you had such a potty mouth,” you half-gasp, half-tease.

“For you, I’ll do whatever you want with my mouth.”

You groan at that as you circle your clit with a finger.

Marcus almost growls “Underwear off, I want to see.” His voice, that voice, is gentle-rough, and you think of the day you watched him in the interview room.

“Whatever you say, Agent Pike.”

“Christ.” He’s jacking off in earnest now, his gaze riveted to you as you pull off your underwear with one hand, letting it fall wherever. Your skirt is rucked up around your hips and the fact it’s Marcus watching you is a huge turn on, but honestly you’re not sure if you could have stopped, for anything.

Your combined pants fill the space. You’ve never been so wet. When you slide two fingers inside yourself the sound is obscene.

“It’s.. a wonder..  He ever got… any painting done,” Marcus grits out.

You laugh. “Now?  You wanna talk about art now?”

He huffs. “Art is the reason we’re here. Like this.” Then he sucks in a breath and you look down at him, his balls drawn up tight, his cock wet with his own pre-come.

“Marcus Matthew Pike, I swear to God, if you don’t get in here right now, I will never ever speak to you again.”

He hesitates.

“I swear on Van Gogh’s ear,” you add, your internal muscles fluttering.

Marcus half-yanks up his pants, scrabbles for the key. The seconds feel like hours until he appears again, boxers and pants around his knees, shirt tails hanging, and he opens the mesh door and you yank him in and kiss him and you tumble to the floor together, and Marcus grabs both your wrists and pins them above you with one hand, his face dark and determined, and it makes your heart pound.

“Please,” you grate out. “Marcus. I need you.” You spread your legs and try to hook your feet over his calves, but he shakes his head.

“Not yet. Sweetheart, not yet.” He curls your fingers into the wire of the mesh. “Hold on. Don’t… don’t touch me. I wanna make it good for you, first.”

You hear yourself keen his name as he shucks off his clothes from the waist down, then slides down your body and puts that gorgeous mouth to work. Your favourite thing he did with his mouth until now was talking, but this-

Maybe he’s writing his name, maybe he’s writing a sonnet, but whatever it is, the way he curls his tongue is obscene, and you don’t know if it’s partly the drug, but when he puts two fingers inside you, you come so hard you almost black out. And then lust rears its head again and you grab for him, carding one hand through his hair and cupping him with the other, and he’s slick in your palm and the ridges and heat of his cock feel so good.

“Marcus.” You fist a hand in his hair, pull a little, and he groans and pants, and you take the opportunity to pump him in your fist until he swears under his breath.

"Condom. Oh fuck. Condom."

He hesitates, then drops a soft kiss on your lips - your first, you think, a bit giddy - and you taste yourself, and he licks into your mouth and whispers your name and it's pure, unadulterated bliss.

Then he extricates himself, rummages in his suit pants, and as soon as he has the foil square in his hand you grab for him, pulling him down on top of you.

"After this," you murmur, "you're gonna bend me over the desk." And you roll the condom down his dick and he lets out a long, slow breath and pushes inside you and it's everything.

Everything inside you quiets for a moment that stretches as he starts to move, caging you in with his braced forearms, and you look into his dark chocolate eyes and his heart is on his face, with Marcus it always is. It's your favourite thing about him.

He nibbles at your lips as you make love to eachother, and you hook your legs around his hips to stop him pulling out too much. You want him close, want to feel his skin under your hands. The buttons of his shirt rasp against your dress, and if you were more aware you might think it's ridiculous, him bringing you to orgasm with you both half dressed in the floor of the art squad lock-up, but you can't care. Not when his cock hits you right there, and then you're keening his name and he tumbles over the cliff edge with you, pressing hard in those final thrusts as your muscles milk him.

You curl around him. "Marcus."

He sighs, presses his forehead to yours. "Was that… are you okay?"

You chuckle lazily. "I've never been more okay."

He cuddles you close, nosing at your cheek, murmuring sweet nothings. "Christ, what is this stuff? I could go again."

At his words desire rears its head. "There must be a desk in here somewhere, right?"

And his eyes go hot.

And that's how you find yourself bent over a desk recovered from an abandoned shipping off, the edges intricately gilded. You cling to them as Marcus fucks you hard and fast, just the way he'd fantasised about, and it's so good that you sob his name over and over.

Afterwards he cuddles you so gently, stroking your hair as he whispers praises about how good you felt around him, how next time he's gonna give you a bed covered in rose petals.

You shake your head, kissing him deeply, helping him into his jacket. "You're all I want, Marcus. Any way I can have you."

A flush colours his cheeks as he cups your cheeks. "Dinner? Let me take you out to dinner."

"I'd rather have it in bed. Have you in bed."

His eyes go wide for a second. "The drug.."

"This isn't the drug and you know it." You loop your arms around his neck. "It just jump-started us. Never been so grateful to a horny nineteenth century painter."

Marcus laughs out loud, hugs you, then releases you to hold your hand, tug you towards the elevator. "You're the best thing that ever happened to me. You know that, right?"

Happiness unfurls slowly inside you. "I could stand to hear it again."

Tagging the Pedro pals! @soldade @beccaplaying @heatherbel @mourningbirds1 @alldatalost @songsformonkeys @agirllovespasta @nelba @chews-erotically @mrschiltoncat @gamingaquarius @alienprincesspoop @dornish-queen @lackofhonor @agentpike @jaime1110 @thegreenkid @pedropascallion   @mrsparknuts @buckstaposition @winters-buck @oloreaa @mstgsmy @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @holographic-carmen @cryptkeepersoul @alwaysbethewest @poenariuniverse @starlight-starwrites @keeper0fthestars @alwaysbethewest @kindablackenedsuperhero @abuttoncalledsmalls @f0rever15elf

And @arch-venus25 did you wanna be tagged in Pedro stuff?

[pilothusband]

A lit torch to the woodpile high (part 3)

A Paz VIzsla Bartender!AU

Rating: M (this one gets spicy folks)

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x F!Reader

Warnings: Alcohol (they work in a bar), pining, death/grief mention, masturbation, fantasies of p in v sex, Paz puts himself in horny jail, light smut 

Word count: 3.1k

Description: This one is purely self-indulgent. You decide to up the ante and make Paz’s life (and other parts of him) hard. Harlow is a lil shit, but we love for for it.

Author’s note: I’m still not completely satisfied with this chapter, but I’ve been working on it for far too long. Lightly edited, unbeta’d. Please go here to be added to the taglist! This one goes out to my pal May. Missing you on my dash. Hope you see this update and enjoy it 🥰

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

He couldn’t get you out of his head. It was maddening.

It had been a long time since anyone had stirred these kinds of feelings up for him, and he doesn’t recall it ever hitting him like a freight train.

He used to think of life in two absolutes: Before he lost everything and After, when he had to pick up the pieces. Now he was starting to think there was more to it, that those absolutes were just parts of him.

If only he wasn’t such a miserable bastard. You were the light in a dark sky. Not just for him, for everyone. He saw the delighted smile that was plastered on Rick’s face after you walked in every day and asked him how his grandchildren were doing, if his wife’s knee was feeling any better.

Paz noticed the change in Harlow’s demeanor now that she had a friend who could build her up when she talked about her dreams. Hell, Madge snuck you food every chance she got, and she only ever did that for him.

He found himself lying awake in bed tonight, as usual, trying to calm the stream of thought that entered his head. Before you, he only could ever think about the ghosts of his past. People he had loved and lost.

But now? Now as he closed his eyes, he saw your eyes, sparkling with delight. Your lips, in a pout, then stretched over a brilliant smile.

The delicate curve of your neck and shoulder. Your ass. He groaned out loud. God, your ass was out of this world. The way it moved when you bent over to grab a dish towel from the bottom shelf. He always had to look away before his thoughts got away from him, or else his mind would wander and he would imagine snaking his arms over yours and caging you to the bar, rolling his hips into yours. You would wiggle your ass against him and throw your head back to see his reaction.

Fuck. Now he was hard. Every time this happened, he would either watch some porn or force himself to think of a woman he didn’t know, someone who he dreamed up in his head.

But no faceless stranger or actress could quite do it for him like you would. He could feel his self control crumbling as he reached into his boxer briefs and fisted his aching cock, taking it out and letting it sit heavy against his stomach, straining with need.

He ran a finger up the underside, imagining it was you teasing him, getting acquainted with how hot and hard he was for you. He let himself picture you, naked and in between his legs, stroking him gently, watching him come apart underneath you. Ideally, he’d flip you over and dive face first into your cunt, lapping wide stripes at your slick folds with his tongue, then sucking your clit into his mouth. He would wait until you’re mewling under him, then he’d plunge a finger into you, stretching you around his finger and adding another. He’d wait until you came in his mouth at least twice before he fucked you. He’d have you begging for his cock, so slick with need it dripped down your thighs.

In this part of the fantasy, you’re so feral for him, your eyes bright and wide looking up at him with hunger, that he acquiesces, and you climb onto his lap and bounce up and down on his cock.

He was stroking himself faster now, feeling so close to the edge. He grit his teeth, growling your name as he came all over his fist, spurts reaching up his stomach, almost all the way to his chest.

As soon as he came to his senses, he sighed, feeling disgusted with himself.

There was a moment in the bed of his truck that night, where you had stared at him, your gaze flickering down to his mouth as you licked your bottom lip. It was just a small flash of your tongue– but it gave him hope for a moment. He had hope that someone as beautiful and kind as you could see through the darkness within him, see the guy he used to be before he lost everything.

But that part of Paz died, along with the family he cared so deeply for. The remaining ones scattered to the wind, unable to carry on pretending like everything hadn’t changed.

He sighed deeply, getting up to wash the shame off himself. At least he’d sleep soundly tonight and dream of a reality where he could hold you in his arms.

Paz seemed to be in higher spirits lately, following your chat in his office. It wasn’t like he skipped into the room and had birds fluttering around his head, like a Disney princess, but he didn’t snap at anyone who made eye contact with him, so it was a noticeable difference.

That was the hot topic conversation of the day, especially for Harlow. She couldn’t get over the 360 change that seemingly happened overnight.

“So, did you doink the grumpy out of him or what?” Harlow asked. She was leaning over the bar, looking at you expectantly with her hands under her chin.

“Of course not!” You said, a little too loudly. “There has not, and will not be any doinking, ever.”

“This sounds like work appropriate conversation,” a deep voice drawled. 

You both spun around, not expecting to see him standing in the doorway, his eyebrow arched. He was clearly unimpressed.

“I’m going to go clean the bathrooms,” Harlow said, dashing out back. Fucking traitor.

You prayed to the almighty maker that the floor would open up and swallow you whole, but there was no such luck in store for you today.

“Hey Paz,” you said, trying to sound casual, as if Harlow hadn’t been talking about your non-existent sex life.

“Hey you,” he said, mimicking your tone. “I actually came out here to ask you if you could swap a shift with Harlow next Friday. I fucked up and scheduled her on a day she requested off. You’d get Sunday off in return.”

“Sure,” you agreed, nodding. “I don’t have any plans.”

“You don’t have any plans to ‘doink’ anyone that night?” He teased.

You could feel your face heating up in embarrassment.

“Not unless you know any willing volunteers.” 

Paz barked out a laugh.

“I might know a guy,” he said, a smirk etched on his handsome face.

You both cursed and thanked the powers above that a customer decided to walk in right at that moment. Of course it was Bob. He usually was the first to come in and one of the last to leave.

Not wanting to lose whatever contest was going on (real or perceived), you gave Paz a coy smile and leaned over the bar to take Bob’s order, making sure you poked your ass out further than necessary.

You couldn’t see Paz’s reaction, but when he exited without so much of a goodbye, you gave yourself an internal fist pump.

In hindsight, maybe it wasn’t the best idea to (potentially) break a dress code at work, but in your defense it was hotter than the surface of the sun, and internal temperature of the bar only seemed to get higher as the night went on.

Also, maybe it would be an added bonus if you got to torture a giant, brooding bartender in the process.

You felt pretty proud of your decision to wear your thinnest bralette, squeeze into your smallest pair of shorts, paired with a t-shirt that was just a little too small.

Of course your car decided to stall 3 times on the way to work, and your AC was busted so you walked in 15 minutes late, already feeling like a frizzy, sweaty mess. Your entrance wasn’t as grand as you were hoping, feeling like your half-assed attempt at makeup had already melted off your face, and the black v-neck you wore was clinging to you in all the wrong places, mainly your sweaty back and right under your bra.

In your rush to clock in before the 20-minute mark, you crashed right into Paz, almost falling and landing on your ass. Paz, of course, barely moved a centimeter. His hand shot out, grabbing you by the shoulder to hold you steady.

“Woah there, small fry, be careful,” he murmured. His hand was large and warm. You had to take a deep breath to get a hold of yourself.

“Paz, I’m so sorry I’m late. My fucking car stalled out on the way and–” you started babbling, pushing your sweaty mane back, praying he couldn’t see the sweat stains on your shirt.

“It’s okay, shit happens. You need someone to look at your car? I know a guy.” He was leaning forwards to get a better look at you, looking concerned. You had trouble controlling how fast your heart was beating and your lungs felt like they couldn’t get enough air. It was plain bizarre, the affect this man had on you with a simple gesture.

I know a guy. Your cheeks felt warm remembering the last time he uttered that sentence.

You had expected him to get angry with you for being late. Hell, you remember the gruff tone he gave you on your first day when he said to show up on time.

“I- I um,” you were having a hard time coming up with words, too distracted by the sensation of Paz’s thumb rubbing soothing circles on your shoulder, brushing against your collar bone. Despite the heat, you felt goosebumps rise on your flesh and your nipples instantly pebbled. You stole a quick glance down to make sure it wasn’t obvious. Shit, it totally was.

“I’m fine, thank you.”

“Let me know if you change your mind,” he replied. Had his voice dropped a few octaves or were you just imagining it?  He removed his hand from your shoulder, much to your chagrin, and backed up a little, giving you a once-over.

“Go ahead and clock in and give yourself a couple minutes to get settled. It should be slow today,” he gave you a soft smile.

“Okay, thanks,” you said, giving him a shy smile in return.

It was about 3 hours into your 8 hour shift and it was dead. There wasn’t a single customer in sight. It wasn’t that surprising, given it was a Tuesday, but God were you bored. It was just you and Paz tonight, with Paz sending Madge home (with pay) and no one else being scheduled.

You didn’t really mind, though, figuring it was a good time to get to know Paz better. He was wiping the already clean bar down for the fifth time that night, really driving the bartender stereotype home.

“You’re going to start wearing the varnish down at this rate,” you laughed, gesturing at the rag in his hand.

He looked down, shaking his head in a playfully exasperated way and let out an embarrassed huff of laughter.

“Alright, how do you suggest we pass the time?”

“How about 20 questions?”

Paz immediately groaned in protest.

“Oh shut up, you big baby, I’ll answer first. Go ahead,” you cocked your chin at him. “Got any questions you’re dying to ask me?”

“Why did you apply for a job here?”

Your first instinct was to deflect, but you did suggest this game, and figured you just had to bite the bullet and answer honestly.

“To be honest, I still haven’t figured out what I want to do,” you explained. “I know, kind of pathetic for someone my age. I took a bartending class at the local adult learning center, got a certificate and just kind of walked in here and asked for an application on a whim.”

Paz could sense your discomfort, how you were ashamed that you hadn’t found your way yet. It was something he could identify with, in a way.

“That’s not pathetic at all,” he said, crossing his arms. “Plenty of people don’t know what they want to do at your age.”

You shrugged, not wanting to continue the subject.

“Boxers or briefs?”

Paz arched an eyebrow, his ever-present sign of judgement coming through.

“That’s what you’re dying to ask me?”

“No, but I figured I’d warm you up first,” you said, giving him a cheeky smile.

“Boxer briefs. Favorite color?”

“Blue. Where did you grow up?”

Paz’s casual expression faltered at the question. 

“Far away. I’d rather not get into it today, if you don’t mind.” The easy smile vanished from your face, replacing it with a nod of understanding.

“That’s totally fine, Paz. I’m sorry if I overstepped,” you sat down at a table, and gestured at the chair across from you, signaling him to sit down. You wanted him to feel at ease around you.

“You and your apologies,” Paz said, a look of fond disbelief on his face. “You have nothing to apologize for, mesh’la.”

A beat of silence passed, waiting for Paz to think of a question. You wanted to ask him what that word he had called you meant, but you had a feeling he would dodge the question.

“Who were you and Harlow talking about yesterday?” Paz rested his chin in his hand, giving you a shit-eating grin. He must have known the answer already, given the smug look on his face.

You felt the color drain out of your face. 

“Why do you want to know so badly?” You countered. In the back of your mind, you thought you probably shouldn’t have talked back to your boss, but his smile didn’t waver. In fact, it only got wider.

“That doesn’t answer my question, sweetheart,” he drawled, stretching his legs and crossing one over the other.

“Harlow,” you thought of a way to word this without incriminating yourself or your friend. But screw it, she had opened her big mouth in the first place. “Harlow thinks there’s something going on between you and me.”

You briefly wondered if his facial muscles were used to this kind of workout, with the grin that refused to let up.

“And your answer was basically, ‘ew no’, ouch,” he chuckled.

“It’s not like– ugh. Fuck you.” You hid your face in your hands. He laughed harder. You had to do something to flip this around, gain back a little power over the situation.

Oh. An evil thought entered your brain. You removed your hands from your face and smirked. Paz was still grinning, but you saw a hint of fear in his eyes.

“Pray tell, what would you have preferred I said?”

Paz leaned back in his chair and regarded you for a moment. It seemed you had thrown him through a loop. You couldn’t help but feel pleased with yourself.

But then he leaned forward, placing both of his large hands on the table, a hungry look in his eyes.

“You can say whatever you want to Harlow,” he said, his voice even but significantly huskier than usual. “But I’d prefer it if you didn’t lie to yourself.”

It felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest any second now. You weren’t sure if he was being serious and it was making your head spin.

A sound came from the kitchen, snapping you both out of the moment. You sprung apart, despite having a table between your bodies.

“Okay lovebirds, I’m heading home.” It was Madge, standing by the kitchen doors, snickering at your antics.

“Night, Madge,” Paz called. 

You waved feebly and offered a weak “goodnight” at her retreating figure.

It had been too quiet since she had left. Paz seemed unwilling to continue the conversation, opting to brood silently. You muttered something about getting a head start on inventory and retreated into the dusty storage closet to pretend you were counting inventory. Though, you didn’t bring a pen and paper with you, so really you just went out back to stare at a bunch of kegs and liquor bottles, hoping they would miraculously answer all of the questions that were whirring through your brain.

You must have been staring at a bottle of Hennessy for at least a full 5 minutes when the door opened. Paz looked absolutely wrecked. His hair was mussed up, as if he had been running his fingers through it. His chest was heaving as if he had just sprinted a mile.

“Paz.” His name came out of your mouth like a prayer. You weren’t sure what you were asking of him, but you knew you needed him to act.

He stepped closer, slowly, as if he was afraid the floor would open up from under his feet.

“Tell me to stop.” Paz was just inches away now, caging you into the shelves behind you with his arms.

“What if I don’t want you to stop?” You asked, tipping your chin up to look at him.

He growled and tangled his fingers in your hair, kissing you with fervor.

Despite the ferocity of his kiss, his lips were so soft, so pliant. You moaned and licked into his mouth needing to taste him. Paz moaned, pushing you into the shelves further. 

“You drive me crazy,” he panted, pressing his forehead to yours. You responded by capturing his bottom lip between your teeth, pulling him back to your mouth. You were rewarded with a low groan and a push of his hips.

He was hard. That knowledge sent you into a haze. You needed him closer. Your arms went around his shoulders, kneading and pulling him in. He broke the kiss and peppered smaller kisses on your jaw, then down your neck.

“You wear these tiny little shorts and tight shirt to torture me?” He asked, already knowing the answer. He nibbled at your collar bone, hitting a spot that had you throwing your head back against the shelves.

“Yes,” you chuckled breathlessly.

“Mmm, knew it,” he answered, running his hands down your back, down to your ass, giving it a generous squeeze that had you mewling.

“I’ve been hard all fucking day, seeing you waltz around in those shorts, with your nipples hard, begging to be sucked.”

He rubbed his thumb over one of your nipples, causing it to pebble. Paz swallowed your gasp with his mouth, giving you another searing kiss.

Reality came rearing its ugly head in the form of the front door opening. Paz huffed and pressed his forehead to yours, hands coming around your hips to help you off the shelf.

“Duty calls,” he sighed, reaching his hand down into his jeans to adjust himself. Your mouth watered at the sight.

Paz exited the closet, strolling out and greeting the customer as if nothing had just happened, while you stole a few moments to yourself to get your bearings.

It was going to be a long night.

Taglist: @tenderclio @softdin @recklessworry @cannedsoupsucks @pocket-pudding @simping-for-clones @gallowsjoker @idiotonastar @seratoninforyouseratoninforme @devanthus @legally-a-bastard @my-awakened-ghost @comphersjost @princessxkenobi @sheresh0y​ @starlite41​

[unresolved-kpop-thirst]

Handling It

Contains: San x Seonghwa x Wooyoung x reader (woosanhwa x reader), oral, fingering, dirty talk, triple penetration, pet names, afab they/them reader, probably some typos bc it's unbeta'd and Long, mentions of ot8 x reader

"Are you a little needy, sweet thing," Seonghwa asks, brushing your hair away from your face, and you nod, unable to find your voice. "Then we'll take care of you."

Your breath catches in your throat. 'We'..? Looking over your shoulder, you see Wooyoung looking like he just won the lottery and San looking like he's going to fucking eat you.

You're just a little wound up. It's not anyone's fault, particularly, but then again all of your boys are stupidly gorgeous - of course those thoughts are going to cross your mind.

Of the whole group, though, you think Wooyoung is probably the most up for it. When he's directed to go grab snacks for movie night while everyone else settles in, you volunteer to help, quelling his whining and complaints with a beatific smile and removing yourself from where you'd been comfortably snuggled under Seonghwa's arm, following him to kitchen.

"How come it's always my turn to get snacks?" He laments, rifling through the cupboards.

"It's you or it's Jongho, and I know who I'd rather fight," you answer him simply, and he turns to you with a surprised laugh.

"Oh, so you followed me in here to fight me?" Well, he certainly caught on quickly. You smile, and he crosses the space between you to back you up into the counter. "Or was it something else? Because I don't see you helping."

Already done with pretense, you reach down and cup him through his jeans, squeezing and making him narrow his eyes at you warningly.

"Sorry. Maybe this will help." Your other hand curls round the back of his neck and pulls him in so you can kiss him. His arms wrap around you right away, hands moving to grab your ass.

Wooyoung isn't the type to waste time, either, already getting hard under your hand and rutting forward while you stroke him through his clothes. He lets out low, appreciative moans against your lips and you squeeze him tighter in response - this gets you a louder moan, and you lace your fingers through his hair to pull his head back.

"Jeez, you're so loud," you complain. He looks at you, his eyes dark and lips kissed red, as his hands wander under your shirt and palm your breasts roughly. Keeping quiet when he does that is hard, even harder when the pads of his fingers pinch at your nipples, sending little shockwaves through you.

"You're the one saying that? You want me to make you scream?" he presses his forehead against yours, grinning from the back and forth.

"Like you could," you retort, and you can't help grinning yourself. He breathes a short laugh. "Besides, how are you gonna do that when I've got you right here?" You give him another hard squeeze, and his knees nearly buckle, another loud, shameless moan escaping him. "With how you are already, could you even last long enough to get undressed?"

"You're right, he probably won't."

You let out an embarrassing squeak of surprise, your hands flying to a safe spot on Wooyoung's waist, and you find San watching the both of you from the doorway, smiling faintly. Wooyoung doesn't even seem bothered, still playing with your tits until you bat his hands away.

You straighten out your clothes, unable to meet San's eyes and unsure what to say.

Belatedly, San drawls, "Oh, don't stop because of me. Now I know what was taking you so long, I'll just go let everyone know."

Wooyoung looks between you two, clearly expecting you to do something. Your face feels hot - you think of the teasing the boys would give you for being so bold and it nearly makes you light headed.

"You- you don't have to do that. We'll just..." You feel a little regretful for starting this, now you're so quick to back out.

Thankfully, San himself is the one to cut you off. "I didn't tell you to stop." He comes closer, grabbing Wooyoung by the front of his shirt like he owns him, and bracketing you between them both. He has you pinned in a way Woo didn't even when he had you bodily pushed against the counter.

Wooyoung starts complaining almost immediately and San's hand shifts from his collar to grasp him by the jaw so quickly it startles Wooyoung into trailing off, his eyes lighting up in anticipation. San smiles, shaking his head.

"And right here in the kitchen. What would Seonghwa hyung think."

Just the words elicit a mortified squeak from you. God, the telling off you'd get for messing around in the kitchen.

"Oh right! I see that's what you wanted."

You raise your hands, waving them frantically, and start to stutter, "N-no, really you-"

"Seonghwa! Can you come help in the kitchen please!" San's voice is absolutely saccharine, the kind of tone that announces to the world that he's being a sadistic little shit again.

Normally, Seonghwa probably wouldn't rise to the bait, but he's always trying to get in on San and Wooyoung's shenanigans so it's no surprise he comes to the door, takes in the scene before him, and folds his arms, sighing.

"What are you doing?" Seonghwa asks, with a cautious look on his face.

San grins at him, which encourages zero confidence. "Woo seems pretty intent on fucking our little mouse here over the counter."

"Hey!" You protest, knowing damn well you were in control of that situation before San had to come turn it on its head.

"I thought you could suggest a better setting before they make a mess," San goes on, and Seonghwa's eyes narrow.

"Okay," he says, after what feels like an eternity under the scrutiny of his gaze. "Come here."

There's no doubt that he's talking to you, but you hesitate anyway until Wooyoung gives you a nudge and you slowly come over to Seonghwa.

"Are you a little needy, sweet thing," he asks, brushing your hair away from your face, and you nod, unable to find your voice. "Then we'll take care of you."

Your breath catches in your throat. 'We'..? Looking over your shoulder, you see Wooyoung looking like he just won the lottery and San looking like he's going to fucking eat you.

"Unless you'd rather handle it on your own," Seonghwa shrugs, and you blush even redder. You were handling it. But you have to admit, the offer is tempting.

"If you put it like that, I won't say no," you agree. Seonghwa looks more than pleased with your answer.

There's no doubt the others are wise to your antics by now, so you take it to the bedroom to avoid attracting hecklers.

Seonghwa quickly undresses you and pushes you down onto the bed. Contrary to what you're expecting, he doesn't follow, but tugs Wooyoung by the hair and pushes him head-first between your legs. Wooyoung mouths clumsily at your core before finding his rhythm and your thighs nearly close around his ears at the first drag of his tongue through your folds. San is quick to settle up behind you, helpfully holding your legs spread for him.

"Get them ready," Seonghwa says. You look up from where Wooyoung had momentarily held your gaze, his eyes dark with lust already, to find Seonghwa palming himself through his jeans. "You want to take all of us, don't you baby?"

You swallow the lump in your throat as you realise you might be in over your head. You've talked about it before, in passing half-serious comments.

"A-at one time?" you stutter, while Wooyoung's lips lock around your clit and suck the hard bead into his mouth. You tilt your head back, lost in momentary euphoria.

"That would be so hot," San murmurs in your ear. "If you take all our cocks at once like a good little doll. You've thought about it, haven't you?"

You shake your head, suddenly self conscious.

"Don't be shy," San says, his words dripping honey. "I know you love Wooyoung's cock, and mine, and hyung's. Imagine how it'll feel to be all stuffed, all your little holes used for just what they're good for."

You look up at Seonghwa, feeling your face burn. Wooyoung takes a second to press a few wet, messy kisses to your inner thigh, maybe to give a chance to think, and Seonghwa twitches his eyebrow at you questioningly.

"Tell hyung you wanna be our little doll," San whispers to you. "I promise we'll play nicely with you."

Your pulse thumps in your ears. "I want it," you blurt out. "All of you..."

"Greedy," Seonghwa says softly, and your breath hitches.

"You said," you start, belligerent, and Seonghwa gives you a sharp glance.

"What did I say?" He asks calmly.

"You'd take care of me..." you say in the tiniest voice you can muster. San laughs.

"They've got you there," he says.

Seonghwa shrugs, undoing his jeans and pushing them down just enough so you can see how he's stroking himself, slow and firm. All at once you want his hands on you instead, but he denies your unspoken desire and even takes Wooyoung away from you, turning the younger's attention to Seonghwa's cock instead. You feel a flash of envy, then belatedly realise it's not entirely because you want Wooyoung's mouth back on you - but you want to be the one sucking off Seonghwa, to feel him fill your mouth, hot and hard against your tongue.

You're so caught up for a second you don't notice San's hands wandering until he slides his fingers over your soaked core and your hips jump forward on instinct against his hand. He kisses your neck, soothing you while he presses his fingers into your cunt.

"Wooyoung did a good job getting you so wet for us," San says thoughtfully. You can only respond with a stifled gasp as his fingers curl inside you, gently coaxing you further open to him. "If you're gonna take us at once, though, you'll need a little more preparation, won't you?" As he says it, the pad of his ring finger skims over the smooth skin between your holes and presses gently in against the lower one.

You tense; even though you like it, you don't do it a lot. It's hard to suppress that automatic reaction. San doesn't push any further, though, his other fingers slowly moving into you while that third just massages the spot until you relax again. Meanwhile, his other hand cups your jaw, his fingers coming to rest over your lips.

Unthinking, you open your mouth and roll your tongue over his fingers. San hums in approval. Even though it's just him, just his fingers, this is a taste of what's to come. You rock your hips into his hand and invite him to press deeper, aided by your copious slick and Wooyoung's spit, down to the first knuckle. Your insides quiver around him, hot and wet and inviting further plunder, and San gives a low groan.

"Ah, hyung, look at this," he calls Seonghwa's attention and you can hardly bear to look at him, so you avert your gaze to Wooyoung instead. He looks so content with a mouth full of cock - eyes closed, hands busy working what his mouth can't reach - you nearly laugh. "Our little slut really likes having all their holes played with."

"Our toy knows what they're good for," Seonghwa says. He sounds calm, but his fingers tighten in Wooyoung's hair. "Don't you?"

The words burn in your chest; it's a game he likes to play with you, make you repeat until your mind goes blank. It's verging on hypnotic and is definitely second nature by now. You know what you're good for: getting fucked, and coming.

It sinks you into sub space so fast you forget how to breathe for a second, grasping at San's wrist for an anchor. He pulls his hands away, and you whine at the loss of his fingers inside you. He tuts.

"I'm getting lube. Don't be a brat."

You turn to look over your shoulder at him and stick your tongue out. San looks ready to throw down instantly, but then he schools his features and you know you're in for it now. His lack of reaction now means he's planning something devious.

San shoves you down headfirst and pulls your ass into the air, and you squeak in surprise at the sudden rough treatment.

"You can apologise by getting them both ready to fuck your brains out," San tells you, pulling your head back up with a strong grip in the back of your hair so you're looking at Seonghwa and Wooyoung again.

Seonghwa gives you this unimpressed look, pushing Wooyoung off him reluctantly and turning to you. Wooyoung at least is eager, getting up to present himself to you without a single complaint. God, you always forget how pretty his dick is. And how big. Your mouth waters and you lean forward to lap at his tip, smeared with precum; he hisses in a breath and thrusts his hips forward, pressing his cock into your mouth.

You open up for him as best you can at this angle and shift your weight to free up one hand, reaching out blindly until Seonghwa takes it and puts it on his cock. Your coordination is not the best, and as you suck at Wooyoung and stroke Seonghwa you can't help thinking it would be better if one of them was just fucking you instead.

Then San lines up and slides into you and you can't think at all any more. You moan around the hard shaft filling your mouth, hitching your hips back, but he holds you still, ass flush against his hips.

"Just stay there, baby," San says, before he pushes one now lube-slicked finger into your ass. "Don't pay me any mind, just focus on them."

You whimper, wanting to take all the pleasure you can now he's inside you, but instead you focus on what's in front of you, stroking Seonghwa more confidently and sucking diligently if not elegantly on Wooyoung. You can barely get halfway down before you start to choke, and he's never been good at keeping his hips still, so with one errant thrust he breaches the back of your throat, groaning low but loud.

Your eyes water as Wooyoung buries his cock deep in your throat. It's overwhelming, being filled at both ends, and your thighs shake as a familiar tension coils in you. San fingers you open slowly and it's easy for your mind to start going blank from it even when Wooyoung pulls out to let you breathe. Seonghwa takes you by the chin and turns your head so he can take Wooyoung's place, fucking your mouth so you have to gasp for breath between thrusts, holding your jaw so you can't turn away. His commanding grasp brands your skin like fire and you're left shaking from it, hands curling tightly in the sheets beneath you, cunt clamping down tightly around San until the small amount of stimulation is just enough and you cum with a pathetic, weak mewl that's readily silenced by Seonghwa's next thrust.

San giggles, and just like that your eyes prick with tears of humiliation. "Did you cum just from getting your face fucked?"

Seonghwa's fingers tighten to the point of painful on your jaw. "It's what they're good for, isn't it?"

You whine in protest but go unanswered.

A second finger breaches you, and your muscles flutter weakly around the intrusion, soft and pliant from your climax.

"Ah, now you're letting me in," San praises you, stroking your hip with his free hand. You whine around Seonghwa's cock and he cuts the sound short, burying himself in your throat. You gag just a little, eyes watering. "Hyung, take it easy, they go all tight when you thrust in like that. You're never gonna get to fuck this cute little ass if you don't let me prep it first."

You shudder, drool dripping down your lower lip and your chin. You can't get enough of the way he talks about you like an object, a thing to be played with and used. You force yourself to relax so you can take his fingers deeper, and he coos.

"That's a good little fuck doll. You want him to fuck your ass, don't you? It's best if it's him. He'll be gentle with you."

The unspoken "I won't" makes you shiver, and finally Seonghwa pulls out to let you breathe. You pant, and he tilts you face up towards him.

"Is that how you want it?" He asks. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows hard, and to see him so moved by the idea, you can't say no.

"Please," you say, your voice hoarse from their rough treatment. "F-fuck my ass."

Seonghwa takes a steadying breath. "Whatever you want, sweet thing."

You smile at the pet name, and his thumb caresses your cheek briefly. It's far from enough to distract you from the significant stretch of a third finger entering you, and your hips twitch - you're not sure if you're trying to get more or move away, but San holds you firmly in place.

It doesn't take long to adjust, though, and Seonghwa and Wooyoung grant you some mercy and go back to messing with each other, kissing and stroking each other almost like they're putting on a show for you. While Seonghwa is stoic, only the tilt of his eyebrows giving away any hint that he's moved by Wooyoung's actions, Wooyoung himself is, as always, reactive, noisy, mouth hanging open to let pleasured groans fall freely from his lips when he isn't just telling Seonghwa how good he feels in his hand.

San is a constant, thick heat inside you, and his nimble fingers scissor you open, his other hand petting your lower back to keep you relaxed.

It becomes too much, the need and desire burning in your chest, but it still takes a couple of run ups before you manage to say, "I'm ready. I want you now."

Suddenly all eyes are on you.

"You sure?" Seonghwa asks, because even though he's ready to utterly destroy you, he's only going to do it if you ask him to.

"Yes, I want- all of you," your voice sticks in your throat as you try to form a sentence asking them to fuck you silly in every available hole. You whimper a little when San pulls out of you but it's all just to get you arranged into Seonghwa's lap, your back against his chest, so he can slowly lower you down onto his cock. The stretch is a lot, enough that you have to stop to catch your breath.

"It's okay, take it slow," Seonghwa whispers in your ear, but his voice sounds strained from holding back. With a deep, steadying breath, you seat yourself fully on him, your thighs trembling. He sits back on his haunches and tucks his hands under your knees, pulling you up so your full weight in on him, and he feels so deep inside you it's all you can think about. That is, until Wooyoung is moving into the space in front of you, sandwiching you between them and hooking your legs over his shoulders as he thrusts into your pussy.

You moan brokenly, your head tipping back on Seonghwa's shoulder at the feeling. You're so full, so completely stuffed you feel like you might pass out from the overwhelming sensation. Both of them are holding you so tightly, their breathing ragged like it's affecting them almost as much as it is you.

Wooyoung leans in to suck a hickey into your exposed neck and you whine, your thoughts slipping through your fingers like sand. It's so much and neither of them are even moving yet.

There's a gentle tap on your lower lip and you look up to see San presenting himself, smiling sweetly at your messed up, fucked out look. You open your mouth wide, sticking your tongue out, and he obliges you, running his fingers through your hair and tilting your head to an angle where he can fuck shallowly into your mouth.

There's no way you can coordinate yourself here, speared in place by the three of them, so you just let them move you and let the whorish sounds pour from you. Seonghwa makes these soft, breathy moans, so quiet you don't think you'd hear them if he wasn't right by your ear, and you find his hand, squeezing it for reassurance. He's barely moving, just holding you in place for Wooyoung to make his long, slow thrusts into you, his face still buried in your neck. His sounds are higher in pitch, mixed with swears and praises, muffled against your skin.

Maybe that's why it's so hard to parse what San is saying, while he cups your face and thumbs the corner of your lip where you're struggling to take him in. "I knew you'd be so pretty like this. You were just made to be fucked, weren't you? Our pretty little doll. Taking us so well."

He barely seems conscious himself of the stream of murmured filth leaving his lips but once your brain latches on you can't stop listening, trying to encourage more from him, struggling to keep your eyes open and locked on his. It's not easy with Seonghwa twitching inside you and Wooyoung's hips meeting yours with each of his increasingly frenzied thrusts.

You know he's close from his pace - he always loses himself a little near the end - and it makes you buck your hips as much as you can against his. If he pulls out to cum you might lose your fucking mind.

"You want to be filled up, don't you baby?" San asks, like he was reading your thoughts, and you nod as much as you can. His hand leaves your face just to fist in the back of Wooyoung's hair and pull him up straight, letting his half-broken moans fill the room. "I think they deserve it, don't you?"

"Yeah," Wooyoung gathers his wits enough to agree. Your eyes squeeze shut as he buries himself inside you, swearing loudly, cumming in quick, hot pulses inside you. You whine around San's cock, helpless to do anything but take what's given, and so hopelessly close to cumming yourself that you make a wounded sound when Wooyoung pulls out, his cum dripping out of you.

"Good boy," San praises, gentling the hand in his hair to caress through the dark strands instead. "My turn."

As he pulls away from you, he cleans your face up a little with the back of his hand, wiping away spit and tears. You plant a kiss on his hand as he does and he gives you a smile that does funny things to your insides - though, compared to what Seonghwa and Wooyoung have already done to your insides, it's entirely different.

Taking Wooyoung's place, San encourages you to put your legs around his waist, and then he lies back, pulling you with him. Seonghwa follows, a firm grasp on your hips moving you to the best angle for him to actually move inside you. San hasn't entered you yet and you grind against his hard cock while Seonghwa starts to thrust in earnest.

One of them tangles their fingers with yours, giving a reassuring squeeze. Your head is absolutely swimming, and you want San inside you, already missing how full and complete you felt before.

"Please," you whimper, looking pleadingly at him. He smirks.

"You were right, hyung, they really are greedy," San says casually, and you whine in frustration and embarrassment, hiding your face against his shoulder.

"Tell me something new," Seonghwa chimes in, bottoming out inside you and grinding his hips, making you cry out. "They're so turned on even from getting their ass fucked, but they still want more."

You shiver, realising how badly your plea for more has backfired, Seonghwa once again stilled inside you and holding your hips so tightly to keep you from moving back against him.

"Don't stop," you whine out, still trying to move, and a light smack lands on your thigh. It doesn't hurt, but it's a warning. You don't even know which of them to appeal to at this point, Seonghwa being rigid with rules and punishment, and San being a chaotic horror who loves tormenting you. You do your best not to move.

San gets a hand between the two of you and you feel his tip press against your entrance, unbelievably messy and slick from all you've already done, and when he sinks into you your only possible response is to say 'thank you'.

Over the top of your head, his eyes meet Seonghwa's, and his hands go to grip your thighs, helping to keep you in the right spot when they both pull out and thrust hard back in. The force of it would've pushed you up the bed if they both weren't holding you so tight and you cry out, opening your eyes to seek out Wooyoung.

To your lack of surprise, it's his hand you're holding. He grins at you, squeezing it, and you smile back, losing yourself to the bliss of both San and Seonghwa pounding you into oblivion. It only takes a few of their simultaneous thrusts to bring you back to the edge you'd been hovering near before Wooyoung came, and you don't try to hold back or ask permission, letting the spark turn to a flame and an inferno as you cum hard. Your voice catches in your throat, your mouth open on a silent scream, and you come back down to reality only to hear San warn of his own approaching climax.

They wring one more out of you with their thrusts turning desperate as they both chase their release, San coming with a long, appreciative groan just before Seonghwa buries himself in you, breathy curses leaving his lips. The three of you lie there for a bit, catching your breath, and when they both pull out their cum adds to the mess between your legs and you whine at the sensation of it dripping from you.

You stay face-down on San's chest for a while, drifting off to sleep and waking up to find yourself being carried to the shower. You laugh in spite of yourself, and realise it's now Seonghwa holding you as he sets you down on the bathroom counter.

"Those two went back to movie night," he says, sounding somewhat long suffering as he turns on the shower. "Didn't expect you to pass out."

"I didn't pass out," you protest, face flushing, but he just smirks at you.

"Sure," he says lightly. "If you can walk over here on your own I'll believe you."

You hesitate, feeling the strain in your thighs, and then pout at him, making him laugh and come help you and your shaky legs get into the shower. He helps clean you up, and even though it's not too bad, you still hang onto him for balance.

"I think once the others hear about this you're really in for it," Seonghwa says casually, making you sputter.

"I! What is that supposed to mean!" You squeak, slapping his arm, and he laughs.

"Now we know what you're into," he continues, "maybe next time you get yourself all worked up on movie might we can just pass you around til you're satisfied."

You're floored by the thought, stunned into silence. It wasn't even your plan to draw all three of them into this, but now he's suggesting eight, you're not sure that's even physically possible. Even taking turns.

"I'm... not so sure," you laugh nervously. He shrugs.

"Just something to think about."

And, you think, that smug fucker - you will be thinking about for a while to come.

[notarelationship]

Shang-A-Lang

A Klaine Drabble-ish for the July 2021 @todaydreambelieversfic Tan Hands and Tan Lines Summer Fic Challenge

Link to all the tumblr entries

Day 8: quixotic

Rated: G

Word count: 395

Warnings: None, but I know nothing about wall climbing I made it all up with the help of google

I am truly sorry this is so boring right now! there’s a plot in my head that may have made more sense with longer chapters, but alas here we are. 

This work is unbeta’d at the moment, but I plan to clean it up when it’s posted to AO3.  Thanks for reading!

--

It’s entirely possible that Kurt’s initial ideas about helping a bunch of children climb a wall were somewhat quixotic. He’d imagined giggling eight-year-olds, all perfectly capable of following instructions, patiently waiting their turn to get in the harness and get on the wall. He’d cheer them on, offering words of encouragement as they clambered up the eight foot structure then jumped down, safely tethered to some adult experienced in the supervision of such things.

When he shows up at the climbing wall to meet the climb leader Kurt tries not to be concerned, He looks like he’s the same age as Kurt; his name is Peter, and he assures Kurt that he’s been working these kinds of parties since he was sixteen, and that it’s all under control.

“I’ll be putting the kids in their harness, so you don’t have to worry about that,” Peter tells him.  “Your job will be pretty simple, you’ll have a safety harness on and the belay line will be hooked to it. When the kid is climbing the wall you just have to keep an eye on them, and keep your hands on the rope in case they slip or - more likely - kick at the wall and try to swing through the air.”

“They do that?” He did not want to be responsible for sending anyone’s little angel to the emergency room.

“Sometimes, with the older ones. You have to be paying attention.” Peter goes over a few more rules, like how to tell if a kid is freaking out but too scared to say anything, or what to do if they start crying and freeze and can’t get down. Luckily the wall isn’t that high; Kurt is pretty sure that both he and Peter can reach any kid who doesn’t want to push off and slide down. Parties are forty five minutes, enough for all the kids to go up and down at least once, more if it’s a smaller party. They get fifteen minutes to reset all the harnesses and check the ropes before the next party starts.

The first party arrives, and before Kurt can come up for air it’s lunchtime, and he’s exhausted.

“That was great Kurt, thanks,” Peter tells him as they reset the gear for the afternoon groups. “I hope it wasn’t too much?”

It had gone well, Kurt thought. They only had one major crying incident during the party just before lunch, and Peter seemed willing to chalk that up to the kids being hungry. “It certainly makes the day go faster than working the concession,” Kurt tells him. “And I guess the kids weren’t too difficult.” 

“Would you be interested in doing this again? Covering the party shift?” 

“Maybe?” Kurt answers. “How often do these get scheduled?” He didn’t mind the work, but there is something about standing behind a candy counter all day, doing very little for most of the hours, that has satisfied his sense of what a summer job in Ohio should involve, and he isn’t sure he wants to give that up entirely. Kurt might complain about it generally, but it’s also a lot easier than changing oil and swapping carburetors.

“Well, most of the time it’s Tanner’s job,” Peter tells him. “But every once in a while - like today, he can’t make it. It would probably just be covering the occasional shift, I think?”

“Okay then, yes. My schedule and contact info is posted on the wall in the office with everyone else's. Call on me any time.”

[jawritter]

No, Screw You Sweetheart

Summary:  You HATE Dean Winchester, I mean really, REALLY hate him.

Written for: @anaelsbrunette Birthday Celebration! Happy Birthday hun!! 💜

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Prompt: Move away from the door and let me at him.

Warnings: Smut, unprotected smut, fingering, a little bit of a daddy!kink, girl on top, language. I think that’s about it.

Word Count: 2016

A/N: This fic is completely unbeta’d so all mistakes are mine! Please DO NOT COPY MY WORK! Feedback is golden! Hope you all enjoy this one! I decided to take a break from the Christmas fics to bring you some porn, so here ya go lol.

**MASTERLIST**  **BECOME A PATREON**

Dean and yourself had a bit of a love/hate relationship. Okay, maybe that was a little harsh. You and Dean had a “you get on my last dying nerve, but since killing you will upset your little brother I’ll choose to just let you live,” relationship.

That really doesn’t sound any better, does it?

Normally you could ignore your distaste for the eldest Winchester. Normally you stayed out of each other’s way. When you worked with the Winchesters you usually worked mostly with Sam. Not this time. This time you had to work with Dean, solo, on a witch hunt. Therefore all of Dean’s little annoying habits were all right in your face, and dammit, you had enough of his shit to last you a lifetime. By the time you got back to the bunker, you were ready to pull your hair out; or his...

Dean being who he is, he couldn’t just leave you alone, could he? Fuck no, he had to press his luck, and in extension press your buttons. So when he walked by you and childishly tugged on your hair, not hard enough to hurt you but just to get on your nerves, you lost it. 

Way deep down you knew that giving chase is the exact reaction he wanted out of you, but that annoyingly gorgeous face, peppered with those annoyingly adorable freckles just got under your skin some type of way, and it was on. 

Dean bolted through the hallways of the bunker towards Sam’s room, knowing damn good and well you had every intention of jumping on top of him, and getting him back in whatever way you could think of that would inflict pain, but no permanent damage. Starting with those damn perky ass nipples that drove you crazy. Always seeming to stand out teasingly against his tight undershirts, giving you just enough of a tease to send your imagination into overdrive. 

Okay, maybe there wasn’t as much “hate” involved in this relationship as much as there was a lot of pint of sexual frustration on your end. 

“Sammy,” Dean yelled, bursting through the door of Sam’s bedroom, and jumping over the bed to hide in the far side of the room. “She’s trying to kill me!”

Sam confusedly jumped to his feet and stood at the door of his room, blocking you from getting to a cowering Dean, who was having a damn hard time hiding that smirk that was pulling at the corners of his mouth. 

“Move away from the door and let me at him, Sam. I promise I won't cause any permanent damage. Not like you Winchesters can actually stay dead any damn way.”

Sam gave his brother a narrowed eyed stare as Dean snorted out a laugh, leaning against the brick wall of his brother’s bedroom before turning his gaze back to you who was doing everything you could do to get past the overly tall Winchester and to the elder asshole in the room. 

“I’m just spitballing here Dean, but I’m pretty sure that you asked for this, whatever you did,” Sam said, still blocking the door to his room where Dean was peaking around his brother, daring to move closer. 

“Bullshit,” Dean mocked annoyance. “I did nothing worthy of the pain she’s wanting to inflict on me.”

“I doubt that,” Sam said, looking over his shoulder at Dean, who was staring at you with an impish grin on his perfect face. He looked almost boyishly adorable when he did that, and it got under your skin just how much it seemed to send a torrent of butterflies loose in your stomach every time he looked at you that way. The nerve of him.

“He pulled my hair,” you tell Sam accusingly. Sam rolled his eyes as Dean stuck his tongue out at you.

“You know what,” Sam said, grabbing Dean by the collar of the shirt and you by the shoulder, guiding you towards Dean’s room. “I think I know what needs to happen here, and I never thought I’d say this but you two have left me no choice.” 

Sam came to a stop in front of Dean’s door and opened it before shoving the two of you inside together. “You two need to fuck. I’m tired of this middle school teasing going on between the two of you. Handle it like adults, and leave me alone.”

With that Sam slammed the door, leaving you alone with Dean, who immediately started backing up with his hands in the air. 

“Look, I had nothing to do with that,” Dean said earnestly. “I was just giving you a hard time because I like to get a rise out of you, that was all Sam.”

Your eyes narrowed at him and you took a threatening step closer to him. “You like to ‘get a rise out of me’, do you Winchester?” you asked, watching those jean-clad bowed legs as they backed him up towards the wall of his room. 

“Well, yeah. You're cute when you're mad,” he admitted with a smirk, licking those damn lips of his as his eyes raked over your unashamed. 

Your mouth hung open in disbelief as you stared at him, all joking and playfulness falling from your stance as you stumbled over your own thoughts. 

Of everything you expected to come out of his mouth, that was not what you thought he was going to tell you. To save your dignity you did the only thing you could think to do, hoping that he hadn’t noticed you falter, and praying that you could walk out of here with your head held high, and your self-esteem mostly intact. 

“You’re such an asshole, you know that? You’ve been driving me fucking crazy this whole hunt because you think it’s cute?” 

You hadn’t realized you were backing away from him, not until he started to slowly stalk his way towards you as his olive-green eyes darkened. 

“That’s what I said. Don’t think I stuttered,” he said, his deep rumble becoming impossibly deeper as you took another step back and he matched your pace, slowly narrowing the space between the two of you.

“The teasing, the immature little pranks, the nitpicking over every fucking thing I did on this hunt, It was all to just get under my skin,” you asked him.

“Yup, you got a baby girl,” he practically growled as your back hit the bedroom door, and he closed the distance between the two of you, standing practically chest to chest with you. Your heart was beating so loud against your rib cage you were pretty sure he could hear it from where he was standing practically chest to chest with you.

“Screw you, Winchester,” you retort in a breathy, much less fiery comeback, to entrapped in the way his body was practically pressing you into the hardwood of the door behind him; in the way his scent was all but seeping through your skin and into your bones while his dark gaze did all but ruin you without even laying a single hand on you. 

The smirk that he gave you in response nearly knocked you breathless, his gaze shamelessly sinking down your body and utterly soaking your panties in the process. “No, screw you, Sweetheart.”

Dean’s lips came crashing into yours in a bruising, fire laced kiss. Invading your mouth with his warm, wet tongue, licking into the heat of your mouth shamelessly as your fingers carded through the short hairs at the base of his neck and goosebumps erupted over your quickly overheating skin. 

“I fucking hate you,” you growled at him, biting down on his lip hard enough to get his attention but do no real damage. It would be a shame to damage such a pretty face after all. 

Dean chuckled darkly as his hand made quick work of unbuckling your pants and shoving his thick fingers into your underwear, running across your slick soaked folders, teasing your entrance, and putting a delicious amount of pressure on your already throbbing clit.

“Oh honey, your mouth says you hate me, but these ruined fucking panties you’re wearing are singing a different tune,” he said, lips brushing against your own with every word. His warm breath fanning over your face as you check flush with arousal, and two of his thick fingers sink deep inside of your already fluttering walls while his thumb continues its agonizingly wonderful circles on your little bundle of nerves. His fingers curling and pumping, driving your hire in a hurry, and before you knew it you were all but begging him for that release he kept you teetering on the edge of, but not letting you fall completely over. 

“Please Dean, please,” you beg him, moaning as quickens the pace of his fingers. 

“Please what baby, tell Daddy what you need,” he said, nipping at your lips your legs begin to shake, and your walls start to crumble around his fingers.

“Please De, let me come,” you beg him. His teeth scrape your pulse points and his fingers dive deeper into your fluttering heat. 

“Go ahead, baby girl. Come for Daddy,” he growled against your lips. 

Your orgasm railed through your body like an out of control freight train as your walls clamped down around his thick digits while worked you through your high, swallowing your moans as you shook in his hold until you were all but limp against him. 

“Fuck Dean,” you gasp as he picked you up as if you weighed nothing, and carried you over to his bed, peppering you with little kisses before dropping you down on the soft memory foam mattress. 

“Still hate me,” he asked, laying down beside you and letting your roll him onto his back and straddle his hips, looking down at his gorgeous green eyes as your fingers trail down the freckled sin of his chest before you grip the hymn of your shit and pull it over your head, slowly peeling off each layer of clothes and only getting off of him long enough to remove all your clothes so that you could sink down on his thick, throbbing length, smirking as his mouth goes slack when he’d become fully sheath inside you. Stretching you in the most amazing way. 

“I can’t fucking stand you, Winchester,” you tell him, lifting off of him before slamming back down on his length, enjoying the little whimper that left his lips as he started to lift his hips to meet each painfully slow roll of your hips as you slide up and down his length, dragging it out and torturing him just as he had you through this whole hunt. 

“Your perfect face, and that cocky ass attitude, someone needs to put your in your damn place.”

You quickened your pace and he all but arched off the bed underneath you, hands finding your hips and helping you ride him; perfect white teeth sinking down in his lower lip so hard that it was practically bleeding before he could bring himself to answer you, his cock throbbing inside your velvet heat as you both barrelled towards your release quickly. 

“Then put me in my place baby girl,” he growled as your second orgasm flowed through your body and hot ropes of come painted your walls as he yelled into his release underneath you. 

Hours later Sam had not seen either of you and was starting to worry that he’d made the wrong call by putting the two of you in the room together and telling you to “work out” your problems. So he quietly slipped up to Dean’s door, cracking it just enough to see inside, noting how you were both curled up into each other’s hold sound asleep with clothes littering the floor, and sheets barely covering your modesty. He smiled to himself as he shut the door, laughing as he made his way down the hallway to the library. Now maybe the two of you would be just a little less annoying and he could finally get some peace and quiet.

Forever Tags: 

@deandreamernp

@forgetthisbull

@miraclesoflove

@deanwanddamons 

@rvgrsbrns 

@chevyharvelle 

@onethirstyunicorn 

@i-love-superhero 

@lyss-dw79 

@magssteenkamp 

@lemondropirwin 

@squirrelnotsam 

@hobby27 

@spnbaby-67  

@mrsjenniferwinchester 

@defenderrosetyler 

@screechingartisancashbailiff 

@thecreatiivecorner  

@vicmc624 

@busy-bee-angel-misska 

@justanotherwinchester

@brilovesdeanwinchester

@idksupernatural

@lyarr24 

@amandamdiehl 

@miraclesoflove 

 @emoryhemsworth 

@dean-winchesters-gardian-angel 

@softsebastian 

@tatted-trina6

@anaelsbrunette 

@hayleeharling   

@flamencodiva 

@coldmuffinbanditshoe 

@dirty-pan-goblin 

@itmejado 

@supernatural3002 

@teresa-67 

@thoughts-and-funnies 

@hearteyes-j2

@miss-nerd95 

@writers-whirlwind

@peaches007

Dean’s Babes

@forgetthisbull​

Jensen and Dean’s Babes

@msmarvelouswinchester​

@akshi8278​

@love-jackles-37-blog​

[lonelysoul029]

After Hours

Pairing: George x Reader

Summary: Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes is now closed for the day, and George can finally have his way with his girlfriend.

W/C: 1.6k

Warnings: dom!George, sub!reader, slightly (if not completely) embarrassing interaction with Fred, smut, dirty talk, bondage, aftercare, fluff at the end.

A/N: The gif below gives me life. I’m totally not staring at the veins popping out on the sides. Anywho, I might’ve gotten a bit carried away with this fic but oh well. Unbeta’d so as always, all mistakes are mine. Hope you like it!

“Thank you, have a good night!” Y/N sighs as she watches the last customer of the day walk out the shop with a couple of purple Pygmy Puffs. She closes her register then picks up her cardigan from the shelf under the counter, draping it over her arm. Y/N heads to the back office with a bit of a sway in her hips, completely aware of a certain brown pair of eyes watching her from the balcony.

When she reaches the office door, she hears a familiar crackling sound, the sound made when someone apparates from one place to another. Before she can even turn to face the person who transported behind her, large hands grab on to her waist and pushes her against the door. Y/N let’s out a gasp when long fingers dig into her sides.

“Did you really think you’d get away easy, little one?” George’s deep voice rumbles next to Y/N’s ear. She can feel his warm breath on the side of her neck, sending shivers down her spine.

Y/N feigns innocence, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Georgie,” she says in a confused tone but a smirk on her face, knowing full well that she wore the tight coral pencil skirt that drives him crazy and white blouse that’s so thin, anyone can see that she’s wearing her red lace bra underneath. Her words only earn her a spin and her back being slammed against the door. She can see him now; his brown jacket is gone, his sleeves are rolled up, the top few buttons of his shirt unbuttoned and his tie hanging loosely from the collar. There’s a prominent bulge in his pants, and his lust-blown eyes are staring down at her.

“Well you see, darling, I think you know exactly what I’m talking about,” George says, crouching down a bit so their faces were leveled with each other. Y/N bites her bottom lip while his gaze is on them, making George want to use his thumb to pull it back in its place. He tucks a stray hair behind her ear instead, then he uses the back of his index to stroke her soft cheek, “I think, you dressed like a whore on purpose,” he leans forward, his lips brushing the shell of her ear, “You want to be punished, don’t you, love?” 

Her lips part to speak, but gets cut off by the another deep voice. “Please don’t tell me you’re planning on shagging in my office,” Fred says, walking into the hallway they’re in. Y/N covers her face with her hands in embarrassment.

“Our office,” George corrects his twin, turning to face him. “And no,” he continues, “I wasn’t planning on doing anything in there,” he looks back at Y/N, pulling her hands away from her face and tilting her chin to make her look up at him, “We’ve got a pretty big store, don’t we?” he smirks at her

Fred lets out a fake gagging sound, “Well at least let me through so I can get my things and get the hell out of here.” George steps away, pulling Y/N off the office door to let Fred pass. Once the older twin gathers his belongings, he’s practically running to get to the exit. “Don’t forget to lock up. Oh, and please clean up after yourself George,” Fred reminds his brother, “I don’t want another customer complaining about the smell of bloody chloroform,” he adds in disgust, then he’s gone.

“George!” Y/N slaps him on the chest, “You said you’d cleaned that up properly last time!”

“Sorry if I was distracted by the naked lady on the counter looking truly and utterly fucked out,” George smirks, “Now, where were we?” He wraps his strong arms around her and picks her up bridal style, she squeals. George takes large strides, walking to the aforementioned counter and laying her down gently on it. His fingers swiftly unbutton her blouse, exposing her chest to him, “You’ve been quite naughty, haven’t you love? Walking around the store showing people what’s mine.” He says while trailing kisses down her the valley of her breasts. A hand reaches around her to unclasp the red lingerie then he pulls it off of her. He immediately wraps his lips around her nipple, making her arch her back off the counter. His teeth grazing and nipping at the bud.

“George, please,” she pleads, needing more.

“What is it, love?” he prompts. 

“I need to feel you, Georgie,” Y/N lets out a small moan when she feels his hand go underneath her skirt and his fingers brush against her damp underwear.

“Christ, darling. You’re so wet,” George moves her panties to the side, sliding a finger into her slick cunt, “That for me?”

“Fuck,” she breaths, “All for you, George. Only you.” 

He continues to thrust his finger in and out of her, adding another one as he goes. His thumb draws figure eight patterns on her clit and his mouth sucks dark marks all over her torso. The pleasure of it all sending her closer and closer to the edge. Her walls start to clench down on his fingers, telling him she’s almost there. George keeps up his movements for a few moments more, and just as she’s about to fall over the edge, he pulls away. Y/N groans in frustration.

“You don’t get to cum just yet, my love,” he completely takes off the tie around his neck, “Turn over, on your knees, arms behind your back,” George commands.

“Yes, sir,” Y/N nods and obeys, flipping her body over the counter and placing her arms behind her as instructed. 

“Good girl,” George lifts her skirt up so that it’s bunching around her waist. He takes both her wrists, tying them together tightly and pulling at it, “Is it okay?” he asks.

“Mhm,” she hums, earning her a stinging smack on her right cheek.

“Use your words,” he rubs his hand soothingly on the area he just hit.

“It’s good, sir,” Y/N mumbles. She feels his hand move away from her ass, then hears the sound of a belt unbuckling. She sucks in a breath, hoping George would use it on her. To her dismay, the piece of leather is dropped onto the floor.

“I know you want the belt, Y/N,” George smugly states. The smirk is definitely on his face without her having to look. Damn him for knowing her too well, “It wouldn’t be much of a punishment if you love it, now would it?”

“Sir, please?” She begs. 

George just chuckles, “Maybe next time, baby girl. Right now, I just want to make sure you won’t walk for a week.”

She whimpers at his words. George pulls down her lace thong down to her knees before moving his length through her soaked folds, making sure to add a bit more pressure when it slides over her clit.

“George,” Y/N moans. With that, he enters her. Inch by slow inch. She can feel his every ridge and every vein as he pushes in deeper and deeper still.

He groans as he bottoms out, waiting a moment for her to adjust around his cock. George pulls out only to slam back in. His hands gripping her hips. He builds up a rough and steady pace.

Y/N lets out loud moans when George hits her g spot repeatedly. The sounds she makes only spurring him on. His grip on her tightens, surely leaving bruises for tomorrow to see, as he speeds up his movements. Pushing harder and harder with each thrust. She tries to grip the edge of the counter, but stops when she realises her hands are bound. She balls her hands into fists instead, manicured nails digging into her palms.

Because of being denied release earlier, the coil in her stomach tightens quickly, and soon, she’s once again teetering over the edge. “M’close,” Y/N voices.

“Are you now, darling?” George prompts.

She corrects her mistake almost immediately, “C-can I please cum, sir?” 

He takes a few seconds to reply, even though he’s so close to cumming himself. He snakes one hand around her and his fingers find her sensitive nub, “Go ahead, love. Come for me.” 

The coil inside her snaps at his words. A series of moans and profanities comes out of her mouth as her walls flutter. After a couple more thrusts, George stills and groans out in pleasure as he finds his release. They’re both panting as they come down from their highs.

He pulls out of her, making her whimper at the loss. He frees her wrists from the tie, then plucks out a few tissues from the box on the shelf. He uses them to wipe off their mixed juices running down her thighs. His fingers hook into the waistband of her underwear and he pulls them back up in place. 

Y/N turns to lie on her back, her breath now at its normal pace. She leans back on her hands then slides off the counter. She adjusts her skirt but she keeps a hand on the ledge, not trusting her legs to support her. A now dressed George picks up her bra and hands it to her. Once the clasp is secured, he helps her button up her blouse. 

“You know,” George smirks, “You should wear sexy clothing more often,” he leans down to kiss her gently.

She pulls away after pecking his lips twice more and grins, “If it ends like that? Gladly.”

[queen-of-deans-booty]

It’s Only the Beginning

Characters: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: smut, oral fem recieving, fingering, beard burn

Request by @brokenheartscrybrokentears​: Are you still doing a requests? If so can you do a smutty request where she and Jensen are at a dinner and he is under the table?? Please please please..?? Thank you..

Summary: All you wanted was to enjoy a meal with your husband, but instead, he’s making a meal out of you.

give him an inch and he will take a yard @as-the-saying-goes-bingo​​ torture @spndeanbingo​​ accidental confession @spngenrebingo​​ “You have cream cheese on your face” “Wanna lick it off?” “Is that a dare?” @spnquotebingo​​

Author’s Note: This is unbeta’d and all mistakes are mine. If you have any requests, please send them in!

You and your husband have been so busy with life and work that you two never have any time for one another. It’s always been touch-and-go with a lot of things, so you were really looking forward to having a date night with him. You can tell work has been putting a damper on his mental health--always going to work with tired eyes and coming home with brittle bones and heavier bags underneath his eyes. It’s not fair how hard he works when he doesn’t get a lot of rewards for it. He says he doesn’t mind, but you can see past his tough exterior.

It was actually your idea to go out tonight, and you kept reminding him that you would kill him in his sleep if he tried to postpone or cancel on you. Knowing the threat was real to some degree, he made sure he was free tonight. This night was supposed to help him relax and get his mind off things, but instead, he’s made it all about you.

His chair across from you is empty, but his presence is still hanging over you, always reminding you that he has you exactly where he wants. Your face must be red at this point from how hard you’re trying to keep all your feelings and thoughts to yourself. Your knuckles are sore from how hard you're clutching the table cloth. You’re far enough away from other people for them not to know what is going on here, but you’re close enough that if you make a sound, they will definitely hear.

You’re trying so hard to act like everything is okay, but apparently, you’re not doing a good job. The waitress stops chatting with the bartender enough to notice you, and she heads over to your table with a concerned look on your face.

“Are you okay, ma’am?”

“W-why wouldn’t I-I be okay?” you stutter.

“I couldn’t help but notice that you are squirming and almost at the brink of tears for the last twenty minutes. Is your husband gone?”

“No, h-he’s not finished,” you clear your throat to stop the moan from escaping.

You could have sworn you heard Jensen laugh, but it’s more like you felt it. This little bastard is going to get what’s coming to him soon enough.

“Do you want me to get you anything?”

“N-No, I’ll b-be fine. My stomach just hurts that’s all. Cramps, y-you know.”

“I do,” she smirks so faintly you thought you were seeing things. “I’ll come by a little later to check on you, okay?”

“Y-yeah, sounds g-good.”

She leaves the table with a knowing look on her face, and you just know that she knew exactly what was going on. Maybe the only reason she didn’t try to stop it is that there wasn’t a lot of people in the restaurant to begin with. Maybe she wanted you to get yours. You have no clue why she didn’t stop it, but you’re glad she didn't.

You kind of brought this on yourself because you’re slapping yourself internally right now when you think back to the conversation that started this all.

“I have a confession to make,” you slur.

You were out with your girlfriends drinking and having a good time when your husband picked you up when your friends realize that you’re only going to get worse.

“What is that?” he chuckles as he drives you two home.

“You know what my biggest fantasy is? You know, sexually?”

“Are we really going there right now? All I’m going to do is put you to bed after I get you to drink some water.”

“I don’t want any water. I want you.”

“Not tonight, sweetheart. You know this.”

“I didn’t tell you my fantasy though!” you hiccup.

“What is it?” he sighs and stops at a stoplight.

“I really want public sex. The thrill of it all turns me on. You know, not knowing if people know but knowing you could get caught at any moment. I want that,” you giggle.

Jensen just stares at you, not really paying attention to the light that just turned green. He snaps out of his trance when he hears the car behind him honk their car for him to start moving. He looks at you up and down before resuming the drive home.

“Just know you asked for it,” he chuckles mischievously.

Jensen’s words are replaying in your mind over and over again, always reminding you that you’re the one that put yourself in this situation. If you’d known that giving him this little bit of freedom was going to turn into this, you wouldn’t have done it--well, that’s what you want to tell yourself. You’re so lucky these tables have cloths that go all the way to the ground because if they didn’t, then you would for sure get caught.

Jensen’s hands grip your thighs tightly, spreading your legs wider so he can have more access to your dripping pussy. He’s been at this for twenty minutes, and he’s still not done. He wants to bring you to the peak as many times as he can before your body tells him that you can’t take any more. His tongue slides between your folds before plunging back into you. You let out a small squeak, earning a few stares from a few people around you.

S-sorry,” you whisper.

His fingers find your throbbing clit, and the sudden pressure on the bundle of nerves causes you to clench your thighs around his face. He’s been growing out his beard, so you know you’ll definitely have beard burn later on. He slots his shoulders between your thighs so they have nowhere else to go before paying attention to your clit once again.

He pinches the nerve bundle between his fingers, rolling it lightly. A surge of pleasure shoots straight from your core to virtually every spot in your body. Your knees jerk upward, hitting the end of the table with a loud thud. Your cheeks heat up, you’re afraid everyone is going to know just how flushed you are. This is complete torture, and he knows it.

Jensen is just basking in amusement and cockiness from how things are going, he decides to take it up a notch. He removes his long and wet tongue from your center, only to lick up to your clit. He switches places with his fingers so that when he cups his lips around your clit, he slides in two thick fingers.

Your channel stretches to fit him, and you place your hand over your mouth so muffle the moan you know is going to slip. He starts to recite the alphabet with his tongue, scissoring his fingers to stretch you for his cock later. He won’t take you in the restaurant because he wants those moans reserved for him and him only.

“Shit, Jensen, you need to stop,” you whisper, hoping that no one heard you.

Once he adds another finger, you can feel your orgasm quickly approaching. All the stimulation on your clit and your g-spot is enough to bring you right at the edge. Jensen knows your body more than you do, so he knows exactly what kind of strings to play to get you right where he wants. To put you over the edge for the fourth time that evening, he gives your clit a little nibble.

He knows that you don’t really like teeth being on your most sensitive area, but you also know that Jensen would never do anything to harm you. He is more than capable of experimenting with you on things, and this is one of them.

“Shit!” you exclaim loudly, covering your mouth when you realize what you have done. Everyone looks over at you, and you clear your throat before letting out your breath shakily. “I’m fine. S-sorry everyone.”

It takes them a few minutes to go back to what they were doing, all the while you’re coming down from your high. Jensen’s face must be covered with your release by now, but he’s brought a napkin with him to wipe away the evidence. You’re pretty sure everyone here knows what is happening, but you couldn’t care less at the moment.

Jensen finally pulls away from you, granting you a break for the night. He cleans you and himself up before peeking out from underneath the table to see if anyone is looking. When the coast is clear, he returns to his seat with the most shit-eating grin on his face.

“If I knew I’d be having a second dessert, I would have not finished my meal,” he chuckles.

“You fucking asshole,” you hiss, not meaning it at all.

“You’re the one that asked for it. I’m just delivering,” he whispers and takes a bite of his cheesecake that has been left untouched until now.

“Everyone was staring. I won’t be able to walk out of here, Jensen,” you say.

“Then I did my job right.”

“Don’t look so smug. I’m going to get you back for this.”

“Game on then, sweetheart,” he laughs and takes another bite.

He holds out his fork for you to taste, and you glare but take one anyway. Your little activity has made you parched.

“You have cream cheese on your face,” Jensen notes and grab his napkin.

“Wanna lick it off?” you retort, not realizing what you said.

“Is that a dare?” he chuckles.

“No, never mind, it was a joke,” you say and wipe your own face clear of any mess. “You did enough licking for one night.”

“It’s so cute you think I’m done with you,” he chuckles and takes yet another bite of his dessert.

You stare at him, speechless, because how can he give you more than what he’s already given? Four orgasms in one evening and he wants to do more? He knows your body better than you do, so you trust him completely. Now all you’re going to be thinking about is what he’s going to do to you when you finally get home.

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