#<- title using one of the attempts to find a word that sounds like 'subscribe' but could be a name

[couch-house]

NOBODY ASKED... but the name joke was always meant to have three parts. comment, like, and subscribe share... because she's opposite world comet, she's glued to sonic and grows up around lots of other kids and has powers :)

she fulfills the most base purpose of a fankid which is literally just What If Fun Baby To Draw? and thats it <3

[pashterlengkap]

Christian dad says he loves Jesus more than his trans daughter

Right-wing evangelical website The Gospel Coalition recently published an anonymous essay by the Christian father of a trans child, and it is one of the most depressing things you may ever read. The title says it all: “I Love My Transgender Child. I Love Jesus More.” Related: What does the Bible say about transgender people: An in-depth look Let’s explore what the Bible says about transgender people, its general perspective on gender and identity, and common misinterpretations. Of course, those of us who work in media know that writers almost never choose the titles of their own stories, so this could be a sensationalist, clickbait-y misrepresentation of the way this guy actually feels, right? Never Miss a Beat Subscribe to our daily newsletter to stay ahead of the latest LGBTQ+ political news and insights. Promotions (occasional) * Week in Good News (one on the Weekend) * Week in Review (one on the Weekend) * Daily Brief (one each weekday) * Sign Up Yeah, not so much. The anonymous author spends the entire essay moaning about the cross he’s had to bear since his 18-year-old daughter—whom he misgenders throughout—came out as trans. He writes about how it has affected him and his faith, but largely refuses to interrogate the impact of his own rejection of his trans daughter has had on her. Echoing the false “social contagion” narrative proliferated by anti-trans bigots in conservative media, the author blames his daughter’s queer friend and LGBTQ+-affirming Christians for leading her into “sin.” “First, an old friendship came back into our son’s life during COVID shutdowns and grew over time. This friend was moving through the spectrum of the LGBT+ community. My wife and I encouraged our son to be faithful to the Word, which included showing love and grace to his friend,” he writes. “Second, a few other people who had meaningful relationships with my son expressed to him their belief that LGBT+ lifestyles can align with Christianity.” He goes on to explain that he and his wife have worked hard to expel this idea, refusing to accept their daughter’s identity, even in the face of her obvious distress. “During one conversation, when we said we couldn’t use his preferred name and pronouns, he said to us, ‘Then I can’t guarantee I won’t kill myself.’ He eventually went to his room, wailing and weeping profusely. My wife and I were also crying, feeling helpless. Certainly, it’d be easier to simply call him by his preferred name and pronouns. Certainly, it’d be easier to celebrate the things he celebrates,” he writes. “In these moments, it’s hard to remember that the change he’s asking for will harm him not only spiritually but also mentally and physically.” Except, reading between the lines, it sounds a lot like this couple’s misguided faith is actually what’s causing their daughter mental and potentially physical harm: “Last year, my son suffered severe depression and suicidal ideation, admitting himself to the ER during Christmas break,” the author writes. “It was the bleakest Christmas my family had ever experienced, and those weeks led to months of wondering if I would find my child dead in his room.” He goes on to admit that his actions have led his daughter to believe her parents hate her while attempting to rationalize his narrow-minded bigotry with his own interpretation of a whole lot of Bible verses. “Your love for Jesus can be viewed by your family, even your children, as hatred,” he writes. “The reality is that my wife and I love our son, and we’ve always wanted to love what he loves because we love him. Yet in this, we couldn’t affirm him. We couldn’t ‘delight in evil.’ We had to ‘delight in the truth’ even if our son felt like our love was actually hatred.” Seems like there should be a term for “love” that feels like hatred. Oh, wait, there is: emotional abuse. http://dlvr.it/T0g09S

[donutloverxo]

A Royal scandal 4

Modern royalty au

Image from Instagram

cowritten with @lizzygal​

Note - There will be no taglists for this. You can subscribe to the  ao3 story to receive updates!

Please note that my stories are not to be stolen or reposted on any other site. Reblogs are welcome. This blog and this story is 18+. Do not read, follow or interact if you are not 18+.

Summary - Modern ruler, His Majesty King Steven G Rogers, is on a quest to make his long term secret relationship the real thing. He is a man in love and wants his lover and partner to be his queen.

Warnings - Smut (m/f), dub con/non con, sex tape, scandals, mentions of past domestic abuse, soft dark Steve, possessive Steve, spanking, power imbalance, mentions of previous domestic abuse, somnophilia, talks of virginity.

Pairing - King!Steve x reader

Word count - 7.8k

Story masterlist

Valkyrie, or simply Val, watched the entire thing unfold before her eyes and was helpless to stop any of it. All of it. All she could do was watch. Much like one would watch a train accident happen before their very eyes.

She had tried. In truth she had.

However, Sarah was the Queen Mother and Val was a member of the Royal Guard.

There was little she could do.

“Your Majesty,” she purred one last time, in one last attempt to save a situation that she knew deep in her heart was not going to go well at all. “Perhaps you would prefer to go inside and I’ll bring them into the reception area?”

Everything was wrong. So very wrong.

Outside the palace was normally empty.

As it was located in the center of the capital. An old historic building from imperial days that covered numerous city blocks, was where the government was run and where King Steven resided. Press knew better than to hang around outside the imposing palace gates as the king never left out them and was uninterested in opportunities to have his picture taken. As did the Queen Mother.

And yet, that morning, a whole gaggle of photographers were lined up and waiting for the visiting royals. Or so they had shared with Val.

Her Grace, Hope van Dyne, never went anywhere without getting her picture taken. In Val’s opinion, she probably had the phone number to every tabloid office in the world.

Sarah’s voice was kind. Soft. Gentle. It made Val want to wrap her queen up in a blanket and make her go inside so she could deal with their unwelcome guests. She stood beside Val at the top of the steps of the palace, provided with a great view of the black sedan that had pulled in through the gates. The flashiest possible way to enter the palace instead of through the underground garage like everyone else.

“Oh no. That’s hardly necessary. They wanted a scene. Let us give them one.”

Not liking the sounds of that at all, her brown eyes flickered over to look at the slim woman with a head of artfully styled strawberry blonde curls, a button nose and rose petal lips. She was every bit as regal as her title, even if she had not a drop of royal blood in her body.

“You can’t think that they actually called the press to say that the Duchess Hope was the woman with His Majesty on the video from the royal banya?”

Sarah’s cool blue gaze flickered to her royal bodyguard before returning back to the sedan so she could observe her former friend climb out, followed by her raven-haired daughter who waved to the photographers on the other side of the iron gates.

That was exactly what Sarah suspected the second she’d seen it in the morning paper. Though she doubted she would ever find out who had started that rumor.

“Have you found out why they’re here?”

Grimacing, Valkyrie shook her head, unhappy to not have an answer for her queen beneath the cloudy chilly winter day. “Not yet Your Majesty. We have reached out to the Maharaja’s Staff and are waiting to hear back. Soon though we suspect.”

Any second now Val hoped her phone would ring so she could tell the queen.

Which led to Sarah turning her head to look away from her guests as they climbed the stairs. She looked away from the large fountain that the sleek luxury car was parked beside and gave her last true smile for what she suspected would be till lunch. Reaching out, she placed her hand on Valkyrie’s wrist. One of her preferred bodyguards. She’d been loyal and had on two occasions nearly given her life in service of her country. “I trust you will find out and inform me as soon as possible. Do not fret. I doubt they will be leaving anytime in the near future.”

Only a lifetime of service kept Val from cracking a smile.

Instead, her dark eyes watched the silver haired Queen of the Netherlands climb the steps towards them. Smiling. Dressed expensively with a heavy coat made from numerous small furry animals.

Queen Janet van Dyne approached as if it hadn’t been years. She came to stand beside Sarah and greet her in such a way that would make for a perfect picture. Or so Sarah noticed. She greeted her as if they were still friends who spoke frequently on the phone and still sent one another gifts. As if their children had married and everything was fine.

“Sarah! How wonderful to see you, you have not aged a day.”

Janet reached out with gloved hands trimmed in mink, leaned forward to place a polite kiss on Sarah’s cheek in greeting and was more than a little surprised when Sarah stepped away. Her own hands remaining clasped in front of her and out of Janet’s. Greeting or otherwise.

“Janet,” was all that came from Sarah’s mouth. A look went from Janet’s coat down to her dress and then shoes, pausing there before coming back up. “Is that the dress you wore to Lizzie’s grandson’s wedding?”

Surprised by the greeting, or lack thereof, Janet paused and then smiled brightly, knowing that though the cameras could not hear them they could capture this image on film. “Yes. We’re focusing on becoming sustainable out in the west. Going green isn’t merely a project meant as royal busywork.”

Sarah could actually feel Valkyrie stiffen beside her at mention of the Green Initiative that Steve had tasked her with and had been far from busywork. It was something that Sarah could go on and on about, one of her many efforts that she busied herself with and yet, she found she didn’t want to expend that much energy on her once friend.

Hands still in front of her, fingers laced together where she could feel her wedding band. Sarah tilted her head slightly to the side. “I wouldn’t know. We remain a governing monarchy here.”

Janet blanched. Her lips formed a straight line, nearly as straight as the way her spine stiffened.

Though Sarah was unable to enjoy it as she turned her attention to the daughter. Hope van Dyne. Formerly Princess Hope but now Duchess Hope, after having been stripped of her title and recently reinstated to a lesser one, in Sarah’s opinion anyway.

Hope looked lovely as ever.

Tanned. Dressed exceptionally well. Smiling exuberantly.

It almost warmed Sarah’s icy heart.

“Sarah! How are you? You look wonderful!” Exclaimed Hope, sounding genuinely thrilled to see the woman who might have been her mother-in-law had things gone differently. She stepped on up with outstretched arms and was greeted with a serene face that looked at her in confusion.

Sarah said nothing. Not a word. Sarah maintained eye contact and looked at Hope as if waiting for the younger woman to say or do something.

Thus leading to Hope blinking in confusion and lowering her arms, looking to her mother for assistance as this clearly was not the welcome she expected.

“Is something wrong,” Hope asked a bit nervously as a winter breeze ruffled the fur on her mother’s coat. Sneaking under the cashmere of her own, as she hadn’t had time to properly shop for winter here. This was her mother’s idea. It was her last hope. Her father had refused to hear her and not even her mother could plead her case this time. This was it.

“I was about to ask you the same.”

Val watched Hope’s confusion and fought hard to not say anything at all, and it was becoming painful to watch in her opinion. Her gaze veered over to all the photographers that were watching more than taking pictures. Even they seemed to realize this visit was not starting off smoothly.

“I’m-I’m sorry?”

Val risked a look over at her queen. Her queen who was peering at the young woman who had referred to Val’s people as ‘war criminals’ or ‘superstitious backwoods fools.’

Unable to take another moment of it, Valkyrie cleared her throat.

Finally making Sarah take mercy on Hope who really should have known better in her opinion. “In civilized societies, a duchess would curtsey to a queen. Perhaps things are different for those who are merely ceremonial in purpose.”

***

Someone called your name and for a second, you were terrified that Wanda had come for your ass.

Not that you could blame the best friend you’d had since high school.

Upon heading into the offices of the royal palace that morning, you had intentionally avoided her , secure in the knowledge that she was pissed at you and you really did not want to have the fight you knew was coming someplace public like the office.

So, you’d been groveling via text and promising to go out with her that night for a girls night, swearing on your honor that you would tell her everything! Because Wanda was no fool.

Wanda saw the new dress you had on. Wanda saw your new shoes. Wanda noticed your perfect makeup and styled hair. Wanda also brought up the facts that you’d not been home that night or early morning, as well as the crucial one regarding your flatiron that was still in the bathroom the two of you shared.

Needless to say, you had a lot of explaining to do.

There was no getting around it. You were going to have to tell her about Steve. Sure, you’d swear her to secrecy until everything came out. The palace had made its announcement this morning about King Steven being in a relationship that he would make public soon. A second public statement had come from the Palace PR Guru, Maria Hill, stating that without a doubt, the king was not involved with Duchess Hope after a few rumors had burnt their way through the palace and news cycles.

Besides, Wanda should know. Wanda deserved to know. You and Wanda had come on this adventure post university together. Wanda had to know before it came out in the form of an official palace announcement, or else Wanda might very well skin you alive.

Hearing your name on a female tongue had you snapping up, your attention diverted away from the emails you were checking.

Wanda?

No.

It was not Wanda.

It was an Indian woman in a well-tailored pantsuit. Her dark hair was swept up in a chignon. Her lips a shade of red that had you lowkey thinking about asking for the name and shade of said lipstick. Her dark eyes bore right through you. As if spearing you from your chair and to the wall of your office.

“You are the King’s Chief of Staff?”

While your natural first instinct was to report that was what it said on your door. Professional-you put the kibosh on that right away. Inner you was somewhat intimidated by this powerful woman who looked as if she knew your every last secret.

Head held high this woman so informed you in a tone that let you know she was here for nothing less. “The Maharaja has sent us. Duchess Hope of the Netherlands has stolen from us and is here with the intention of pleading political asylum. While the Maharaja would like nothing more than to have her brought back for trial of the theft of our priceless treasures. I will settle for what was taken and no less.”

Ok. Well. Maybe you thought too soon.

Maybe Wanda was preferrable over this person.

“Oh…goody…” came from your lips with a frown.

“General Odinson sent me here. He told me that you would be able to help resolve this issue for me post haste.”

Oh of course General Fucking Thor Odinson would send this person your way so he didn’t have to deal with this international nightmare of an incident.

Letting out a deep breath, you held up a finger. “Let me just send this out real quick…what’s your name?” And you typed as quickly as humanly possible on your encrypted laptop.

“Ekta. I am with the Maharaja’s Royal Guard.”

Because of course she was. Why wouldn’t she be? Why wouldn’t Hope have stolen from the Maharaja and bounced? Though you’d never had the pleasure of meeting her face to face, you’d heard more than your share about the infamous Duchess, then Princess, Hope.

Typing. Typing. Typing.

“You’ve got any pictures or detailed descriptions of what the items stolen look like? I’m sure His Majesty will be very curious. And, you know, the more information of what we’re looking for the better.”

And done.

With a tap on your laptop, you’d sent out an email to the Finance Minister. Then up you stood.

“Of course,” Ekta answered coolly.

Not that you blamed her. If you were in her shoes, you would have been super pissed off too. Being robbed was never fun.

“Let’s go see if we can track down His Majesty. If not, we’ll make an appointment with his secretary and then go see who is in the office of our Royal Guard. Someone is always in there and I know that Carol, she’s Captain of the Guard, is working right now.” You explained, as if you felt that telling this unhappy woman all these things could somehow make everything right. Probably not. But you still had to try. It was in your nature to fix problems and you most definitely wanted to fix this problem.

Ekta said nothing.

She merely followed you out of your office and into the hallway which was lined with doors and walls of tasteful and probably expensive original art.

You looked to the left.

Then to the right and nearly died then and there at your luck.

How had you gotten so lucky?

There, mere feet away and closing, was not just Carol but His Majesty, deep in discussion about something that was irritating them both.

You had an inkling that you knew what was at the heart of their discussion.

The sight of you made them stop talking and pause in their tracks, which told you that you had been the one that they were seeking.

Before anything could be done, you bowed. “Your Majesty, just the person I was hoping to find.” Up you flourished your hand to gesture at Ekta, who you could feel was beside you, practically putting off rays of righteousness. “We have a visitor from the Maharaja’s Royal Guard. This is Ekta. She is here because of something that concerns the Duchess Hope.”

The reaction that came was almost immediate from both Steve and Carol.

A look as if Steve had suddenly smelled a dead animal came over his face. Carol however cocked her hip to the side, lifted her chin in a dark blue pantsuit, almost demanding in a knowing sort of way. “What’d she steal from you guys? Art or jewelry?”

For the first time ever, you noted a moment of Ekta’s veneer breaking. Like she was taken off balance. “The duchess stole from you too?” Then, almost as an afterthought came, “Your Majesty?”

And this was news to you too.

You had no idea that Hope had taken souvenirs with her that weren’t free to take when she fled the Royal Palace for India all those years ago.

When Steve spoke, his teeth were clearly clenched together. “Yes. Both. She raided my mother’s room as well as the halls for art and pieces that are priceless. Sacred treasures from my countries history that can never be replaced. She filled her suitcase with on her way out.”

“Every now and then an item will appear on the black market. We can only assume that she is selling them when she is in need of money.” Carol helpfully added.

Beside you, you could practically feel Ekta tremble. Shake out of control one could say.

“Is the Duchess Hope here?”

For that you had no answer.

Carol however had one. “Yes. Her Majesty is taking tea out in the gardens with the Duchess Hope and her own mother.”

After being brought abreast of that development, you had a statement to make. One you thought was obvious. But none-the-less, out it came. Maybe none of them knew? “It’s snowing outside.”

Thus leading Steve to turn his attention on you. Finally. And when he did so, he looked at you as if you were only his Chief of Staff. He looked at you kindly without the heat in his eyes from earlier that morning, when he’d woken you up by pushing himself deep into your body until the both of you reached a climax that made your eyes cross and left an impression of his teeth broken into your shoulder.

“Yes. Mother wanted to be sure that the Duchess Hope did not steal anything else from within the palace walls whilst they are here.”

Well then.

Even you had to admit. The Queen Mother could be downright frosty when the occasion called for it. Pun intended.

“She’s having tea with Queen Janet and Duchess Hope outside? In the frigid temperatures?”

You couldn’t quite make yourself believe it. You blinked. You looked from Steve who appeared casual after his statement, like he just told you the winters here were cold. Over to Carol who was pulling out her phone from her pocket. Acting like you hadn’t said anything out of the normal.

“Your Majesty, I’ll take care of Ekta and deal with this issue. If anything arrives concerning this issue. I will contact you. Nakia will come fill my place today.”

If Steve was greatly upset by any of his, he made no outward indication of it other than a nod of his head that he both heard and understood and accepted what Carol had told him. His attention was instead focused on you.

“I have a meeting concerning the Switzerland trip about the proposed embassy. Go get your notes. You’ll be joining me.”

***

Her Grace, the Duchess Hope van Dyne, had finally made it in the palace after that psycho, the Queen Mother Sarah, had the audacity to serve tea in the garden as flakes of snow drifted down. And if that weren’t barbaric enough, afterwards, she then led them around the winter garden as if Hope gave a damn.

Hope had problems and Queen Sarah was not very receptive to any of her attempts to thaw the ice that had formed around Sarah’s heart. Nor did her mother, Janet, have much luck.

When did Sarah turn into such a bitch?

Sarah should have been ecstatic that Hope would even return to this shithole. Sarah’s son was still single, he needed a queen and his backwoods hovel wanted a queen and Hope had royal blood. What more did Sarah need? Did she need it written down?

When did Sarah turn into such a horrible host?

Hope remembered a distinctively different Sarah. When she had lived in this palace, Steve’s mother had coddled her, practically waited on her hand and foot to be sure that Hope was happy and settling in so far from civilization. Where was that Sarah now?

Somehow, Hope had managed to break away, pleading a need to use the powder room around the time her toes and fingers went numb. As she hadn’t had the time to properly shop for clothes to wear in this frigid shithole. India had been so gloriously warm. She’d loved India. Hope would have loved to stay there but things had gone south.

Eventually, like everything else, it’d blow over.

Until then though, she needed someplace safe to stay. She needed to stay somewhere that the Maharaja couldn’t get her. What she needed was diplomatic immunity. However, that wasn’t going to happen since her father refused to even see her, so she’d just have to settle for sovereign immunity. Granted, Hope hadn’t expected it to be this difficult to see Steven and tell him that she was ready to get married now. For crying out loud, he should have been groveling at her feet for her to come back to him. Especially after that sex tape which had been burning up the internet and royal circles. If there was anything that Hope could do, it was bounce back from a scandal.

This was just ridiculous.

The Queen Mother should have been inviting them to this lunch with her son, instead of practically throwing Hope and Janet out. Which was exactly why Hope was wandering the halls in the search for Steven’s office. Toes tingling in her fashionable pumps. Her fingers burning from the warm air in the administrative offices.

Hope would need a whole new wardrobe once she got Steven onboard with her plan. As his current plan of ignoring the sex tape was absurd. These things needed to be tackled head on. With her as his queen by his side, Hope could handle all of it.

Ah, she found herself pleased at the sight of the royal seal over a doorway marking it as the king’s office.

Valkyrie followed her closely. That bitch.

As soon as Hope was queen, she’d be one of the first on the firing block. Following her around like some manner of commoner who might fill their pockets with royal gold. It was absurd. Hope was born a princess and one day she would become one again.

Hope remembered Valkyrie from when she was a young member of the guard and now, she was a Captain and just as irreprehensible as Carol, who Hope also despised. Both of them had to go. Reaching out with a hand that held a ring belonging to the sister of the Maharaja, Hope opened the door and marched right into the office of Steven’s secretary. Who was apparently gone for lunch.

Not that the room was empty.

Nakia, who had been seated on a couch in the office, stood. Dressed in a dark blue suit that all the royal guard wore. Her face stony at the sight of Hope and then darkened further in disgust. She stood tall. Regally. Holding her head high when she spoke down to the former princess. “The king is busy.”

Not that Hope would settle for anything less than seeing Steven in person immediately. She stepped forward. “The king is having lunch with his mother in fifteen minutes. I know for a fact he’s not doing anything of importance. Get out of my way, or I’ll have you selling souvenirs from a cart outside the palace when I am queen.”

At such a statement, Nakia found herself wanting to both laugh and spit in the face of this western woman. One who had referred to her people and country as little more than a backwoods hellhole full of illiterate stone pounders.

How often Nakia had dreamt of being so close to the Duchess Hope, how she thought of ripping out this woman’s forked tongue.

“Let her in,” came Valkyrie’s voice in their native tongue from the eastern regions of the land.

Sending Nakia’s dark eyes past Hope. A knowing expression claimed her features. “His Majesty is in there waiting for our queen.”

A shrug came from the senior guardswoman.

Nakia would be the first to admit, she had not been hopeful when the crown prince had been coronated as a teenager. No one in the country had been particularly hopeful but now, nearly everyone supported their king. His Majesty was a good king who served them all as much as they served him.

Nakia was protective of her king. She wanted her king to marry his Chief of Staff yesterday. Her land was in need of a queen, a woman’s touch one could say.

Knowing what was at stake with the coming lunch that her king would attend with his mother and lover, a visit from the Duchess Hope would not put him in the best of moods. The Queen Mother always grew quiet when King Steven was in such a mood. Why would Nakia allow such a thing to happen?

“Perhaps if he tells her she isn’t wanted here she’ll leave sooner? Let her in. That is an order.”

Pursing her lips unhappily, Nakia stepped back.

She wasn’t about to open the door to His Majesty’s office for this interloper. However, she would no longer stand in the way. Nakia even made sure to send a look that screamed impending homicidal violence. Spurring Hope quickly through the door without another syllable directed at Nakia.

Which was fine with Hope.

Hope couldn’t get away from Nakia quick enough.

Wanting distance sent Hope into the king’s large office without much thought. Looking as if it belonged in an old Victorian estate with dark wood, so many books, old art and thick dark Turkish Rugs.

What Hope did not expect was how much the prince had grown.

No longer a gangly young man whose mother had to have padding sewn into the robes that he was coronated in. This man sitting at his desk was big in every way. Exuding power in a manner that most could only dream and for a second, seeing Steven look at her with shocking blue eyes and stubble darkening his face, she was rendered speechless.

“What do you want Hope,” came Steven’s voice, more than a little annoyed. Far more emotion than she’d ever seen from the young man. Who was now very obviously a man.

This was not the Steven she remembered.

Before her was not the young man she remembered at all. Every last bit of him was very much a king and Hope suddenly, possibly for the first time in her life, found herself regretting many of the past choices she made. It seemed her mother was right. She’d been far too hasty in her youth. Her mother had told her that the prince would mature like a fine wine. Hope had written that off as nonsense meant to trap her into an arranged marriage like so many women before her.

Now?

Now she was looking at a tall powerful man close a very modern looking laptop and turn his attention on her in such a way that made her gut coil. What would it have been like to be the woman in the video? And where the hell did that thought come from? She had been wrong. So so very wrong.

Finally, gathering herself, Hope peered around the office and fussed at the pearl buttons on her coat. “I saw the video…” A noise came from Steven that she’d never heard before, yet, she went on. “…and since we’re still technically engaged, I thought I would return to help you put out the fires of this scandal.”

Another noise came from the king, a derisive snort.

“Wow. That’s cute. Highly amusing coming from you.” Though there was no hint of heat or passion in his words that had been so evident on that video. In her opinion, he didn’t even sound bored. Worse. Steven then leaned back in his seat, peered around her and asked, “Who let you in here?”

Those words, those uncaring words as if she were little more than the two guards outside his office made her burn, bristle.

Which had Hope clearing her throat, bristling one could say. “Actually, it’s more than cute. If you recall, I come from a distinguished royal house. Our engagement is a legally binding agreement.”

For the reaction she got, she might as well have told him it was showing outside.

As she was prone to when there was silence that needed to be filled, Hope pushed the waves of dark hair over her shoulder. She shifted from one foot to the other and watched Steven lean back in his chair.

Finally, as if sensing that she wasn’t going to leave, Steve offered her a shrug. Finding the mere sight of her numbing. He could have cared less what she did one way or the other. So long as she stayed out of his room. He had valuable things in there that he was fond of. “I’m not marrying you. Do with that as you will, you’ll find no sanctuary here.”

This was most certainly not the Steven that she had left all those years ago. It took Hope a second to collect herself, to steel herself. No one had spoken to her in such a way in quite a while. Her brain screamed at her that damage control needed to be done but she was not sure how. In what way? What did she say?

Hope’s brain screamed at her that the plan was failing, everything was going wrong. This was not supposed to happen this way and now she was failing horrendously. What did she do? How could she fix this?

Pricks of pain came from her fists as her nails dug into her palms. Telling Hope that when she unclenched her fists, she would see blood. “You have to marry me!”

Oh this was bad.

This was really really bad.

Across the expanse of his desk, Steve remained calm. Almost to the point of uncaring and such demeanor was reflected in his words. In the way his broad shoulders shrugged and how he rubbed his rough cheek, as if that were more interesting.

“I do not need or want your assistance for anything, forget that video. There is no reason for me to be ashamed of it.”

“Steven! Listen!”

He could see the desperation on her face, hear it in her voice and after so long, he wished he could say that it was rewarding. He wished that he could say it made him feel better after everything that had happened.

It didn’t.

There was just nothing. Little more than cold numbness. Steve felt absolutely nothing.

Nothing was there anymore.

When he looked at Hope there was nothingness.

It reminded him of his father. He hated when he felt that way, when he thought of his father. There was no one on this earth that Steve loathed more. It was his very purpose for being, to not be his father. To end that cycle. To let it die with him.

Most irritably, he shifted in his seat. His eyes found the picture of you both on his desk from a trip to Scotland.

Hints of his father swirled with every syllable only furthering his inner revulsion with himself, his genes and heritage.

“When you left, I did not officially break our engagement as a common courtesy to your father. No more no less. I am a king. You cannot compel me to do anything.”

Pools of blue found Hope again though. A little bit of serene malice hovered between them.

“If you continue to be an annoyance, I will. I am a king now. I have a country to govern. I do not have time for the childish games and pursuits that occupy the western families.”

“Steven this is serious! I could go to prison! In India!”

May his ancestors help him, his first initial response would have been to remind her of her place, remind her of how he should be addressed.

His Majesty.

Exactly as his father would, he swore he heard his father’s voice in his ear.

“You have to help me out! I’m begging you! I don’t care about that other woman. You can have all the mistresses you want!”

A peek down at his watch told Steve that he had minutes to wrap this up and go collect you. Minutes. He had minutes to regain his sanity before he saw his mother.

Minutes.

“Steven!”

Standing from his chair, he shook his head. Doing his best to silence the sound of his father telling him he was not good enough, was not worthy, was not fit to rule. His voice was soft because Steve would not yell like that man. “No Hope. I’m sorry, but no. You remind me of my father. You make me feel like him. You bring him back to life and I cannot live with his ghost. So no. You will have to deal with the consequences of your actions like the rest of us.”

Her eyes went wild.

Steve could see it and was glad he wasn’t within reach of her. He watched her grab a Fabergé Egg from the end of his desk.

Colorful glass accented in gold with rubies around the middle. It fit in her hand but only just, being the size of an ostrich egg and then it went soaring through the air where it smashed loudly into a wall. Denting the dark wood and shattering. Smashing into dozens and dozens of colorful pieces that fell to the floor.

Having felt the very loss of hope itself, she turned to set her storm on him. “You’ll regret this, Your Majesty.” Before turning and leaving, slamming his office door behind her as hard as possible. Leaving Steve with the sound of his father telling him that he wasn’t worthy.

***

Lipstick?

No lipstick?

It was a question for the ages.

A swipe or two of lipstick always gave you the courage you needed in any occasion. But then again, this was not merely any occasion. This was lunch with your boyfriends mother to officially meet her and get to know her, because you were in a serious committed relationship with her son. Because you loved her son.

Oh, and her son was the king, so there were expectations on that already plus with her being the Queen Mother, that was sorta already an expectation of its own.

Lipstick?

No lipstick?

You wanted to look your best because the Queen Mother always looked immaculate. But you also didn’t want to risk getting lipstick on your teeth. Leading you to peer once more into the bathroom mirror.

No. No lipstick. If you put on lipstick you’d be thinking about your lipstick and you needed to focus on making a good impression.

Otherwise, your makeup looked fabulous. Really. Five stars. Two thumbs up.

This had you stuffing your makeup back into your purse and kinda sorta looking up when the bathroom door opened, shut and was locked. Because really. Why would the door be locking?

In the art deco styled bathroom, Steve’s form was very clear and your eyebrows shot up.

Luckily, you were alone, considering how beyond pissed off he looked. One hundred and ten percent not fit to have lunch with his mother. Not with him in this condition.

You had no idea what happened, but something had happened.

He crossed the red and white marble tiled floor. Walked past the gilded edged stalls and stained-glass doors to where you stood at one of four sinks with bronze fixtures and ornately framed mirrors.

To be honest, it was your favorite bathroom of all time. Your Instagram was full of pictures of this bathroom, selfies in this bathroom, up-close pictures of the stained glass.

“Are you ok?”

Beneath his smoothly shaven face, his jaw twitched. “Fine. Are you ready?”

He was tense enough you wouldn’t have been shocked if his joints started to pop, or his teeth cracked from how hard he was clenching his jaw.

Seeing him like this was a no go for Queen Sarah. Everyone knew that she hated to see her son like this and at first you never knew why, not until someone had told you that her husband had the same mannerisms. Steve’s father done the same thing when he had been angry.

While it was common knowledge that Steve was not his father, Steve would never hit his mother.

Some memories could just never be wiped clean.

Having Steve like this was not how you wanted this first lunch with his mother to go. Not one bit. Both of them needed to be on cloud fucking nine. Meaning you were going to have to do something.

“Almost,” was what you told him. A plan already set into motion as you grabbed a few paper towels from the bronze dish that held them between sinks.

One last peek at your hair and you were set. Purse in hand. You stepped on over to press your lips to the flat firm line that was Steve’s mouth. “Could you hold this for me?”

Steve never questioned you or thought twice.

Whether it was from love or trust, or he was too angry over whatever? No one would ever know.

But you seized the moment! Pounced on the opportunity.

You acted as if you were going to check your pumps and instead, set down the paper towels so you could kneel at his feet. Before Steve even had a second to think about it, you had his pants unbuttoned, unzipped and down around his knees. Knowing that the king went commando that morning worked seamlessly into your plan.

His dick hung softly between his muscular creamy thighs.

“What are you doing?”

“Hold my purse with both hands, Your Majesty.”

Though soft, his size was still above average. His penis was solid. Thick. A pink tip peeked out beneath foreskin that was stretched over his member. Soft as velvet, you kissed his slit as you pushed his foreskin up to reveal his shaft.

“Remember the first time I ever saw your dick?”

You sank down on his soft flesh after, sucking him in till nearly all of him fit in your mouth. It rarely happened. Only when he wasn’t erect. When Steve was erect, it wasn’t physically possible unless you unhinged your jaw and didn’t have a gag reflex.

“Oh god…” he gasped out at the warm and wet sensation of your mouth closing around him. Cold air on his ass cheeks. Exposed. Vulnerable. His sac hanging heavy and you down on your knees, taking nearly all of him in your mouth.

Steve clung to your purse like a lifeline.

Thinking back, you hummed out thoughtfully, knowing how fantastic the vibrations felt on him. Knowing that the warm softness that was his dick would soon harden. Until then, you enjoyed how you could take him like this. You relished the smell of him, musky and male. Savored how smooth his skin was on your tongue. Reached up and cupped his testicles that hung down for you.

It’d been at a fundraiser.

A black-tie affair for something or another, who could remember?

The two of you had stolen away towards the end, snuck off when everyone was mingling together and socializing. Slightly tipsy or buzzed from the open bar.

Not the two of you.

No.

Both of you had barely drank. Focused instead on getting away so you could steal some moments together. Moments like these. Moments where your hands were all over one another, your mouths hungry for one another. Frantic for that connection between your bodies that nature demanded and you both were trying so hard to make happen.

Tonight was the night though.

You were determined.

Sucking him deep. Swirling your tongue around him. You could feel Steve starting to thicken up which had you popping off his mouth and surveying the sight of his dick taking on a pinkish hue as blood filled it.

“Are you thinking about it, Your Majesty? About how fucking big your cock is? About how it shocked me? Remember?”

Based alone on the sound that came from Steve, you could deduce that he remembered. Possibly even vividly.

“I remember,” you cooed, licking his pink head and suckling on the end of his dick. Flicking against the hole with your tongue. Massaging his balls. Taking his hardening shaft in your other hand. Needing him to feel only you. Needing him to be here with you. “It was the biggest dick I’d ever seen in my life.”

”You don’t have to.” He had whispered to you in a dark corner of the atrium. Hidden by plants and furniture.

Not that you’d cared.

By that point he had gone down on your countless times and you’d never seen it. Only feeling it through his pants when you’d made-out or groped him, when your bodies rubbed against one another in a frantic urge for completion.

“Jesus Christ Steve! You’re the only man I know who doesn’t want his dick sucked.”

“It’s not that…” he came back with, pausing and finally giving in, allowing you to unzip the black pants of his tux and yank them down. Pull them down and out it popped.

Erect.

Hard. So hard.

Foreskin drawn back to reveal an angry red head smeared with pre-cum.

It was massive, a beast, the hugest dick you’d ever laid eyes on and from on your knees, in a ballgown, made up to feel like a princess. You gasped. You straight up gasped like you were a teenage girl seeing your very first penis. Albeit, the one that was so full of blood it bobbed eye level with you, pointing upwards, was considerably more impressive and probably five inches longer than that first ever dick, easy. As you didn’t exactly have a tape measure on you for comparison.

“Oh my god…” you whispered, well aware that your eyes were wide and mouth was very likely a perfect O. “It’s so big! It’s like the biggest I’ve ever seen! Steve your dick is huge! What do you feed it?”

His voice was a bit concerned. Embarrassed even?

Was he embarrassed about this behemoth in his pants?

“I’m sorry, I know. It can be uncomfortable to give me oral sex. You really don’t have to. I don’t expect.”

But you had cut him off with grabby hands wrapping around his erection, pushing up his foreskin and licking the salty jizz that was starting to ooze out. “Shut up, Your Majesty. Tell me how you want it.” In your ministrations you had lifted up his generous manhood and set eyes upon the heavy balls that hung down between his thighs. “Holy Canada! You have a set of balls to match. You have no idea how much fun I’m going to have fitting those in my mouth.”

When you finally ripped your eyes away from his sexual organ, you shook your head and admonished him severely. “I cannot believe you’d keep this from me!”

Exactly how you knew Steve liked, you sucked on his head and played with the tip of your tongue on his hole. You took him as deep as you could as his erection grew harder and harder in your mouth. Tracing your tongue along the sides and pumping him with your hand until his girth grew so wide, you were unable to touch your fingertips around him.

Up and down you sank on his cock. Till he was rigid beneath your lips and you drug your teeth along at times to heighten the sensation.

Slurping. Squeezing his balls. Hollowing out your cheeks and swallowing any salty release that began to dribble out. You savored the sight of his fingers clenching your purse tightly and his eyes screwed shut.

Between languid trips up and down his length, you pulled off to lick his blunt tip with the flat of your tongue.

“What are you thinking about, My King?”

At first, you didn’t think he would or could answer, which was fine. Your attention was on the round edge of his organ. Licking it. Flicking it with your tongue. Playing with it till you sank back down.

After a few seconds.

After a deep breath from Steve.

After that, he managed to get out.

“Thinking about that night. The night I took your maidenhead.”

Your maidenhead?

Well, that was a trip to past. It sent your eyes up and your mouth back off him so you could speak without a mouth full of dick. “Mmm. Thinking about how you went crazy? How you went all feral and popped my cherry?”

In your hand his penis twitched.

It was too perfect an opportunity to not pounce upon it.

If you couldn’t make him come from saying these filthy disgusting true things to him, did you really deserve to marry this man? “Your Majesty? Does it turn you on to think about my having been a virgin? About how you’re the only man to ever be in my body? Do you remember how tight I was? How hard you had to push to break my hymen?”

Little motions came from Steve. Whether he knew it or not. He was making small thrusts into your mouth that you hummed around, sucked on.

Something hit the floor.

Hands were on your head, fingers were in your hair. A wicked smile curled over your lips and Steve was methodically pumping into your mouth.

He sounded strained. He sounded like he was in pain.

“Felt so good. You’re so good to me. My angel. You were so tight.” He declared, announced, would have shouted to the heavens if he was capable. Each word came out in cadence. Almost in a chant. “Felt so good. Feels so good still. You’re mine. You’re mine. You’re mine.” On top of feeling you sucking him deep. Paired with your fingers holding his testicles tight. Mixed with your fist wrapped around his base. It was a glorious storm coming together to make him shatter.

Steve was going to come. He was going to come like right now.

It sent his thoughts spiraling along with his words.

“Love you. Love your body. Love being in you. So warm and tight and mine. All mine. All of you is mine. Want you. Want to fill you. Want want want.”

Gasping out. His breath gone. All air left his lungs when Steve climaxed into your mouth. A pitched noise did come that was followed with his fingers pulling your face against him, his pelvis pushing into you. A moan that made him weak in the knees followed that told him you were pleased with him. You were happy.

If he died in the next moment, he would have been a happy man.

All Steve could feel was pleasure. It consumed him body. It whited out his mind. It made his balls empty into the warmth of your mouth, till he was certain that nothing remained.

Even then you weren’t done.

Helpless. Awestruck.

Hopelessly devoted, Steve watched you drag your tongue around him to clean him up. Catching the last few spurts of ejaculate on your tongue before you showed him, then swallowed his seed.

Rendering him panting and sweaty.

He dropped down onto his knees and he kissed you. Mindless. Unable to think about anything else other than your mouth and being lucky enough to have convinced you to be his woman. Steve kissed you deeply, uncaring about the fact he could taste himself, unconcerned when his tongue curled around yours that he might have gotten some of his own ejaculate. His Majesty didn’t care.

Nor was he overly concerned about his knees being on the cold marble tile when he groaned against your mouth. “Love you. Love you so much. Love you to the moon and back.”

[gravelyhumerus]

Criminal Minds College AU - Chapter Seventeen

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Title: “I may just take your breath away”

Relationship: Jemily

Summary:

Exams, pizza, board games... what more could a girl ask for?

Slow-burn Jemily college AU where they live across the hall and despite all odds, the universe pushes them together. AKA they’re silly gay babies who pine after each other for months.

Read it on AO3

Tumblr:  One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, (bonus scene), Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty

 “That was a lot of chess,” Emily complained, nearly chugging her latte as she and Spencer left the coffee shop. 

She pulled her beanie onto her head and braced herself for the snow as the taller boy held the door open for her. Emily almost slipped on the slushy tile floor on her way out but managed to keep her balance. 

“Fifteen of the multiple-choice questions to be precise,” Spencer replied. The salted sidewalk crunched under their feet as they made their way across campus. 

“I’m so glad it’s finally over,” she admitted. “I think I’ve had enough philosophy to last me a lifetime.” 

“I’m enrolled in ‘Minds and Machines’ next semester,” he said. “I think I might try and get a double minor this time around.”

“What’s the goal? Three PhDs by the time you’re 24?” Emily quipped. 

He was well on his way, having completed his engineering degree before she managed to graduate high school. He was 17, only two years younger than her, but somehow seemed like a kid. A kid with more education crammed into his brain than she could ever master in her life.

“Something like that,” he replied with a smile. His hair was getting long and he had tied it back during the exam. With last names starting with P and R, they were seated near each other in the large exam hall, and she glanced over at him as he fussed with his hair. 

They stopped at the red light, watching as the cars and busses wooshed past them, sending the slush flying into the snowbanks. It had been a fairly sunny day, but bitterly cold. Now, the sun was setting and the campus was bathed in a warm golden glow. The snow had fallen the night before, leaving fluffy white snow covering their campus. 

Emily had spent most of the day holed up in the library with Spencer, with him quizzing her on fallacies and philosophers. With his eidetic memory, he only really needed to read the material once. Earlier in the semester, she did feel useful when it came to editing each other’s essays. He always got bogged down with detail, word vomiting everything he knew, and she helped him with his structure and argumentation. 

More studying awaited her back in her room. She rubbed at the back of her neck as she thought about the upcoming evening spent hunched over her desk studying criminal justice, a subject that left her questioning her degree half the time as she was forced to learn about the muddled ethics of justice. 

That week, she had survived on minimal sleep, eating mostly bagels and coffee to sustain her. Her body was protesting with each step, and she had suffered from a constant tension headache for as long as she remembered. At least her college had that golden retriever walk around at the library yesterday, she thought to herself, sarcastically. Animal therapy definitely relieved all her stress. As if petting a dog for five minutes would fix the anxiety of finals season. 

Two more exams, she reminded herself. You’ll make it. 

Despite this mantra, Emily was conflicted. While finals were killing her, the end of the semester also meant winter break. Emily would be forced to go “home” for the holidays. For most college students, that meant going back to their respective towns and being surrounded by their loved ones. Emily, on the other hand, didn’t have anywhere she called home. Last winter break, her mom had at least been in DC, and Emily was able to catch up with some of her international school friends who were in the city. This time, her mom was stationed in London, and Emily knew she’d be roped back into her old life. She didn’t know anyone there and knew most of her break would be spent alone. 

The last place she had called home was Rome, and now that was tarnished by her complicated past with that city. 

Emily was good at being alone. Being an only child of a workaholic single mom meant she learned to keep her own company. She read a lot. She got good at running away, escaping her nannies, and skirting security in order to roam free. She’d be fine. 

The problem was that Emily had gotten used to this. She rarely spent a moment alone these days. Whether it was walking to class with Spencer, or Hotch, or Derek, getting lunch with the team, surprise coffee dates with Penelope and spending almost every evening with her girlfriend, she hadn’t been left alone in ages. She didn’t miss it. 

Their residence building had a warm yellow light shining out of the windows and a soft red brick facade. In the summer, ivy grew up the south facing side but in the winter, the ledges were covered in snow and the stone steps were slippery. She trudged forward, excited for the warm embrace of the dorm. 

Spencer had other plans. He reached into the garish yellow plastic newspaper box that was stationed next to their doorway and retrieved this week’s newspaper. 

“Come on Reid,” Emily said. “Just subscribe to the newsletter or something like the rest of us.”

He held up the cover to her in surprise. Usually it reported the news of a recent sports victory, or a change of policy announced by the administrators, or even a fun event held on campus. Sometimes there was even a dramatic protest or an important speaker coming to campus. But this week, the headline surprised her. In large font printed across the page read: “Multiple student politicians fired amid financial scandal.” 

“That sounds bad,” Emily said. It did seem way more dramatic on newsprint than on a website, so maybe Spencer was onto something with his affinity for the printed word. 

Grabbing a copy for herself, she then walked inside to escape the cold. Warm air greeted them as they entered their residence hall, and both students kicked the snow off their boots before trudging up the stairs. They read as they walked, but the route to their rooms was already muscle memory, so neither worried about stumbling on their way. 

Normally, Emily wouldn’t willingly touch this sort of student politics with a ten foot pole. Sure, she was involved with the Criminology council, but there was a difference between the kind of person interested in petitioning for better accessibility to faculty events or running a bake sale, and the kind of students to embezzle thousands of student dollars like what the current student government executive seemed to be accused of doing. 

She quickly ran her eyes down the page, the contents jogging a memory from Halloween, of Hotch and JJ discussing the early stirrings of said scandal. 

“You know,” Spencer said, “I’m surprised they got a lot of this information, it’s notoriously difficult to file FOIAs for student governments, as they’re technically private corporations. So the fact that they got these files means that this is a much bigger scandal than one might assume.”

Corruption, bribery, embezzlement, nepotism. All words that jogged memories of hiding in the corner of political fundraisers, overhearing the worst of politics from too-drunk elites sipping on their wine and munching on charcuterie. 

“I hate politics,” Emily said, stuffing her copy of the paper into her bag. 

“I find it interesting. It’s basically a microcosm of our current political climate. In fact, I have subscribed to the print edition of fifteen student papers in the region,” Spencer said, “I like to keep informed on the coverage of student issues, and compare them to our own.”

“Why?!” Emily said with a laugh. “You know you can just look them up online.”

Spencer gave her a withering look, and she should have known better than asking about his aversion to tech. He loathed having to use his computer, as the LCD screens apparently gave him a headache. Penelope even gave him a pair of blue light glasses to attempt to alleviate the issue.

Then, he began to speak, at length, about the dying printed news industry and why print copies were better for understanding than screens et cetera. She made sure to nod and hum at appropriate points, but her mind kept wandering. 

She wondered if her girlfriend was in her room. Emily missed her any time they were apart and she yearned to hold her in her arms once again. But she shouldn’t. She needed to work. She had too much to do. Her grades had slipped, slightly, this semester. Everyone warned her about how college would be harder than high school, but no one ever warned her how much the expectations were raised in second year. 

Two more exams. She clutched her coffee tighter. She’d rather do anything else besides study at this point. Her body was exhausted, her mind frazzled. She wondered if she could even manage to get through a chapter of revision before conking out on her desk. 

As she said goodbye to Spencer and struggled with her keys that were tangled up in their corresponding university-branded lanyard, JJ’s door opened.  

“Hey girlfriend,” JJ greeted her, sounding way too much like a straight girl greeting her platonic friend for Emily’s taste. She gave her a pass because it sounded cute in her voice. 

“JJ!” Emily said, somehow surprised to see her despite the fact that she lived right across the hall. Her girlfriend was dressed in sweatpants and an oversized sweater, with her straight hair tucked behind her ears and her face bare of make up. Her face was lit up with a smile, and Emily rushed towards her, planting a soft kiss on her lips.

“Hi JJ,” Spencer said as Emily and JJ kissed. 

When they pulled apart, JJ gave Spencer a smile as a greeting and asked them how their exam went. 

Spencer babbled about their Logic exams for a minute or two, as Emily basked in JJ’s presence. She grabbed onto her hand and found that it was so much hotter than her own and wasn’t sure if she held on tight because she was cold, or if she had missed her girlfriend. 

“I’m just glad it’s over,” Emily said. “I never want to hear about fallacies again.”

Spencer seemed to want to say something, but fell silent at Emily’s tired expression. 

“Wanna come in for a bit?” JJ whispered in Emily’s ear. Apparently she said so a touch too loud because Spencer replied instead. 

“Sure!” he said, and then walked into JJ and Penelope’s room. 

“I should really study,” Emily tried to argue, but a single glance into JJ’s deep, blue eyes had Emily melting. 

JJ’s room was much messier than Emily had last seen it. Both desks showed clear markers of the ongoing exams, with papers and books piled high. In addition to this was an assortment of pillows strewn all over the floor.

“You guys are back early!” JJ said, after checking her watch, “I thought it was a two hour exam?”

“I finished in an hour,” Spencer said, “and Emily only needed an extra half hour on top of my time.”

Damn straight, Emily thought, feeling somewhat competitive with the boy-genius despite herself. 

She really should study, but the prospect of seeing her girlfriend outweighed the desire to sit hunched over a textbook for another evening. 

Emily and Spencer kicked off their boots, placing them neatly on the mat by the door before peeling their jackets off and hanging them on the back of her door. Emily wasn’t sure if she liked winter. Whenever her mother was stationed in the Middle East she yearned for snow, but now that she was experiencing the Nor’easter for the first time, the desert sounded like a good time. 

“Well there goes my plan,” JJ said, blowing her hair out of her face with a puff of air.

Spencer flopped onto Penelope’s neatly-made bed, collapsing into the assortment of pink pillows while carefully keeping his take-away cup upright. Emily sat down next to JJ on her bed.

“Your plan?” Emily asked. 

“Yeah,” JJ said, sounding a bit shy. “I had this whole plan to make up a blanket fort here for you, and I would surprise you with it when you walked in.’”

JJ gestured with her hands at the mess. Blankets and pillows were strewn about, and a bundle of fairy lights were laying in the middle of the floor. 

“Then you came back early,” JJ concluded. “Spence, I thought you’d keep her occupied longer!”

“You didn’t tell me that,” he replied. Spencer looked quizzically at her, shrugged, then took another sip of his coffee.

“I just wanted us to have a cute date night,” JJ admitted. “I know you’re so stressed, and you deserve a break.” 

Emily grabbed her girlfriend’s moving hands and held them in her own. She felt overwhelmed. JJ was so… thoughtful. Caring. Attentive. So many things that were absolutely foreign to Emily. No one had ever tried to impress her like this. 

“It’s okay,” Emily said. “We don’t need anything special to have a cute date night. You’re cute enough.”

JJ gave Emily a goofy smile in response. 

“Okay,” JJ said. “If you say so.”

“You’re building a blanket fort?” Spencer asked. “I actually have some experience with blanket fort architecture.”

“You do?” JJ asked, raising her eyebrows skeptically.

“Of course,” he replied, seeming almost offended that she questioned him. “It sparked my interest in engineering. I wanted to overcome the problem of chair-tippage when it came to building the structure, so I devised a system of counter-weights that I found increased the structural integrity by 53%. My mom always told me that I could be an architect, but I thought the sciences better suited my intellect.”

“Oh?” Emily asked, genuinely interested. How would someone measure the structural integrity of a blanket fort? 

“Actually, I have some blueprints. Let me grab them,” he said, standing up and making a move for the door. 

“Of course you have blueprints,” JJ laughed. 

“I should probably go feed Gideon, anyway. I’ll be right back!” Spencer  said. Before closing the door behind him.

“Gideon?” Emily asked. 

“His fish,” JJ said, “the one he won at the fair. It’s named after his professor, I think.”

She shrugged. The kid was weird, they tended to just accept that. 

“I guess Spencer’s joining us on date night,” JJ said. “Sorry. I know you’re stressed and probably want to be studying, but I thought we’d order pizza and just have one night off. Just us. And Spencer.”

JJ planted a firm kiss on Emily’s lips, leaving her dazed and blushing. 

“Relaxing sounds perfect,” Emily said, pulling her girlfriend closer to her. “I can’t believe it’s already exams. This semester has flown by. Soon it’ll be winter break, and I won’t get to see you.”

“I can’t imagine you not being right across the hall,” JJ said. “Who will give me kisses when I want them?”

JJ kissed Emily, sucking on Emily’s bottom lip slightly before pulling apart to look at her. 

“I know you’re joking, but I hope you’re not kissing anybody else, no matter the circumstances.”

With that established, Emily pounced on her girlfriend, pushing her onto her bed and kissing her deeply. She intertwined her fingers in the blonde locks that were splayed out in a golden halo and breathed in deep, taking in the warm scent of the lilac candle that burnt on her night side table. 

All her worries melted away at JJ’s touch. Emily’s brain was filled with the feeling of JJ’s lips on hers, with her lithe form beneath her. Exams, student politics and thoughts of home were wiped away, and her stress faded into background noise. 

JJ’s pliant form writhed under Emily’s, her hands sneaking below Emily’s sweater and dancing over her back. They deepened the kiss until they were making out like teenagers in JJ’s dorm with the door still open a crack. 

This was how Spencer, accompanied by Derek, found them when they pushed open the door with blanket fort blueprints and bags of potato chips in hand. 

Spencer made a surprised noise, which made Emily aware of his return. She jumped up and pulled apart from JJ with a dark red blush gracing her cheeks. 

“Woah there ladies,” Derek said with a laugh. “Keep it in your pants!”

“Guys! I was gone for five minutes!” Spencer whined. 

Emily stood up awkwardly, stuffing her hands in her pockets as she watched JJ sit up and pat her hair down in a huff.

“Sorry,” Emily grumbled, not really meaning it. She would never be sorry for kissing JJ, but she was sorry for the awkwardness

“Pretty boy dragged me down the hall,” Derek said in explanation. He had Spencer’s rolled-up fort plans in his hand, and lightly smacked Emily’s head with it, making a comedic thwap noise as it made contact. “Hope you weren’t in the middle of something?”

“Only JJ’s legs,” Emily quipped to everyone’s surprise, even her own. JJ hit her jokingly and blushed. 

“Hey!” Derek laughed, “Let’s keep this PG!”

“You called?” The voice of Penelope Garcia—PG if you will—rang out from the hallway, and within seconds JJ’s room was filled with just about all their friends standing around in a slightly awkward silence: JJ, Emily, Spencer and Derek were joined by Penelope with Hotch in tow. 

The latter two of them had grown closer recently and walked into the room with white shopping bags with the walrus logo printed on the side, looking like they had just returned from out in the cold. Penelope and Hotch going thrifting together, that’s new! Emily thought to herself and decided to file the observation for later. The image of Hotch watching Penelope’s customary fashion show was enough to make her laugh under her breath. 

“We’re building a blanket fort,” Spencer announced, changing the subject to the task at hand. “Are you guys helping?”

“Oh you know I will, boy genius,” Penelope said with an excited smile. 

Emily looked over to her girlfriend. So much for date night.

———

Without much questioning about why they were building a blanket fort, the team got to work. In college, sometimes things just happened. Impromptu blanket forts were par the course. In their defense, any excuse to not spend the evening burying their heads in textbooks was a welcome reprieve. 

It started with just a few blankets draped in the space between JJ and Penelope’s beds, but with Spencer’s instruction, a verifiable architectural marvel began to take shape. 

While Emily knew that Penelope would be all gung ho for this sort of project, it was certainly amusing to see Hotch in his khakis and dress shirt crawling around on the floor like a child with the rest of them, tying off blankets and very seriously maneuvering the different parts of the structure. 

Sheets were draped here and there, tied together to form ceilings and walls. Two chairs stolen from the common room, loaded with backpacks on the seat for support acted as the entrance to the fort. 

While it was crawling space only, Emily had to note that there was a sense of awe when you emerged into the open space of the main fort-area. It was surprisingly big, fitting all six of them with ease. The key to the whole design was a curtain rod Hotch had stolen from the boys shower that lifted the roof up. 

The design was strangely reminiscent of Baroque architecture, which she was sure was due to Spencer’s designs. This was a fact that Emily kept to herself. She always tried to rein in the ‘I lived abroad’ conversation points so her childhood could remain under minimal scrutiny.

Emily’s exhaustion transformed into excitement as she relished the time hanging out with her friends. Music played from Penelope’s computer as they worked, they began to work as a cohesive group, each member doing their share. It was nice to do something besides sit at her desk and obsess over memorizing facts and statistics, or figuring out the proper argumentation for an essay on a subject. Making sure that a bunch of blankets didn’t crash onto them was treated with the utmost seriousness, and the whole group was focused with intense concentration at their own tasks. 

Spencer did, in fact, have literal sketches of blanket forts in his notebooks, but the details of which were fairly incomprehensible to her. While she believed that he did the math, his chicken scratch was just about indecipherable, and his drawing was little more than a few shapes on a page. Despite this, it was laid out on the centre of the dorm-room floor for them to reference. 

At one point, as Emily stood on JJ’s wheely chair, she feared that the fort had all come crashing down as she lost her balance and grabbed at the blankets to stop her fall before tumbling onto Derek with a yelp. 

“Sorry,” she muttered as she climbed back onto her feet and fought off the blanket that had wrapped her in a shroud. 

She flinched as she realized she had ruined it all, a pit forming in her stomach. She looked at her friends in concern, but instead of yelling at her for her mistake, or shunning her for ruining it for the rest of them, they smiled at her and helped her up.

“It’s okay!” Spencer said cheerfully. “I know exactly how to reinforce that wall.”

“You okay, Emily?” Hotch asked, righting the wheely chair as JJ fretted over her. 

“I’m good,” she answered, still confused as to why they weren’t mad at her. 

Instead of making a big deal over the set back, they went back to work. Soon, the fort filled out and it returned to its former glory. Arguably, better than it was because they had draped fairy lights throughout the inside, making the space glow with a warm orange light. 

Inside was filled with pillows and big enough for all of them to sit comfortably so it was a comfy lounge space. It was cozy and warm, the antithesis of the bitterly cold night air outside. 

“You know what?” Hotch said. “This is a damned good fort, Reid.” 

The group muttered in consensus. They all had piled into the space, and as the excitement wore off, Emily was wondering what happened next. What does one do in a blanket fort? She had vague memories of building one in her room, but she had just sat inside and read a book. 

“I hear the RA’s storage room has a ton of board games,” Penelope said. “They pull them out for socials and stuff.”

“That’s all well and good, but we’re not asking Strauss to let us in,” Derek argued. “I still think she thinks we were responsible for that fire alarm last week. She’s been giving me the evil eye ever since.”

“Who said we had to tell her?” Emily said. “We could just… borrow… them…”

“I mean, they are for us to use, anyway.” JJ’s eyes had a mischievous look in them as she looked at Emily.

“That is true,” Hotch said, the scowl that was usually a fixture on his face turning to a smirk. 

“That’s stealing, guys,” Spencer warned, as if they didn’t already know that. 

“We’ll give them back,” Emily said with a shrug. “Come on!”

Penelope led the way to a dark wooden door on the main floor, it was labelled simply “Storage,” but the computer science student assured them that it was where the RA’s stored all of their supplies.

“It’s locked,” Penelope huffed.

“Do you have a bobby pin?” Emily asked her in a hushed voice. She wouldn’t have gotten this far if she hadn’t learned how to pick simple door locks. She had trouble with deadbolts but a simple latch she could probably do within a couple of minutes.

The blonde pulled a hot pink bobby pin out of her perfectly curled hair. Emily snapped it into two, bending one end into a longer L-shape. Sticking that into the bottom of the lock and holding it in place, she used the other side to feel for the pins that held the lock in place. 

Emily could feel all eyes on her as she confidently knelt in front of the doorknob, the group keeping watch for her as she worked. No one questioned how or why Emily knew how to do this. She had her reasons. 

This definitely broke all sorts of residence rules and if they got caught, they knew they’d get into shit, but no one seemed to care that much. They just wouldn’t get caught. 

After a couple minutes, Emily’s hands began to sweat. What if she couldn’t do this anymore? She tried to centre herself. She had made it through infinitely more stressful situations in the past. It was the eyes of her friends on her that made her nervous. She was finally accepted by a group, and she desperately didn’t want to let them down. 

Then, it clicked, and she was able to turn the brass knob easily. Emily made a noise of excitement, got to her feet and yanked the door open. 

Instead of an empty storage closet, on the other side of the door was Erin Strauss, their RA, in a passionate embrace with David Rossi. Her shirt was unbuttoned and he was in the middle of sucking on her neck. 

“Dave?!” Hotch called out, startling the couple. 

Both groups stood stock-still, neither knowing what to say. While Emily had hid the bobby pins, she wasn’t sure who was in more trouble, them for breaking into the room or their RA for using the space for unofficial purposes. 

The room was small and cramped, with a pile of poster board mostly obscuring the one small window that lit the space. Strauss had been hoisted onto the desk, her legs straddling the other student. Emily could see a shelf filled with the board games stacked on the left side of the room, but they seemed unimportant at the moment. While Emily had known about their illicit love affair, she had never expected to see it in action. 

“Hey guys,” Rossi said after a moment, his unwavering confidence carrying on to this moment as he pulled apart from Strauss, who was furiously buttoning up her shirt and trying to sort herself out. 

“What are you all doing in here?” she demanded, standing up and putting her hands on her hips. “This room’s meant for RA’s only.”

“Well,” Emily said, startled by her own audacity, “Dave isn’t an RA so…”

“We just came for some board games,” JJ said in her most diplomatic voice, despite clearly wanting to laugh at the situation, “then we’ll be off.”

“Take them and go,” the RA said in a strangled voice, her face beet-red and as she avoided eye contact like it was the plague. 

Clearly not as embarrassed as Strauss, Rossi simply smirked, collected a few board games into his arms off of the shelf, then deposited them into Emily’s arms. 

Realizing that given the circumstances, they couldn’t be picky with their choices, the stunned group thanked him then scurried away, back upstairs with their loot. The silence remained until they made it back to their floor, where they all burst into laughter.

“What on earth was that?!” Derek exclaimed. 

“Rossi and Strauss,” Spencer muttered. 

Emily and JJ made eye contact, remembering all those weeks ago when they had caught their friend emerging from the RA’s room down the hall in the middle of the night. They had known that Rossi and Strauss had hooked up that night, but had no idea that it was a whole relationship.

“I see it,” Hotch commented. “I mean, I don’t know your RA too well, but Rossi likes a woman with authority.”

Derek and Emily fake-gagged in an exaggerated manner at the comment. 

“I think I need to bleach my eyeballs after that display,” Emily muttered. 

“Ooo-kay!” JJ said, pointedly changing the subject. “It seems like we have most of the pieces to Clue… I think we could manage a game of that. We also have Scrabble, Yahtzee and Snakes and Ladders. Uh… also a pack of cards.”

“At least it’s not chess,” Emily said, thinking about her seemingly endless exam that afternoon. 

“Agreed,” Spencer said. 

“We do not have chess, no,” JJ said with a quizzical laugh. 

———

After ordering a couple of pizzas to the dorm, they all settled in to play a board game. After a few minutes of debate, they decided to play Clue (or Cluedo as Emily continuously referred to it as). The board was laid out: it was vintage, with a teal and yellow colour scheme and some scuffs and rips showing its age. In their blanket fort, they were seated in a circle, all secretly looking at their Clue cards.

“Can I be Professor Plum?” Spencer asked before they had even gotten the pieces out of the box. 

“Of course pretty boy,” Derek said, “I’ll take Mr. Green.”

“My sculpted god of thunder looks excellent in green,” Penelope flirted, choosing the white piece for herself. 

“Did you know that in the original version of Clue, Mr Green was a Reverend, but they changed his name for American audience because they believed that the American public would object to a parson as a murder suspect?”

“Good thing you’re on our trivia team, Reid,” Hotch replied.  

Emily was Miss Scarlet, of course, and was seated right next to JJ, who had chosen to portray Mrs. Peacock. Hotch claimed the remaining piece: Colonel Mustard.

Emily loved board games. Her nanny in France, who was a kindly elderly woman that Emily only knew as “Madame,” would play with her each Sunday after church. She has hazy memories from that time, but the warm glow of sunlight streaming into their Parisian apartment as she learned how to play Cluedo. Emily would always try to cheat, but knew better than to try to do so with her immensely observant girlfriend seated to her left, JJ’s hand resting casually on Emily’s thigh.

She looked at her cards and grinned. She had been dealt her own character, she noted, as Miss Scarlet’s name was printed in bold on the top of her first card. It felt weirdly validating to know that she herself was innocent. Also in her hands were the cards for the candlestick and pistol, as well as the observatory. She marked these off of her card and tried to gauge her opponents' reactions. 

JJ was checking her phone with her cards face down, tracking the pizza’s arrival. Spencer was sprawled back, his long legs taking up way more room than was necessary, jotting down notes on some scrap paper. Presumably some statistics and probability for the possibilities of the cards that were sealed in the envelope in the centre of the board. Penelope smiled over at Derek and flirtatiously tried to sneak a peek at his hand. 

After the initial rounds being dedicated to moving around the board, Emily finally made it into her first room: the lounge. There, she decided on her first suggestion.

“I suggest,” Emily said, in her most dramatic, formal voice, which was particularly suited to the role of Miss Scarlet, “that Mrs. Peacock committed this heinous crime in the Lounge with-” she hurriedly grabbed the candlestick, “the candlestick!”

She knew that it wasn’t the correct weapon, but using it would narrow it down to someone ruling out either JJ’s character or the lounge as the scene of the crime. 

“Moi?!” JJ said, sounding almost offended at the accusation. “Your own girlfriend?!”

Emily grinned evilly at her, but internally she felt giddy. It was the first time she heard JJ use that word in front of their friends. JJ moved her piece into the Lounge. The others chuckled lightly at their antics.

“You have no alibi for the crime, Mrs. Peacock,” Emily said, “and I am merely making a suggestion.”

JJ glared at her, but said nothing. Emily turned to Derek, who was seated at her left. 

“What do I do?” Derek asked, looking around the room, slightly confused. 

“Do you have any of those cards?” Hotch asked. 

“Yeah-” Derek said, moving to show his hand. 

“No!” Penelope stopped him. “Just show one of your cards to Emily if you can prove her suggestion was wrong.”

He made an “o” with his mouth and sneakily showed Emily the Lounge card. Emily noted that, and that it was Derek’s card. Mrs. Peacock had yet to be proven innocent, and Emily gave JJ a suspicious glance. 

She loved this game. 

As the game progressed, Emily noted a few things about her opponents. A part of Emily was profiling her friends subconsciously, reading each of their strategies like a book. 

Penelope always seemed to luck out on her dice rolls, covering a lot of terrain and gathering information like it was a cup of tea. But, she seemed to take it personally when someone accused Mrs. White of having killed Mr. Boddy and gasped every time someone made that suggestion. 

Hotch seemed to take the game very seriously, and was at it like he was an actual police officer solving crime. But, it didn’t seem that he completely understood all of the rules, and definitely hadn’t played before, so he spent most of his turn grumbling as he skimmed the rule pamphlet. 

Spencer, on the other hand, had memorized the rules, common strategies and probabilities of the different outcomes, so Hotch often looked over to him nervously as the boy wrote longhand equations in the notebook that he pulled out of his bag for the very occasion. 

Derek also had never played before, and regularly made ‘accusations’ rather than ‘suggestions’ when he entered a room, frustrating Spencer to no end. But, Derek was smart and seemed to be picking it up as he went along. That was until he made the same suggestion twice in a row, both times making Hotch show him the exact same card. He asked Reid endless questions about specific rules, and more than once he made the boy double check in the rule book when Derek tried to make a rather unorthodox move. 

JJ seemed to be the only one genuinely trying to have fun. She munched on the Cheetos that she stored in the bottom drawer of her night stand, and made conversation. Her strategy seemed to be exclusively focused on playing the game like it was the 1985 feature film Clue, playing the role of Mrs. Peacock with a fake accent and treating it like an actual murder-filled dinner party.

After a solid twenty minutes of gameplay, the pizza arrived. With minimal grumbling from Hotch, who was apparently on a roll, they took a break to eat. 

“Did you see this?” Spencer said with his mouth full, lifting up the copy of the newspaper that he had grabbed earlier.

“Don’t get me started,” JJ grumbled and took a sip of her pop. 

“What happened?” Hotch asked, the conversation piquing his interest. 

Spencer explained—with the assistance of JJ who apparently knew one of the people involved through soccer—the entire scandal. Apparently, last year there had been very little interest in the leadership roles, so the President of the student government had simply waltzed into his role. He then hired all of his friends, his girlfriend, his roommate, and together they embezzled thousands of dollars of student funds. 

“I can’t believe they’re getting away with this,” JJ muttered. “Is there no oversight?”

“It’s always the same,” Emily replied. “Who’s going to oversee them? The college? They’re corrupt too.”

“This sucks,” Derek said. “Wish someone good would run for government, for once.”

Emily shook her head in frustration. It all just reminded her of her childhood. Embezzlement, corruption and nepotism all were casual topics discussed over family dinner in her home. She had higher hopes for students her own age, would they not break the cycle? Or was it just a microcosm of the outside world? 

“You should run Mr. Lawyer Man,” Penelope teased Hotch. “You could take any of these clowns.”

Hotch raised an eyebrow at her and went back to his pizza, brushing her off. Emily smiled at him. Penelope was right, he might actually do a good job if he set his mind to it. 

The people that surrounded her now were nothing like her mother’s friends—or the kids she had been forced to hang out with when she was younger—they were genuinely kind, supportive, and seemed to like Emily for Emily. When she told them she was an ambassador’s daughter, they had been more concerned with the cool places that she had been able to travel to than whatever power she had. At college, Emily finally exhaled fully, slowly relaxing more and more into herself. 

But, the topic of politics always set her on edge, especially since the semester was ending soon. Her mother had already begun to leave her voicemails about the galas, fundraisers and events that she was required to attend over Christmas break. She pushed thoughts of the future aside and focused on the warmth that surrounded her. With some music playing softly (a song that JJ liked by Vampire Weekend), the softness of blankets under her, and JJ leaning on her slightly as she ate her dinner, Emily felt at peace. She knew she could handle winter break, because she knew that these friends would be here when she came back. 

After years of leaving a school midway through the year only to show up to some new boarding school or international school each time her mom was reassigned, Emily never had a chance to put down roots. But, with each bite of pizza, Emily felt herself becoming even more firmly rooted. Not to this place, but to these people as their lives became more entwined. 

Once dinner was over, the game continued, and thoughts of politics left their minds. By then, Emily narrowed it down to the weapon (the candlestick), two rooms (the kitchen and the billiard room) and she was pretty sure that it was Colonel Mustard that had committed the crime. 

She had a decision to make: walk all the way from the study to the billiard room, or risk being wrong by making an accusation. She was pretty sure both Hotch and Reid were on the right track, as the younger boy’s scribbling in his notebook had gotten even more intense and the older boy was beginning to look around suspiciously, as if the others were trying to read his notes. 

She had pretty much ruled out Penelope, JJ and Derek as competitors, as the trio spent most of the time talking, and genuinely trying to have fun. Emily, Reid and Hotch were all way too into it, but Emily was competitive and this was her game. She wasn’t going to lose to Hotch, no way. Reid winning she could blame on his boy-genius nature, but Emily decided that Hotch was going down. 

The two boys seemed to have come to the same conclusion, all eyeing each other across the board, the tension palatable between them as their competition became heated. 

She nervously tried to move to the billiards room, deciding to play it safe. Better safe than disqualified. But, as soon as she made that decision, she regretted it as Spencer straightened up on his turn and said: “I’d like to make my accusation.”

“Write it down,” JJ prompted, as per the rules. He jotted it down in his paper. 

Then, with bated breath, they watched as he grabbed the envelope out of the centre of the board, and read the cards. His face fell when he saw one of the cards, so he must have been wrong. He placed them back into their envelope and back onto the board. 

“No dice?” Emily asked. 

He shook his head. 

“Statistically speaking that should have been right,” he grumbled. “My math was wrong.”

“Boy genius isn’t a good detective, huh?” Penelope mused. 

A few turns went by, with Derek, Penelope, and JJ moving around the board or making suggestions. 

Emily rolled the dice, making one square from a room. She sighed. She’d make a suggestion next round. 

On Hotch’s next turn, he made an accusation, which he wrote down on a pink sticky note that Penelope had handed out when the game started. He checked the envelope. 

Emily held her breath. She was sure he had it and that the game was over. She should just call it quits now. She went to bite her nails out of stress, but stopped herself, they were starting to get long and she wanted them to look nice. 

A moment passed as Hotch compared his cards. After he saw the third card in the envelope, his expression revealed that was also wrong. 

Boys, Emily thought. Always so overconfident. 

She made a suggestion instead of risking it: “Miss Scarlet—er myself I guess— in the Billiards Room with the pistol.” 

It was a gamble. If she was right, and the people who knew she had her own card and the pistol caught on, they would also know that it was the Billiard Room, because no one would be able to disprove her theory. If she was wrong, someone would have the card for that room, and she would know that the crime occured in the Kitchen. 

The second seemed to be true, as Derek showed her his card with a small illustrated image of the Billiard Room on it. She was right. She knew what it was. But, she would have to wait until her next turn. She was going to win. 

But, it was she who was overconfident, because as she was too busy preemptively celebrating her win, Derek casually made his accusation. 

“Hey I’m right!” he exclaimed, holding up the cards and his own hot pink sticky note. 

In his semi-cursive scrawl read: “Colonel Mustard, Candlestick, Kitchen.” These guesses matched the cards hidden in the envelope, and Emily’s own deduction that she planned to make on her own turn. 

“You guys really thought I hadn’t played this game before?” Derek laughed. “I’ve got two sisters, board games were everything.”

“Were you hustling us, Morgan?” Spencer demanded. 

He smirked. 

“Should’ve put money on the outcome,” Derek said with a laugh. “I’d be rich.” 

Emily threw her cards onto the table in defeat. JJ shot her an empathetic look, and Emily tried to stuff her frustration down to pat her friend on the back for the surprising win. He deserved it.

———

After the game concluded and the pizza had been completely eaten, the group parted ways, heading to bed, or for more midnight snacks or to finish up some studying, leaving JJ and Emily alone and to start? a game of Scrabble. 

The board was ancient, and quite a few letters were missing, but with music droning on JJ’s laptop, and the soft fairy lights overhead, neither girl minded too much. 

Emily looked at her letters:  O, B, S, O, T, B, W and thought hard, rearranging the wooden pieces to try and formulate a word. After a long day of academia, and investing so heavily into the game of Clue, she probably had only one or two working brain cells and both were telling her to play the word ‘boobs.’  

Her eyes flicked to her girlfriend, who looked absolutely gorgeous in the warm light. Her blonde hair almost glowed, and she had an adorable expression on her face. Emily couldn’t help but glance lower, thinking about the real world examples of her Scrabble word.  

She played the word with a cheeky grin. 

“‘Boobs,’ Emily?” JJ scolded. “Really?”

She sounded angry, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at her cheeks and Emily could tell the girl found it funny. 

“I can’t help it,” Emily said. “I haven’t thought of much else since last weekend.”

She raised and lowered her eyebrows in an exaggerated manner, making JJ laugh and kick her lightly in protest. 

JJ then played the word ‘throw,’ using the ‘o’ from ‘boobs’ to form her word, earning her thirteen points. 

“I don’t think you can throw boobs, babe,” Emily said. “They’re usually attached.”

JJ rolled her eyes. 

Emily made it her mission to find the funniest words possible, working extra hard (and missing out on some good points) in an effort to make JJ laugh. ‘Armpit,’ ‘meaty,’ ‘hoagie,’ ‘urine,’ ‘joint’ and her piece de resistance: ‘boner.’ All while JJ was playing incredibly normal, and often strategic words like ‘axis,’ ‘snow,’ ‘vain,’ ‘snag’ and ‘writings,’ hitting multiple double- and triple word scores on the way. 

“This is fun,” Emily said, sneaking a handful of JJ’s Cheetos out of the family-sized bag next to the blonde, while she was distracted by playing her turn. 

“I don’t understand how you’re winning,” JJ muttered. 

Emily shrugged, “Guess I’m just a genius.”

“Reid? Is that you?” JJ joked. “Why are you disguised as my girlfriend?” 

“Would Reid do this?” Emily said, leaning over toward her girlfriend and pressing kisses all over her face until she fell back. Then Emily straddled her, their lips meeting in a passionate embrace that left both girls panting. 

“I would hope not!” JJ exclaimed with a laugh, making a face at the thought. 

They laughed and went back to making out, with Emily careful not to disturb the game pieces. JJ sucked onto Emily’s bottom lip, making her weak in the knees and she struggled to support herself over JJ’s shorter frame at the motion. 

“We should-” Emily tried to say between kisses, “finish the game.”

JJ kept deepening the kiss, going so far as to grab onto Emily’s butt to hold her in place on top of her.

“You’re trying to distract me,” Emily chided, “because I’m winning! I see right through your plot.” 

She sat up and went back to her tiles before playing another funny word: ‘suck’ for twenty points. JJ grumbled,fiddling with her own tiles, as Emily collected a few out of the bag. 

Emily was preening as she rearranged her own tiles and didn’t notice as JJ put down her word. When she went to play her next word (‘zap’) and only then did she see what word JJ played. 

‘Love.’ 

It was there. Clear as day. Written vertically and connected to the word ‘snow,’ it was unmistakable. Emily looked at it for a long moment, trying to figure out what it could possibly mean that her girlfriend very intentionally played such a loaded word. Was it the only word that fit? Did she only mean that she loved the snow? Was she also reading into it? 

Emily looked up, making eye contact with JJ. The blonde blushed and looked away, nervously fiddling with the necklace around her neck. Emily smiled faintly at the warmth that flooded through her, but alongside that, was the sharp pang of anxiety. Was she supposed to acknowledge that? Would that make it weird? 

‘Zap’ didn’t feel appropriate when her girlfriend may or may not have confessed her love for her. 

She played it anyway, deciding that making a big deal of it would just complicate matters. Besides, did she love JJ? She didn’t know. It was all so new. She liked JJ a lot. She definitely like-liked her in the traditional sense of the world. But Emily had never been in love before. She’d loved people before, Matthew for one, and her mother in a way, and she loved Derek like a brother. But being in love was a whole ‘nother ball game. 

JJ won the game after playing ‘equinox’ for twenty two points near the end, beating any lead Emily had gained from her silly words. JJ deserved it in the end, as the blonde would sit and stare at her letters until they formed the most complex words that Emily had never even heard of. Emily’s eyes drooped and she was barely able to create three letter words by the end, while JJ was still surprising her with her vocabulary. 

Emily shook JJ’s hand to congratulate her for the win. JJ grinned and kissed her. 

Then, they looked around and realized two things: it was past one in the morning and Penelope hadn’t come back to the room yet and that all of the blankets that JJ owned were currently being used in the blanket fort. 

“Can we sleep in my bed, tonight?” Emily asked. “I’ll help you clean up in the morning.” 

JJ nodded but was in the middle of texting Penelope, wondering where on earth her roommate had wandered off to. Within a minute she got back to JJ saying: with derek! will explain tmrw!! 😘 🧚‍♀️ 😳

JJ showed Emily the message and both girls giggled. Emily saw that coming, but didn’t realize it would be a game of Clue that finally sealed the deal.

Exhausted but happy and relaxed after the game night, Emily and JJ tumbled into Emily’s bed and cuddled up together. Between JJ and Emily, the word ‘love’ was left unsaid that night, but Emily fell asleep that night feeling a new warmth in her chest.

[hollenka99]

Unus Annus - November

354. Accepting the Truth, 6:11, 2.8M (Nov 1st) - While sitting by the pool, Mark and Ethan announce that a livestream will happen on the 13th so that the audience can join them in reminiscing over the past year and watching the channel be deleted live.

355. The Unus Annus Last Supper, 26:58, 2.6M (Nov 2nd) - Amy creates a 7 course meal for Mark and Ethan based on various past videos. This includes eggnog with bug biscuits, them having 3 minutes to eat a raw onion and edible items of a mature nature.

356. Being Brutally Honest with Each Other, 26:14, 2.2M (Nov 3rd) - Mark and Ethan reflect on how well they have worked together during the course of the channel’s run. Some things that were revealed consisted of them having to re-evaluate their communication after the wall punch, Mark committing to bits even if they start going a little far and how Ethan could build his acting skills. There is a heartfelt moment where Ethan expresses how grateful he is to have Mark as a friend and someone to learn off of, which ends in tears.

357. Recreating Every Single Unus Annus Video, 45:11, 3.2M (Nov 4th) - Amy reads out the title of videos in chronological order while Mark and Ethan do something quick to re-enact that video. Alexa misinterprets a command, some episode segments are just them wondering who came up with the titles and Amy gets confused by a few titles that state she shouldn’t know about them.

358. All Our Video Ideas That Never Happened, 25:13, 1.8M (Nov 5th) - They discuss the videos that never were, including potential collabs, things the pandemic prevented from happening and ideas that were best left not attempted. 

359. Who’s Cutting Onions In Here???, 22:24, 2M (Nov 6th) - The two of them spend the entire video cutting onions and talking about the channel. They discuss their expectations when they started the channel, how they were affected by the deaths of family members and how they would like to die.

360. The 1st Annual Unus Annus Roast, 16:41, 1.7M (Nov 7th) - On Twitter, they invited the viewers to send in their roasts. They just laugh at most of them but a few they roast the poster back. One of the cameras produced corrupted footage so they had to lipsync at times. 

361. God’s Fitness Test, 22:58, 1.9M (Nov 8th) - Along with their personal trainers, they form two teams which consist of Mark and Alex vs Ethan and Andre. They do push ups where you have to have all four limbs airborne during part of it, a burpee hybrid, a race where Mark and Ethan carry their trainers on their backs, weightlifting with squats and a sprinting challenge. 

362. Saying Goodbye to All Our Guests, 39:44, 2.2M (Nov 9th) - Mark and Ethan call up some of the people they’ve worked with in videos over the past year to thank them. Upon learning The Basement LA (where they did the escape room in December) was in financial trouble due to the pandemic, they offer to donate the ad revenue from the escape room video to help them out.

363. Everything’s Legal If You’re Dead, 24:50, 2.2M (Nov 10th) - Mark and Ethan attempt to make breakfast with sex toys again. However, this time they steal the products they got from the shop and Mark’s lawyer Ryan tries to discourage them from their plans of insurance fraud.

364. 7 Minutes in Heaven | 7 Minutes in Hell, 12:41, 1.9M (Nov 11th) - In new inflatable saunas, they are sent to Heaven and Hell with items previously featured in past videos. Ethan goes to Heaven where he receives the scent of essential oils, kiwis, a cupping session using a mouth instead of the cups and wax on his face. Mark, meanwhile, is subjected to Hell where the aromatherapy is of the onion variety, his mouth is filled with hot dogs and the straw his dogs may have used as a toilet is laid at his feet.

365. The Unus Annus Annual Sleepover, 17:17, 2.3M (Nov 12th) - Ethan goes to Mark’s home to spend the night. They shoot cans while the other hides behind the targets, make popcorn as well as friendship bracelets and play truth or dare. Ethan decorates his bracelet for Mark with 'My Pal Annus' while Mark puts 'EEF' inbetween Takis that had been in his mouth. Towards the end, the two of them share a glass of champagne before settling down for the night. At various points, the signature ticking sound is heard.

366. Goodbye., 12:00:00, 1M (Nov 13th - Nov 14th) - This is the farewell livestream. The two of them sit with a television that displays the timer inbetween them. Throughout the 12 hours, they show the editors’ highlight reels, watch and comment on a few videos, look through fanart and memes as well as welcome guests. When there’s around 3 hours to go, Ethan gets 00:00:00 tattooed on his left arm by DanielleSkyeee. They promise that if the stream receives 1 million likes, they will reveal the inside of their coffin and possibly get inside. With less than an hour to go, this does indeed happen, with the fake eulogies making them emotional and the coffin is dubbed the ‘Cry Box’. As the hours become not only minutes but seconds, Mark, Ethan and Amy gather around the laptop so they can press the delete button together. The clock finally reaches 00:00:00, leaving the audience with a black screen as well as a channel that no longer exists.

1. Unus Annus, 1:52, 10M (Nov 15th) - Introductory video explaining the premise of the channel.

2. Cooking with Sex Toys, 12:42, 4.6M (Nov 15th) - The guys buy a bunch of sex toys and use them to make some bacon, eggs and pancakes. Towards the end, someone spots Mark being fed while wearing a gag.

3. Purging Our Sins with a Neti Pot, 11:18, 4.8M (Nov 16th) - They clear their noses with Neti Pots, essentially flooding it and triggering a drowning sensation. Towards the end, the spiral screen appears where Mark and Ethan thank the audience for their initial reaction to the channel, which lead to the intro video becoming #1 on trending. They announce that if the channel reaches 1 million subscribers within a week, a viewer who helped spread the word will be hand delivered the button. Otherwise, Mark will have his nipples pierced.

4. Hot Dog'd To Death, 11:18, 3.3M (Nov 17th) - They attempt to eat 60 hot dogs in 10 minutes. Ethan struggles to work out how long 360 seconds is. The are certain Chica could beat Joey Chestnut's record of 71 any day.

5. Making Our Own Sensory Deprivation Tank, 13:44, 2.7M (Nov 18th) - They filled a pool with salts, blindfold themselves and put headphones on. To mess around, they pretend to try drown each other.

6. The Good Kind of Cupping, 11:59, 2.7M (Nov 19th) - They attempt cup stacking. Mark is better at it than Ethan. The two of them end up trying to walk on all fours while wearing the cups like some sort of cryptid. This is also where they announce the winner of the 1M play button (Kingkasuma 2.0). The next challenge is also announced, get it to 2M subs within a week so a viewer has the chance to meet Mark and Ethan while appearing in a video or Ethan will destroy the Barrel with a bat.

7. The Bad Kind of Cupping, 13:36, 8.8M (Nov 20th) - Mark and Ethan place suction cups on each other. At one point, Ethan is unable to detach a cup and gets very stressed about it.

8. The Worst Kind of Cupping, 10:17, 3.1M (Nov 21st) - They react to Two Girls, One Cup before trying to see if they can find out where the girls are now. This is Mark’s first time watching it and he does not have a good time.

9. Ethan Will Be Kicked in the Balls, 7:30, 4.2M (Nov 22nd) - They plan to use those inflatable balls that you can run around in. Ethan struggles to inflate his so he goes to a shop to ask they can help him with a pump. The staff are nice and chuck it to him via a window. He reaches his car, only to realise he can't fit it in without deflating it a little. Ethan does indeed get kicked in the balls at the end.

10. Doing Each Other's Makeup in the Dark, 12:08, 2.2M (Nov 23rd) - Mark and Ethan blindly apply makeup to one another. There is a risk of blackface when Mark gets into the bronzer but Amy is able to warn him to be careful. Ethan uses blush for its intended purpose and as lipstick. When they look at themselves in a mirror, he compares himself to the little girl wearing makeup while in a carseat. You can tell Amy is the one editing due to her written comments.

11. Baby Hands Operation, 8:29, 2.7M (Nov 24th) - Mark and Ethan assemble and then play Operation while wearing baby hands. When Calamity Pete's buzzing annoys them, they begin waterboarding him and are only able to remove the foreign object after hitting him hard enough to accidentally project the piece. This is where the 'Oh My Fucking God' meme originates.

12. Mark and Ethan Summon a Ghost, 18:02, 4M (Nov 25th) - This is framed as a kind of found footage documentary. While at Ethan’s home, they form a pentagram out of candles before playing Bloody Mary and Charlie Charlie. It ends with them getting attacked by a ghost.

13. 2 Truths and 1 Lie -- Waxing Edition, 16:49, 4.5M (Nov 26th) - They play 2 truths and a lie where getting it wrong means a body part gets waxed. The body part is determined by a spinning randomiser wheel. Korea is mentioned during both times the spinner lands on pubic hair.

14. Poopsie Sparkly Critters (a slime surprise...), 12:24, 4.3M (Nov 27th) - Mark and Ethan buy Poopsie Sparkly Critters, a toy that will eject slime from either their butt (poop) or mouth (spit). They play around with the toys, adding glitter to the slime as instructed. This is the first time ‘Martha Maywho’ (Martha May Whovier from The Grinch Who Stole Christmas) is mentioned.

15. Play-Doh Thanksgiving, 10:35, 2.2M (Nov 28th) - They create a thanksgiving meal with only Play-Doh. A tray full of ‘food’ that are the appropriate colours is created, including a tiny live turkey made by Ethan. A mega turkey is also made using a conglomerate of the remaining Play-Doh. Mark and Ethan then sample their creation.

16. Helium Therapy, 14:55, 3.3M (Nov 29th) - The two of them inhale helium then discuss various topics, including how they’d kill each other, childhood misadventures and their romantic pursuits involving an abundance of Abigails (plus a Sarah).

17. Drawing Memes from Memory, 10:53, 2.6M (Nov 30th) - With drawing pads and scented coloured markers, Mark and Ethan attempt to draw old memes with Amy telling them their prompts.The ‘This is fine’ dog, dat boi, Rebecca Black, dancing baby, the Numa Numa guy, dikbutt, condescending Willy Wonka and trollface all make an appearence. They spend nearly as much time sniffing the markers as they do drawing.

[simons-calling-the-127-squad]

Missing Piece - Hendery

Credit to the original owners of the images.

GN Film Studies Major Reader X Film Studies Major/YouTuber Hendery

Half of a jewelry piece at birth

Warnings: cursing

Y/D/N = your dog's name

"We've literally been studying for ten minutes", you deadpanned.

"And?" He questioned, his eyebrows furrowing.

"You haven't even studied anything yet. You've just played with the cat."

"I need food to think. And I'll pay for us both."

"Deal", you said. Pushing the book to the side of the bed. Hendery did a little dance as you moved to put your shoes and jacket on. You couldn't help but laugh at him and walked towards him.

"Let's go!" He said as he pulled you out of the door and locked his dorm door. His arm went over your shoulder as you walked, it was a normal thing for him to do with all of his friends.

"So have started writing your script yet?" You asked, assuming that he hadn't even come close to starting.

"Contrary to popular belief, yes", he answered, a bit of pride could be heard in his voice.

"What's it about?"

"It's a comedy about three friends who don't wanna find their soulmates."

"Sounds interesting. Anything else?"

"Nah, just the basics for the characters. What about you?"

"Two friends who somehow don't notice they're mates."

"That sounds ridiculous. How can they not notice the matching jewelry?"

"Some people are blind to little details!"

"Hmm sure", he said, obviously not convinced. The two of you let the silence take over as you walked to the pizza place of Hendery's choice. Upon arrival, he opened the door for you and waved to the workers as the two of you sat down.

"So this is the place you talk about all of the time?" You asked, slipping the jacket off of your shoulders and onto the seat next to you.

He began to rapidly nod and talk about how amazing the entire menu was.

"Hey Hendery, I was wondering when you'd be in this week", a male said as he walked over to the two of you.

"Blame them," he pointed to you. "They keep making me study when I could be eating."

"You're the one who asked me to help you study!"

"I didn't think you would be so strict with me!"

The waiter laughed at the banter between the two of you and said, "I can't believe it's taken you so long to bring your soulmate here." The two of you instantly paused and looked at him. Confusion written on your faces. The waiter looked just as confused when he saw your reactions.

"Wait did you guys not know? How did you guys not see the matching rings?" Your eyes moved to Hendery's hand where a ring that was quite similar to your own sat. His was a sun, yours a moon, but the two were obviously a pair.

"How did we not notice?" You asked, mainly to yourself.

"That explains why everyone always thought we were dating…" Hendery mumbled, causing the waiter to die of laughter.

"This is comedy gold", he mumbled as he walked towards the kitchen to give the two of you time to talk together.

"Dang it. This means you're right."

"That's what you're thinking about right now?"

"That and this is an interesting first date."

"Nothing else? Like being surprised that we're mates?"

"No, in all honesty, it makes a lot of sense. We get along quite well and I've always thought you were cute."

"Okay well if we're just spilling everything, I always used to get disappointed when I would look at you and think of how you weren't my soulmate."

"Well good thing I am then. Anything else?"

"Not that I can think of…"

"Well, I have something on mind. Can I kiss you?"

"Yeah…"

"Fantastic", he said and moved to sit next to you to be closer. One hand moved to your face and the other to your neck as he leaned in. You could feel his lips pull into a smile as they landed on yours. Soon after he pulled away, allowing you to see his smile.

"I'm so freaking glad you're my soulmate", he told you before leaning back in.

---

It was Monday, at 5 pm. You and Hendery had just arrived at class and sat down next to your friends, telling them the news. They each turned to each other and started laughing.

"You guys knew didn't you?" You asked.

"Yeah. We had a bet going to see how long it would take you guys to figure it out", Ten told you as he held his hand out to Y/B/F who rolled their eyes but put a twenty-dollar bill in his hand.

"We're the epitome of stupidity", You said as you looked back at Hendery, who nodded in agreement. The rest of you continued to talk while you waited for class to begin, which mainly revolved around the stupidity of you and your mate.

---

"Hey babe, can you come in here?" Hendery called for you. You already knew why it was to introduce your relationship to his subscribers. You walked into his room and sat down next to him on his bed as Hendery told the viewers you were joining the video today. You had been in numerous videos of Hendery's, to the point where the fans were disappointed when you weren't there.

"So yet again we have Y/N joining today. You guys know them and love them. So as you guys can tell by the title, we have another hilarious story for you. Y/N you wanna start?" He asked as he looked over at you.

"Sure. So Hendery's dumbass asked me to help him study. 10 minutes into it, he wants pizza. So of course Hendery said the most magical words ever, 'I'll pay'. So obviously I join him for pizza, and what happens when we get there?" You asked, allowing Hendery to take over.

"So we sit down, and a few minutes later the waiter comes over and we're talking cause I'm a regular there and I know all of the workers pretty well. The waiter says 'glad to finally meet your soulmate'. And we both just stared at him. Thinking 'what the hell is this dude talking about?'. So he points out our rings and was like 'You guys didn't know?'. And that's how we realized, we're soulmates."

"Yeah, we felt and still feel stupid as hell."

"And the funniest part is, our friends knew. In fact, they had a bet going to see how long it would take us to figure out", Hendery laughed.

"Ten won the bet", you informed the camera.

"Yeah, the bastard got twenty bucks out of it. But you know I got the best prize, I get Y/N as my soulmate sooo…" You could feel the heat rushing to your cheeks and immediately covered them. Hendery attempted to pull them away and once he did he pressed a kiss to each of them.

"I love you", he whispered to you.

"I love you too", you whispered back.

---

"So guys can you guess what today is?" Hendery asked the camera. "If you can't, don't worry, I'll tell you. It's mine and Y/N's anniversary. We have been dating for five years now, we've known each other for, like seven years now. So I've decided it's time I finally propose", He said pulling a box out of his jacket pocket and holding it up to the camera as he opened it. "I'm hoping this goes smoothly and that they are really to take this step with me. So I'm not gonna show you guys the actual proposal, but I am gonna show you their reaction afterward. So I'll be back soon. Well for you guys it'll be soon", he paused the camera and slipped the box back in his pocket before moving into the living room. He was waiting for you to get back from the studio to start making dinner for the two of you. His plans were interrupted by the dog pawing at his leg. He could help but to smile and bend down and scratch his ears, causing the dog's tail to wag aggressively.

"You better not mess this up tonight", he told the dog. Y/D/N just continued to wag his tail before laying down at his feet, only to jump up the moment you open the door.

"Hey Y/D/N", you said as you moved to ruffle his fur. "Hey babe", you greeted Hendery, giving him a kiss before sitting down next to him.

"So I was thinking pizza for dinner", he told you. You nodded in response, it had become a tradition to have pizza on your anniversary.

"As expected."

"And you love it", he told you as he went to the kitchen to start dinner. As the timer was getting close to the end Hendery whistled for Y/D/N.

"Good boy", he told him, kneeling in front of him and reaching into his pocket. He pulled the box out and tied it to the collar. "Now stay in here buddy", he ordered, and thankfully he listened. Just as Hendery stood up, the timer went off. He pulled it out and cut it before putting it on the plates and going back to the living room where you waited.

"It looks great!" You exclaimed. Kissing his cheek before taking your plate. It didn't take long for the two of you to finish and Hendery decided it was time to ask.

"Hey Y/D/N, come here boy", he called out to the dog, who instantly responded. "Hey take a look at what's on his collar", he told you. Your eyes moved from the tv to Y/D/N and they widened. You could hear Hendery chuckle as motioned for you to take the box. You did, your eyes widened even more at the ring itself. It was exactly what you wished for, you looked at Hendery who had already moved to the ground.

"We definitely had an interesting start, how many people can say they didn't even realize their soulmate was right beside them for two years. While it may not have been the smartest thing we've ever done, I'm kinda glad in a way that we didn't know. It made us have a friendship beforehand, and we knew our attraction was genuine, it's not just that we're soulmates. And these years together have been so amazing, and I wanna spend the rest of them together. Will you, Y/N, marry me?"

"Yes!" You whispered as the tears flooded your eyes. He helped you put the ring on and to wipe the tears away.

"Would it be okay to get the camera he asked?" You nodded and he pressed a kiss to your lips before running into the bedroom and grabbing it. He recorded the ring and the two of you talking for a few minutes before shutting it off. This was definitely gonna be one of your favorite videos.

-🃏

[readyplayerhobi]

Let’s Put On A Show

; Camboy!Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Smut, fluff

; Word Count: 21.5k

; Warnings: Dom!Hoseok, male masturbation, voyeurism, camming, dirty talk, sub!Hoseok, dom!reader, sex toys, male anal, oral sex (male and female), penetrative sex, handjob, fingering,

; Synopsis: Welcome to HopeWorld! Lay back and enjoy a show with BehindTheScene’s number one dominant camboy, Hope! Are you looking for a Master to make you whine? A Sir to make you beg? Or a Daddy to treat you right? Hope’s got something for everyone...

; A/N: This is the first true ‘smutty’ fic I’ve done in a long time...so please be gentle and love it. It got longer than expected...there’s more fluff than you may expect...I hope you all enjoy and love! Please comment, give feedback, send asks and reblog if you like! It helps to encourage me to write and I’m always interested in your thoughts, questions and headcanons!

-

HopeWorld has gone live!

Almost immediately, you’re clicking on the link on your phone while you lay back on the mound of pillows that sit on your bed. Chewing your lip lazily, you wait while the screen goes black before loading, flipping into landscape position and leaving you with the visage of a double bed with dark, ruby red silk covers, and dark wood bed posts rising on all four corners while a pile of pillows rests against the intricately carved headboard.

The title of today’s show is simply ‘Choose Your Pleasure’ and you wriggle slightly against your own soft sheets, thighs clenching as you already imagine the mental and auditory stimulation you’re going to be provided with.

Sure enough, there’s a quiet shuffling noise through the speaker of your phone before a guy steps into view and sits down lightly at the end of the bed. He’s wearing black slacks that leave just enough to the imagination yet still grip his toned thighs deliciously while a white button up shirt strains against his physique as he leans back on his hands, the top two buttons undone and leaving a delicious expanse of golden skin visible, a silver chain with a lock pendant lying against the gap between his collar bones.

There’s pure silence for a moment before he lets out a small huff of laughter, the breath leaving him almost silently before he leans forward again, elbows resting against his knees and giving you a delightful view of his shoulders.

He’s slim, yet with enough muscle to make the definition obvious with his tight yet perfectly acceptable clothing. This close to the camera, you can see the way the deep brown of his eyes reflect the light of his screen while he reads the messages that show on his computer with a slight tilt to his mouth.

You sigh softly as you bring your phone closer to your own eyes, greedily drinking in the sight of his sculpted jawline and the straight slope of his nose that meets two strong, dark brows. Blonde hair that’s almost platinum at the ends sits styled elegantly on his head, a generous helping of forehead revealed while the strands blend into a deep honey blonde before evolving into the dark black of his natural hair colour.

It’s been a while since he dyed his hair, and you wonder idly if he’ll keep the blonde or maybe go a different colour. Last year, he’d spent the whole summer with vivid, scarlet hair before dying it all black again in what had apparently been a fit of boredom.

But his loving and loyal fans had adored the light hair he’d had two years ago and begged him to consider going back, which had led to his drastic change two months ago. You certainly weren’t going to complain; the man looked hot in anything.

The man you were watching, and who was in turn reading the comments that flew past on his screen, was one of the most popular camboy’s on BehindTheScenes; a website that catered to all manner of sexual interests. There were pretty girls who would put on a show and rugged guys who would follow your every order and all manner of other delights to be found.

But unlike some other seedy sites, it was all perfectly legitimate and only verified people where allowed to begin creating shows on the site. That means that they had to be aged 18 and over, along with the viewers. Everyone had to provide valid proof of identity to be allowed on, and you knew that the benefits of being one of the camboys or camgirls were exceptional.

80% of the money they made went to them, with the remaining 20% going to the site in order to keep it going; paying its own staff and keeping the maintenance going. Viewers could simply watch for free, but they were only allowed three free shows a month before they had to pay for at least one show or they could pay a yearly fee of $69 to view as many as they liked.

It worked out better that way, considering each show was $5 to view. There was also an extensive tipping system using coins, which could be bought individually or in packs, video game style. These coins were used to ‘tip’ those making the shows, which often meant that they were incorporated into the shows themselves.

Those who tipped a certain amount could request something or have their message read aloud, some used them as a way to allow users access to a poll that would dictate what the show giver would do. But the coins weren’t cheap. 100 coins was $10, with each hundred costing a further $10 until you reached the 1000 coins. Then it was $5 per hundred.

Before you’d gone onto the site, you would have never thought that camshows would have earnt much, but then you’d watched a few and discovered the almost obscene amounts of coins that viewers would buy and tip in an attempt to be noticed or get their host to do something. It was not unreasonable for the top shows to earn thousands of dollars per show if they were good.

And HopeWorld was very good.

He’d been on the site for 7 years now, so his profile said when you clicked on his username. His real name wasn’t given, just a pseudonym of Hope and the country he was from along with his age, 28. Oh, and his sexuality which was clearly listed as ‘Bisexual’.

His archived shows were also available via his profile, purchasable for 250 coins each or free for the premium members who paid an even higher fee to get even more privileges. There was also a range of photographs available to view for free; from selfies of him smiling sweetly to seductive poses that haunted your dreams.

Some of the cam-stars on BehindTheScene were versatile in what they did, never going for a specific genre. They would have sex with other men and women, or do solo shows to please people. Have their shows in the privacy of their room, or do risqué public shows that upped the ante.

Some of them chose to specialise in what they did, gaining a niche audience who lived for the shows that were put online. Girls who did solo masturbation shows with an array of colourful and unusual dildos, guys who jerked themselves off and submitted to their viewers through the use of coins to tell them what to do.

HopeWorld specialised in solo masturbation shows, only he used domination as his tool of pleasure for his viewers. You hadn’t understood how that could even work through a camshow until you’d seen his for the first time, and then you’d seen why he was so good.

He had a command of his voice and body that meant every subtle gesture, every tiny rise and fall in his voice was perfectly engineered to produce an answering response from his viewers. A slight narrowing of his eyes when one of his viewers became a little bratty or spent obscene amounts of money demanding him to do something let it be known that a punishment would follow.

Hope would get himself off on camera sure, but at his pace. He rarely followed orders from people who spent money to ask him to do stuff and he would be quite cutting and cruel sometimes to his viewers. Not in a way that crossed any lines, but more in a way that showed he would refuse to do what they asked simply because they paid.

It had boggled your mind when you first saw it, wondering why on earth people watched someone who refused to do what they were being paid money to do. Particularly given he encouraged people to pay, and on an entire system that relied on the patronage of viewers.

And yet...he was one of the most popular camboys on the whole site. Viewers went wild for his uncaring persona, for the sheer dominance in his voice when he sneered at the people who begged and pleaded for him to do what they wanted while simultaneously following his every order on the other end of their screen.

When he demanded they play with themselves, they would. When he told them to stop, even if they were at the very edge of their orgasm, they did so. And oh, would they beg him to let them orgasm, to find that sweet release at the end of their fingertips that was entirely controlled by his deep and seductive voice.

You had never considered that someone like him would do well, and yet he had his subscribers and viewers wrapped around him as well as those pretty fingers of his wrapped around his cock.

Yes, Hope was extraordinary and you’d been a loyal follower for years now.

There was something about the dominant persona of HopeWorld, the way he refused to bow to the pressures that buckled so many other cam-host’s over the years. He would take things under advisement sure, changing his shows up enough to keep interest but he had no interest in being at the mercy of his viewers.

And you loved it.

Which meant you were already beyond wet when he let out a low chuckle of amusement, the sound rough and almost grating in his throat as he lets his wet, pink tongue flick across the rich buds of his lips.

“So...how are we all today? I hope you've all been good while I was gone.” His voice is deep, rumbling from his chest with a slight rasp. It's something he obviously puts on because when he forgets himself during shows, it'll go a little higher with a tone more casual. It's still pleasing though and you’d happily listen to him read the phonebook if they still existed.

Unsurprisingly, silence meets him but his beautiful eyes are relaxed into happiness as they scan over the hundreds of comments that fly in the chatroom. A reverberating chuckle rumbles from his chest as he runs a finger along his lips, the corner worked up before he glances at the camera.

“How have I been? Oh...I don't know, just waiting for the next chance I had to see all of you.” Smooth, if a little cheesy. But it's a camshow and these people live for that stuff.

“Would I ever agree to the threesome over with GoldenBoy and ChrisChim? Well, they did ask me personally but I don't know...don't you think I'd be too much for them? And I thought we had a good thing going here? Or are you wanting me to expand?” He hums lightly, musing to himself.

The comments explode and Hope lets out a breath of a laugh as he reads them.

“You think it'd be hot? Wow, there's a lot of you who want to watch me have sex with someone hmm?” This is how his shows always begin, a little bit of teasing talk between him and his viewers while he waits for them to come in. It makes him feel a little more reachable; not just a bunch of pixels on your screen.

Lately, he's been getting more requests to mix up his shows. You'd have thought that he would be annoyed about it all. His speciality is solo, yet everyone seems desperate to watch him fuck someone on screen.

Not only that, but there seems to be a vocal minority that's growing to see him submit. Which is wild, as you've never seen a show with a single hint of that.

But it's what the viewers are increasingly wanting, and the unfortunate fact is that hosts are sometimes beholden to their viewers. He might one day do it if it would please them and increase his views.

His lips purse for a moment as he reads and considers, forming a tiny triangle and you coo softly at the screen. Normally you’re moaning or panting at him, but sometimes he acts cute without realising it and you can see the want to have him on his knees for the camera.

“Wow...so there’s a lot of you huh? Maybe...maybe I’ll think about it in the future. Keep an eye out if you all really want that...but for today I think we all need to get back to business, yes?” He leans back on the bed, revealing the long, slim line of his body and you instantly go hot, a spear of pleasure hitting your centre as you squeeze your thighs in response to the blatantly sexual way he holds himself.

His legs have dropped open, leaving a wide gap of space between them and giving the overwhelming aura of power and domination. It’s a classic move, and yet it works so well as he puts his weight on his hands on the bed, letting the viewers gaze up and down his body.

It works well because he’s showing everything he has, everything that you can look at but not touch. Your fingers ache to reach through the screen and unbutton his shirt, letting the soft material slip from his shoulders to pool around his wrists before they would dart to the waistband of his slacks.

You’d tug at them, letting the waistband shift him forward slightly before undoing them slowly, keeping eye contact with him the whole time until the zip is fully down and his cock presents itself to you through the opening created.

Yes, you’d love to undress him where he sits. Slowly, seductively until he’s trembling with anticipation and gasping with need.

Blinking rapidly, your brow raises at those thoughts and you can suddenly see why everyone wants to see him submit live on camera. He’d be glorious moaning under your fingertips, and your inner muscles convulse on nothing at the very idea of fucking him till he’s a writhing mess.

Lord, the idea of watching that would be hot as fuck.

In reality though, he’s still sat in the same position as he watches his screen, white teeth prevalent as he bites his lip while a brow quirks up. There’s already a slight tent forming in his pants, the tight material constricting what’s beneath and contorting them even further. It’s a basic human reaction, and you so desperately want him to reveal himself already.

"So what do we want today boys and girls?" He brings up one hand and holds three fingers up, the corner of his mouth tilting in a seductive smirk while his brow quirks. "Do we want daddy to make an appearance? Or are you feeling like Sir needs to come out? Or is it a Master kind of session again? Remember, as usual it's 100 coins to vote...500 to give me a specific request that I'll consider."

He’d already set the poll up while everyone had been discussing wanting to see him have sex on camera or submit, and it was running with votes coming in fast. This was how he made his money...people desperate to get their fantasy come to life today and some people desperate enough to spend even more to get a specific request in.

You’d felt sorry for them at first, and a little resentful of him for being manipulative. Until you’d realised that these people voluntarily wanted to part with their money in this way on people like him. And if they didn’t do it with him, then they’d just go to another show and do it there.

At the end of the day, he was the one getting naked and orgasming on camera for everyone else’s pleasure constantly. While he obviously enjoyed the voyeurism aspect of it, it would likely take a lot out of a person to do that. Some people were ostracised by their family, friends and work for doing stuff like this.

The money was a bonus for some camstars, but for others it was a lifeline.

Either way, the amount he always made sometimes made you contemplate whether you’d make a good camgirl or not. But then you’d immediately shy away from the thought. You were far too shy to be a solo camgirl. You’d need someone there to buoy you, give you the confidence that you struggled to gain yourself.

Hope shifts forward once again, rolling his neck and your breath stutters at the arousing sight of the long, elegant sweep of his throat. It’s perfectly smooth with not an inch marred, and you so desperately would love to suck a deep bruise into the sensitive skin there till he’s grunting in your ear.

“I’ll give it a few more minutes and then we’ll get this show started yeah?” He grins, the smile lighting his face up. It makes him look more boyish, yet at the same time the intensity in his eyes tells you that there’s nothing boy about him.

His whole backstory is a complete enigma to his viewers, given how little he says on his profile and the complete lack of information he gives in his shows. Literally the only thing viewers get to know about him is his age and the country he lives in, not his name, nor his normal profession. It seems to simultaneously appeal and frustrate his viewers.

The time he spends reading over comments and making conversations is also spent teasing his ever watchful crowd, a wandering hand roaming along his body slowly in all the areas you so desperately would love to touch.

A slight hitch in his breath gives away his actions and you note the way he’s pressing his palm to the crotch of his pants, lower lip teasingly bitten as those elegant eyes scan over the screen. Smirking, he finally leans back slightly before giving a soft laugh.

“Alright boys, girls and anyone else who’s here to enjoy. Let’s get this show on the road yeah? I’m afraid it’s not going to be a long one. I’ve had a tiring day.” He whispers before shifting on the bed, legs spreading once again while his hand trails down his body slowly.

“Have you all been good for Sir?” The obvious winner of the poll slips off his tongue with ease, and you watch as he slides into the persona just as easily. Each persona is slightly different to the next, and the Sir has always been one that doesn’t waste time.

Apt, given that he’s already stated that he won’t be doing a long show today.

He begins to roll up his sleeves, taking his time as the white material rolls back on itself until both forearms are visible. The skin is smooth and honeyed, the muscles beneath working as he clasps both hands back together to read some more comments.

His set up means the laptop is pretty close to him, but the camera is a little farther away to get the full effect. But he can still read his comments with ease.

“Now...I see lots of people saying that they’ve been very good but how do I know for a fact? Tell me what you’ve done, and for each comment I like...I’ll undo a button for you.” One eyebrow lifts up while he sucks his lower lip into his teeth, eyes dark for the camera.

The temptation to send your own comment in is overwhelming, but you stay away from the chat this time. Instead, you take in every tiny detail that you can see of him on the screen and simply admire the way he teases and plays with his audience.

Each viewer that gives him a satisfactory answer, such as someone getting a positive score on a college test or someone getting a new job, results in a button on his white shirt being loosened until soon enough...he’s got none left.

Instead, you’re graced with the beautiful image of his bare torso and you let out a soft whine to yourself at the sight of it. He’s a pretty lean guy, but the defined abdominal muscles lets you, and everyone else, know that he obviously works out and takes care of himself.

His chest is free of any hair, but there’s a tantalising trail that leads down to the waistband of his black pants and you want to desperately lick along there until you find his happy place. Because it would be his happy place if you got your mouth on him.

Hope knows this is what people want though, and he lets everyone have a few minutes to simply admire him as he slowly runs his hand along his stomach, tutting at a few unruly viewers who demand him to go faster.

“Demands make for sad viewers. Keep it up...and I’ll punish you.” His voice is ridiculously low as he murmurs out the threat. You know he’ll do it too, and it makes you clench your thighs at the rumbling bass that rolls through your speakers.

There’s one persistent viewer that doesn’t seem to be getting the rules, or maybe they’re just doing it on purpose. But either way, the demands for him to take off his pants become insistent to the point his eyes narrow in annoyance.

Slowly, and with his eyes focused on the camera, he begins to button up his shirt once again. Automatically you let out an expletive, annoyed at the viewer, and sure enough the others watching simultaneously beg him not to do it while berating the one causing him to put his foot down.

“Now, now. Don’t be mean everyone. Some people just need to learn the rules right? You get two minutes of nothing from me now. Do it again, and I’ll button up another and you get five of nothing. I said this wasn’t a long show...do you not want anything to happen?” He muses quietly, rubbing at his lower lip.

Sure enough, the chat explodes in begging and pleading. But he holds firm and there’s two whole minutes of nothing but him simply staring at the camera. After that’s up, he lets out a deep sigh before unbuttoning the final button once more.

“Now...are we going to play good?” You’re nodding your head in response, despite the fact he evidently can’t hear you. “Okay. Now...I got some good responses from you all. If you want me to take off these pants...then I need to hear why. Tell Sir why he should do that. What are you going to give him?”

A trick question obviously, because in reality they can give him nothing. But it’s not about that, you can guess that. It’s about giving him the allusion of power over his viewers. About them believing that he’ll do what they want if they ask him nicely enough.

“Oooh...some interesting answers here. But I think I like this one. Simple, but it gets me excited.” He grins, a heart shaped smile that’s so beautiful you can feel your heart swooping already. “I’d give Sir the prettiest moans. Not much to it, but you can’t deny there’s nothing sweeter than hearing a desperate moan sometimes.”

Sure enough, he follows through with his promise and slowly peels off his belt before unbuttoning the black pants. They drop to the floor almost silently and you can practically hear the stunned silence from the audience at the sight of him.

He’s not wearing any underwear, leaving his hard cock to bounce in the air slightly from being released. Hope isn’t hung like some of the guys on the site, nor is he as thick as some of them. But you’d certainly never complain.

Thick enough for his fingers to only just meet when he wraps them around the base, you feel yourself clenching as he gives himself an experimental stroke. It’s long and slow, and the prolonged eye contact he maintains with the camera makes it feel weirdly personal.

But that’s his specialty. Making every viewer feel like they’re the only one he’s entertaining.

“Like what you see?” He asks huskily, licking at his lip as he watches while his hand moves along his length. You’re nodding without even realising it, your own hand sliding down your body until it slips beneath your own clothing and your fingers find the hood of your clit with ease.

Slickness meets your fingers as you spread it over the engorged bundle of nerves, a soft gasp leaving your mouth as you touch yourself in the way that you enjoy most. You’re not even really paying attention to what he’s saying anymore, too focused on the way he sits back on the bed and continues to jerk himself in such delightful movements that have him gasping between words.

For a few minutes, you try to only circle your clit in time to his own strokes but you find yourself getting impatient and wanting to reach your ending sooner rather than later. He has far more patience than you have though, and he’s only just started to caress his cock at a faster rate while he purrs out pure filth to his audience.

A few comments are begging him for release already, no doubt riled up to the point of orgasm like you are and you find yourself hoping that he’ll have mercy today and let you all come. You’ve already begrudgingly removed your fingers from yourself twice in an effort to hold out your pleasure for even longer, edging yourself until it’s almost painful to pull away.

“Why should I let you all come? You were all begging me to last longer earlier. Are you wanting to come for yourselves? Are you almost there? All tight and desperate? Fingers aching? Hands clenching? Are you dying to be filled, or fill someone else? Are you imagining me fucking you? My cock driving into you, hips slamming into yours? Are you wet? Lubed up? Would it be loud? Messy? Would you whine for me?” His words come fast in a staccato manner, his own voice tense with strain as his hand works at himself faster.

People comment in droves, confirming his suspicions with some writing rather elaborate scenarios that you’re impressed at. They can’t be working themselves too hard if they can write that much.

Hope must think so too, reading a few with amusement before he lets out a deep groan at the pleasure he’s giving himself.

“I like your answers. I think you’ve been good for me today. So...I’ll be nice. You can cum. Cum for me. And I want you to moan my name while you do. Imaging cumming around my cock, tightening around me until all I can think about is you.” As he does so, your fingers work at yourself even harder and the ball of pleasure that’s ballooned in your stomach expands even more until you finally fall over that precipice.

A long moan leaves you as your hips circle desperately, fingers dancing over your clit to elongate out the intense orgasm until you can’t handle it anymore and you simply lay there, spent. Your legs fall to the side slightly, tingling from the sensation while your hearing goes a little fuzzy for a few seconds.

The phone lies on your chest; Hope’s moans and deep groans escaping from the small speakers and filling the room with lust and pleasure.

Despite the fact that you’ve just brought yourself to orgasm, your pussy tingling delightfully even if you feel horribly empty, you grasp the phone and look at the screen again. It’s just in time to see Hope’s head fall back, the beautiful line of his defined throat taking centre stage as his chest heaves, abdominal muscles prominent as he sucks in desperate breathes.

A final moan leaves him before his thighs clench and his hips jerk up into his hand. Thick, white cum paints his stomach as he orgasms finally, cock twitching in his hand as he works himself through his own orgasm. It’s so hot that you’re almost tempted to let your fingers play with your clit some more, but you feel far too tired and content for that.

Instead you just watch lazily as he finally finishes, his last few ejaculations simply leaking down the shaft of his cock and coating his hand as he squeezes out every last drop. Finally done, he looks back at the camera with a heady gaze before smirking tiredly, reading the comments.

“You all did good today. I’m sorry it was short, and it wasn’t very interesting. I’ll make it up to you next time. I want you all to do some good aftercare okay? Get a drink, take a shower, go to bed if it’s bedtime. Take care of yourself, however you like to. You’ll do that for me right?” His brow rises expectantly, only falling when he nods in satisfaction at the responses he gets.

“Good. Now...I’ll be saying goodbye. You were all wonderful and I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. Until next time.” And the screen goes black.

-

The silence in your room is deafening once he signs off, leaving you to lay on the bed and regain your breath as you stare up at the white ceiling. White sheets with cute star patterns cover your comforter and you stand up lazily, dropping your phone to the night stand before stretching out any kinks you may have caused from your attempts to gain your own pleasure.

Tugging your shirt off, you deposit it, your leggings and your soaked underwear into the clothing bin before rooting through your underwear drawer. A pair of comfortable boy shorts with a Hogwarts design are picked out carefully before you head into the bathroom, cleaning yourself up and coming back out in only the underwear.

At this point, your boyfriend has made his way into the bedroom and has pulled back the covers, wearing a plain black shirt combined with grey sweatpants. He looks up at you, a brow raised as he looks over your mostly naked body with a smirk, the sight causing your nipples to peak already.

Rolling your eyes at him, you go into the closet and pull out a Star Wars shirt of his, letting it drop around your body and land just below the curve of your ass. Moving over to the bed, you climb in next to him as he sighs heavily, eyes closing.

“That was a good show.” You say quietly, tiredness lacing every word and he lets out a soft laugh. The bed jolts as he shifts onto his side, shuffling closer to you until he has you pressed against his front and his arm wraps around your waist.

“Yeah? You watch it?” Nodding slowly, your nose is pressed to the smooth skin of his collarbone and you inhale his scent deeply. He smells like the peach of his shower gel and the clean scent of his shampoo, an underlying smell that’s entirely him making your body relax and feel at peace.

He presses his own nose into your hair, his lips curving into a smile that you feel against your forehead before he’s pushing them into a kiss against your skin. It’s soft and filled with love and gratitude for you supporting him.

What his viewers don’t know, is that HopeWorld is one Jung Hoseok. Your boyfriend of six years. You’d both started dating in your last year of college, having known each other since the beginning when your mutual friend, Jimin, had introduced you both.

That acquaintance has turned into a warm friendship, filled with underlying admiration which turned into desire and lust over the years. A one night stand after a few drinks had resulted in you both waking up one morning in his bed, wide eyed at the fact your circumstances had changed so abruptly.

You would have been willing to take on the mantle of Hoseok’s girlfriend eagerly at that point, but he’d been slightly reluctant. Not because he didn’t like you, he’d assured you plenty that he was pretty sure that he was in love with you actually, but because of something else.

Something he wasn’t sure you would approve of, or want in a boyfriend.

And that was when he’d introduced you to BehindTheScene, carefully explaining what he did and the fact that it was not only helpful to his funds but that he actually enjoyed it. His love for you had overridden it though, and after showing you what he did he’d given you the option of asking him to stop.

He would’ve done it too. Put his camboy career out to pasture at your request, choosing you over his love of performing for a willing crowd.

You’d gone home with thoughts whirring in your head, an instinctual part of you influenced by society telling you that you were disgusted with the idea. But an overwhelming part of you was curious.

He’d told you as you left, decision unmade, that he would be doing a show tonight and you could watch if you’d wanted. Carefully, shyly, you’d made an account and clicked on his name when he’d gone live.

What you’d seen had you embarrassed at first, cheeks heating but your body heated even further with something more. Something primal that told you that you wanted this man more than you had before.

You’d gone to his the next morning and told him that he could keep doing the shows, as long as he never did a sex show with someone else. Solo shows were fine, a fantasy that you could indulge in as you listened to his words and imagined him fucking you with each luxurious and rich word that dripped from his mouth.

But shows with other people? No way. That was not acceptable.

He’d accepted your terms eagerly, happily. The happiness in his face at not having to give up something he so obviously enjoyed and loved had made you realise that you’d made the right decision regarding this. You may not have understood it fully, but you understood his happiness.

The few friends of yours that had found out about his shows over the years had been confused as to why you were so accepting of them. How could you let your boyfriend jerk himself off on camera for the pleasures of thousands of people? How could you let him say those kinds of things to faceless people, the kinds of things he should only whisper to you in the heat of the moment?

Every time though, you’d simply said that it was what he wanted. It didn’t impact on your life, because he wasn’t doing anything physically with anyone else. He wasn’t messaging other girls or guys, he wasn’t sleeping with them or any of that kind of stuff. He was sat in a room in your house, getting himself off to a camera. There just happened to be people watching.

You would rather he do that openly with you than feel the need to do something secret, feeling pressured or unhappy. Hoseok’s camshows made him happy in a way you couldn’t, providing him with confidence and satisfaction that benefited you greatly. It didn’t make your sex life bad, if anything your sex life was phenomenal.

Hoseok would often get so turned on during his shows, the thoughts running through his mind about things he’d like to do to you, that by the time his show had finished, he’d be hard again and coming to you for seconds. You were the one who got to experience all the things he whispered to his viewers, you were the one who got to feel him inside you as he chased his orgasm, skin soaked with sweat while whines left his throat as he pushed through the oversensitivity.

Not only that, you enjoyed watching his shows too. And he knew that you watched them sometimes, providing an extra turn on for him. He’d told you once that he imagined you were watching them everytime, and that he would say things specifically with the aim of getting you off or turning you on.

If you orgasmed, it was a bonus for him.

And besides all of this, Hoseok’s camshows brought in a ridiculous amount of money. His normal dayjob was as a freelance web and graphic designer, often going to his friends workplaces to work but also spending a large amount of time in his home office.

It was reasonably well paid work, but it didn’t matter at all. He brought in so much money from his shows over the years that he’d been able to contribute towards your house easily with a huge savings account in turn. He had no student debt, he’d bought his car outright and the money he’d put towards the house had meant the mortgage was much smaller than it would have been.

Quite frankly, Hoseok was loaded from careful saving and even more careful planning with his shows. Your salary was nothing in comparison, a meagre amount from your generic office job that was used to pay half of the bills.

But the most important thing to you, was that he finished his shows and came to you with his bright smile and a happy, relaxed demeanor. Just as he supported you with your gaming habits, even if he had no idea what the hell you rambled on about, you supported him with his.

It just meant his ended up with his dick in his hand and cum everywhere.

“Your viewers seem to be becoming more insistent about a sex show.” You muse quietly in his arms, taking solace in the feel of him in the quietness of the room. Six years together, five of them physically living together, had produced a relationship that was solid in its silence, relaxed in its love.

Hoseok lets out a hum of contemplation, shifting slightly to push a knee between your own legs before pushing his face into the pillow more. “Hmm, I know. I don’t really know how to go about it because I obviously can’t do it. But if they keep getting insistent, then there’s a chance they’ll leave if they don’t get what they want.”

He sighs heavily at this, his chest expanding and deflating against your own. Bringing a hand up, you rub at his chest reassuringly, pressing a soft kiss to his collarbone in a comforting move.

“You don’t have to do what they want, you know that. It’s your show, not theirs. And you’ve been there a while now. You’ve got loyal viewers who won’t abandon you.” Hoseok sighs in response, not saying anything and you know that it’s bothering him.

The comments have become more frequent lately, his viewer base becoming more frustrated. It didn’t help when Jungkook and Jimin, the little shits, kept offering to have him on one of their shows or a threesome if he wanted it.

The two had begun doing their own shows after finding out Hoseok did it, fascinated with a whole world they hadn’t known about. They were even more popular than Hoseok, with their innocent faces and dirty words.

Both did solo shows, but they also had sex shows with each other that appealed to a wide range of people. Taehyung, Jungkook’s boyfriend, was apparently okay with the whole thing and you were more than a little mind boggled at that. Which made you feel hypocritical, because obviously some people’s relationships were just like that.

If Taehyung was okay with his boyfriend having sex with his best friend live on camera, then that was his prerogative. But the very idea of Hoseok doing that made you intensely unhappy.

Unsurprisingly, Hoseok had turned down every invitation they’d given him. They’d promised not to do it anymore after they’d offered again on their show last week, the invitation casually spoken as they’d read the comments once they’d finished, skin glowing with sweat.

Hoseok had got angry at them, shouting at them for once and terrifying everyone. He didn’t get angry. He didn’t even get annoyed half the time. But it had set him off, everything just merging together at the wrong moment until he’d blown up on them both.

His show hadn’t gone well that day as his viewers had constantly been asking about the invitation, leading to him being a little more intense and biting than usual. It had made for a wonderful show watching him, as he’d held off his orgasm longer and longer through edging as a punishment for all the questions and his viewers had to suffer for longer too.

He had a whole game with them at this point, where they would push themselves to orgasm only when he did. It meant that he would edge them for a whole hour sometimes, his own cock leaking profusely by the end, his tip red and angry from the wait.

That day, he’d gotten so pissed off that he’d ended the show abruptly. His orgasm had come in a flood, a moan escaping his mouth as his head fell back and he came far earlier than he would’ve. He’d only been going for fifteen minutes, and his viewers had been shocked by the suddenness.

“I wish they wouldn’t. How do I tell them ‘oh hey, I don’t do sex shows because I have a girlfriend that I love very much and I have zero interest in ruining that just for you all to get off’?” He queried, tiredness in him. You wondered if he was getting tired of this whole thing by now, his viewers becoming more unruly as time passed.

Love blossomed in your stomach at his words though, appreciating his steadfast refusal to give in to them because it would mean cheating on you. A thought you’d had while watching him earlier appears back in your mind and you muse on it quietly.

It’s something you’d thought about more and more recently, and you wondered what his thoughts on it would be. Finally, you decide to just put it out there in the open and see what his thoughts actually are. You could have got him completely wrong.

“What about if you do a sex show?” The words are quiet, yet in the silence of the room they’re astoundingly loud. Hoseok doesn’t do anything for a moment before pulling back, looking at you with wide eyes and a dropped jaw.

“What? What do you mean? I’m not cheating on you! I don’t want to have sex with someone else.” His protest is outspoken, genuine panic and unhappiness in his voice as his eyes scan you over.

It makes you feel good, bizarrely, at the way he protests against the idea of having sex with someone else. Combined with his sincere emotions at it, you smile and shift your head to press your lips to his in a sweet kiss.

He kisses back automatically, but when you pull away, you spot the way his lips turn down. The idea of that is genuinely upsetting to him, and you frown as your hand strokes along his side gently.

“I don’t mean have sex with someone else.” The words are out now, and he takes a moment for them to process before his eyes widen once more. Only now they’re in a different kind of shock, a hint of interest in them letting you know that maybe he’ll agree.

“What? Wait...what? You? You’d do a show with me? But I thought you didn’t want to do anything like that?” The words fall from his lips quickly, but you feel the way his fingers tighten around you.

No doubt there are images running through his mind right now; you on top of him, riding him to completion. Him kneeling before you, thrusting into your pussy with confident, hard strokes that have you whimpering and quivering before him till he has you crying out his name. All the while, a camera records every movement, every sound from you both and sends it out to thousands of viewers worldwide.

Your breath hitches at that thought, hips squirming against the mattress and his eyebrow rises slowly as your thigh squeeze around his own involuntarily. Slowly, an incredulous smile spreads over his face as he looks at you with intrigue.

“Holy shit. You’re turned on at the thought of that huh? Would you really be okay with that? I mean...you’ve never shown interest in it before?” He’s certainly interested though, and you let out a huff of laughter at the sudden semi he’s sporting against your stomach. 28 years old and yet the refractory time of a teenager on occasion.

“Well...I’m so used to seeing you do it now. And I know how much you enjoy it. I don’t know, the idea of it is...attractive I guess? Just...having you and knowing that there are thousands of people watching who would die to be in my place.” Hoseok laughs at that, pushing slightly until he’s rolling on top of you and your back hits the bed.

He kisses along your neck slowly, sweet kisses that speak of love and trust even as he slowly grinds his hips into yours. “You already have me. Many times. In many ways. In ways they’ve never seen.”

“That’s another thing. I think I’d want you to submit to me.” Hoseok pauses at that, pulling back once more to stare at you with a carefully blank face. His lips are wet from the assault he’d begun on your neck, and you reach up to trace along his lower lip slowly before pressing down on it until he opens his mouth for you.

Slipping your finger inside, you bite your own lip at the feel of his heated, wet tongue as you play with him before stroking along his cheek, letting his own saliva cause a trail that shines along his golden skin in the soft light of the lamp.

“You want me to submit to you?” His words are careful, slow and full of consideration as his eyes narrow slightly, looking over every micro-expression on your face. A coy look takes over your own as you wrap your arms around his neck, fingers trailing lovingly while you move your legs.

There’s a moment for realisation in his eyes before you’re pushing hard at him, causing him to rock backwards and end up on his own back. He lets you obviously; something you’d long ago learnt was that you can’t move him unless he wants to move. But he’s too intrigued by this idea to start any arguments right now, and instead his hands move to rest against your hips.

“Yeah. You’re used to it. And I’ve seen all the comments. People want to see what the mighty HopeWorld would look like on his knees. Who better to do that than your own girlfriend? You trust me, you know that I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you and you wouldn’t sleep with anyone else on camera.” Fingers get brought down on your hand as you reason with him, the slightest rocking of your hips causing your core to brush against his hard on.

Each touch has his hands twitching while his breath hitches, but his eyes remain focused solely on you. HopeWorld is a master of seduction, a dominating persona that doesn’t take any crap from anyone.

Jung Hoseok, on the other hand, is a switch who leans more to the dominant side. The two of you usually just have normal, pretty vanilla sex but you both enjoy engaging in the kinkier aspects every now and again. And while Hoseok enjoys dominating you, he also likes being dominated in turn on occasion.

Which is probably why his pupils expand in lust at the thought of you making him submit on camera, allowing himself to be vulnerable in the capable hands of the person he trusts most.

Running your hands down his clothed chest slowly, you reach his waistband and run your fingers along the inside slowly. He swallows thickly, tongue wetting his lips as he lets out a pant before his eyes eyes glance down to where your hands are.

“Really? You’d really want that?”

Smiling, you lean down and kiss him deeply, tongues exploring each other before pulling away and gripping his blonde hair tightly at the dark roots, keeping his head firmly against the pillow as he tries to follow your mouth. Grinning, you nod.

“I mean...we need to work stuff out obviously. And we need to check that your audience actually wants that. But...it gets me hot thinking about it. It’s obviously getting you horny.” You whisper against his lips, grinding your hips harder against his erect cock and causing him to whimper gently. Your fresh underwear is soaked through again, but you don’t care as you enjoy the relief the friction against him gives you.

“Okay. Okay, we’ll think about it further later and all that. Please fuck me.” He gasps out, eyes clenched closed while his jaw tenses, revealing the delightful line of his throat and his sculpted jawline.

Smiling, you move down to suck an open kiss into his throat harshly, marring his skin just how you’d wanted to while watching his show while letting out an approving noise. “With pleasure.”

-

A few weeks pass by since your suggestion to him, the time creeping past in its usual ways. Your own job was not exactly the most mentally stimulating, but you were steadily working your way up the career ladder with a clear goal in sight. It may not be amazing, but it was providing you with the experience you needed for what you really wanted to do.

Hoseok had been busy with an influx of projects, spending a lot of his waking time glued to his laptop and computer screen as he designed graphics for companies and created beautiful websites for others. His speciality tended to reside mostly in working with smaller companies, tending to their every needs and providing a lot of after completion support that involved tinkering with their sites if necessary.

While he loved what he did, you knew that it was tiring for him. The last two weeks had involved you having to practically pull him away from his computer in order to get him to eat and sleep. Needless to say, his shows had unfortunately taken a backseat and he’d had to put a notice out on his channel that they may be sporadic for the next month or so.

Which was you’d taken the day off today and begged him to take a day off too. You knew that his work didn’t run like yours did, but the dark circles under his eyes and his increasingly paler skin made worry run rampant in you. He was running himself into the ground in his attempt to get everything finished within his deadlines and you wished desperately that he would take your advice and hire Jungkook as an assistant.

Of course, he would point out that he couldn’t afford an assistant but you were sure he could work something out. There was too much work for one person, and you knew he’d always harboured a hope of creating his own creative agency that specialised in web based design.

But Hoseok was stubborn, and he often had to be run to the point of collapse before accepting change or something new. And while you didn’t appreciate his method of coping with things, you knew that you had to make everything else in his life as comfortable as you could.

He did it for you after all. When you had your nervous breakdown in your old job from too much stress and anxiety, Hoseok had been there for you. He’d been the one shouldering your pain and tears, rubbing your back and kissing your head. Being a pillar of strength for you. So of course, you did the same back.

And you knew that Hoseok knew what you were doing today. He wouldn’t have agreed to it if he didn’t, and you were happy that he was letting you coddle him today. It was time to just be you and him, no jobs or work involved.

As such, you were currently driving to the coast for what you were hoping was going to be a day of fun for the two of you. The skies were blue and the breeze was warm, giving you a good feeling for what the beach was going to be like.

Looking over at Hoseok, you smile softly as you note him sleeping with his head against the window. How he’s managing that when you have no doubt his head is vibrating furiously against the glass, you don’t know. But then again, you do know. He’s just been that tired.

He sleeps the whole way there and by the time you park up, facing the crystal blue sea, you can even hear the soft snores that escape him. Hoseok isn’t normally someone who snores, but you guess the position he’s in is making it more obvious.

Pulling the keys out of the ignition, you shift over to look at him. His newly dyed dark hair gleams in the light that makes its way through the window, his skin a shade paler than it normally is. He hasn’t spent a whole lot of time outside, and you desperately hope that it makes him a little happier and stress free.

A white t-shirt sits on his torso, slightly baggy while denim shorts let his toned legs be seen to the world. Which is a good thing, because he has damn good looking legs. He shifts slightly in his sleep, arms crossed over and shoulders hunching a little closer while his tongue licks at his lips, a quiet murmur leaving him and you laugh lightly.

Reaching over, you stroke through his hair repeatedly and enjoy the softness of it against your fingers. Hoseok likes having his hair played with and it’s always one of the quickest ways to relax him and get him to sleep. It’s also one of the best ways to wake him gently, bizarrely.

Sure enough, a quiet rumbling from his chest lets you know that he’s waking up before he’s blinking slowly, squinting in the light. Yawning loudly, he stretches out as far as he can in the car seat before looking at you quietly, lips pouted ever so slightly.

His face is swollen with sleep, eyes puffy and cheeks rounded. Everyone told you that as time passed, the excitement of your relationship with him would disappear and you’d just be left a quiet and serene love.

They lied, because as you watch your sleepy boyfriend come back to consciousness properly, you feel a fizz of excitement and happiness bubble in your stomach. Six years together, and he still makes you feel young.

“Are we here?” He asks, voice crackling before he coughs to clear his throat. Laughing lightly, you open your door and get out, dipping back down to look at him with a brow raised.

“I hope so. Otherwise I’ve found a really large expanse of previously unseen water.” You tease, closing the door before pulling out the blanket and food you’d prepared this morning. Hoseok grumbles quietly as he gets out of the car too, standing with his arms resting against the warm roof.

“Ha ha, funny. I see why I started dating you now, a real comedian.” He says, reaching into the glove box to pull out a pair of sunglasses and sliding them on. Walking around to the front of the car, he takes the food and bag from you before clasping your hand in his own, fingers twining together.

“You’re always so grumpy when you wake up, you know that?” Hoseok lets out a grunt before quickly leaning down and kissing your lips, pulling away before you can do anything. A noise of protest leaves your mouth as you reach the sandy shoreline, kicking your shoes off while Hoseok just strides out onto the hot sand, tugging you along.

“At least use some chewing gum after you’ve slept for an hour! I don’t want to taste sleep breath.” Looking up and down the beach, Hoseok decides the spot you’re at is perfect and lets go of your hand to lay the blanket out.

It’s only once he’s knelt down on the soft material, kicking his own shoes off that he looks back up at you with a brow raised above his shades. “You never mind when I kiss you in the morning before we’re about to fuck.”

“Hoseok!” You whisper shout, looking around in embarrassment even though there’s no one near you. He chuckles and pulls you down with him, wrapping an arm around your waist before kissing your cheek sweetly.

“What? There’s no one here and you know I don’t mind an audience.” Leaning away from him, you scan over his face and feel a small sense of relief run through you as you can already see the stress and strain practically vanishing from his face.

“I thought I said we weren’t talking about work today?” You ask, reaching into the bag and pulling out some sandwiches you’d made. Handing him the ham, cheese, bacon and salad that you’d prepared especially for him, the two of you eat in silence for a moment as you simply enjoy the gentle, cool breeze rolling off the ocean and the sound of the waves crashing on the white beach.

“That’s not work. You know that.” He says quietly, playing with the crust of his sandwich. From the concentrated look on his face, you’re pretty sure he has something on his mind and you wonder what it is.

Reaching out, you run your thumb along his cheek gently and smile when he closes his eyes and leans into your touch, his brows creasing together slightly. “Hey...what’s wrong?”

He doesn’t say anything for a few minutes, just enjoying the feel of your hand on his face and you don’t feel the need to pressure him. You know Hoseok will tell you when he’s ready, and you’ll be here when he is.

Thankfully though, it doesn’t take too long for him to open up again. It had been a struggle to get him to be open with you in the first few years of your relationship. You’d joked that the US Federal Reserve had a vault that was weaker than Hoseok, because he just didn’t let people into the deepest areas of him.

Until he’d finally trusted you enough to crack open his walls and let you slip inside.

“You know that you said you’d do a show with me?” His voice is quiet, deeper than it usually is due to his lower tone. You actually feel a little unnerved, frowning slightly as you acknowledge his question quietly.

Hoseok tears the crust into tiny pieces before swallowing and letting the handful fall onto the blue patterned blanket. “I wanna do it. I’ve already done polls and...people want it. So...I want to do it if you’re comfortable with it.”

“If you’re okay with me being on your show then...yeah. I mean...I want a mask because I don’t want my face seen and I don’t know if I want to be naked because I don’t know if I can handle those negative remarks but...yeah. It’ll be an experience.” You laugh softly, pressing yourself into his side and resting your head on his shoulder.

“Hey! You’re beautiful, there’s nothing wrong with your body and everyone should feel privileged to see it.” The defense in his voice for you has you smiling brightly, pushing at him until he rocks to the side. His arm lifts and pulls you into him closer, wrapping it around your shoulders.

“You’re still tense though. So what else are you thinking?”

He lets out a soft breathy laugh, head falling forward. “Can’t hide anything huh? I think...I want that to be my last show. Go out with a bang.”

His words fall into silence, shocked from your side and waiting in anticipation on his. Pulling away from him, you scan over his face with wide and shocked eyes. Hoseok just watches you back quietly, his sunglasses pushed up and keeping his hair away from his face. He looks slightly unsure of himself, like he doesn’t know if he’s said the right thing.

“Really? You...want to quit that?” He chews on his lip for a little bit before nodding, taking your hand and playing with your fingers silently.

“Yeah. I...yeah I do. I’ve enjoyed it over the years, and it makes me feel good but...I think it’s time. I’ve done it for seven years and I have no reason to keep doing it anymore. I’ve saved plenty of money from it and I just feel like this is the right time to end it all.” You’re not sure what to think, as this sounds like it’s come from nowhere and yet he sounds like he’s thought it through.

“But why? You love doing it. It’s not because of me or anything right? You know that I’m not bothered about it. And your fans will stay with you, even if you have a sex show.” He smiles endearingly at you, moving forward till he’s kissing you. It’s short and sweet, pulling away before you can even do anything more.

“I know that. I know all that. But...I want to quit. For me. I started doing it as a way to earn some money and gain some confidence. I have that confidence now and I have more than enough money. You keep saying that I should hire Jungkook as an assistant and...you’re right. I have too much work...which is why I’m going to finally do it. Start the company. I can’t do that and still be a camboy.” It all sounds logical to you, and you can see now why he’s been reducing the number of shows he’s been doing over the last few months.

Slowly pulling away from people so they’re less shocked when he leaves finally.

“You’re going to do it then? Finally start the Jung Company?” You’re grinning brightly at him, lips pulled in a smile so wide in dual excitement and pride for him. His degree had been a dual business management and web design course, so he hopefully had everything he needed.

“Well first of all, it’s not the Jung Company. Hope Design, or something like that. I dunno, marketing is not my strongest area. Despite it technically being my area,” He contradicts himself, frowning slightly as it registers before he nods. “Anyway. Yeah. I’m gonna do it. Web and graphic design...full time. Take on more clients, make it a full time job. Hire people when necessary. It means I get to do what I always wanted...and I get to spend more time with you. And you have me to yourself.”

“Hey, I was never bothered about that.” You say, resting your hand on his stomach as you kiss his cheek. He smiles and kisses you again, a little longer than before.

“I know. But that’s another thing. I want to spend more time with you. I want to...be more with you and I don’t feel comfortable doing sex shows with what I want. If...you agree with me then I don’t think it would be fair of me to take time out to do them, nor would I feel comfortable.” You’re frowning now, wondering what he’s on about here. You’ve always made it clear that he was doing them before he started dating you, and you’d given him implicit permission to continue.

Taking in your confused face, he lets out a quiet laugh and runs a hand over his own. A quiet groan leaves him. “Ah Hoseok, you’re fucking this up.”

Turning, he lets go of your hand and reaches into his pocket before pulling out a small box. Almost immediately your eyes widen as he hands it to you with a tentative smile, hands shaking the whole time.

“Hoseok...is this…” Your voice trails off as you open it and see the beautiful ring inside. It’s silver, probably platinum, and has one beautiful diamond in the centre with two smaller pink diamonds on either side and two even smaller, clear diamonds on either side of those. For an engagement ring, it is neither ostentatious nor simple and you love it.

Almost immediately you’re looking at him through watery eyes, throat closing in on itself as he smiles through his obvious nerves. “Will you marry me?”

You can’t even get the words out a you nod repeatedly, tears slipping down your cheeks as he lets out a loud laugh before slipping the ring onto your finger. Almost immediately, you’re engulfed in his arms as he hugs you so tightly, pressing his face into your neck as you both rock from side to side.

“That’s the other reason I want to quit. Because I swore to myself that I’d stop when I got married. I want to marry you, and then I want to have babies with you and all that good stuff. And when I imagine that life, I don’t see those shows in it. That’s our life, not anyone else’s.” You sniff almost pathetically as you look down at the ring before looking back at him. He looks sincere, his eyes filled with love for you and you swallow thickly.

“You know I wouldn’t stop you doing it if you still wanted to. You know that right?” You ask quietly, imploring him to know that you really would be okay with it. For now at least, but you understand where he’s coming from.

“I know. I know you’d support almost any decision I made. But this is what I want. It always had to end at some time. So I want to do one last show where I show the world you for the first and last time, before stopping it. And then I want to make a company we can be proud of, and a family that we can love. I’m tired of jacking off on camera babe. Call me old at 28 but, I want the only person to see me like be you. So are you okay with that? Marrying me? Having sex with me on camera once?” He wiggles his brows at that and you laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck before kissing him deeply.

When you pull away, you’re both breathing a little quicker and heavier than before but it doesn’t stop you from kissing the tip of his nose. “I was already willing to have sex with you on camera. Marrying you is just the icing on the cake.”

He smirks at that. “You can have your cake and eat it. Though not right now, because right now I want to throw you in the sea.”

And with that, he heaves you both up before running down the beach with you in his arms, ignoring the ear-splitting shrieks that come from you and he deposits you both into the salty ocean.

-

It’s a week later that Hoseok finally decides to end it, announcing via his Twitter that the show he’ll be performing tonight will be his last ever. Understandably, there are many of his fans who are angry and shocked that he’s ending his camming career, but there’s plenty who give him support and encouragement.

He’d announced it via an open letter to all his fans and loyal viewers, one that he’d written carefully over the week before decreeing it perfect and deciding that it was the perfect way to end it. There was no explicit reasoning for his decision, only that his personal life had become so important to him that he didn’t feel comfortable carrying on with his camshow persona any longer.

And so HopeWorld would be officially closing tonight. His final show would not be saved, and all his previous shows would be deleted along with his profile. Only those who had bought and downloaded them would be able to continue enjoying them.

Hoseok had decided that he was done with the camshow world, and that meant he didn’t want his material out there unless it had already been downloaded. A clean slate for him, and for you too.

Despite how accepting you had been of his request to join him on his last show, perhaps understandably you’d ended up with some pre-show jitters. Whereas Hoseok had gained in confidence throughout his camshow career, the idea of putting your body on show was suddenly nerve wracking.

There were different expectations placed on women, and you’d slowly gotten to the point that you were half of a mind to back out. Which was why Hoseok had paused in his preparations for the stream to sit you down on the bed and console you.

He was dressed to impress as usual, black jeans that clung to his legs and ensured nothing stayed hidden while he had a white button up shirt on. Hoseok liked those as it meant he got to tease the viewers for longer unbuttoning it all, but you just liked it because it emphasised everything hot about him.

From his slim shoulders to his firm waist, his golden skin to the delightful sculpted hollows of his collarbones. Honestly, it’s a wonder you’ve never come in here and jumped him halfway through a show before.

But today you’d had some input on his wardrobe, particularly given that it was going to be your show. As such, he had a leather collar wrapped around his neck that contrasted beautifully against the movements of his throat. He’d worn them on occasion before on his shows, just to entice people with the possibility of something they weren’t getting.

This time though, you were actually going to use it and just the sight of it on your delightfully attractive fiancé was enough to make you shiver. There was always something hot about seeing him submit to you, and despite your misgivings you were excited to let his viewers see that for their final view.

Despite your eagerness for that, and also for him to rearrange your guts live on camera, the crippling insecurities that came with stuff like this were dampening your mood. And Hoseok had noticed, given how carefully he paid attention to you.

“Are you okay? You don’t have to do this, it’s up to you. You know that right? I’d never make you do anything that you don’t want to.” His voice is low and calming, expression concerned while the back of his knuckles runs along your arm in slow movements. It’s not a lot, but it’s surprising how comforting it feels to you.

For a second, you go to lie to him before deciding to be honest and shrugging slightly. “What if they don’t like me? Or like...think I’m fat or that I look funny down…” The words trail off in your embarrassment and worry.

“Woah woah, okay firstly. I don’t care if they don’t like you, and neither should you because they’re never going to see you again after this one show. You’re one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen, you know that right? And I’m not saying that just because I’m marrying you, you really are. Secondly, you’re not fat and you look perfectly fine. I swear. Please don’t worry about things like this because if you start now, then it’ll fester and get worse in your head. You are perfect as you are. If you think you can’t do this then just let me know and we don’t, I don’t mind. I’d rather not have you in the show than have you end up with crippling insecurities, okay?” Hoseok states insistently, moving his arm around your shoulders and pulling you in close to him.

You let him practically baby you for a few minutes, letting him soothe over any of your worries because it feels good to have him reassure you. A little selfish perhaps, but you were about to get naked on a livestream with him. You needed the assurance from him that all was going to be well, even if he couldn’t actually promise that.

Hoseok had your implicit trust and love, so you had to trust and love that he would keep an eye on things.

“Do you still want to?” He asks quietly, pressing his lips to your temple and letting them rest there for a moment, warm breath tickling the finer hairs along your skin. It’s intimate and comforting, the scent of him so close and his presence so calming. There’s little wonder you fell for him all those years ago, his sweet smile drawing you in and everything else just solidifying him as the perfect man for you.

A myriad of emotions runs through you though as you think through his words, your hands self-consciously coming to cover up the bits of you that you always feel a bit more wobbly than they should be. The areas that make you feel a little anxious when you think of thousands of people getting to see them in HD glory.

Hoseok’s hands move down to where yours are, and it’s only when he slips his underneath your own to stroke at the soft, vulnerable skin there that you realise you’d been clawing at it. Subconsciously unhappy.

“I don’t want you to do this if it’s going to be negative on your health. I love you, I love everything about you but I don’t want you to push yourself to do something for me if you’re not happy.” His words are quiet against your skin, murmured almost but you feel them to your very core as his fingers gently move against the parts of you that you’ve struggled with, with not an ounce of disgust on his face or in his words.

“I want to. I want to still do this. I just...it’s scary.” The words a little more soft than you’d have liked them to be, almost whimpered out like a child. It makes Hoseok chuckle quietly, not laughing at you but the way you’d said it, before he wraps his arms around you completely.

“I know, I still get a little nervous. But you’ll be great. We’ve prepped for everything, and I am beyond excited to introduce everyone to the woman who owns my body, heart and soul.” He says seriously, squishing you to him.

You can’t help but snort at his words. “You can keep that cheesiness though, that’s solely yours. And you’re just excited to get laid, you’re already hard.”

The thick erection currently pressed to your stomach means Hoseok can’t argue back, so instead he just pushes it further against you. A quiet gasped moan leaves his mouth as he does so, the friction from the action pleasurable against his sensitive member.

You’d both prepared earlier for the show to make sure it was seamless and easy. Which meant that you were both in your outfits, a matching dark green and black lace lingerie set for you with suspenders holding up some delightfully sexy stockings that had made Hoseok whimper to himself when he’d seen the whole outfit.

Green was his favourite colour after all.

It had also extended to prepping each other sexually, with enough foreplay to get him raring to go while you were pretty positive he could slide straight in if he wanted to. The toy that you were going to be using, along with a bottle of lube, were hidden out of sight so as not to give anything away to the intrigued audience.

Everything was ready to go...all Hoseok had to do was start filming.

Pushing him down till he’s sitting back on the bed, you bite your lip and run your fingers through his hair slowly before rearranging back into the style he’d managed to get it into earlier on. Your new fiancé was incredibly attractive and you knew that you’d really won the life lottery with him.

“Okay...let’s do this. Bring out Hope.” Hoseok doesn’t say anything for a moment, just watching you closely with those beautiful dark eyes of his. It felt like he was looking deeply into you, trying to assess whether you were truly comfortable with this.

Slowly, he nods before his hands squeeze on your hips, pulling you a little closer to him before he presses a soft kiss to the skin between your breasts. It’s surprisingly non-sexual for the area, but instead it just feels like he’s comforting you.

And as you stand back, moving into the corner away from the glare of the camera, you acknowledge that he probably was. If you give him any signal tonight that you’re not happy, then he’ll stop. Even if it is his last show.

The next ten minutes are spent with Hoseok setting everything up properly with the camera and making sure everything’s working before the light is red and he’s sat back in his usual position on the bed. A brow is raised almost arrogantly as he waits for the viewers to come in.

From your position, you’ve got access to your own laptop and you can watch his page as they rush in. His shows normally bring in a good few thousand viewers at their peak, sometimes hitting 10k. But the news about this being his last show must have spread like wildfire because he’s only been live for a few minutes and he already has half that.

Yes, HopeWorld was certainly going to go out with a bang.

After 10 minutes of waiting around and idle chatter between Hoseok and his loyal viewers, he finally decides to get it going. A quick glance over to you gets your approval before he’s shifting forward, elbows resting on his knees before he smirks at the camera.

“So...I’m going to get straight to the point here. From the large viewer count, which I think has beaten my all-time record, I’m guessing that everyone knows this is my last show before HopeWorld closes its doors for the last time,” He pauses for a moment, eyes flickering over the comments before grinning brightly. “Aaaawwwww.”

The sound is teasing and not even slightly sympathetic, his every moment over exaggerated before he’s smiling back at the screen, tongue running along his white teeth slowly. “Yep, last one. And this is going to be different. Not just because of it being the last. But there’s always been something that people wanted from me and it just didn’t fit at the time. Given it’s my last show...I thought I’d do something different for you all. Go out with a bang.”

His grin turns mischievous as his brow wiggles enticingly, eyes darting over to you once more. “Tonight...Hope is going to retire. But I’m not going to be your Hope for most of the show.”

At that, you take a deep and fortifying breath before clenching your fists to try and calm your racing nerves. This is everything you’d fantasised about whenever you’d watched his shows, and yet now you’re so nervous and worried.

But the tiniest tilt of his head towards you gives you the courage to paint a mysterious smile on your face before you saunter into view. Along with your delightfully sexy lingerie, you also have a pair of sky high heels that cause you to tower over Hoseok for once.

He looks at you slowly, his pupils blown out already as his wet lips part, breath coming faster already in anticipation of your touch. Smiling, you run your fingers through his hair before gripping the back of his collar and tugging at it.

It jerks his head back until his eyes lock onto yours at an awkward angle, a look of pure and utter submission on his face as every inch of his body relaxes into your grip. “He’s going to be mine, aren’t you?”

You’ve lowered the tone of your voice until it’s low and smooth like butter with enough of a hint of husk to make Hoseok shiver. He doesn’t respond for a moment and your fingers tightened on his hair until he lets out the softest whimper.

It’s nothing impressive as a sound, barely heard in the room despite the quiet, but you know damn well that his viewers likely just almost brought themselves to orgasm just from that one syllable.

Because Hope has never once whimpered in submission, nor has he ever looked like this. So powerless under your hands.

Honestly, as much as you love being dominated and sobbing out his name, you don’t think he’s ever looked better than right then.

Smiling at him, you let the finger of your free hand trail along his jaw slowly, taking in the feel of his skin and the hardness of bone underneath before dragging your fingernails down his throat until they slip beneath the leather collar.

“Be a good boy and unbutton that shirt.” Hoseok lets out a moan in response, his nose pressed to your bare stomach from how you’ve pulled him forward. He doesn’t make any further move there though, despite the heat of his breath as it caresses you.

Instead, he does exactly as you demanded from him. Long and elegant fingers, fingers that you’ve drooled over many times on your screen as he gripped his cock or screamed over as they abused your pussy, are working each button from its position to reveal more and more golden, toned skin.

The whole time he does this, Hoseok keeps his eyes firmly on yours until you’re not entirely sure if he’s submitting like he should be. A hand flutters up to touch the black lace mask that’s wrapped around your eyes, hiding your feature from view. Pointless if anyone you know watches this, because there’s no way on earth Hoseok would ever cheat on you. Nevermind doing it live.

But still, it provided a layer of protection that comforted you. Even if it was flimsy.

Plus Hoseok had practically drooled when you’d put it on so that was a win.

Once the shirt was unbuttoned, it lays against his torso prettily and you lean back to admire the delightful lines of his musculature that you’ve kissed and licked so many times before. He’s beautiful, and you fully intend on making sure that he knows that.

“So pretty. Take off those pants for me.” He nods his head slowly, fingers pushing the button through before unzipping them. Standing, he lets them pool at his feet before stepping out of them and you’re left to admire his physique.

He’s lean, yet the toned muscles let the viewers know that he works out enough. But what you’re focused on is his cock, standing proudly from his body as it bobs in the air. As you’ve stated before, he’s not a huge man, but while he may not be the longest he’s certainly got a delightful amount of girth that has you moaning out his name more often than not.

“Doesn’t he have the most delightful dick?” You ask the camera, reaching forward to let your fingers clasp around the silk covered steel of his erection, stroking gently and making him shudder as his head falls back. “Lay back on the bed and stroke yourself for me Hope.”

“Yes Ma’am.” Hoseok responds, sitting back on the bed. He shifts until he’s horizontal to the camera, allowing his whole body to get in the shot before he grasps his dick in his hand and begins to stroke. Talented and experienced hands that know exactly how hard to pull and how to twist until he’s groaning out and painting his stomach white.

“Don’t cum, but keep stroking.” You command firmly, resting a hand on his thigh. “I’ve got a surprise for the viewers.”

With that, you disappear off camera before coming back. The whole time, Hoseok watches you intently while his hand works at himself slowly, his cheeks ever so slightly flushed. But that does nothing to disguise the look of lustful interest in his eyes, nor the way he grips himself tighter with anticipation.

Moving until you’re just in view of the camera, you bend over to give Hoseok the best view of your ass and clothed pussy. The pained groan he lets out tells you that he obviously appreciates it, but you focus on the camera instead as you paint a pretty smile on your face.

“Now...I’ve heard from Hope that you’ve asked him to do a lot of things over the years. And he’s been a very naughty boy by teasing you all hasn’t he? It’s taken this long for him to be the one on the receiving end, and I know you’ve just been desperate to see that.” You pout slightly before winking. “But don’t worry, I’ll make him beg for you all.”

A turn of your head lets you see that Hoseok has slowed down, his hand not moving where it grips his cock firmly and your brow raises slowly. He catches your eye and flushes, mumbling out an apology to you before he’s stroking himself once more.

“I’ve also heard that you’ve asked if he’d be more willing to do things that other camboys do. I know that a lot of the solo guy shows don’t only jerk themselves off but use sex toys on themselves.” Leaning in, you read the comments as they move past on the screen before making a contemplative noise.

“I know he uses sex toys...but it’s always like...a cock ring or a fleshlight. I was thinking that we could have something else this time.” With that, you wink before producing the sex toy from your back.

The dildo is a glittering green, a joke that you’d bought him years ago when you first brought up the idea of pegging him. At the time, he’d just rolled his eyes in amusement but eventually he’d let you actually use it on him. As such, this was very much his toy.

And he definitely enjoyed it.

When you’d both been discussing how this show would go, the idea of using sex toys had come up and you’d then brought up the idea of using a dildo on him. It was something you both enjoyed in your private sex life from time to time and he’d casually mentioned sometimes that his viewers had often suggested it to him for the camera.

It was a popular form of entertainment for other camboys, but Hoseok had never done it. That wasn’t his style of show and he didn’t particularly enjoy doing that solo.

No, that was your thing to do with him and he’d been receptive to the idea of doing it on camera.

Which was why you’d both prepped so intensely earlier, because neither of you wanted to spend half an hour on camera just prepping him. Despite what porn and fiction said, anal sex was not something to just rush into and you had no desire to hurt your fiancé by going too fast.

Sure enough though, the comments are going crazy as everyone can guess where this is going. Hope being submissive was exciting enough for them all, but finally getting to see him being the one to writhe and whine as his ass was fucked was pushing them into overdrive.

It was with amusement that you watched the viewership spike suddenly, and you wondered if there were people who were spreading the news. You knew for a fact that Jimin was watching intently, which made you only slightly nervous. But if he couldn’t be fucked by, or fuck, Hoseok then he’d said he was damn well watching you do it.

“Yeah, I thought you’d all enjoy that. Would you like that Hope? Have your ass be fucked by me while all your viewers watch?” The question is light and inquisitive, double checking with him that he really was okay with this.

His response comes in a low, rasping voice that betrays the desire he’s feeling for what you’re going to do with him. “Yes Ma’am. I’d love that.”

“Hmmm...I did say that I would have you begging for your lovely audience. Maybe we should start now.” Moving over to the bed, you crawl on top of it until you’re between his legs, pushing them apart enough for you to kneel comfortably there and enjoying the sight of him stroking himself slowly.

Just slow enough that you can’t complain at him, but not fast enough to get him going. Though that doesn’t stop the bead of pre-cum that drips onto his toned stomach.

Uncapping the bottle of lube you’d dropped on the bed next to him, you drip it onto the dildo before stroking it slowly to coat it entirely. The sight of you jerking off a fake cock and not his own has Hoseok whining quietly, a tiny pout forming on his lips and causing you to laugh.

“Look at that. Where’s the Master or the Sir now? I’m only seeing a whiny baby. Are you being a whiny baby Hope?” You tease, voice light as you let your lubricated fingers trail along the soft, vulnerable flesh of his inner thigh.

“Yes Ma’am.” He responds dutifully, playing it up by pushing his lower lip out even more. His muscles twitch as you near his cock, testicles drawn up tight but you bypass that entirely.

Instead, you shift till you’re hovering over him before leaning down and catching that pouty lip between your teeth, tugging slightly before letting go. His breath, minty fresh from brushing just before going live, pants against your mouth before you kiss him.

It’s not a sweet kiss, nor is it soft. Instead, it’s rough and forceful with you taking control of his mouth and forcing him into submission. His natural dominant instinct makes him fight back for a few seconds before he remembers his character, sinking back into the silk sheets and letting you have your way with him.

While he’s completely distracted, you take the chance to grab his swollen cock and pump it a few times with a tight grip. He’d let go during the kiss, too concerned with your mouth on him to care about stroking himself off but your touch has him gasping into you.

You take that opportunity to slip your tongue into his mouth, exploring him thoroughly in a kiss that quickly turns loud and sloppy. It’s probably not hugely attractive to watch, but you have no doubt that it’s a turn on for the audience when combined with your hand stroking at his stiff cock.

Pulling away suddenly, his kiss swollen lips cause you to smile as you note the wetness of them while your eyes trace down his slim frame till you reach his pride and joy. Any motion has stopped on your side, but his hips are moving in small, minute movements almost of their own accord as he tries to fuck into your hand.

“Do you want this cock?” You ask, lifting up the dildo that has been held firmly in your free hand. It shimmers in the light, wobbling slightly but Hoseok’s eyes darkened at the sight as he nods. Tutting, you grip his cock firmer. “I said, do you want this cock?”

“Yes Ma’am. I want that cock.” Hoseok is quick to respond, his words laced with a whimper and you smile triumphantly before letting go of his own cock. It bounces against his stomach for a moment, so stiff and needy that it rises back up.

“Good boy.” With that, you let lube trickle from the bottle down onto his balls before running the tip along it, collecting it before pushing it against his puckered ass. With the head pressed firmly in place, you pause to glance up at Hoseok and only when he gives the tiniest nod do you begin to push it further.

There’s resistance but it’s much easier than it would have been thanks to the prep you’d done and the copious amount of lube. He hisses slightly as the tip finally slips inside, his body tensing at the sensation but you made soft noises of encouragement, a hand running along his thigh reassuringly.

The hard bit is over now. Hoseok’s always found the first penetration hardest, but you know he’ll be okay now that’s over with. And if he’s not, then he’ll tell you. If he’s really unhappy, he’ll use his safe word.

His comfort is the priority here for you, despite what the viewers may think.

But the preparation he’d undergone earlier makes it easy on him, and he makes no noise of complaint or visible flinch by the time the length of the dildo is firmly inserted inside him. His cock is still hard, but you take hold of it and jerk him in a few quick movements to keep him interested there.

As you do so, you pull and watch as the length slides out of him slowly and easily before pushing it back in. Hoseok clenches slightly at the feeling before relaxing once again, letting out a long and slow breath.

It takes a few minutes for him to be fully okay with the sensation of the dildo, but the combination of time and the pleasure he gets from your hand job soon has him panting out loud.

Sure enough, it’s not long until he’s whining out loud as you increase the speed with which you thrust into him in small increments. A slight angling has his entire body stiffening up; not from pain but from pleasure as a long groan leaves him.

Experience has taught you that this angle is what seems to really stimulate his prostate and the way his thighs begin to shake tells you that he’s more than happy with the situation. Smiling to yourself, you lean down until you bite at the muscle of his thigh lightly, tracing your teeth along the sensitive skin there as he gasps out loud.

“Does that feel good?” You ask, nose running along his leg given you have no free hand in which to reassure him. A glance up tells you that he’s nodding in response, mouth open and eyes closed as his hips rock slowly.

Grinning, you stop suddenly and push the dildo in as far as you can get it. Tapping at his thigh with your now freehand, you look down at him imperiously. “Keep that in you. I’m sure you can do that right?”

He nods immediately and when you let go of the dildo, it doesn’t move at all. A pleased smile makes it way onto your face, causing you to lean down and kiss his forehead. “Good boy.”

You don’t need to look at his face again to know that he’s blushing a pretty pink under the praise, instead you just run your fingers through his dark hair before moving to look at the laptop. The chat is going wild with what they’ve just seen, even if they angle means that they can’t quite see the dildo in him.

Taking pity on them, you take hold of the camera and bring it around so that they can get the perfect view of him. “He looks so pretty doesn’t he? And he takes it so well. Jimin and Jungkook have really missed out. Don’t you think his cock looks so nice though?”

A few comments make you chuckle in amusement as you read them, eyes hidden behind the mask yet gleaming with anticipation.

Horny4Hope: Hope looks so nice fucked out.

CumToMe: That cock would look better with your juices on it

DVA256: Fuck him Ma’am! Make him beg!

“Should I fuck him? Do you think he deserves to put his cock in my pussy? Has he been good enough?” The comments flood in with viewers desperately screaming at you to fuck him, or be fucked. Some want to see the Hope they know and love appear and make you sob his name whereas others demand that you ruin him till he’s gasping.

“How should I fuck him?” That question gets hundreds of answers flooding in, but the overriding theme appears to be riding him. Keeping him in his submissive position and not allowing him the chance to gain any dominance.

Eyeing him as he lays there patiently, white shirt splayed open and carefully muscled torso just waiting for your touch, you agree with them. Being on top isn’t your favourite position, that would be when he’s jack hammering into you from behind, but it does give that beautiful sense of power. Plus, Hoseok goes wild for the view.

“Let’s ride him then shall we? I think we’ve tamed him enough.” You slowly take your underwear off, as seductively as you can for the camera before moving back to the bed. Once there, you move until you’re on top of him with your soaked core hovering over his stomach. His breath is coming faster already, sweat on his face and chest and you can’t wait till he’s drenched.

But you don’t slip onto him yet. Instead, you widen your stance a little until your clit brushes against his toned stomach, the sensation causing you to gasp out. Eyes fluttering shut, you rest one hand on his chest and rock your hips back and forth, the friction sending shocks of pleasure through your system while your wetness coats his skin.

“You feel good already Hope. Will you make me feel good with your cock?” You ask, breath strained slightly as your hips buck a little more. Hoseok’s eyes are glued to the area between your legs, focused with laser intensity on your engorged clit as it rubs against his abdomen.

“Yes Ma’am. I’ll make you feel good with my cock. You’ll feel better with my cock than with my stomach, I guarantee it.” His eyes flick up then to catch yours, a slight look of defiance in them as if he’s telling you to test his theory.

Your eyebrows shift upwards slightly and you smile, reaching to grab his swollen cock before you inch backwards until the tip of him is rubbing against your entrance. Rolling your hips in a circular manner, you tease him by sliding only the slightest of him inside before lifting off him again.

This is repeated a few times until he lets out a quiet whine of impatience, laced with desire and need. Tutting, you take pity on him and slide down on him suddenly, his cock penetrating you with ease given how obscenely wet and aroused you are for him.

Every inch of him fills you immediately, your sensitive walls clenching instinctively as you let out a long moan of pleasure. Hoseok’s cock has always felt good, and the knowledge of being watched makes it even more arousing and therefore pleasurable as you tighten once more.

His hands flex against the sheets, not touching you given that you haven’t given him the permission to do so. But you know he’s desperate for his hands to sink into the soft flesh of your hips, push you down as he drives upwards.

Instead, he lays there with clenched teeth as you slowly begin to ride him. He looks so attractive that you can’t help but lean down and bite along his neck once more, reaching any skin that you can manage around his collar and sucking deeply until you can feel the vibrations of his noises through his throat.

“He’s doing so good for me, aren’t you? His cock feels just as good as you think it might, I hope you all know that. Just imagine him inside you, filling you up until all you can focus on is the thickness between your thighs. Each ridge of him pressing against your sensitive areas, the friction of him so overwhelming. Imagine him fucking up into you, or you riding him like this. He’ll be whatever you want him to be, right Hope?” You end the teasing by running your hand along his chest, nails scraping slightly as he shudders and moans under you.

“Yes Ma’am. Anything you want.” He’ll probably say whatever you want right now, the combination of his cock in your wet, tight warmth and the dildo pressing against his prostate with every clench of his muscles and movement of his hips overriding any coherent thoughts he may have.

“That’s my good boy.” Purring to him, you begin to ride him with wild abandon.

Each roll of your hips had his thick length sliding in and out of you with a practised ease, the blunt head of him rubbing against the sensitive nerves inside you with each precise movement until you let out a soft cry of pleasure. Looking down at him, you groaned quietly at the sight of him so unbelievably fucked out beneath you.

It was a common sight for you, but not one for his viewers who were used to the restrained and controlled persona who inhabited HopeWorld, ruling it with darkened words and silken hands that touched only himself. Now though, they were being introduced to a whole new persona of Hope; one who enjoyed losing himself to the sensations and feelings that came with letting go.

Hoseok was tense beneath you, the toned planes of his chest shuddering as his lungs worked to force life giving oxygen into his starved body while the tendons of his neck tensed delightfully beneath the black leather of the collar that wrapped around him. Bruised rosettes were blossoming already from your earlier, insistent, ministrations and you smirked at the sight of them as he bit down on his lip, reddened from the constant chewing he'd been doing.

His abdominal muscles flex beneath you with each rock of your hips, a sign that he's fighting the instinctual urge he has to surge forward and fuck you till you're weeping his name. Only the knowledge of punishment, a refused orgasm once more, keeps him from giving in.

Inky hair clings to his sweat soaked forehead as his eyes scrunched closed, whimpers of almost pain leaving his throat but you know it's the opposite. He's experiencing too much pleasure, the precipice to bliss just within his reach and you purr softly.

“Does my Hope want to come? Do you want to come inside me until you're leaking out of me with each thrust? Till I'm coated in white?” He nods immediately, a choked grunt escaping him as you twist your hips a certain way while clamping your inner muscles down.

Reaching behind you, twisting your body till the camera has a great shot of you riding him,you grasp the end of the dildo still firmly wedged in him and pull on it slowly before sliding it back into place. It's awkward in this position, and you can't pull it out far enough but his reaction makes it worth it.

A high pitched whine leaves him before tagged gasps tear from his lungs, body jerking like he's been electrocuted beneath you from the dual pleasure of your slick, tight pussy around his cock and the thick, long intrusion pressing against his prostate in his ass.

Looking at the camera, you smirk before using your other hand to play with your clit slowly. Deft, experienced fingers rub at the bundle of nerves till you're fluttering around him and he's letting out random noises as you let out a deep sigh and shake your head.

“I don't think our Hope deserves to come in me, do you?” You ask his viewers directly, pausing your movements to lean in and read the flurry of comments that are flying along the screen. There are over 70,000 people watching you ruin him right now and the sheer thrill sends a tingle down your spine.

“Looks like they agree Hope, no pussy for you.” You murmur, grinning for the camera before turning back and leaning forward. Hoseok's eyes are almost black with lust and passion and he acquiesces to you with zero complaints as you kiss him messily, tongue playing with his in a loud show before you pull away to admire his wry lips.

Lifting your hips up, he slips out of you before his length bounces on his stomach and rising back up to press insistently at your clit. Sighing quietly, you grind against him and simply enjoy the way his slick flesh feels against you.

“How should I use him to get off hmm? Should I ride him? Get myself off while he watches? Or ride his face?” You throw out the suggestions casually, feeling the way Hoseok shudders beneath you in anticipation of whatever you’re going to do for him.

Crawling over to the laptop, your eyes glance towards the camera and you take note of yourself in the screen as you do so. Your breasts are still held tightly in your lace bra, the hints of green noticeable even at a glance and your teeth bite at your lip seductively as you run a hand over the soft mounds of them.

Unsurprisingly, the comments are going wild and you laugh lightly as you sit against the edge of the bed, likely leaving a patch of darkened wetness on the delightful silk sheets. Smirking, you let your tongue run along your lower lip slowly while looking into the camera.

“Shall we do a little poll? 100 coins to vote.” You murmur, grinning as your fingers tap over the keyboard as you set up the poll how Hoseok had shown you once. The hitch in his breathing from behind you let’s you know he’s probably turned his head away to let out a laugh at your blatant commercialisation of ruining your fiancé.

He’d be proud.

Shifting, you look at him with a raised brow as the poll begins to run. Hoseok’s face is carefully blank, the sweat on his brow shining in the light as he works to calm down his breathing now that he’s been given a respite. There’s something delightful about edging him along to an orgasm before letting him whine as it falls away from him and you understand exactly why he loves doing it to you so much.

Running your fingertips lightly alone his chest, letting the slightest touch of his skin ghost against your own. The sensation has him shivering, the fine hairs on his arms rising as you lean over and press an open mouthed, wet kiss to him. A stilted breath escapes him at your touch and you smile, your tongue darting out to lick the lightest line of wetness along his stomach.

You follow the natural lines of his muscles, dipping into the crevices and enjoying the slight tang of his sweat as it hits your tongue. It almost immediately makes a flare of heat burst into life between your legs, causing you to squeeze. The slight relief caused has you sighing against him, warm breath hitting the cooling trail on his skin and making him shiver again.

“You’re being very good for me, aren’t you? Such a good boy.” The words purr from you, low and teasing as you bite at his hip bone and cause him to jerk in response. He doesn’t respond until you look back up at him, brow raising while your eyes harden slightly.

Hoseok bites at his own lip, looking a little like he wants to be petulant and you mentally encourage him. Because there’s nothing like reprimanding him and making him whine for you, and the power trip the camera is giving you is like nothing else. You don’t even need to feel between your legs to know damn well that not only is your pussy wet, but your thighs too.

But he evidently decides to deny you that thrill because he nods slowly.

Still, you decide it’s not quite enough for you and you reach for his collar, pulling him up slightly until his shoulders leave the bed. “What was that? Are you being a good boy?”

Hoseok hisses lightly, his muscles in his torso flexing as he keeps himself up to ease the pressure on him before he nods once more. “Yes Ma’am. I’m being a good boy for you.”

You almost end up moaning at that, jaw clenching slightly to keep it all together at his sex roughened voice, the tone scraping against all the pleasurable bits inside you and letting you know that he’s beyond turned on. Though his cock was enough evidence of that.

Instead, you just smirk and let go before turning back to the laptop as he falls back to the bed with a soft ‘ooph’. The comments have been going wild again, with some people complaining about the lack of normal HopeWorld content but the vast majority going crazy over seeing their Hope being so utterly dominated after years of controlling his crowd so easily.

It would appear his fans are very approving of this change of pace, and you can’t help but break character and smile as you see the love that’s being sent your way. Any reservations or insecurities you may have had are swept away at the sight of them and instead you feel oddly empowered.

You understand why Hoseok has done this for so long now.

“Hmm...it would seem that the people want me to use your mouth to get myself off. What do you think about that Hope? Are you willing to put that naughty tongue to good use? You’re certainly willing to let it run on these shows...shall we show the audience that it’s good for more than just reprimanding?” Smirking, you take hold of the camera carefully and walked back over to the bed, carefully making sure that you’re in focus and everything is still working.

Hoseok’s watching you with those sex darkened eyes, lashes creating soft shadows on his statuesque face and you’re desperate for everyone to see how he looks even more beautiful with his mouth wet from you. You don’t let him have a chance to move, and instead straddle his waist once more before slowly crawling up his body.

The camera gets placed down just above his head, your eyes on the laptop screen to make sure you’ve got the perfect view while you try to avoid whimpering at the feel of his heated breath against your sopping core. This isn’t a position you do all too often, but your thighs literally tremble with desire at the idea of it right now and a quick glance down has you internally sighing.

Hoseok’s eyes are focused with quiet intensity on the soft flesh between your legs, his breath coming a little faster and his hands gripping the silk bedsheets tighter as he restrains himself from doing what he so obviously wants to. Which is attack you with so much fury and lust that you can’t stop your moans.

“Now then Hope...I’m going to need you to stick out that dirty tongue of yours. I’ve seen the filth that you’ve said with it over the years, and I think it’s time that we put it to good use.” There’s not even an ounce of resistance in Hoseok as he sticks his tongue out, stiffening the pink muscle into a point that has you shuddering on nothing.

Christ, he was going to be the death of you.

“Good boy.” You whisper before lowering yourself the final few inches until you feel the wet tip press against the engorged bundle of nerves, so sensitive that you can’t keep the deep groan inside. He’s warm against you, his tongue firm yet slippery as it slides along your folds with ease.

Hoseok doesn’t try to do anything for the moment, though you can tell by his closed eyes that he’s having to control himself pretty well. You don’t want him to get jaw, or tongue, ache though so you stroke your fingers through his hair slowly while you rock against him before finally letting him free.

“Use your mouth on me Hope. Show me that tongue is useful for more than just being dirty.” It’s all the confirmation Hoseok needed and he immediately relaxes his tongue from its stiff position, the loss of sensation almost causing you to whine.

Instead though, it’s replaced with his hot lips and an intense pressure as he wraps them around your clit before letting go. He continues with this motion in an almost teasing manner; suck and release, suck and release. It doesn’t help when he suddenly includes his tongue, flicking the tender flesh until you shudder above him.

Opening your eyes, you focus on the camera before glancing to the laptop to make sure it’s getting the best shot. From here, you can see the night sky blackness of his hair as it gleams in the light, his elegant nose visible before his wet, pink tongue darts out to lick a long, flat strip along your pussy.

It’s a ridiculously arousing shot, and combined with his movements has you moaning out loud while you fist at his hair. Your hips are moving of their own accord now, short little grinding motions that press yourself further into him and he lets out a deep hum of approval, the vibrations sending shivers along you.

“That’s it, oh god yes that’s it. Keep going, make me cum. Use your fingers.” You command of him, your voice wavering slightly as your eyes flutter shut from the pleasure that sizzles along your veins. It’s been over forty-five minutes now, and you’re more than ready to finally fall into the embrace of the orgasm that you’ve been teasing yourself with.

And Hoseok is more than ready to give it to you, with his long and elegant fingers running along the supple skin of your thigh lightly before reaching your drenched core. Two of them slide along you, coating themselves in your excitement before they’re slipping inside.

Almost immediately you clench tightly around him, the sensation of something penetrating you overwhelming and enticing. Hoseok doesn’t let you go easy though, and you almost get the sense that he’s getting his own back on you.

It doesn’t surprise you. You’ve always claimed that he was dominant even when being submissive, he just let you do what you want. But you certainly don’t complain this time, not when he starts to finger you at a fast tempo that matches the insistent flicking of his tongue on your clit.

Each stroke has his fingers bending, curling against your g-spot and sending an overwhelming amount of pleasure through your body every time until you were making the tiniest moans. The sounds are lewd and loud, overwhelmingly wet and you have no doubt that Hoseok’s chin is likely getting covered.

He makes no complaint however, instead just focusing on your pussy with a laser focus. A glance at the camera in front of you makes you quiver, thighs tensing before you’re moaning out in one long, low syllable that sounds like it’s been drawn from the bottom of your stomach. Your internal muscles clamp down on his fingers, twitching around him as your entire body convulses while his tongue still working at your poor clit.

Hoseok’s hand doesn’t relent either, continuing to push through your tightness and elongating your orgasm until the over sensitivity of it all has you panting and pushing at his head until those beautiful brown eyes of his are visible once more. They’re creased slightly, amusement evident in every inch of his gorgeous face but you don’t let the camera see that.

Instead, you shift until you’re kneeling on one leg, the other pushed outwards so the camera can see the slick, wet evidence of Hoseok’s ministrations on you. Even from here, you can see how turned on you look and the lust in Hoseok’s eyes tells you that the viewers are probably loving it too.

Humming to yourself, you shift until you’re sitting closer to the laptop and lean in to read the comments while positioning the camera to focus on your torso. The silk brushes against your clit momentarily and you let out a tiny gasp before focusing once more.

“Oh, it seemed they liked that Hope. You were being a very good boy, they approve. Do you think we should let him get his treat now? Good boys deserve a reward right?” Your voice is huskier than it would normally be, but you’ve just been given a phenomenal orgasm so there’s no surprise.

Sure enough, the comments come rolling in like a wave of unrestrained lust and desire. People demanding that Hoseok be ridden till he’s whining, fucked in the ass till he’s pleading or sucked till he’s gasping. One thing was for certain; everyone wanted to see their favourite Hope brought to an orgasm that was so shattering, it would shift the axis of his world.

“Okay everyone, I see. We all want our beloved Hope to get his happy ending yeah? A true goodbye to the camming world? What do you say I make him moan for you, the way he’s made all of you moan over the years? Would you like that?” Hoseok lets out a soft gasp from behind you, his hand moving until it’s resting against the small of your back in a reassuring way.

The camera doesn’t pick this up and it warms you from the inside at his touch. He was ready for whatever you gave him.

His viewers are desperate to watch him truly fall apart, to witness him brought to orgasm by someone else. Smiling, you shift to look at him before smirking, running your finger along his swollen lips. He keeps firm eye contact with you as his tongue flicks out, playing with your finger before you’re looking back at the screen.

“Is everyone ready? You’re going to get to see the one and only Hope, truly fucked out for the first and only time.” The chat goes wild with excitement and lust, causing you to laugh as you move out of the way before shifting the camera until it’s focused on Hoseok perfectly.

He’s still wearing his shirt, the white that covers his arms contrasting against his warm, golden skin that’s covered in the lightest sheen of sweat. His hard cock, swollen and stiff against his stomach, is leaking pre-cum and you grin as it twitches as you watch it while his balls are tight, desperate for release.

“Let’s go then Hope, can you handle it?” You turn towards him, crawling on your hands and knees down the bed until you’re at his thighs. His lip is pulled into his mouth, white teeth apparent for a moment before they’re gone.

“I can handle it Ma’am.” His voice is quiet and respectful, but you can hear the slight pushback in it. He’s being cocky, which is a dangerous thing to be when you have his actual cock right there. Instead of saying anything though, you just grin before taking hold of the dildo that’s been sitting prettily inside him the whole time.

You know that it’s been affecting him, as occasional movements that had nothing to do with you would make him gasp and shiver. And you know exactly where his prostate is from previous experience. Not only that, but you have zero qualms in making him cry with pleasure again.

He tenses up for a quick moment before relaxing, his thighs tightening once more as you pull at the thick intrusion penetrating him until it’s almost out. Pushing slowly, you slip it back inside and grin at the deep grunt that leaves his mouth.

The next stroke is angled slightly, your wrist working to find the right angle until his entire body shudders and his hands claw at the sheets. Bingo.

“Do you like that? Does it feel good?” You murmur, tone low as you bend down to kiss along his toned thigh wetly. A few of your kisses turn into you sucking at the skin harshly, leaving pretty red spots that blossom, while others you bite at the muscle there.

It’s undeniably hot and arousing, the way he writhes on the bed at your insistent touch and how his hips circle desperately. Much like how yours must when he’s hammering into you, trying to find the perfect angle that makes your body sing.

But you’ve already found that with Hoseok, because each breath that escapes his heaving chest is laced with the beautiful sound of his moans and whines. Each noise painting a beautiful picture of heady lust for the camera.

“Did you know that he can orgasm from prostate stimulation alone?” You look at the camera, brow raised in amusement. From this distance, you can’t read the comments but from the way Hoseok’s cock jumps, you know that he’s remembering the experience as well. “It takes a long time though, so today we’ll just have to help him along.”

Smiling at him, you grab the bottle of lube and add a little more to make sure he’s extra comfortable before working at him harder. Hoseok hisses out slowly, his chest lowering as his breath leaves him and you decide that now is the time.

His cock is resting on his stomach still, a pool of pre-cum leaking profusely from his tip with the more you stimulate him. Reaching for it, you grasp the base of him firmly before moving up in one, long stroke. The downward stroke has him gasping and you continue the motion on, starting to move faster until the sounds in the room reach lewd levels once more.

Leaning forward, you tongue at his balls slowly, tracing along the skin and sucking one into your mouth playfully while his body wriggles on the bed desperately. His hands continually clench at the sheets and you wonder if he might tear straight through them.

“Oh god, oh god please. Please.” He starts to pant, the words high pitched despite his deeper voice and painted with desperation. Poor baby needed to come.

Letting go of his testicles, you run the flat of your tongue up his shaft slowly, letting it play along him before you flick your tongue at the spot just below his tip. Salty liquid greets you, the evidence of his desire and pleasure and you suckle on the head of him for a few moments, enjoying the way his hips jerk up to try and find more of the warm embrace of your mouth.

You don’t let his movements dictate you however, and instead your tongue dances around his tip for a minute or so, dipping into his slit before tracing along the edges of the head. Finally, your lips wrap around him, only this time...you don’t let go of him. Instead, you let your head lower until he’s firmly in your throat, your nose pressing against the hair at his base.

The suddenness of being deep throated has Hoseok choking, his hips jerking up and almost gagging you as you force your throat muscles to relax around him. “Oh fuck, oh god, oh fuck, oh shit.”

He’s not making any sense with his words and you get the feeling that any form of coherent thought has officially left him as your throat contracts around his sensitive tip. Each pull of your mouth on his cock is reciprocated with a stroke of the dildo inside him, creating a dual sensation of pleasure that has him speaking in pure gibberish as his face screws up.

There’s no warning of his next move, no pat on your head or verbal cue. Instead, his hips jerk savagely under you before his entire body convulses in a wave of pleasure as streams of thick cum coat the walls of your throat. Hoseok is normally pretty loud when he orgasms, his groans deep and intoxicatingly arousing, but this time he’s almost silent except for a soft, high pitched whine.

You help him through it, continuing to bob up and down on his cock as he cums while your arm continuous to pump the dildo in him. As usual when he’s getting prostate stimulation, the orgasm is longer than usual and it feels like he cums for minutes, your mouth salty with his taste.

Finally though, he starts to whine and pant as the pleasure turns to overstimulation. “Oh god, please stop. Please stop Ma’am.” He gasps out, hands twitching as he struggles to avoid pressing against your head.

You take pity on him, releasing him with a slick sound and watching as his sensitive member falls back on his stomach with a slap. Humming lightly, you gently tug the dildo out of him and place it on the towel you’d prepared earlier, ready for it to be cleaned later while your hand runs along his stomach lightly.

Pressing a kiss to his chest, you move up to then kiss his lips while you scan over his face quickly to check that he’s okay. He watches you with tired eyes, the half moon crescents wrinkling as he smiles at you.

“Are you okay?” You ask quietly after a few minutes, keeping your voice soft and quiet as your hand strokes along his chest comfortingly. He nods, lips pursing into a slight pout and you can’t help but chuckle at him before kissing him again. “Come say bye to your viewers.”

Hoseok groans slightly, knowing that you’ll give him the aftercare he needs and wants once the camera has finished. You have every intention of bundling him into the shower, cleaning him up, giving him a warm drink before cuddling up with him under the covers. But he has to finish his camshow career now.

He shifts forward, his movements slow and lazy and you let him lean against you. His head flops onto your shoulder, black hair covering his forehead and you make soft, unintelligible noises as you move it away so the camera can see his beautiful face. Maybe the shift in demeanour might be jarring to the viewers, but neither of you care.

Leaning forward, Hoseok pulls the laptop closer to you both while you drape his discarded jeans over both of your laps. Odd, to want this privacy after what you’d just done yet you felt the need given the topic. He makes a soft hum of acknowledgement before shrugging off his shirt and wrapping it around your shoulders.

“Did everyone enjoy that?” He asks, the corner of his mouth twisting up as a hint of his usual Hope persona comes through. Your hand slips behind him to rest against his back, providing comfort for you both.

The comments are running along the screen and you read a few with a smile, enjoying people screaming unintelligibly in the comments over how beautiful Hope looked being ruined or how nicely he came for you. From what you can read, the general consensus is positive to it and you feel proud that you’d done what he wanted.

“Yeah? You think she’s hot? She is, isn’t she? Pretty good at this too.” He goes quiet again before laughing. “Actually no, I don’t do this often. But tonight was special for you all, right? A treat to say thank you for loving me over the years.”

You want to hug him at that; the love and affection in his voice is so strong. He’ll miss this, you know he will. But Hoseok is also stubborn, and you know that he won’t change his mind.

“Does she have her own shows? No, she doesn’t,” He pauses and looks at you with a bright smile, the familiar heart shape warming your own heart. “I should stop talking like you’re not here. But seriously...thank you for all your love and support over the years. It’s meant a lot, and I’m glad that you’ve loved me in turn. I’ll miss you all.”

Hoseok waves at the camera, smiling brightly and laughing at the comments as they fly past. “I love you all! I hope all you dirty folk find someone new to keep you in your place. But for now, HopeWorld is officially closed.”

And with that, he turns off live stream.

It’s silent for a few seconds before he looks at you and presses a kiss to your forehead. He doesn’t move, just lets his lips rest there before he’s nosing at your hairline while his arms wrap around you.

“You did really good. A natural on camera. And you looked beautiful. And I’m not entirely sure I’m feeling my legs yet.” Snorting, you lean back slightly to look him in the eyes.

“Are you okay?” You’re asking both about his physical and mental state after what happened but also about closing down his camshow career. His lips purse before he nods.

“Yep. I’m good. I love you.” He whispers before kissing you slowly. A rumble of pleasure leaves his chest and you smile into it.

“Love you too. And now I believe I owe you some aftercare, so shower it is Mr Jung.”

“Yes future-Mrs Jung. Your fiancé needs his cuddles.”

“And he’ll get them. Once he’s clean.”

[thecleverdame]

The Oath - 5

Parings: Dark!Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader

Summary: After an unsuccessful escape attempt, the reader finds herself taken as a spoil of war. She ends up in the bed of a ruthless Alpha, the son of John Winchester, leader of the kingdom of Gilead. She struggles to conceal her true identity and navigate a society where being an Omega means nothing more than serving at the pleasure of powerful men.

Warnings: non-con, sexual assault, rape, attempted suicide, sexual slavery, branding, torture, ownership, voyeurism, anal play, smut, violence, and murder.

Sam is dark in this story. If any of the warnings are triggers for you, I would suggest skipping this one. Please read and heed all the warnings.

Beta: ilikaicalie

Chapters 1-14 are currently available on Patreon.  To get access to this and many other stories, subscribe for a pledge of 2.50 per month. CLICK HERE

-

You’re drifting in and out of sleep, jarred half-awake with every bump in the path. The cart sways, side to side, bringing the same nausea you felt the first time you took a voyage by ship. There’s the sound of horse hooves trotting closer and Sam Winchester appears above you, looking down from his horse. 

“Are you cold?” he asks. 

Tilda looks down at her hands, trying to fade into the background. 

“Yes, the wind is strong today.” It’s such a foreign thing to have such an inconsequential conversation with a man who’s sworn to eradicate every member of your family. Not to mention forced you to take his knot only hours before. Yet he acts as if all this is nothing out of the ordinary. 

“And your arm?” His horse starts to pull away from the cart and he guides the steed back, trotting right beside you. “Are you in pain?”

“I’ll manage.”

“I asked if you’re in pain.” His voice grows tight with impatience. It’s a reminder of your place in this brave new world. He asks questions and you answer. 

“Some,” you admit.  “It never really goes away.”

“Here.” He reaches into his cloak and pulls out a metal flask, dropping it into your lap. “Drink. It’s wine, it’s strong. It will keep you warm and help you to forget your arm. I’ll come back with food in a few hours.”

“Thank you,” you offer but he’s already out of earshot, riding away. 

You uncap the flask, taking a sip and sputtering at the taste. You’ve never been a fan of wine, but desperate times call for desperate measures. You drink down as much as you can before wiping your mouth. 

“Would you like some?” You offer Tilda a sip. 

“No, I wouldn’t dare.” She shakes her head, holding a hand up. “He didn’t give it to me, it’s yours.” 

“You think he’d be upset?” You feel sick, all these unspoken rules are a far cry from any iteration of your old life. 

“Are you joking?” she laughs dryly. “He kept you for himself. Samuel Winchester rode back to check on you. You’re lucky to be in his favor. I’ve never seen him show interest in any of us before. Dean takes his pleasures, and Sam will get his cock sucked but never anything more. Did he knot you?”

“I beg your pardon?” You’re aghast at this sort of talk. Is this your life now? Discussing such intimate matters while being pulled around in the back of an apple cart. You want to cry, to curl into yourself and die right here and now. 

“Did he knot you?” Tilda asks again, looking around to ensure she’s not overheard. She leans closer. “Come on, tell me. I can help you.”

“I’m not I should talk about it.” You gulp, taking another sip from the flask. “Yes. I spent the night with him.”

“Oh, God has smiled on you. Trust me when I tell you, keep him satisfied as long as you can. Sam might be a brute but it’s better than being passed around like a prize.”

“Is that what you are? A prize?”

“I never know who I’ll end up with next. Some of the Alpha’s aren’t so bad, all they want is to knot a hole and they’re satisfied. For some, we’re the only Omega’s they’ll ever come close to in real life. But some…” she stops to look at her hands. “Some are evil men. They enjoy inflicting pain. He might not be a good man but he’s good enough to bring you food and drink. Give him a reason to keep you as long as you can.”

-

That night proves to be no different than the first. The men set up the tents as far as the eye can see. It’s dark by the time Sam comes for you, lifting you out of the cart and escorting you to he and Dean’s personal quarters. It’s been set up exactly the same as yesterday. It must be a huge undertaking to erect this elaborate space only to tear it down the next morning as the brigade moves on. 

You quietly eat dinner with Dean at one end of the table, Sam at the other. For the most part, they act as if you’re not there. Arguing about strategies on the battlefield and who will end up in their father’s favor. Sam doesn’t skip a beat, cutting your meat into bite-sized pieces so you’re able to eat with one working hand. 

Your mother always said there was good to be found in any situation. While there are certainly dark times, you search for the tiny offerings of hope that appear. At least he doesn’t take joy in your pain or the inclination for some of the more tortuous acts Tilda spoke of. Not yet anyway. 

You’ve heard the stories, the horrifying tales of the Alpha of Gilead. You know full well what you are to them, nothing more than what’s between your legs. You’re a being stripped of personhood to be used at the whim of another. Things could be worse. You could be given to the men, viciously beaten and raped until you fell pregnant or died. And even then they’d continue to have their way with you. 

No, you tell herself that ending up in Sam’s good favor is a higher power watching over you.  

“I’m going to find a card game.” Dean throws his handkerchief on his plate, sitting back in the chair. He looks from you to Sam. “Is it safe to assume you’re staying in?” 

“Yes,” Sam confirms. The nod of his head and the squeeze of his fist seem to tell his brother all he needs to know. 

Their communication is intricate. They can have an entire conversation with a few words and pointed looks. 

Dean wraps himself in a cloak and heads out for the night, leaving you alone with Sam yet again. He watches you wordlessly as you stare at the fire, waiting for what you already know is coming. 

But tonight, before he has the chance to make his move you preempt with a request.

“Alpha,” you whisper, finding your voice shaky. At the sound of his title, he snaps to attention, eye drilling holes in you. “Would it be possible to have some of the tea you made me last night. For my arm.”

He blinks, studying you carefully before answering. 

“Yes.”

He grinds the herbs as he did before, boiling the water and setting the mug on the table in front of you. It seems like a lifetime while you wait for it to cool. The silence goes unfulfilled as the fire crackles in the background. 

“May I make one more request?” you ask, timid as mouse staring at the herbs in the bottom of the cup. 

“What is it?” He leans forward, tilting his head to the side. 

“May I wash up before we’re together? I was in the cart all day and I stink of horses.” 

“Yes, of course.” Sam sits back, gesturing toward the water basin next to the fire. 

There is much that doesn’t need to be said out loud. You know what to expect. You’ll bathe out here in the open and he’ll watch, just the same as he watched the cook clean you the night before. Even your most basic acts are privy to his observation. 

This is what it feels like to belong to someone. 

Standing, you go through the logistics. With one arm you’re limited in nearly every aspect. 

“Would you help me with my dress?” you ask, turning your back toward him. 

Sam leans forward in his chair, pulling at the laces at the back of the dress and yanking it down until you’re able to step out. You’re naked in the firelight, perfect skin glowing save the bruises you sustained in the woods. His cock stiffens in his pants as you walk to the fire and squeeze the excess water out of the cloth before washing yourself. 

Even in the low light of the fire, he sees your cheeks grow red as you clean your breasts and underarms before rising out the rag. You stare at the floor, washing your sex and then begin a second pass over your body. 

You’re doing this half for your own comfort, and a half in an attempt to keep him happy. Tilda was insistent about keeping him satisfied. Now you know your fate when he grows tired of you. 

“How would like me?” Your eyes dart up, meeting his with hesitation. 

“Here.” He remains seated, reaching out to you. You walk to him, standing between his legs. His finger trails over your ribs as he sits up tall, arching up to scent you. It’s uncomfortably intimate as he buries his face in your neck. His open mouth breathes hot, nose rubbing back and forth across your pulse point. 

Your body responds despite any internal protest. Breath goes choppy, a tingling between your legs bringing you to life. His teeth scrape over your throat and to your horror you moan, a fractured breathy sound as he smiles against your flesh. 

“That’s it Omega, stop thinking and just feel.” He nips under your chin before cupping your breast with one giant palm. Your nipples are hard as rocks, standing at attention and he promptly sucks one into his mouth. You make a garbled sound, head falling backward as he sucks hard, hot tongue swirling around the bud. His hand snakes between your legs, a finger sinking into your slick before rubbing your own arousal over your clit with easy strokes. 

He’s right. If you don’t think about the rest of it and just focus on the Alpha in front of you, all the bad slips away. It becomes clear, this is how you survive. You can do this, be an Omega to his Alpha. And whatever happens outside of these private moments you’ll deal with when the time comes. 

His mouth comes off your breast, wet nipple instantly pebbling in the cold air. 

“Your body wants me, Omega.” He looks up at you, the reflection of the fire dancing in his eyes. 

“Yes,” you whisper. That one word of confirmation brings complete and utter shame. You spent the better part of the day imagining ways to escape and now you’re practically begging for him to take you. 

His thumb presses over your clit as two fingers stroke between the lips of your cunt. He doesn’t push inside, he just strokes slowly through your arousal, back and forth as your legs begin to tremble. 

“Your sweet little cunt is drooling.” He offers a dark grin, rubbing his thumb in a circle around your bud. Everything between your legs is throbbing. “Why are you fighting it?” 

“Because you scare me.” You whimper this truth and immediately wish you could take it back. Fortunately, he doesn’t seem the least bit bothered by the confession. 

“You should be scared of me,” he chuckles, stroking over your clit. Your entire body is vibrating in pleasure and fear, you’re sweating from head to toe, barely able to stay standing. “But not when you’re in my bed. Don’t worry, I’ll be careful with your arm. All you have to do is be good for me. Let me in here where you’re warm and soft and tight.”

His fingers slip into your cunt and you groan, eyes shutting as you grip his shoulder for balance. 

“That’s it,” he coaxes, fucking you slowly, sliding in up to his knuckles. “Tell me what you want?”

“I want,” you start and have to stop, drawing in a breath. Licking your lips, your brow furrows as he twists his wrist between your thighs. “I want your knot.”

A single tear slides down your cheek and Sam watches it disappear under your jawline. 

“I bet you’d say anything to get my cock in this greedy little cunt, wouldn’t you?” 

“Yes!” you agree in desperation. Between his scent and the way he touches you, it’s a potent combination. Despite the humiliation, you would do anything he asked at this moment. 

“Good,” he grunts. 

Sam pulls his hand from between your legs, standing up to guide you back toward the bed. 

“This arm is a problem. If you weren’t hurt I’d fuck you so hard you wouldn’t be able to walk for the rest of the week. But we don’t want to do any permanent damage, do we?” 

You turn around, looking up, covered in sweat and aroused beyond anything you’ve ever known was possible. No wonder the men of Gilead think of you as a mindless breed mare when you respond like this. 

Sam wraps his hand around your hip bone, pushing you down onto the bed. 

“Get in the middle and spread your legs for me.” 

Sam watches in satisfaction as you do as you’re told, scooting backward and letting your thighs fall open. The scent of your cunt is overwhelming, nothing’s ever been as sweet or as temping. 

You need the lie, to lose yourself n the guise of a true believer. If you give in maybe you can trick yourself. 

“Tell me what I am,” you gaze up at him. 

Sam stares at you as he strokes his cock, watching your breasts rise and fall. It takes him a moment to understand what you’re asking, but he catches on quickly. 

“You’re an Omega.” He crawls onto the bed between your legs. Your skin is so warm he feels the heat coming off you. Your pussy is glistening, thighs wet and inviting. He can only imagine what you’ll look like when you’re in heat. “You exist for this.” He lowers himself over you, fisting his cock and pressing the head into your pussy. “To take my cock, to cum around my knot until your belly is full of my seed. This is what you are, Omega.”

His weight pins you to the bed as he slides inside, not stopping until he’s rooted. It’s different than the night before. It doesn’t hurt this time. Maybe it’s because he’s already been inside you or perhaps the position is more conducive to your pleasure. 

Two hands planted on either side of your head, he fucks you at an even pace, taking his time to watch. If he lifts himself up he has a bird’s eye view of his cock disappearing into your hot pussy. The visual only adds to the feeling of your cunt sliding around him as he thrusts inside again and again. Your eyes are clenched shut, mouth open as you let out strangled sounds, moans, and sobs until you end up biting down on your own finger to quell the noise. 

He’s not sure how an Omega as beautiful as you went this long without being claimed by an Alpha. It’s unfathomable to him that the first Alpha to cross your path didn’t sink his teeth into you. The way you smell, the feel of your skin and the way you press your lips together when you’re holding back. His father has always been the one who believed in the religion of it all, Sam has always drifted in and out of belief, but you’re enough to make a believer out of him. Perhaps you’re the reward his dedication has all been leading up to. He knows he’s getting ahead of himself, it’s only been two days and he knows nothing about you. 

“Alpha,” you call out. Your back arches, tits pressing upward, belly pushing into his stomach. Small hands clutch at his biceps, pushing and pulling as if simultaneously trying to push him away and bring him closer. 

You’re going to cum, he knows that much. He’s making a point to grind himself over your clit with every thrust of his hips. He’s never been one to be overly concerned with the pleasure of an Omega, but he wants to see you cum this time. See it on your face as you give up the fight and surrender to what you are. 

Your hips start to move in rhythm with his, working with him to take him deeper, faster, harder. 

His knot begins to swell and before he even pops you cum with a wanton cry. Your mouth falls open, head pressed back into the bedding as you tighten around his cock. Sam gives one final thrust, your cunt pulling him inside as his knot locks him inside you. 

It takes a moment for him to catch his breath, pressing his forehead against your collar bone and taking in every sensation. There’s a hand at the back of his neck, fingernails digging into skin as you pant underneath him. Your thighs squeeze around his hips, pulsing in tandem with your own fading orgasm. 

When he finally raises his head, you’re laying against the bed, eyes closed as tears streak down each of your temples. There’s a darkness inside him that enjoys this reaction, that you cry after you cum, when he’s still inside you. 

“You’ll get used to it,” he pulls back enough to gaze down at where your bodies are joined. “Give it time, Omega. You won’t even remember who you were before.” 

[igirisuhito]

Title: Afflicted Relationship(s): Kamukura Izuru/Komaeda Nagito Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito Rating: Mature Chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / ? Chapter Summary: Monokuma has a fresh new motive! Monomi has been a bit too comfortable lately, so why not let the chains go and let the biggest secret they're trying to suppress manifest within the simulation under the guise of illness? Trigger Warnings: Vomiting, Illness, Personality issues Author’s Note: This fic is an AU of sdr2 chapter 3. Rather slow to update. Can’t tell you how long it will run for but if you like to keep track, I recommend subscribing on Ao3.

[Ao3 Link]

┈┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈

"Hghh-GAH!"

My body shot up involuntarily, kicking me from my sleep. My breathing was laboured and sweat dripped down my forehead, was that a nightmare? As quickly as it had come, the nightmare had completely dissolved, feeling out of reach in the depths of my mind yet leaving a bad taste in my mouth

My body was hot, unusually so. It's so hot here on tropical Jabberwock Island but I was finally starting to get used to it. This heat was more...feverish. Have I come down with something? Can I even get sick here? Surely not.

…Can viruses travel across water?

Pocketing the thought in my mind to ask Tsumiki later, I buttoned my shirt and lifted myself from the bed. My body was heavy, exhausted, like I hadn’t rested in years. Vertigo made the floor deceptively uneven beneath my feet.

Oh god. Something is wrong.

I picked up my jeans from the floor and pulled them on, stumbling slightly as I tried to balance and get my legs in the right holes. I wrapped my tie around my collar and knotted it loosely before quickly slipping my sneakers on, not even bothering to redo the laces. I really should have had a shower with how sticky with sweat my skin was, but I really had to get to breakfast.

A weird thought floated through the back of my mind, it was almost as if I was…underdressed? This is what I wear every day…?

I stepped towards the door slowly. My heart was pounding in my ears, like I'd been running a marathon. Ohhh something was definitely off.

I turned the knob and stepped outside into the daylight. Crap the sun was bright. With slow steps, I made my way from the cabins to the restaurant where everybody usually met up.

My fingers glided along the banister as I stepped up the wooden stairs. This mundane task felt so much more difficult today. Upon making it upstairs and entering through the diner’s side entrance, I was confronted by the sound of loud sobs.

I assumed it was Saionji or Tsumiki, but the sobs didn't quite match those two. They were louder, less whiny. The sight that appeared before me was Owari leaning into Tsumiki's chest, bawling her eyes out and staining the nurse's white apron. It was such an unusual scene, I found myself glancing multiple times to see if it was actually happening.

"Ah! H-hinata! I-i-is there any ch-chance you could please give- give me a hand here?" The Ultimate Nurse stuttered out, clearly distressed and overwhelmed.

I attempted to step forward to help her with Owari, but my body was frozen, stuck in place.

Huh?

"My assistance won't make any difference to her condition."

A deep, unfamiliar voice spoke. I snapped my head around the room attempting to find its owner, but there was only there was only the three of us here.

Was that…? No, surely not. I don't talk in such a pretentious way.

"H-hinata…"

I stared at her with what I assumed was panic. Tsumiki flinched and was now clinging to Owari tighter than Owari had been clinging to her.

"Hey, what the fuck is going on here?" A familiar gruff voice broke the tension.

Kuzuryuu emerged from the stairs and looked towards the two girls clinging to each other desperately. He then glanced to me, expectant of an answer.

"At first glance it would seem the stress of Nidai's loss has finally tipped Owari over the edge and into despair, but it's rather something much more sinister."

There that voice was again! I could feel my lips moving and the words coming out, but there was absolutely no thought of these words going through my mind! The Ultimate Gangster appeared shocked as well.

"Wait what the fuck is wrong with you? You sound like fucking Komaeda."

"Huh? Who sounds like me?"

As if on queue, Komaeda arrived to the scene with Nanami in tow. The girl barely looked up from her device before sitting down at a table.

"Oi, say to Komaeda what you said to me!" Kuzuryuu barked at me.

Oh god this is going downhill so fast.

"I see no reason to repeat myself." Desperately seeking her help, advice, anything, I approached the dining table and sat myself next to the gamer girl.

Nanami paused her game to look at me with a wide eyed expression. "Hinata…" Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"Amazing! You've finally developed a personality fit for an Ultimate such as yourself!" Komaeda clasped his hands together excitedly. "What brought this on?"

It seemed whatever had possessed me and myself both agreed to ignore the Luckster.

Soon Saionji and Mioda were entering the room, Saionji giggling nefariously behind her small little hand.

"Hey guys look! Ibuki will do whatever I tell her to today!" Saionji yelled across the dining hall enthusiastically. "Ibuki! Go jump on Tsumiki!"

The colourful girl made a salute "Right away, Hiyoko-chan!" and threw herself at the Ultimate Nurse, who was still cradling Owari. Tsumiki screamed as she hit the floor with both Owari and Mioda on top of her.

"My my what's going on?" Sonia and Tanaka emerged from the stairs with a dejected looking Souda trailing behind.

"A new motive!"

A shrill voice shrieked excitedly. Suddenly, a familiar monochromatic bear popped up at the end of the dining table. Man, way too much is happening too fast, especially when I'm feeling like this.

"Motive?" Komaeda was the first to speak up, sounding almost excited.

"That's riiiight! The motive for the next murder! I've decided to inflict some of you with a bad boy I like to call 'Despair Disease!" Monokuma grinned a toothy smile as he addressed everyone in the room.

"I'm sure you've all gotten a good idea of what's happening by now, but I'll give you a nice little rundown regardless, just so you brainless bastards can understand." Monokuma pointed a furry paw at Owari.

"Akane Owari has Coward Disease."

Then to Mioda. "Ibuki Mioda has Gullible Disease."

Then to me. "Hajime Hinata has Apathy Disease."

Huh…me?

I was one of the motives…?

The words left my mouth too quickly once again. "There's no cure then, unless a murder occurs?"

The bear nodded. "That's right my hollow friend! Unless you take advantage of your 'no strings attached' state and kill somebody, you could be stuck like this forever!"

The room got suddenly hotter, forcing me to loosen my tie a bit so I could breathe. My eyes were becoming unfocused and everything was drifting away. The only sounds I could hear were Monokuma's rambles, Owari screaming about her fear of death, and the blood rushing in my ears.

Monokuma had made us the perfect candidates for a killing.

With this thought the world began to spin, even though I was still seated.

"Hinata-san…are you okay?" Chiaki's soft voice was distant as my head became unbearably heavy and the world slipped through my fingers. The last thing I felt was my forehead hitting the wooden dining table.

-

I awoke to the sensation of my muscles being stretched. Specifically, the ones in my arms.

"...ant…d...t...an…….'s t-...eavy…."

"urel….n…..t-m-t….ike…..you -an…ft another person, Souda!"

"I can't! It's not my fault he's so-"

"Ah! Hinata-kun!"

My eyes slowly fluttered open and I groaned. My head ached and there was sweat coating my body from head to toe. I could feel the hard floor on my back, pressing my shirt to stick damply to my skin.

A mess of fluffy white hair and sunken grey eyes was leaning into my gaze. The very sight of Komaeda made me want to close my eyes again.

The two boys were stood at either end of me, Souda still holding my arms up. His face was twisted into an uncomfortable look.

"You pick up heavy machinery almost daily, Souda. You're only feigning this weakness so that you don't have to carry me, right?" I mumbled, letting out an exasperated sigh and glancing back at the pink haired male.

Souda let go of my arms with a shocked expression, allowing them to fall to my side with a thud. "W-what?! I wouldn't do something like that to my soul-friend!"

I examined his expression closely, Souda wore a nervous smile. "How boring. It's not of any issue, I can walk by myself."

I set my palms down on the floor beside me and sat up. Komaeda reached out and uttered a "Wait" when suddenly I was overcome with an aching pain in my head. A small hiss escaped my lips and I faltered.

"It's so incredibly brave of you to try to move yourself, Hinata-kun! However, Tsumiki-san said you shouldn't try to in your state.” Komaeda spoke, concern apparent in his voice. “Souda and I planned to take you to the hospital, unless you don’t want talentless scum like me carrying you!”

“I don’t. I can take care of myself.” I had another go at lifting myself off the floor. My knees stuttered for a moment, but I managed to stand. My head was still pounding, but it was so much more tolerable than allowing myself to be carried.

Komaeda’s expression morphed into one of hurt, but his eyes gleamed with a whole different emotion; intrigue. “Hinata-kun…”

“Seriously Hinata! You could hurt yourself!” Souda objected, placing a hand on my shoulder.

I swatted his hand away and began to walk towards the stairs of the hotel. “Why are you two looking at me like that? You should have expected this.”

Komaeda and Souda stayed silent as I made my slow descent down the stairs. If my hearing was a little bit worse, I probably wouldn’t have heard the “stubborn bastard” Souda eventually muttered out.

I gripped the handrail tightly once I stepped off the last step, now finding myself in the games room. Son of a bitch- my head hurts so badly. It was almost as if somebody was shoving an ice pick through my brain. My body was still glazed with sweat and my eyes bleary. Whatever Monokuma had inflicted us with, it was pretty unbearable.

I know I’ve always been a prideful person, but even in this situation I should be completely fine with leaving my health in the hands of Tsumiki. Being the Ultimate Nurse, she would definitely be able to relieve my symptoms somewhat. But the very thought of seeking help seemed anything but of interest.

What is wrong with me? I thought Monokuma said I had apathy disease, not ‘huge prick’ disease. I felt like a completely different person. The very thought made my throat dry up.

On another note, what does apathy mean again? It means like...not caring, right? So I surely couldn’t be concerned about what Tsumiki thinks of me...I don’t get it. Something just feels incredibly wrong about putting myself in her, or anyone's, hands.

Shoving those thoughts down, I decided to make my way to the third island. The sun made my fever all the more excruciating and I found myself feeling faint, but I powered on anyway.

I crossed the bridge to the centre island, then took the bridge to the third island. I've never been so incredibly grateful for that red and white building to not be on the other side of the island.

I pushed open the door of the hospital building, finding myself in a small reception room. It was painted a dull blue-green colour, and bore a large white reception desk. There was also a small assembly of chairs, forming what I presumed is a waiting area. Kuzuryuu was lounged in one of these chairs in a seemingly uncomfortable position.

The Gangster jumped up the second he saw me, as it he had been awaiting my arrival. “Dude, did you fucking walk here? Did Komaeda and Souda ditch you?!” “Yes, and no. I left them at the hotel.” I explained, making eye contact with the shorter boy.

“Why the fuck would you do that? You’re sick as a dog! You passed out at breakfast, remember?!”

“I recall.”

“Then why’d you-”

“I don’t need to explain my actions to you.”

Kuzuryuu’s face twisted in a scowl, before he sighed and dropped all emotion from his face. “Man I don’t get this shit. Just go talk to Tsumiki okay? She’s in the first room treating Owari’s fever.”

I nodded and made my way into the hallway past the desk. There were doors on the left, labelled with numbers, patient rooms. On the right were windowed rooms with various…Monokuma displays?

Something about this place made my headache even worse.

I swallowed down the feeling and opened the door to the firsr room, stepping inside and quietly closing the door behind me. The room was filled with the loud sound of Owari sobbing her heart out. At this point, her voice was beginning to break, sounding hoarse and desperate. Tsumiki whirled around to face me, a wet rag in hand.

“H-Hinata! I-I-I’m glad you’re- you’re here. If y-you’d like, um, y-you can go rest in the second room. I’ll be- um, w-with you in a sec!” She stammered out, flashing a forced smile.

“I’ll stay there, as I assume the others will see me as a contagion risk, but I don’t wish for you to treat me.” I spoke sternly.

Tsumiki looked shocked, and then tears began to drip from her eyes. “I-I-I’m s-sorry! I-I didn’t know that- that I-I was in-in-inadequate in my n-nursing!”

I left the room before I had to listen to her cry any further, it was boring to listen to somebody act to so pathetically. As I stepped back out into the hallway, a rush of dizziness and nausea overcame me. I staggered slightly and leant an arm on the nearest wall, squeezing my eyes shut tight and trying to still the room around me.

Jesus Christ I feel like crap.

Light footsteps approached in my direction. I couldn't see who it was, but the sound of metal chain clinking against itself hinted as to who the footsteps' owner might be.

Komaeda's voice sounded cheerful. “Hinata-kun! Kuzuryuu-san told me you made it here okay! Ah, you look awfully-”

“I’m going to throw up.”

“Oh, I understand. It’s only natural for you to have that reaction upon running into somebody like me.” Komaeda laughed at his own self-deprecation.

“No, Komae-” I gagged on my words and quickly pressed a hand over my mouth.

Komaeda’s eyes went wide, followed by a soft “oh”. The boy then grabbed my wrist, pulling me into the second patient’s room. The room had a small ensuite bathroom, much alike most hospitals. I didn’t bother looking around too much, instead opting to make my way into the bathroom as quickly as possible. I spied the toilet and removed the hand from my mouth, opting to lean it against the cistern and sinking to my knees.

I heaved into the toilet, tears pricking at the corner of my eyes as my throat burned and my head screamed. This feeling was utterly...despairing.

After what felt like hours, my stomach had finally begun to calm down. I wiped my mouth with a groan and laid my face on the cool tiles of the floor.

“That’s kind of unhygienic, you know.” A breathy voice spoke from the doorway.

“It doesn’t matter.” I mumbled.

I heard Komaeda’s footsteps come closer, followed by a cool hand being pressed to my forehead. A quiet sigh escaped my mouth in relief.

“You’re incredibly hot, Hinata-kun.” Komaeda paused for longer than necessary, “Hang on, I’ll go get Tsumiki.”

He removed his hand from my forehead and I groaned out in annoyance. “Nooo.”

“Huh? Why don’t you want me to go get Tsumiki.”

“I don’t want to be treated.”

“Wh- why?”

“I want to see what happens.”

Komaeda laughed a wheezy little laugh. "Hinata-kun, normally I'd agree to anything you say, but an Ultimate like yourself shouldn't force yourself to go through something like this."

“Your opinion on the matter isn’t important, Komaeda. I’m just telling you not to get Tsumiki.” I stated firmly. “Besides, knowing the people here, it won’t be long before a murder occurs and I'm free from this.”

Komaeda tilted his head, looking somewhat intrigued by my statement. He had hardly reacted to my harsh words. “Not that I disagree, but why do you think that will be the case?”

I shrugged slightly and pushed myself up from the floor, now sitting up. The room was still spinning dangerously around me. “You’re all psychotic. That’s all.”

This statement seemed to tickle Komaeda, as he laughed and drew a big grin on his face. “It’s surprising how much more honest you are at the moment. Has your new apathetic outlook made you unbothered with hurting people’s feelings?”

I sighed. “You can sit here and philosophise all you like about the despair disease and its impacts. I’m going to go get a drink to calm this migraine."

I pulled myself up, slowly rising to my feet when a shocking pain pulsed through my head again.

"Ghuh-!"

My legs went weak and Komaeda reached out, grabbing hold of my torso to keep me from crashing to the floor below.

"You probably shouldn't try to do that." He muttered, gripping my waist tightly.

"No shit. Let go." I hissed, reaching out and latching on to Komaeda's shoulders.

The boy laughed heartily, making no attempt to remove his hands. "You tell me to let go whilst using my body to prop yourself up? You're awfully strange Hinata-kun."

Komaeda moved to my side and, removing one of his arms from my waist and now placing his hand over mine. "Please put your arm around my shoulder, we should just get you to your bed."

I sighed loudly in defeat and placed my arm around Komaeda's shoulder. The boy nodded and slowly started to move forward.

"I really don't need your help for this Komaeda."

"I know. Thankyou for allowing me to assist you, even if garbage like myself isn't worthy to."

I didn't bother to entertain Komaeda with a response. Instead I leaned more of my body weight onto the boy and groaned.

"It's alright, Hinata-kun, you're doing an amazing job." Komaeda breathed in a hushed tone.

The sound of his voice so close to me made me shiver, but it provided a momentary distraction from the pain.

My knees bumped into something hard and I looked up, realising we had made it across the room. Komaeda slipped his hand out from my waist and helped me lower myself to sit on the mattress.

"God I'm so hot." I murmured.

Komaeda pressed a cool hand to my cheek, making me sigh in relief. Using his right hand, he pressed his fingers into the knot of my tie, pulling it further undone from my neck.

"You should probably change into a hospital gown, it would at least be much cooler than wearing jeans." Komaeda spoke in a low voice.

He must be trying to help my migraine by being quiet. How…considerate of him?

"I...you're right." I sighed, bringing my fingers to undo the top button of my shirt.

Komaeda backed off, removing his hand from my face quickly. "Oh, Hinata-kun! Should I leave?"

I undid the rest of my buttons and shrugged off my shirt and tie. "Do what you want."

The boy nodded quickly, his cheeks were slightly flushed. "I-I'm going to get you a gown." And with that, he dashed out of the room, shutting the door gently behind him.

Weirdo.

I undid my belt and lifted my hips from the bed, carefully wiggling myself out of my jeans. They were awfully tight on my body, probably from the sweat of the fever.

I discarded my jeans and laid back on the bed with a groan. I probably shouldn't lie down yet, but I'm so goddamn sore and tired. The bed was hard and uncomfortable, but it was so nice to be off my feet for even a moment.

The door opened again and in stepped Komaeda, holding a folded up gown in his hands. "Ah, Hinata-kun, are you okay?"

"No." I mumbled, rolling over so I was now face-down in the pillow.

"I'm sorry, can I get you anything?" Komaeda spoke softly as a weight sat on the edge of the bed, most likely him.

"Water."

"Can do." The weight disappeared once again. "I left your gown on the bed if you want to change."

"Mhm." I mustered the strength to push myself up before scanning my eyes around the room. Komaeda was gone once again, I never heard the door click when he left, how strange.

I picked up the gown from the edge of the mattress. It was incredibly lightweight, but the linen was soft. I slipped my arms into the sleeves and pulled it up onto my shoulders. I then tied it around the waist loosely and sat back down on the bed.

Komaeda returned a few moments later with a tray holding a jug of water and a cup. He set the tray down on the bedside table and began to pour a cup of water.

"Are you feeling any better, Hinata-kun?" He quizzed, not taking his eyes away from what he was doing.

"I'm less hot." I mumbled.

"That's good." The boy turned to me, holding a plastic cup of water in his outstretched hand. I took it carefully with two hands, raising it to my lips and sipping.

The cool water felt like heaven on my burning throat. I squeezed my eyes closed tight and drank the whole cup, finishing with a pleased sigh.

"Ah, you probably shouldn't drink too fast, you don't want to make yourself sick again." Komaeda smiled and took the cup from my hands.

"That would be exciting though, wouldn't it? To be desperately seeking a release from pain only for it to make things worse? Actually, no, that's so incredibly predictable…" I babbled out, somewhat dazed and sleepy now that the ache in my throat was relieved.

"Haha, you're starting to sound a bit like me. How scary." Komaeda chuckled to himself, pouring another cup of water.

I slowly lowered my body back onto the bed, resting my head against the pillow. "Mmnn...it would be most unfortunate to have a mindset as boring as yours."

Komaeda gave a sad smile and placed the plastic cup onto the tray. "I think I'll go. I need to talk to Kuzuryuu-san about what everybody else is doing. Please call for Tsumiki-san if you need anything."

"Mmm."

The last thing I heard was the sound of Komaeda muttering to himself and the click of the door behind him. Fatigue took hold and I found myself falling into a deep sleep.

[somekindoftuber]

vld youtuber AU (klance, part 4)

part one | part two | part three

Compared to the all day insanity of his livestream, Lance’s 23rd birthday is super laid back. Hunk makes the hour drive into Harborville and the three of them hit his favorite pizza joint. It’s not as good as the one back home on Varadero Beach, but it’s a close second. After that they spend the rest of the day in he and Pidge’s living room playing horror games and snuggling together on the couch (let it be known that Hunk is a world class cuddler and his hugs can cure most ailments). He spends an hour on facetime with his family, retreating to his room at one point to talk to his mom and dad alone. He misses them so much, even though he was just there. He comes out of his room sniffling a little and lets Hunk scoop him up like a ragdoll.

Once July is over, Lance finds his schedule suddenly packed. His subscriber count is starting to inch towards twenty five thousand and he has to sit down and process that for a while. It doesn’t seem real. That’s a fourth of the way to a silver creator award - he never dreamed he’d get that far just making weird videos and singing parody songs.

But to what end? Does he want a youtube career? This was just supposed to be a fun hobby. Not that he wants to work at the cafe the rest of his life, but his associate’s degree in social sciences has sort of been going to waste. He might be able to use youtube as a stepping stone into something else.

But what?

He would normally consult Pidge, but she’s slammed with robotics projects and barely has time to hang out at all. Hunk is still online sometimes, but he’s frequently occupied since he finally grew a spine and asked Shay out after pining for her at a distance for almost a year.

Like how you’re pining for Keith, his inner monologue tells him. He shakes his head to shut it up. Besides, Lance has only been pining for what, four, maybe five months? Not nearly as bad.

Speaking of Keith, Lance hasn’t heard much from him since the Livestream. He never responded to Lance’s text thanking him, and he hasn’t played Overwatch in a while. Shiro had recently posted a video where they were finishing up their current bike and Keith had been there (looking amazing and wow is his hair getting long), so Lance knows he’s alive. A weird sense of dread starts gnawing at him, so he sends Keith a DM on twitter.

@LanceyLance to @k_redlion Hey man just checking in, haven’t heard from you in a while, you good? We should play OW soon, I miss my dps partner ;D

He hopes that’s not too forward. While he waits for a reply (and so he doesn’t anxiously check his twitter every two minutes), Lance starts working on the guitar part of a Hozier song he wants to cover, and he’s never been more glad that he took the time to learn how to read and write music. Lance’s channel has been featuring more love songs - for which Pidge and Hunk have collectively nicknamed him Captain Subtlety. But does it matter how not-subtle he is if none of it seems to be getting through to his intended target?

He spends a good two hours practicing and then takes a break, finally letting himself check his twitter. There’s a reply from Keith and Lance almost jumps up from his chair.

@k_redlion to @LanceyLance yeah man sorry just been really busy with work and the garage i’m free this thursday if you want to play

He’s not technically free. He was planning on filming on Thursday since Pidge will be out of the apartment almost all day and he won’t bother her. But for Keith? He’ll make time.

@LanceyLance to @k_redlion Heck yeah man just name a time!!

When they do play on Thursday, Keith isn’t very talkative. He’s always sort of quiet, but he sounds tense today. His words are even more clipped, and it sets Lance on edge. They’re in a queue for a game when Lance decides he can’t take any more.

“Dude,” He asks. “You alright?”

“I’m fine.”

Yeah, right, Lance thinks. But he’s gotta approach this carefully. Keith doesn’t open up easily, he knows that much, and attempting to force it out of him would likely backfire.

“Hey,” he says carefully. “I know we’re not, like, super close, but you can tell me if something’s wrong. I’m actually really good at keeping secrets.”

There’s a bit of silence, then a tiny breath that almost sounds like a laugh. “Like how you told the entire internet that Pidge pukes in the car if she reads anything other than road signs?”

Lance makes an indignant sound. “Oh come on, that’s not a secret! Anyone who’s been in a car with her for five minutes knows she’s has the stomach strength of a toddler!”

Keith laughs then, and it’s such a nice sound, even if it’s short lived. It breaks the tension enough that Lance feels confident about trying again.

“But seriously, Keith. I’m here for you, yeah?” Lance chews on his lip. “I hope that’s okay for me to say.”

There’s a stretch of quiet that has Lance almost breaking out into a sweat. But then he hears Keith huff over the mic. “Yeah,” Keith says, and it sounds like there’s a smile behind it. “Yeah, man. Thanks.”

.

Lance gets another invite from Shiro.

It’s perfect timing because Pidge is finishing her summer term and is completely fried - something only a trip home will fix. And since she doesn’t have a car, Lance has the perfect excuse to drive her. With his neighbors set to watch his cats, they pile in Lance’s Civic, put on a playlist of Disney songs, and sing for nearly the entire drive. Pidge is damn near loopy after her final exam, but she finished her robotics project and most likely aced it. Like she does every exam. Lance doubts she’s ever seen anything lower than an A- on anything.

The Holts are just as chipper as always, even if Pidge collapses face-first into her father as soon as she steps through the door. He just pats her head and laughs. Lance brings their stuff inside so Pidge can take a much needed nap, then shoots a text to Shiro letting him know they got in okay.  They’re not set to film for another two days, but maybe he can sneak some hang-out time in there. Until then, everyone under the Holt family roof is on Pidge pampering duty.

Filming day comes and Lance brings a cake for them all to share. He pulls up to the house and parks on the street, noting that the house garage is open. Keith is inside, bent over a motorcycle and surrounded by parts and tools, looking so focused that he doesn’t seem to notice Lance approaching. He’s wearing a tank top and sweats and is covered in grease, but he still looks good, so Lance doesn’t say anything for a second and admires the view. Keith’s phone is perched on a toolbox nearby, playing music - Massive Attack. Of course he would listen to Massive Attack.

Keith finally notices him and stiffens, turning. With the cake in his arms, Lance can’t really wave, so he just shrugs and smiles. Keith eyes him up and down for a second before pointing to the door inside the garage.

“Head on in, Shiro’s in the kitchen.”

When he gets inside, Shiro stands from the kitchen table to take the cake from Lance and pull him into a hug. Lance thinks he’ll never get used to that. Keith wanders in a minute later and goes straight for the back of the house to shower and change.

Shiro looks to be in good health, as does Keith, though he’s not really meeting Lance’s eyes. Did he do something wrong? They drive to Shiro’s rented garage a few miles away and shoot for almost five hours, switching camera duty between the three of them. They get a hilarious outtake when Lance drops a socket wrench and juggles it spectacularly before it falls to the floor and bounces at least a dozen times - like something out of a cartoon. It sets them all laughing.

Once they’re done filming, Shiro locks up the garage and they head home. Then it’s time for dinner, barbecue again, but Lance isn’t complaining. He gets put on corn and potato detail while Shiro gets the grill going. Keith still isn’t being very talkative. He doesn’t seem to be actively avoiding Lance, but he thought they’d gotten to a point where they could chat candidly.

Kosmo provides a nice distraction while they eat, giving both Lance and Keith something else to focus on. As the sun sets, Lance could swear that Shiro is giving him a weird look.

“So,” Shiro begins. “Pidge is almost done with school, right?”

Lance nods. “Yep. Finishing almost a year early, even. Not that I’d expect any less from her.”

Shiro picks at a slice of pork loin. “What is she going to do next?”

Lance pouts, then shrugs. “Dunno. She’s got her eye on Boston Dynamics, and I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if they welcome her with a red carpet. Have you seen her thesis? I can’t even pronounce half the title.”

Shiro laughs. “Yeah, she’s a Holt alright. Geniuses, the whole family.” There’s a pause. “And what about you, Lance?”

Oof. That sure is a topic. Lance leans back in his lawn chair and finishes his beer. “Beats me. I stayed in Harborville after school because Pidge wanted a roommate, but I don’t really have anything else going for me there.” He picks at a loose thread on his jeans. “I can sort of work from anywhere? Dunno if I want to stay in a college town.”

Shiro nods with a smile, then glances at his phone. “I’ll be back in a bit,” he says, then ducks back into the house, closing the sliding glass door behind him.

Now it’s just Lance and Keith.

And Keith is giving him A Look. He’s not sure what to make of it, his thick eyebrows pinched over his nose like Lance just grew a second head.

“Uh,” Lance says. “Something wrong?”

Keith opens and closes his mouth several times, then is suddenly very interested in his plate. “You wouldn’t go with her?” He asks.

Lance raises an eyebrow. “Pidge? I mean, I could, I guess...? But I doubt she’d really need me. That woman is going places, y’know? She’s probably pretty eager to be on her own for the first time, especially after living with me for three years.” He laughs a little. “Though I won’t be surprised if she attempts to take one of my cats. Motoko always did like her more than me.”

Keith looks up at Lance and he looks so confused. Adorably confused. “Uh.”

Lance studies him. “Yeah…?”

Keith is chewing on the inside of his cheek a little. “Isn’t -- isn’t Pidge your girlfriend?”

Lance would have choked if he wasn’t so used to that question. “Haha, oh man, no.” He reaches for another beer from the ice chest. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love Pidge and would take a bullet for her any day of the week, but she’s like a sister to me.”

Surprise is slowly dawning on Keith’s face. “Oh.” Then he starts blushing.

“Hey man, don’t sweat it,” Lance assures him. “Pretty much everyone thinks we’re an item. No one believes a guy and a girl can live together and not be dating.”

Keith looks so uncomfortable, his face and ears red. “Sorry. I thought - and then in your livestream you said you weren’t single, so…”

“Huh? When did--” But then Lance remembers his line about his heart being spoken for and now he’s blushing too. “Oh, right. Nah, I just tell that to fans, in case anyone tries to get too close. Which some have. It saves me a lot of headache to just pretend I’m seeing someone.”

He swears Keith’s eyes are glittering. “So you’re…?”

Lance nods. “Yep, completely unattached.”

“Oh.”

There’s a long stretch of quiet that has Lance fidgeting as Keith keeps looking up at him from behind his bangs. He thought Lance was taken? Is that why he’s been awkward? Or is Lance reading too much into this yet again? He shouldn’t say anything, he should keep his mouth shut and wait for Keith --

Shiro picks the perfect moment to return to the back patio and rescue him. They chat for another hour and Keith has visibly loosened up, laughing loudly at Lance’s jokes and stories. When he says goodnight to make the short drive to the Holt home, Keith smiles wide at him, and it takes Lance’s breath away.

.

They only stay in town for another two days, and Lance spends more time with the Holts. On their way out, they swing by Shiro’s to say goodbye. Keith still doesn’t hug him, but he grips Lance’s hand tight and holds his gaze with those crazy intense eyes of his.

Pidge naps for most of the drive so Lance puts on one of his favorite mixes and hums along.

They have another two weeks before Pidge starts her last term of undergrad, so Lance throws himself into YouTube. The filming he did at Shiro’s was enough for three episodes, and thankfully one of them includes Lance dropping the socket wrench. He can’t even be embarrassed when he sees Shiro laughing in the footage.

He spends three days recording before finally posting his newest cover - “Like Real People Do.” He worked really hard on this one, recording several tracks to mix together and several camera angles. Lance splices it all together in his editing software to make a little music video, and, as a last touch, puts it all in black and white. He posts it and crosses his fingers, making an announcement tweet about it.

Keith likes that tweet and Lance melts into the couch.

Pidge rolls her eyes from the other couch, looking up from the giant book she considered ‘light reading.’ Lance had told her the tale of Keith thinking he was dating her, and Pidge took on her classic Resting Bitch Face in response.

“I’d say you’re like a lovesick puppy, but I feel like even they wouldn’t be this bad.”

Lance doesn’t even look up. “Let me have this.”

Pidge huffs and makes a vague gesture with her hands. “Lance. For the love of all that is sacred, please get your shit together and ask him out already.”

But Lance pouts. “But what if I’m seeing this all wrong?” he toys with his phone a little. “He’s super withdrawn and I haven’t known him for very long. What if this is just how he acts when he finally trusts someone? He hasn’t exactly flirted with me or anything.”

Pidge turns a page in her book. “Won’t know until you try.”

Sinking further into the couch, Lance sets his phone aside and continues pouting until it’s time to make dinner.

After he disappears into the kitchen and Pidge starts hearing the rattle of pots and pans, she takes out her phone and opens the text app.

(+328) shiro this is pidge. i need to talk to you

(+770) Hi Pidge! Everything okay?

(+328) in the grand scheme of things yes. i am however about to either lose my mind or commit homicide against my roommate

(+770) Lance?

(+328) shiro. listen. lance is hopelessly in love with your brother and if i have to put up with his pining for my last term i might flunk out from sheer frustration

(+328) he refuses to ask keith out because he’s convinced that he’s misreading it and keith isn’t interested. please tell me hes wrong

(+770) Oh wow

(+770) ahahaha

(+770) Oh my god, this is hilarious.

(+770) Keith is completely smitten with Lance, but won’t do anything about it for the same reason.

(+328) oh my god

(+328) theyre perfect for each other

(+770) Yep.

(+328) but i think it’s time for an intervention

(+328) before i do something ill regret

(+770) I agree. Any ideas?

(+328) yes actually

.

Continued in part 5 here!

[kumawrites]

Love Tutorial (NOT CLICKBAIT)

Shinso x fem!Reader

A/N: hi lovelies i’m back with, you guessed it, more shinso!!! this fic is 100% self indulgent bc i absolutely love makeup lol. i’m trying out a bunch of different things in terms of formatting so like tell me if this section looks ugly LMAO. anyways pls enjoy !!

words: 3.8k

summary: You’re a popular Beauty Guru™ and Shinso is primarily a commentary channel. He follows one of your tutorials, only to be surprised by you talking about how fine he is.

—

“That will be all for this video, if you enjoyed it please show some love by clicking on the like button, and if you like me, subscribe! Like always, feel free to tag me if you recreate this look, I love seeing all of your posts! I’ll see you Earthlings later, bye!” With both hands waving and a bright smile, you successfully finished filming your outro that you have possibly said three hundred times.

Before you could even get a word out, Mina was screaming into the phone. “Y/N? OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD. YOU WON’T BELIEVE THIS. I’M FREAKING OUT FOR YOU! AHHHH!” You winced, not expecting her to be that loud. Sure, you knew quite well that she could get loud, but that’s because she gets excited. So to be this noisy must mean something big is happening.

“Why, hello to you too Mina. How’s my day going? Good! Thank you for asking. I would ask how yours is going but from the sound of it, I’ll assume pretty good.” You snickered into the phone.

“Well, my dear Y/N, it’s about to be even better than just good!” Mina’s volume was significantly lower, but you could still tell just how excited she was.

“Oh really? What’s going to make my day better than? Wait let me guess, NikkiTutorials resigned and gave up her spot as the most iconic beauty guru and gave it to me?” You snorted. If only.

“No! It’s even better!” The pitch of Mina’s voice kept raising higher and higher.

“Okay, okay, spit it out Mina. You’re really making me curious and I don’t know if I should be worried or not.” You grabbed your glass of water from you table and took a sip. Gross, warm. But it was too much work to get a new glass so you began downing this one.

“SHINSO HITOSHI DID A REACTION VIDEO TO ONE OF YOUR TUTORIALS!” You choked on your water and half of it went down the wrong way. You began coughing and Mina, the little bitch, didn’t say anything while you were dying. You could imagine her just sitting there, waiting for you to respond after your coughing fit.

After getting it all out, you swallowed, eyes still wide. “Mina, you’re not joking right now, are you? Because if you are, I know where you live, and I won’t hesitate, bitch.”

“I’m not! I’m really not! Check his channel, he, like, just uploaded it!”

You grabbed your laptop and opened Google Chrome. “Call me back on FaceTime, rat.” You told Mina before hanging up on her. You typed YouTube into the search bar while Mina called you back. When you answered, you could see that she was also in her filming room.

Mina, like you, is a beauty YouTuber that is well known for her flawless skin, even though she has the simplest skincare routine you have ever seen. Her chipper personality also drew in a ton of fans towards her channel. The two of you had met through YouTube and were soon to find out that you lived in the same city. Your friendship really bloomed then, and you basically live at each other’s houses.

You got onto YouTube, and lo and behold, there it was. Obviously you were subscribed to Shinso’s channel, so the first video of pop up was his. It was titled “i learn how to become beautiful” and his thumbnail was him with his signature “kill me now” face on with some patchy, hot pink, glitter eyeshadow all over his eyelids. But also, you were there! You were in his thumbnail which could only mean one thing: this was real.

“HOLY SHIT MINA, I’M IN HIS THUMBNAIL.”

“I KNOW! NOW WATCH THE VIDEO! I HAVEN’T SEEN IT YET THOUGH SO TURN THE VOLUME UP.” She screeched and you did.

You clicked on the video and there he was, Shinso Hitoshi, looking as good as ever. His tired eyes that screamed “I could die at any given moment” and his messy hair that somehow defied physics. It has to be downright illegal to look that hot. Today he was sporting one of his merch items, a hoodie that had simple print on the front of it saying: I’m Shinso Over This. Of course you owned that very sweatshirt. You would never miss out on a chance to buy his merch.

“Hi. I’m back, unfortunately.” His tone was as dry as it always was. “I was harassed into doing this, go bully Denki on Twitter because this is all his fault. But today I’m going to be making myself beautiful with the help of Y/N. Okay, she’s not actually helping me, but I’m going to watch one of her tutorials.” Your heart pounded as he mentioned you. One of creators that you loved the most is going to follow one of your tutorials. You could die happy now.

“HE SAID YOUR NAME!” Mina shrieked from your phone and you nodded eagerly as you kept your eyes glued to the computer.

“I’m going to choose this one, “EASY Valentines Day Makeup Tutorial + Q&A!” because it says easy.” You watched as your face from the most recent Valentine’s Day popped up. In the intro, you had already filmed the tutorial part and were wearing the full face. It was a fairly easy look, to you at least.

You had done a simple glitter cut-crease, primarily using warm toned reds and pinks with some winged liner and false lashes for your eyes. Your face had some sharper contour and heavy blush that trailed from one cheek to another, using your nose like a bridge. And of course, you had used a super glittery highlighter that reflected with all of your studio lights. You had also used a maroon liquid lip.

“Greetings, Earthlings! It’s me, Y/N, and I’m here to do another tutorial! Today we’re going a Valentines Day themed full face, and I’m also going to be answering some love related questions you asked me on Twitter since it is Valentines Day after all. If you’d like to recreate this look, as always I listed all the products I’m going to use down in the description!” You pointed your fingers downwards. “Without further ado, let’s get started!”

Shinso paused your video and held up a Sephora bag. “I spent so much money on this stuff, and I’m never going to use it again.” He lazily drawled. The fact that he made eye bags hot was insanity. You wanted to cry for him because some of the products you used were unnecessarily expensive.

Shinso unpaused your video and you had begun priming your face. He dug around in the Sephora bag before pulling out the primer you were using. As he squirted some on his fingertips, he made an especially disgusted look as he felt the consistency of it. He watched as you spread it all over your face, and copied you.

“She didn’t lie when they said easy.” He mused. Mina and you both cackled through your phone. Primer was possibly the easiest step ever because it didn’t affect the way you looked whatsoever. “Uhh, okay now she’s putting on, uhhh, foundation?” He grabbed a bottle of foundation out of the bag along with a Beauty Blender. “The people at Sephora said this was my skin colour, so I’ll believe them.” Shinso shrugged and set the bottle down to get the Beauty Blender out of the box.

You began blending the foundation into your skin and Shinso did the same. “Alright! First question from Andrea! ‘Are you dating anyone right now?’ wow Andrea, you sure did get straight to the point. Unfortunately no, I’m not in a relationship right now.” You had finished your foundation and had moved on to concealing your under eyes.

Shinso hummed as he watched as you put a relatively small amount of concealer under your eyes and looked into the camera, somehow making his eye-bags even more prominent. “Look, I don’t know much about makeup, but I know I’m going to need more concealer than that. Also I’m surprised that they’re not dating anyone. She’s too good looking to be single.” So he unscrewed the concealer tube, and absolutely went to town. He put on so much concealer that you were almost concerned.

“Mina did you hear that?” You asked in a breathless tone.

“Sure did.”

You were already in awe that the great Shinso Hitoshi was even watching your video, but the fact that he called you good looking? Your heart was practically leaping out of your chest as you watched with wide eyes. Your biggest YouTube crush had called you attractive. What a good day.

In your tutorial, you had finishing blending the concealer in and was moving onto baking your under eyes. You dipped your Beauty Blender into the loose powder and stamped it down underneath your eyes. “Now I’m going to let that bake, so I’m going to go ahead and do my eyeshadow right now!” Shinso gave a confused look and paused the video. He applied the powder somehow everywhere but under his eyes. It was honestly impressive how bad he was at this.

“I’m baking? What am I baking?” He furrowed his eyebrows, clearly very confused.

“For my eye look, I’m going to start with this light pink shade called, ‘Love’. How fitting. I’m going to swipe that into my crease and I’ll follow that up with this more hot pink that will go all over my lid. Then, I’m going to deepen my crease with this almost maroon shade and then I’ll cut my crease using the concealer we used earlier and this flat brush.” Shinso looked like you had just grown two heads in front of him. He had no idea what you were doing to your face.

You watched as he messily some hot pink shade onto his lid, rapidly blinking the whole time, not used to someone so close to his eye. He was not going to like tight-lining. He eventually attempted to cut the crease and looked absolutely dead when it was completely too much of his lid.

“I want to die.” He muttered while looking at the camera. His eyes had somehow lost even more life than what he began with, which was, not much.

“Here’s another question that’s coming from Kelsey! She asks: ‘Who do you think the hottest YouTuber is? I personally really like Bakugo Katsuki!’ Oh I’d definitely have to say Shinso Hitoshi! That man is illegally fine.” What did you just say? Your eyes went wide as you listened to yourself. You had completely forgotten what questions you answered in this video, and now Shinso Hitoshi knows that you think he’s hot. But you didn’t stop there.

“One hundred percent, anyone could throw down with me on this one. Shinso Hitoshi is the hottest YouTuber out there. He could curb stomp me, kill my family, and rob me of all of my belongings and I’d still say thank you.” Why did you ever say that. Mina was absolutely losing it on her side, unbelieving that those words had even made it past editing on your part. Why would you even keep that in the video. You wanted to die.

Shinso on the other hand looked very amused, letting out a chuckle of his own. “Didn’t know I was so popular. I’m honestly kind of flattered. But I wouldn’t curb stomp her. Can’t mess up that pretty face.” This was the end of your career. You’re never going back online ever again.

The you doing the tutorial had just begun applying loose glitter onto your lid. “So after applying this glitter base, I’m going to pat this glitter in. If you drag it, it’ll get absolutely everywhere since this glitter is super chunky. So, just lightly pat it in like this.” Shinso did as you told and still managed to have glitter cascading down, covering his black hoodie.

You had moved onto eyeliner and he looked like he was actually going to die, right then and there. He watched you tight-line your eyes and didn’t even attempt it. After creating a wing that looked like it could fly off of his face any moment, Shinso attempted to put a pair of false lashes on. Somehow, they were stuck to his eyelid, rather than where his lashes were. He followed you as you brushed the bake off. You were then moving onto contour, where he managed to make it look like he had rolled in dirt. Apparently, he had no idea where to put contour on his face so he ended up putting it far too high.

The step you were on now involved putting copious amounts of blush on when you answered your next question. “Alright and this one is from Jennie! ‘If you could date anyone, who would it be?’ I guess I hinted at this earlier, but Shinso Hitoshi all the way. I just want to like, hold his hand. I know, scandalous. But really, my thirst for that man is actually unquenchable.” You said with a straight face as you took a sip of water and then winked to the camera.

“Hey Mina, when I die in the next few minutes, can you make sure to clear my search history. Actually, just wipe my whole computer clean.” You sighed as you buried your face into your hands. This was awful. Out of all the tutorials you had on your channel, Shinso Hitoshi just had to pick the one where you basically confess your undying love for him. Mina simply laughed, promising absolutely nothing. Traitor.

On the other hand, Shinso was grinning. It was one of those grins. One that you knew would never let you live this down, and he doesn’t even know you personally. “Seems that I’ve got a fan. I’d love to hold hands, Y/N, you just have to let me know.” His voice drawled, deep and raspy. It would be hotter if his face didn’t look like someone shook up a bag of crushed makeup and threw the contents at him. To be honest, he really just looked like a big train wreck. But, it was still hot, nonetheless.

He did eventually finish the look, setting it all using far too much setting spray. But instead of holding his usual stoic, tired look, he looked like he was planning something. The corners of Shinso’s mouth were still turned up in a sly smirk, and you had a feeling that something was going to happen. You might as well die before you find out to save yourself the embarrassment.

“Well, I can’t say I enjoyed putting on the makeup, but I did enjoy watching Y/N talk about me. Y/N, if you’re watching me, send me a message and we can collab. Or maybe hold hands.” His mouth opened up and his killing grin hit you. This is it. This is where you die. You were internally screaming at the top of your lungs. God, you hated how hot he was even though he looked like Boo Boo The Fool.

“DID YOU JUST HEAR WHAT HE SAID?” Mina screamed out loud for you. Oh god, you were absolutely mortified.

“Well, that’ll do it for this one, if you liked watching me ruin my face, I have more awful videos for you to watch. And even if you didn’t, it’s too late because you’ve already given me ad revenue. If I don’t post my next video soon, safely assume that I’ve died. I might see you next time, bye.” Shinso said his usual outro and you slumped back onto your chair. You looked at Mina on your phone who was grinning ear to ear. Oh no.

“Message him.”

“Absolutely not I would rather die, right here, right now than talk to Shinso Hitoshi about how I confessed my undying thirst for him. So, that means I’m going to die. I want a granite headstone.” You groaned as you stared up at the ceiling.

“You don’t even have to say anything about that though! Anyways, you probably should talk to him. You could just say that you enjoyed his video and thank him for what basically was, a free shoutout. I think it’d be wrong if you didn’t message him at all.” Mina suggested, and well, she wasn’t wrong. It’d be rude to just ignore the fact that Shinso has put hard work and money into making this video. The least you could do was say a simple thank you.

You groaned as you sat up, grabbing your phone from where it was leaned against. “God, I hate when you’re right. I’ll message him though. I’m going to go ahead and hang up then because I still have another video I want to shoot.”

“Yes of course! But make sure to send me screenshots, I NEED to know how this goes down! I’ll talk to you later!” And with that, the FaceTime call was ended. Now you had to will yourself into messaging Shinso and making it seem normal. You would just have to completely ignore all of the moments you called him hot, and hope that he doesn’t bring them up too.

You opened up Instagram and searched up his handle. You were really going to do this. It was now or never, and if you backed out and never messaged him, Mina would never let you live it down and would probably end up messaging him herself. So to avoid embarrassment that would be even worse than what has already been done, you had to message him.

“Hi! I saw your latest video and I wanted to say thank you so much for featuring my video! It really means a lot. Also, I hope you bought an oil based makeup remover, because that stuff is hard to get off. Especially the glitter!” That was appropriate and calm, wasn’t it? You hit send and hoped that he would stay on topic and not mention the fact that you completely exposed yourself.

You sat down your phone and groaned. What if he thought that you were really creepy and was just leading you on to eventually public ally humiliate and ruin you, ending your career as you know it? That was probably a bit extreme, and rationally you knew he would never do such a thing, but you were paranoid.

As you were drowning in your sorrows, a notification popped up on your phone. It was him. He replied so fast that you were taken aback.

“hey thanks. i’m glad you’re not mad that i used your video without permission lol. and no, i didn’t buy one bc no one told me to. but i did get the makeup off with a lot of scrubbing. i was serious about wanting to collab. would you want to do that?” Your face was burning at this point. Collabing with Shinso sounding like an actual dream.

“Absolutely! I would love to! And ouch, is your skin okay? Too much exfoliating can really irritate the skin!”

“yes, i’m okay. i didn’t scrub too much skin off. and great. you live in LA right?? i do too. we should work out a date sometime to talk. we could even hold hands if you wanted to lol.” Oh god, he went a did it. You wanted to scream.

“Ahaha, yes let’s do that! And sorry about all of the rambling about uhh, you. It must’ve felt weird.” Should your casket be wood? A polished, dark oak wood sounded nice. You would look lovely in that casket after you died of sheer embarrassment. But would it look fine alongside a granite headstone? Maybe it should be marble.

“not at all. i’m very flattered. but letting you know, don’t expect me to curb stomp you. i don’t think i’m strong enough to do that. but we can definitely go on a date, and maybe your thirst will go away.” This time, you actually did scream, straight into your pillow. This is the end of you.

You screenshotted the conversation so far and sent it to Mina. You did promise to keep her updated.

She responded, not even a minute later, with far too many emojis. The winky face, the side-looking eyes, and of course, the cowboy. Sometimes, just sometimes, you really hated Mina. But not really.

“WTF DO I RESPOND TO THAT HE LITERALLY JUST INSINUATED THAT HE'S GOING TO DO,,,, STUFF.” You hurriedly typed to Mina. You could imagine her right now, cackling as you watched you panic.

“Just call him hot and catch him off guard LOL. Or say like ur thirst can never be quenched.” You were about to do it. There wasn’t anything else that you could think to say to him that was normal sounding, so maybe this would work? Should your flowers be lilies? Or perhaps daisies would work. Something nice to remember you by. You don’t want your death to be too sad.

“Unfortunately, I don’t think my thirst can go away. It’s pretty intense.” You typed something real ballsy out, as you went to hit ‘select all’ to delete it, somehow, you had sent it to him instead. Amazing! You were going to have a stroke!

“oh? well, we’ll have to see about that, huh? anyways, here’s my number: xxx-xxx-xxxx. we can talk about our date later. i have to film another video to make sure people know i’m not dead. talk to you later, doll.”

Ah, the nail in the coffin. You really were dead now. You didn’t even get to plan what you were going to write on your gravestone.

You copied his number and put it into your contacts. Even though you were incredibly embarrassed about all of this, you were definitely going to use that later. Not only to plan a collaboration.

—

my amazing girlfriend does my makeup correctly (ft. Y/N)

[bellarkefanfiction]

#NoClickbait

written by: Josefine / @selflessbellamy

prompt: This is typical but maybe distracting kiss while playing a video game? Person A is competitive, 100% focused on winning and person B starts to plant kisses, all because of the competition, no one is in love here, it's a cold, calculating strategy. for anonymous 

word count: 2204

Sharing an apartment with a Youtuber has its pros and cons. For instance, her roommate has — on numerous occasions — demanded to film alone in the living room for hours, because “it has much better lighting.” At night, she often hears him groan loud in frustration while editing, which would be funny if she didn’t have to wake up early for class most mornings.

However, the pros outweigh the cons, at least as it is right now. They’ve been living together for almost a year now, and since she told him that she didn’t mind being a part of his videos every once in a while, he has involved her in his creative process. Unlike a lot of YouTube channels, Bellamy Blake’s offers a wide range of different content, such as:

cook with me: grilled chicken breast (with a twist)

vlog: a day at the bookstore + haul

history has left us: queer!Achilles (Pride Month special)

If his subscriber count of 3.2 million is anything to go by, this kind of content is great entertainment for everyone watching. Hell, Clarke even watches his videos despite the fact that she lives with him and could easily just sneak into the living room to watch him film. Still, she attempts to stay away, because Bellamy doesn’t tend to stare over her shoulder as she draws one of her pictures.

Sometimes, though, her thriving curiosity gets the better of her. When he first noticed her piqued interest, his dark eyes crinkled at the corners and he told her, “Princess, if you wanna know what I’m doing then you have to be a part of it.”

At first, Clarke had wondered whether having her show up in his videos was just gonna be a cheap clickbait trick, so that he could include her in the thumbnail and write a title called ‘vlog: Santa Monica with my girlfriend’, but he didn’t.

Instead, he turned the camera on her face as they were walking down the peer and said, “Oh, by the way guys. This is my roommate Clarke. She’s tagging along.”

He had probably expected her to not say anything, maybe give a shy little wave in response, because that’s what usually happens when people are camera shy. Clarke’s actual reaction was so far from that. In teasing, she stuck her tongue out at him and retorted, “Oh please, you’re the one who’s tagging along. I need someone to help me decide which Bath Bomb to get.”

That is the start of Clarke’s appearance in Bellamy’s videos, and since then she has only showed up more, for longer periods of time. A couple weeks ago she assisted him while he did the ‘Blindfolded Book Challenge’ by picking various classics and non-fiction works from his bookshelf.

After that video was posted, he told her not to look at the comments, which only made her suspicious, because he’d never advised her to stay away from the comment section of his videos before, and for a moment she thought that his viewers were perhaps making fun of her or something. Despite that the possibilities made her somewhat nervous, she couldn’t hold herself back.

The most popular comment jumped out at her:

[Top Comments - click to show]

Dani Larsson: y’all can’t tell us you’re not dating after this.

781+

Gulping, Clarke clicked on the replies and found the first couple ones to be:

Lydia Marcello: yea, just look at 13:52. That shoulder-lean is the least platonic thing I have seen in the modern era.

123+

Furrowing her brow, Clarke went to the timestamp to see what the girl was referring to — and there right before the end of the video as Bellamy said, “I guess that’s it for the Blindfolded Book Challenge. Thanks for watching!” — he pulled Clarke against his side, making her lean her head against his shoulder for a second, smiling.

After forcing her eyes off the frozen frame, Clarke looked at the comment below Lydia Marcello’s only to find:

 TJ Byrne: Well, if he’s not dating her, I would love to tap that.

2+

While the comment didn’t bother her much, it sure as hell seemed to have bothered Bellamy (and a lot of his loyal viewers), because he had actually responded:

Bellamy Blake: @TJ Byrne: Too bad. Sexist white Internet creeps aren’t her type.

201+

Clarke had to bite back the urge to laugh. Also, it was difficult to ignore the clear voice at the back of her head who kept telling her that men with bronze, freckled skin and lots of sharp edges is her type. Still, she has only ever seen one person who looks like that.

A person, whose laughter could light up the entire world, who places pencils behind his ear and hums while he cooks.

***

One late afternoon she returns, violet and vermillion paint caked beneath her fingernails, to the sight of Bellamy sitting cross-legged on the couch, his trusted laptop in front of him and square glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. As always, he looks up when she enters the living room.

“I’m gonna cook dinner. Chicken Alfredo pasta, does that sound good?”

He beams, most likely with as much surprise as amusement, because she’s rarely the one who prepares meals. Still, she wants to prove to him that she’s learned quite a lot from watching his culinary-themed videos.

“Very,” is his simple comment, though the lone word manages to convey his enthusiasm. When she turns to walk into the kitchen, he suddenly adds, “Hey, Clarke, would you mind being in a video later?”

The curiosity in her mind sparks like colorful fireworks. “What kind of video?” Given the complexity of Bellamy’s content, it’s impossible for her to have the faintest idea… Maybe it’s another challenge video? A casual vlog? One of his informative history sessions?

Then he explains that his viewers would love his nostalgia series to feature a gaming video. “I have Mario Kart for my old PlayStation, so… I thought it’d be more fun if we played it together. You know I love how competitive you are.”

That last bit seems to be coated in fondness, the words soft — a stark contrast to his usual teasing tone, and it has color rising to her cheeks, undoubtedly. In order to hide the blush, Clarke turns away, but not without saying, “Of course. That sounds fun,” over her shoulder.

To her joy, Bellamy eats two large portions of the Chicken Alfredo pasta and praises her for using vegetables and spices that complement the creamy sauce. Hearing him say this makes her heart feel warm.

Together, they do the dishes while listening to ‘Cigarette Daydreams’ from one of Bellamy’s vinyl records. Most of his collection he inherited from his dad, but he adds a newer record once in a while. Afterwards the struggle with setting up the lights in preparation for filming — since the sky has now darkened, they need to improve the lighting in the living room.

Before they can turn on the camera, they have to plan a quick intro. Of course, Bellamy will do the most of the talking, since it’s his channel, but he tells her that he doesn’t want her to hold anything back, especially not during the gameplay itself.

It feels like an eternity has passed. At last, Bellamy clicks record, takes a seat next to Clarke and says, “Welcome back guys! I looked at your requests and quickly had to realize that you all want to see me play a video game,” he runs his fingers through the back of his hair, “As you will probably find out, I suck at gaming. I’ve killed a Sim once, and it was not on purpose.”

Clarke mouths, “He has,” hoping that the teasing it will amuse some of his viewers.   

“Anyway, I dragged the Princess along for this one. She’s gonna crush me as Peach.”

Chuckling, she replies, “Oh, I sure am. No more of that ‘damsel in distress’ Peach. Those days are over, and you’re gonna go down.”

Even though they didn’t plan it for the intro, they look at each other, faces inches from one another to signify the “stand-off” that’s about to happen. However, within a couple seconds, they both crack up.

As it turns out, Bellamy is not actually bad at Mario Kart, which seems to surprise him way more than it does her. Within ten of playing minutes, he’s in 3rd place, but he makes the mistake of gloating, “Now, who’s gonna go down, Princess?”

Maybe they should stop using that expression…

Oh, well. “You still are,” Clarke laughs just as she uses the Starman that she’s had up her sleeve for a couple minutes, and while it does help her overtake a lot of players, she’s only gets to the fourth position, right behind him.

Bellamy does what he can to maintain his lead. Out of the corner of her eye, Clarke sees him lick his lips in concentration, and the sight damn near distracts her. Quickly, she collects herself, and while it’s difficult to keep up with him when she has to stay on the course, she’s tailing him.

When he bumps his shoulder against hers in teasing, moving his controller just to annoy her, an unfamiliar sensation sparks in her ribcage, causing her to lean closer and press her lips to his neck, right below his sharp jawline. At first she feels him freeze. Scared that she has overstepped an invisible boundary, she draws back, but he…

He is smiling. “You think you can distract me?”

“I can’t?” Turning her attention back to the television, Clarke smirks as her heart flips itself over and over.

Now she thinks she notices the faint pink tint in his freckled cheeks, but it might be her eyes playing a trick on her. With much confidence, Bellamy says, “You gotta keep trying…”

Right now, they’re doing the final lap around the course, still tailing each other, brushing each other like they are in real life. It seems as though he just gave her another challenge — one, which she is even more determined to win. Therefore, she giggles slightly, kisses his throat again, a little lower this time, then his shoulder and the back of his ear.

He releases a strange sound that must be somewhere between a groan and a chuckle. Unsuccessful, he tries to brush her off, but she can feel the heat that’s rising to his skin by the second.

Just when she leans in for the sixth kiss, he groans, tossing his controller to the side. She doesn’t recognize the emotion flashing in his earthy eyes, but she is not afraid of it. Bellamy murmurs intelligibly before giving her a gentle push to the floor — out of the camera frame — on her back, she watches his face move closer to hers than it ever has until she can almost sense the amazing warmth that pours from his features. Taking a slow breath, he nuzzles her, which has her entire chest feeling like jelly.

When their lips meet, it’s as if the living room is filled with light, though it must be nearing midnight. The happiness bubbles in her stomach, runs through her veins to mix with her bloodstream. Burying her fingers in the dark, soft curls of his hair, Clarke deepens the kiss a little, causing him to smile against her lips.

“I’m gonna have to edit this out.”

She laughs at that statement. “The video is useless now, Bellamy. We’ve both fallen off the course before the finish line.”

“Well, it was worth it.”

As opposed to sleeping that night, they sit on the bed in his room eating dry Coco Puffs while talking about where to go from there.

What they end up doing is reshooting the Mario Kart video the next day (Bellamy wins, much to her dismay), then spend the next eight months trying to hide their relationship from his online following, which is easy when she can simply not be present in his videos.

His viewers, however, are far from stupid. The first video that she appears in after the Mario Kart one is a casual writing vlog, where she brings him a cup of black coffee after his all-nighter. And it’s one tiny detail that Bellamy missed in editing that effectively exposes them:

[Top Comments - click to show]

Christine Hollinger: oh my god, he murmurs ‘thanks, babe’ at 8:46 asdjffikoxxkak… Y’ALL

863+

theo lewis: *platonically calls my roommate ‘babe’*

219+

After that, they have to come to terms with the fact that their secret is out, and because Bellamy doesn’t want to trick his followers, he decides to make the announcement (albeit casually) in his next video, which is a brief daily vlog. Bellamy turns the camera towards the balcony, on which she is standing, looking at the sinking sun.

“Isn’t she beautiful? I’m so lucky.”

No forced, half-assed video of them explaining how they got together, no cheesy girlfriend tag — just a simple yet revealing comment. Their relationship is not clickbait; it’s not something that he’s going to use to gain more followers. It’s too important for that.

[riddleblack246]

“How you doin’, Butterfly Guy?”

“As well as I was the last time I asked you to stop calling me that.”

For @sirhartwin and @kingsmansecretsanta

Prompt: “Tequila having a crush on Amnesia!Harry and Harry having a soft spot for Tequila cuz Harry has a TYPE (discuss)”

Initially, Tequila pretty much avoided Harry entirely. His policy with saved targets had always been something of a “save and skedaddle” and Harry was the first instance of someone being saved that wasn’t immediately sent off to a new life or family or whatever the case dictated. His presence weirded him out, beyond the notion of his seemingly coming back from the dead (some of Ginger’s tech was beyond creepy to him) and the knowledge that he’s associated with some sort of intelligence makes him stand back. Who knew who he was involved with? Tequila had seen some fucked up super villain level shit in his day and he wasn’t too pumped about possibly facing something like that because Ginger didn’t want to send this guy off.

However, interaction was inevitable. As massive as the Statesman estate is, it’s medical ward is only so big. After a mission forced him into Ginger’s hands, Tequila found himself sitting on her examination table and doing his best not to meet the guy’s eye. It’d only been about a month since he’d come to essentially live at Statesman and he seemed to be making strides. When Tequila last saw him, he was barely able to talk or move. Whether that was from the injury or panic, he wasn’t sure. But now the guy was standing just a bit behind Ginger, watching her intently as she finishes off yet another row of stitches. He barely blinked, didn’t speak, just watched like it was the most interesting thing in the world. When she finally finished and let Tequila redress, she turned to the guy and asked if any of what he saw felt familiar or dredged up any memories. And that was the first time her heard him speak. His voice was soft, smooth, even, and deep. Tequila didn’t think too much about why so many words came to mind.

For some reason, he began to stop spacing out around them after that. He would have never claimed that he paid attention, of course, but he did key in to certain things. Picked up information that he was learning about the guy. Like that his name was apparently “Harry”, that he was English, that he really fucking liked butterflies. He didn’t exactly need to listen in to pick that up. As soon as Ginger let the man have pens, he began to draw butterflies all over his goddamn cell. Diagrams, illustrations, everything is fucking butterflies. He wouldn’t admit it, but Tequila did think that the colors did make the whole quarter space a lot nicer to walk into, seeing those images through the two-sided mirror.

At one point, Ginger asked Tequila to sit in and talk with Harry. Of course, he hemmed and hawed and complained, asking why he even has to “babysit” when Ginger had been doing a bang-up job herself. She finally revealed to him that Harry himself had been asking about Tequila. Occasional inquiries about his job, his hobbies, little things as if he was trying to put something together, but he doesn’t know what. His most recent question was on if he already knew him, but had forgotten. After ensuring that no, Harry hadn’t met Tequila and the latter wasn’t just keeping mum about the whole thing, Ginger decided to get the two together in order to see what information she could glean from the interaction. It came with a little more whining on Tequila’s part, but the man finally caved and agreed to spend some time with the patient.

Harry didn’t appear to be expecting him when he arrived. He was looking off in some random corner and drawing on his wall as usual, adding color to one of the dozens of butterflies that had come to dot the walls. Tequila, for once, didn’t announce his arrival and just sat down on the man’s make-shift bed, watching him work. After a while, Harry spoke, greeting him and asking him how he was, all without looking up from the wall. Tequila, despite not wanting to really be there in the first place, responded and began to converse with Harry. He would have claimed that it was because he didn’t want to piss off Ginger and risk her refusing to treat him the next time he nearly got an arm blown off. But the reality was that the Butterfly Guy was surprisingly easy to talk to. They talked about Tequila’s life mostly, at least what he felt was safe to share of it. He was finishing off a story about Champagne and his role at the agency (how the public knew him, that is) when Harry said, almost absently “I thought Lee had died”. But just as easily he had said it, he’d forgotten he had said it, and try as Tequila might to get him back to the topic, Harry was oblivious.

After that conversation, Ginger became all the more insistent that Tequila continue talks with Harry. Something about the agent reminded him of his past and if they were going to have any chance of reigniting his memories, they needed to keep pushing. Strangely enough, Tequila didn’t complain and simply agreed to weekly visits with Butterfly Guy.

Tequila (and Ginger by extension) began to pick up small pieces of Harry’s past. Names like “Hamish” and “Arthur”, references to Margaret Thatcher and Parliament and kidnapping rings and assassination attempts. Little bits of a past that faded as soon as they were said. Tequila grew interested in a version of Harry that he never knew and, if he were honest, he was becoming attached to the Butterfly Guy that he interacted with each week. He found himself disappointed when he had to rearrange his day to see him when he was given a mission, caught himself recognizing specific butterflies that he saw when he was out, realized he was humming the little tune he heard Harry humming the week before. Hell, he’d even started calling him “The Lepidopterist”, as if subscribing the actual job title to his name denoted a level of respect or politeness or affection.

The week before Eggsy and Merlin would “drop in” on the Statesman Brewery (not that Tequila knew that yet), he arrived for his usual talk with Harry, only to find him sat in the corner of his cell, frozen. He sat beside him without a word. There’d been times when he’d watched Harry get this way and Ginger speak to him, trying to coax him out of whatever hole he’d slung his mind into. He had an idea of what to do, even if he wasn’t certain. He settled against the wall, flipping absently through the book he’d brought. He had seen it at some used bookstore that was by his apartment. It was some old ass field guide to butterflies in Peru and it was only a couple bucks. Nothing special. Just... something for Harry. Tequila started to tell him what he’d been up to in the week since he had last seen him, about getting dinner with a couple of other “employees”, about how he was planning on going riding the next weekend, about how it was coming up on ten years since he had joined the agency. When he began on the latter topic, Harry suddenly spoke.

“It’s been a year since you found me.”

Tequila agreed, though remained confused on the importance on the statement., He’d never been one to be big on anniversaries or interested in the importance of dates, but he supposed a year since being pulled back from the brink of death was probably pretty major. Harry continued to speak, bringing up a factor Tequila hadn’t considered.

“I know you all think I’m a part of something of grave importance. Some group of secrecy or something special. But don’t you think they would have found me if I was such a paramount piece of them? Either I’m non-essential or I’m not the person you believe me to be.” Harry swallowed, finally looking at Tequila with that one eye of his, staring at him with a level of panic and worry that he had never seen from him before. “What will you do with me if I’m not?”

Tequila had never considered that. He had always just gone along with Ginger’s belief that Harry was some sort of intelligence agent. He’d had the specs, the gadgets, the clear involvement in the slaughter that had occurred in the South Glade Mission Church. There was no doubting that he was a spy or something similar. But he was right. If he really was so important to an agency, wouldn’t he have been found by now? And if he wasn’t going to be found, what would happen to him? He’d done well enough in his cell for the past year, but living in a medical ward beneath a brewery-cover-operation wasn’t a true way to live. As reluctant as he was to admit it, Tequila couldn’t imagine Ginger’s ward without Harry in it and the thought of sending him off into a world he couldn’t remember sent chills down his spine.

Slowly, he slid his hand over Harry’s and squeezed. Harry didn’t look down as he interlocked their fingers, keeping his eye on Tequila.

“You’ll stay here until we figure something out, alright?” Tequila whispered, his voice taking on a rare quiet vocalization, “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Six days later, he would tie up two men that axed his favorite barrel of whiskey and threaten to light them on fire, both oblivious to his reference to The Lepidopterist. Before Ginger steps in, there is one moment that nearly stops him. When the younger of the two speaks, assuring him that he “likes the part where he goes and fucks himself”, Tequila briefly remembers a statement Harry made months ago, in the face of Tequila expressing a similar statement.

“You sound just like him, you know.”

And if that doesn’t feel like a punch in the gut.

[fake-mountains]

Fuck Freud

Someone requested some sub Ian so I tried 😭

Pairing: Ian Duncan/ Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Warning(s): Uhhh oral (fem!receiving), me being terrible at writing female doms??

Word Count: 1229

There were times you’d watch him in class, drunkenly rambling on about mental health in a way that was almost insulting to the people who lived with it, and thought that his mouth could do so many better things if he’d just shut up. Today was one of those days, hotter than usual, your legs sticking together beneath your sundress. He thought of you in his lap, straddling him in his office. You thought of his head between sticky thighs.

Neither of you were ones to get what you wanted often.

And yet, somehow, here you were. It was the usual, playful teasing, a confrontation in his office that you always hoped would lead to more. As you walked in, he popped the cork on a wine bottle, and you stood before his desk with your arms crossed.

“Freudian psychology is stupid and you’re even more stupid for subscribing to it.”

“Freud was the progenitor of psychoanalysis-“

“Probably the most annoying thing any armchair psychologist does.”

It always got under his skin when you implied he was less than credible, even though he would admit as much among friends.

“I’m no armchair psychologist,” he peers over his glasses at you, “do you have nothing better to do than question my reputability?”

You clicked your tongue.

“Nah.”

He stood up from behind his desk, circling around to lean against the front of it, trying to appear casual as he crossed his arms over his chest, mirroring you.

“As much as I enjoy these almost daily meetings,” he eyes your exposed legs for emphasis, “your insults are a bit tiring.”

“Maybe if you had earned your title I wouldn’t harass you as much.”

He huffs, glaring at you.

“This is a childish way to flirt.”

You scoff.

“Is that what you think I’m doing? Flirting with you? Please.”

“This is how young adolescents usually do it-throwing petty insults in an attempt to seem uninterested,” the way you seemed to pout now wasn’t far from childish, “goes hand in hand with your daddy issues.”

“Daddy issues? There’s that weak arm chair psychology again.”

He watches you, eyebrows raised, and honestly you wanna slap that cocky look off his face.

You go for gentler measures, instead grabbing his tie, pulling him down till his lips meet yours. Oh, you can feel him grin against your lips, but you bite his in turn, an attempt to stifle any gloating that may come up later.

“See? Daddy issues.”

“I’d hardly see you as a replacement for said daddy.”

You wounded him again, and it was clear.

“Besides, you’re the one constantly seeking my approval,” you pull him away from the desk, and he follows easily, obediently. You kiss him roughly once more before placing a hand on his shoulder, guiding him to his knees. You sit before him on the couch and he looks at you with wide brown eyes, a look that goes straight through you.

“Earn it.”

Duncan licks his lips, almost stunned at the turn of events, and honestly, you are too, to a degree. You were sure that when you had kissed him he would have pushed you away, mocked you, been disgusted with you. And you weren’t usually the one in control like this, but you figured it was the only way to get him to look up at you through those dark lashes like he was.

After what felt like way too painfully long, his hand finds its way to your knee, sending a jolt through you that, if you weren’t trying to stay in control, may have made you actually jump. His hand was soft, warm-no doubt from the wine he’d probably been working on all day-only calloused where a pen might sit in his hand. It warmed you like whiskey, and your thighs shifted, parted only slightly.

“May I-“ he looks at you, nervously tapping his fingers on your skin, “may I go down on you?”

God, you didn't want to seem eager, desperate, and you did want him to beg some more, because it did sound so pretty on that deep, accented voice. But you’d be merciful, if only for your own sake.

After licking your lips, you granted him permission, and it seemed he had to stop himself from almost literally diving in.

The shift of the thin cotton dress over your thighs, his hands, long fingers working their way up alongside the fabric to pull your underwear down and over your legs with the kind of ease that only comes with desperation. He carelessly, unceremoniously tosses the bunched up fabric to the side, like he doesn’t want to see the dampness there, or maybe he wants the shock of seeing it glistening between your legs. If that’s the case, he gets it as you ease your knees apart, almost grinning at the way he hisses through his teeth at the sight.

He’s not perfect, and you doubt he’s had much practice, but his enthusiasm makes up for it in spades. At the first taste he grips your hips, yanks you closer with a groan, his tongue flat as it runs over swollen flesh. You bite your lip at the sight, at the feel of his nose bumping against your clit for just a moment on the upstroke.

He gives a more pressured, concentrated swipe of his tongue and your jaw falls slack with praise for him.

“Good boy.” His nails dig into your skin.

With each properly timed pass of the tongue, each little kiss, pressing of the teeth you rewarded him-fingers in his hair, arch of the back, bitten back moan. You both tried to stay quiet, knew anyone passing could hear, but as he focused on that bundle of nerves, as his hand left your hip only to slip one, two fingers into you, it grew increasingly difficult.

“You’re so good,” he arches his fingers, finds that spot inside of you with surprising ease, “so, so good, Ian.” He groans at the use of his first name, sucks on your clit and you have to slap your hand over your mouth to silence yourself.

“Don’t stop,” it comes out as more of a plea for someone who’s supposed to be in charge.

Your hips rock against his mouth, your hands grasp at anything, dark hair, the couch cushions. Each pass of his tongue leaves your bones buzzing and melting all the same. The buildup is long, torturous, but he revels in the way your breathing grows more ragged, the way your hips stutter, thighs tremble around him.

Like a crash, it’s violent, a sob escaping as you seize around him, body pitching forward over him. He doesn’t stop, works you through it, though he can’t help but laugh a bit at the intensity of it-not cruelly, just surprised. He pulls away when you seem to liquefy beneath him, all gasping breaths and an almost stunned smile. Dark eyes hold your gaze as he licks you off his fingers.

Without catching your breath you look at him, smile, and say-

“Freud’s still a dumb bitch.”

[rafestyles]

i wanna be yours | d.d

Requested? Yes: Can you do one of david and reader before getting together and david realizing he has feeling for her and asks someone from the group for advice and she over hears?! 

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings?: None

A/N: hi lovies! i’m baaaaack !! :) i deterred from the plot slightly, having the reader find out david likes her through a carly and erin vlog squad tea video instead! i hope you like it !!

Masterlist?: Here!

you had been friends with the “vlog squad” for almost two years now. you had joined the crew of crazy vloggers because you were close friends with carly and erin, which meant you were invited to a lot of their parties and get-togethers, allowing you to become close to the rest of their friend group.

the first time you had met the legendary david dobrik, you had developed an instant liking to him. not only was he naturally charming, but his driven, business mind was what drew you to him. although, you had an immediate attraction the boy, you suppressed your feelings because he was in a committed (and very cute) relationship with liza at the time. despite all of this, david had also taken a quick likening to you as well, and before you knew it, you two had developed a fast friendship.

over the course of the past two years, the friendship you shared with him grew into a lot more - you considered david to be one of your best friends and he considered you to be his as well. you had been with him as he surpassed millions of subscribers and followers, as well as you being the first one he told when him and liza split. as the years have progressed, your feelings for him became a little more than just platonic. although, you kept that small secret to yourself, deciding it that would be a better option than ruining the whole dynamic of the friend group.

--

it was a lonely, sunday afternoon, when everything changed. you didn’t have any plans for the day, david being beckoned over to carly and erin’s place to film a video and the rest of the group busy with other things. so all in all, it was the perfect day to catch up on some much needed rest. you had just settled down to watch a movie when you received an incoming facetime call from dave.

“y/n?” you watched the screen as he was bending down to sit in his car. “dave, ‘s going on? how was filming with carly and erin?”

he finally made himself comfortable in the seat, placing the phone on his dash so he could buckle up and start the car. “it was good. um, yeah.” he shook his head lightly, biting his bottom lip nervously before continuing. “i think it’s going up tonight. ya gonna watch it?” he looked into the camera then, making as much eye contact as he could through a phone screen.

you furrowed your eyebrows, tilting your head quizzically, “i mean, i usually do dave. so yeah,” you paused for a second, “uh.. why?”

he ran his fingers through his crazy hair, sniffling as he licked over his lips, “oh, it’s just a good one.. uh, really funny.”

he was nervous, but you couldn’t figure out why. before you had a chance to ask him anymore questions, he was grabbing his phone and saying his goodbyes to you, “okay, y/n. i gotta go and film something with jase. uh, will you tell me when you’ve watched their video?” he pulled his bottom lip between his thumb and pointer finger.

“um, sure dave. but what the fuck is going on with you?” you questioned.

he shook his head quickly, “uh nothing! nothing, y/n, everything’s fine. i’ll talk to you later!” and with that, he hung up the phone, leaving you very confused.

--

you hadn’t realized that you had fallen asleep until you were woken up to the sound of your phone ringing. groaning slightly, you rolled over in bed, searching your sheets for the sound of then noise. once you found it, you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion when you realized it was your sister calling you.

“y/s/n?” you mumbled, sitting up in your bed as you stretched and yawned softly.

“y/n! where the fuck have you been?” she screeched, causing you to jump slightly at the sudden outburst. “have you watched c and e’s new video yet? probably not, no, because it sounds like you just woke up. get to your fucking laptop and watch it right now, okay? love you! ok, bye!” she hung up the phone, leaving you speechless on the other line.

you quickly sprung to action though, grabbing your laptop and opening it up. you quickly went to youtube, finding carly and erin’s video to be the first one in your recommended. your confusion kept growing as you noticed the title read “david dobrik reveals his crush?!” you tried to stop your heart from sinking, as you swallowed the lump in your throat, pressing play on the video.

the first few minutes of the video were filled with carly and erin explaining how to these “tea” videos usually go.

“oh, i’m so excited about this one!” erin gushed, “the last time i checked there was some good stuff on here.” she rubbed her hands, almost evily as she glanced over at david.

you smiled softly as he giggled, clapping his hands together, “let’s fucking go then.”

the video continued on much like it always did. they confirmed some of the rumors and denied some of the others and you kept laughing at the sly remarks that all three of them were making towards some of the comments.

“ooo, here’s a good one.” your ears perked up as you watched one of carly’s perfectly trimmed eyebrows raise as she glanced between david and erin. you watched them both read the comment she was referring to, david then biting his lip nervously.

“do you wanna talk about this one, dave? we can just cut this part out?” erin softly said, looking between the camera and david.

he seemed to ponder for a second before ultimately shaking his head. “no, don’t cut this out,” he took a deep breath, placing that huge grin back on his face, “let’s just fucking do it.”

carly and erin both grinned with him, clapping excitedly and cheering loudly. “alright! so the question is,” carly paused, double checking with david to make sure it was still okay. he nodded his head, encouraging her to continue. “it says, ‘do you think there’s something going on between y/n and david? like they’re always together and he looks at her like she hung the fucking moon.’”

your heart started pacing rapidly, you couldn’t believe what you had heard, and not only that, the fact that david had seemed nervous (?) about answering this question. your thoughts were interrupted by david speaking on the video.

“well, i guess i can just go ahead and deny that there’s anything going on between her and i,” he looked at his hands as he was playing with his fingers nervously, “but that doesn’t mean that i don’t want anything to happen?” he stated the last part in a questioning tone, looking back and forth between carly and erin, laughing softly as he noticed their huge grins.

you paused the video, trying to catch your breath as you searched for your phone to call your sister back. she picked up on the first ring, yelling into the phone.

“did you watch it?!” you shook your head, before you realized that she wasn’t in the room with you. “yes, but no. i haven’t finished it yet. what the fuck is going on?” your sister laughed happily in your ear, “just keep watching! but stay on the phone, i wanna hear your reaction!” she squealed.

you reluctantly pressed play on the video, putting your phone on speaker and laying it on your bed.

“so is this you officially saying you have a crush on y/n, david?” carly questioned, her grin never faltering.

“uh, i guess so?” he mumbled, licking over his lips as he smirked shyly at the camera.

“what the fuck…?” you mumbled, causing your sister to laugh loudly. “wait, keep listening!” she shouted.

“oh come on david, don’t give us that cutesy bullshit. yes or no?” erin teased him, pushing at his shoulder softly.

he laughed as he leaned back against the couch, running his fingers through his hair, “okay, okay, fuck, fine! yes, i like y/n, a lot. she’s just an all around great person and not only that, but she’s my best friend as well. so yeah,” he sat back up, getting almost a little too close to the camera, “y/n, if you’re watching this, please go on a date with me. i’ve been too big of a pussy to ask in person.”

you tuned out the video, only hearing carly and erin’s muffled cheers of celebration as you attempted to process what you had just heard. you were taken out of your thoughts at the sound of a knock at your door.

“y/n, who is that? ooo, fuck, i hope it’s david! let me know, love you!” and with that, your sister hung up the phone once again.

you stumbled out of your bed, glancing at yourself in the mirror as you tried to tame your bed head. you walked over to your front door, pulling it open to see david standing in front of you.

“um, hi?” he quietly mumbled, glancing at his feet before looking back up at you. “you weren’t answering your phone and i got worried. did you um- watch the video?” he cringed slightly at his nervousness as a large smile overtook your face.

“yes, i just um- i just did.” you bit your bottom lip trying to tone down the grin on your face. “fuck, um- come in?” you side stepped out of his way so he could enter your apartment, you then shutting the door behind him.

once he was inside, he turned around quickly, cupping your face in between his hands as he used his body to press your against your front door. “y/n, fuck. please tell me you feel the same way.”

you stared at him, bewildered for a moment before speaking, “what the fuck, david? of course i do! i thought it was so fucking obvious that i’ve been pining after you since day fucking one-“

and that was all of the confirmation he needed before he pressed his lips against yours, both of you grinning widely into the kiss. he pulled away after a moment, resting his forehead against yours, softly stroking your cheek with his thumb, “thank fucking god. i thought this would never happen.”

you giggled softly, looking him in the eyes, “well it’s fucking happening, dobrik. but i swear to god, if you ever ask me on a date through a fucking youtube video again, i will end you.”

he let out a loud laugh at your statement, leaning closer to you, “trust me, baby, won’t happen again.” he promised, connecting his lips to yours once more.

[hollenka99]

...Ouch

Summary: When Mark suggested he let Wilford Warfstache interview him, Jack didn't think it would end up like this. One thing's for sure, he's not listening to Mark's ideas again. Based on a-heist-of-words' Egoctober 2018 prompt, "...ouch..." and Warfstache Interviews Markiplier.

Warnings: Wilford has a knife so y’know... attempted stabbing.

The studio audience cheered appropriately as the title card played. It looked like a good turn out, maybe 90% of the seats were filled. Mark was there too, somewhere. Jack was interested to see what kind of questions this Warfstache guy was going to ask him. Mark had mentioned the reporter to Jack several months ago. He explained the man was always looking for someone new to question. He guaranteed the interview would be memorable. That was to be seen.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen and of course, all other configurations of being. My name is Wilford Warfstache and boy, do we have a great guest for you tonight. Some call him the worst Irishman, some call him a leprechaun, most people just call him Green Pewdiepie... please welcome Mr Jacksepticeye!"

Um, okay. Weird introduction but whatever. Mark did say Wilford Warfstache was eccentric.

"Welcome sir." "Hi." He gave the audience a little wave. "Our producer couldn't find another way to boost our ratings." Right then... "So, you play video games for a living?" "Uh, yeah, I guess you could say that. It's a pretty cool job to have." "Now what exactly is it that you do while playing these treacherous virtual brain dumpsters?" "Well, I wouldn't call them brain dumpsters." He gives a small laugh. "I basically record myself playing a game, do a little commentating and post it to YouTube. We're called Let's Players; there's quite a few of us on YouTube." "So you commentate?" "Yeah." "So what is it exactly that you, Jacksepticeye, commentate?" "Video games. People come to my channel to watch me react to the game I'm playing that video." "Ooh!" Warfstache encouraged the audience to have a similar response. "Reaction to what?"

He was going to kill Mark.

"Video. Games." He tried not to sound like a dick, he swore he did. His interviewer's reaction was unintelligible. "And now on to the nitty-gritty!" That was more like it. Maybe this interview had just started off weak. "Hell yeah." "Now what games would you say have been the biggest draw to your channel?" "Oh, that's easy. Yeah, everyone seems to love my videos on Skate 3, Grand Theft Auto... Happy Wheels is a big one too." The crowd cheered at the mention of Happy Wheels. "Yeah! Screw you, Billy." He joked. "So which one of these games would you say is your favourite?" "You know, I get asked this all the time and I still can't choose. Um..." The boom operator lost their grip. It went right into his mouth.

Mark was dead. Jack was never listening to his suggestions again.

"Boy, you got a lot of fans." But... he wasn't quite done answering the last question. Never mind, he didn't have a solid answer anyway. The sooner this interview was over, the sooner he could return to bitching about Irish showers. "Yeah, over 6 million subscribers. It's crazy how many people want to watch my content." "That is baffling!" "I feel the same. But I'm thankful for every last one. If it wasn't for them, I'd still be stuck in a cabin in the middle of nowhere by myself. I've also gotten to know some awesome people because of it." "Anyway, have you ever met any of these 'fans'?" "All the time! I just came back from PAX West and there were a whole bunch of them. You get to meet a lot at conventions but a few will spot you in the street. They're all really sweet so I-"

"Murder their entire family?" Where the hell did that come from? "What?! No! No, of course I don't." "So you admit it!" Warfstache accused. "You heard it here first, ladies and gentlemen. The Jacksepticeye has just admitted to never murdering anyone." "I... yeah, I never murdered anyone." Jack scanned the audience to see if they were hallucinating the same ludicrous bullshit he was. "Look, this is going in a really weird direction. Can we go back to normal questions?" "Sounds like someone's getting impatient." "Dude, you literally just accused me of murder. I only agreed to this interview because I was told it would be different. I don't know why Mark ever recommended you. I think you might be-"

Warfstache pulled a tiny dagger from his trousers. Yeah, the guy was clearly insane. Was that Jack's cue to get the hell out of here? Yes, it certainly sounded like it. Very distinct sirens of 'Get the fuck away from this madman' were blaring.

The blade barely missed him during Warfstache's first attempt to stab him. He leaped out of the chair. A moving target was less likely to be killed than a seated one. That didn't stop the reporter from drawing closer.

Jack didn't even know what he was doing. Once his survival instincts kicked in, everything was on autopilot. So how the hell the scuffle ended with Warfstache bleeding and him holding the knife would forever remain a mystery. He'd stabbed someone. Oh God, he was going to be responsible for someone's death.

"...Ouch." Wilford looked annoyed. Why was he annoyed? The guy had just been stabbed in the gut. He was bleeding. Why was he just standing there? Why was he acting like it was nothing?

Somebody grabbed him. They didn't wait for his mind to catch up with his involuntarily steps. His other arm hurt.

"Okay, that should be far enough." The member of security halted by an exit. "Are you injured?" "Uh..." Jack's sleeve was turning red. Oh shit. "Doesn't look deep but we should get you a bandage or two." "Sure." Honestly, he was ready to switch his brain off for a while. "Yeah, we've got a Code Pink. The guest doesn't appear to be in immediate danger but keep an eye on Warfstache. I'm taking the guest to the infirmary to treat his arm. Update me if anything happens." The guard spoke into a walkie-talkie. The walk to the infirmary was much gentler. "Does this happen often if you have a code for it?" "He's not the most stable individual. I heard he shot someone off the first floor once."

His brain was resembling a dial-up. Who allowed a murderer to host his own program? Why wasn't he locked up?

Disinfecting the slash on his arm stung. Although, it was better to wince than lose it to an infection. Now his arm was being treated, he could relax slightly. The maniac reporter still lingered in his mind.

"Will Warfstache be okay? I mean, I did stab him." "That guy? Oh yeah, you'd think he was invincible the way he brushes off injuries. He's something else, I'm telling you." "You can say that again. Still..." "Trust me, he will be back in action within 24 hours. You don't need to go all Lady Macbeth."

A half Korean man frantically burst into the infirmary. He scanned the room erratically before catching sight of the Irishman with recently dyed green hair. Jack was pissed and Mark leaked anxiety.

"There you are. I've been looking everywhere for you. Did he get you?" Mark's eyes landing on his friend's bandaged arm was a sufficient answer. "We need to talk." Jack glared.