#I don’t remember exactly but there should be at least one

[disobey-disappoint-deviate]

Ok so rA9 is really the player, isn’t it?

Ngl I've never been a fan of this theory, but after hearing what Adam had to say about rA9, I think this is really what they were going for.

„I have had good advice on the beauty of an ambitious answer. I wouldn’t want to spoil anybody’s fun. What I will say […] the game is now owned by the players to some extent. What do we know about rA9? We know that some androids have this messianic belief that rA9 is going to save them […] and we know that some androids continue to believe that even in the face of absolute and certain death. And we know there are some cases where the androids are saved. But who saves them, what saves them, what is the mechanism exactly?“

Then he talks about trying to depict what genuine faith looks like and that the point of faith is that you don’t get an answer.

But ultimately , the answer to the questions („Who and what saves the androids?“) is the player through the 3 main characters. And this is further proven by some of the things Main Menu Chloe says to the player.

Only one character left. You have to save them.

You let Kara and Alice die… How could you do that?.. You could have saved them… Remember, the lives of these androids are in your hands…

Remember: you decide the fate of your characters. All of them can die. So be careful…

Wait… Are you sure you should continue?.. Maybe… Maybe we should leave things as they are…

There at least a dozen more like that. The player is addressed as the arbiter of all their fates. They are kinda like the god, and the 3 main characters - like prophets who execute rA9's will and get their instructions from rA9 directly.

Are you familiar with Schrödinger’s cat? Until you decide what happens, everything is happening at once… like in DETROIT.

Meaning when Rupert says „rA9, save me!“ he means you, because only you can save him by reloading and making Connor stop chasing him. Because everything is happening at once and only you can decide to rewind and give the character a better ending.

[noandneuron]

[noburden]

was offline and missed your bday :( happy belated !!!!! i love you so !!!! update me on everything emewee RN⁉️

BETSY !!! hello i’ve missed you so much i literally checked ur account yesterday and i was like omg a month without betsy 😰 i was having withdrawals also THANK YOU !!! it’s okay i missed ur bday too and i agreed to sacrifice my first born child to make up for it ✊ love u more

[tonycries]

Madam Kamo - C.K.

Synopsis. Bréeding kínk? Going feraI? What the hell is that? Maybe your sweet clan leader husband knows the answer…

Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, clan leader! Choso, arranged marriage, mentions of heirs, he’s a little ínsane, elders are awful, MARATHONS, he goes FÉRAL, BRÉEDING, creampíes, a lot of cúmplay, semi-public, dóm Choso, oraI (fem rec), cervíx kíssing, making it fit, bulges, cúmflations, matíng presses, dúmbification, overstím, making him CRY, p talking, spítting, HEADLOCKS, slight 5 + 1 things, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 9.3k

A/N. CLAN LEADER CHOSO CLAN LEADER CHOSO

Choso Kamo - firstborn son of the ancient Kamo clan, more of a myth than a man.

Those who attended the sprawling Kamo Estate never dared utter a word about him; and those who didn’t, well, he was all that they could talk about.

He left no evidence, he left no remorse. 

Only rumors of a silent, stoic leader who could slaughter four entirely different clans before he let even a singular whisper of it spread amongst the masses. Ones of pretty mahogany eyes, and a silver bow and arrows that hit the target of your very soul - so fluid it was as if he’d forged the weapon with his own blood. 

And then there were the other rumors - more gossip than anything, really. Spread throughout every nook and cranny of stuffy social functions about how the deadly Kamo clan leader had another, secretive side. A softer side.

But, of course, rumors were rumors. Choso Kamo was simply an enigma.

And…your new husband.

“Zoning out, hm?” A hot gust of breath sends shivers sprinting down your spine, and in an instant you’re snapping your eyes to latch onto deep, hazel ones. Choso’s. The edge of his plump lips curl slightly upwards, “My apologies, this wedding reception is quite droning, isn’t it?”

Hastily breathing, “N-no! Of course not, I…” You’re wincing when yet another wizened elder saunters up to the raised platform of your table. Probably the hundredth of the night. “-yeah, maybe a bit.”

Choso stifles out a rumbling bout of chuckles as he catches your gaze, so close now that his pearly white teeth almost nick your sensitive earlobe. “Let me take care of this, my wife.”

And when Choso shifts over to nod curtly at your oncoming guest, you couldn’t help but appreciate how beautiful he is. All tall, towering lines of lean muscle, his silken black yukata wafting of heady cologne, and delicate features that made him have almost as many admirers as he did foes. 

Or, at least, delicate features that were currently twisted into something hardened. Something exactly like clan leader Kamo of all the stories. 

He’s tilting his head up, long lashes narrowed, “Elder Tanaka, a pleasure.”

“No no! The pleasure’s all mine.” The older man slurs drunkenly, and despite the way his words were just dripping with saccharine sweet politeness, years of suffering through these exact interactions had made it easy for you to spot faux niceties. Like right now. “Or should I say- the new madam’s. You must be glad to marry into a clan as esteemed as the Kamo’s.”

The plastic smile that smears all over your face is painful, and you’re biting your tongue before it betrays you. “Yes, of c-”

“My apologies for cutting in, madam.” You’re startling - but you don’t know whether it’s because of the softened fingerpads that intertwine around yours, or the utter fire curdling in Choso’s eyes. “But I must say, I am the lucky one here.”

Oh.

Elder Tanaka is more impressive than you thought - his mask of respect barely even cracks, other than the jerky twitch of one eye. Honestly, you don’t think he’s ever heard Choso speak this much ever before. Quickly gathering his bearings, “Ah- ah, of course, master Kamo! Correct as always!”

Fuck- you can’t hold back the way you roll your eyes, only remembering yourself when Choso’s engulfing hands loosen from your own to give your thigh a warm squeeze. 

“You have wedded quite the catch, of course of course.” Your unwelcome company finally, finally looks at you properly. A sneer coating his slow blinking, “I-I simply meant that considering the master’s incredible power, wealth, and options, what she brings to the table-”

“-is herself.” Choso finishes off monotonically. “And that’s all I need.”

Choso’s words were husky, his grip on you tight. And you wonder if he even realized just how hard he was clutching onto your heated skin - mountains of his palm dragging a smooth up n’ down your clothed leg.

You knew he was well-hidden underneath the lacy tablecloth, you knew that not a single elder, family member, or friend bustling about your wedding reception could see that particular touch over the dim yolky lighting. 

But something about it just made you feel hot. 

It takes you a few fuzzy seconds to realize that Elder Tanaka was still speaking - in fact, he’d even summoned over a few more members of the council to encircle your decadent table. All the more voices speaking at you rather than to you.

“-that’s what I was saying-” You’re catching croaked-out snatches of conversation, warily eyeing the way the men clap each other supportively on their backs.“-it’s about the right time don’t you think?”

Another one nods, “Jin has been waiting for so long, after all-”

“-yes yes, to have an heir-”

Oh.

That’s what had Choso’s high cheekbones currently dusted with a faintly blossoming rose pink. That’s what had his thickened digits dipping past your luxurious evening yukata to rover between your thighs higher, and higher- like he didn’t even realize what he was doing. 

Like he was yearning for it.

“The Kamo clan shall have an heir.” You’re interrupting their ramblings, the mere sound of your voice enough to make Choso’s fingertips twitch. Smooth skin prickling with heaps of goosebumps already when you lock eyes right with his. “As soon as my husband is ready, right?”

And Choso Kamo was brought up with the most rigorous of training, raised to never show even the barest flicker of emotion - especially one where he’s caught off guard.

But right now he knows that he looks as stunned as he feels.

Coral pink maw falling into a soft oh! dark whirlpools of his eyes glinting with something so utterly raw. The trembling tips of his fingers lurch up just the barest inch to drag a lazy line down your pussymound. 

He’s instantaneously shifting his free hand up in one, fluid motion to cover the feverishly flushed half of his face. Jaw clenching with a sharp click! of his teeth when he swipes the fat pad of his thumb down a fresh bead of your leaking slick, making such a flimsy mess of your drenched panties. Was this all for him?

Because now Choso’s getting…greedy.

And you’re almost letting off a slight whimper when he hastily drags his scouring hand away - that is, before every and any sound dies in your throat once your husband dips his wetted thumb past his lips and sucks. 

Subtly. 

And his voice cracks oh-so-pathetically, “R-right.”

Eyes staring deeply into yours when he parts his doughy fingertips mere millimeters to lather it with a fat wad of saliva. Your breath hitches in your chest, frantically glancing at the babbling group of men who were, thankfully, way too absorbed in themselves to notice your little…tryst.

And it’s only with all his years as a seasoned fighter that Choso’s nuzzling his soaked digits back between your jittery thighs. In a flash.

Planting exactly three soppy smack! smack! smacks! plapped onto the perfect arch of your drooling pussy. Choso’s raising his neat brows at just how those tremors make you squirm in your seat.

“Ch-Cho—so-” You’re gasping under your breath, hips repeatedly shuffling on your cushiony chair when he licks up repeated, sultry circles- no, wait, hearts along the slippery slit of your covered cunt. Up and down. “Th-they might see…”

“Shhh, don’t want them to hear, baby.” He’s leaning in to pant out a murked cloud against your ear, throat bobbing with a ravenous swallow of saliva as he then probes a few stuffy fingers under your panties. “You seem stressed– Let me take care of it.”

Oh, it was a promise - and the rasping growl that bled into Choso’s tone told you that he was well and fully intent on accomplishing his little task. “Spread those pretty legs now.”

With a steady, muscular calf hooked with your own, he’s cracking your thighs evermore parted. The scorching hot press of his big, beefy forearm over your shoulders making you feel as if you’re on the verge of melting. Practically on his lap now-

“Is everything alright, master–?” You’re hearing from what sounds like somewhere over in the distance, even though you already know that it’s from right in front of you.

“Everything is quite alright.” Choso’s plush pecs vibrate with his rapid answer, and you’re finding yourself leaning your weight onto his. Huffing and puffing near the crook of his neck, “It seems the madam is just feeling a little ah…tired, right now. Continue your talk, elders.”

Tired - you couldn’t feel more riled up if you even tried.

“Ngh- Choso-” You’re sinking your teeth into your wobbly lower lip, hard enough to draw blood. High, carved chair singing off a slight creak! when you’re bucking your hips up to jostle his gluttonous fingers closer to where you wanted him the most. “-need you.”

Well, whatever his wife wanted - you got. 

In simple nanoseconds, Choso’s snugly prying away your gauzy lace. Letting the too-thin fabric snap back against your sappy cunt with a teasing little swat!

Before you can blink, he’s gracing your panties with microscopic tears at just how eager he was to give your plump, buttony clit a good, hard push. Cold golden wedding ring perking up against your most tender spots. Flexible wrists bending towards an even vulgarly deep angle to keep you from escaping-

And you think you could scream, you think you could open your mouth to make a scene - before Choso beats you to it. Purring out an oblivious, “Is everything alright, my wife? You seem a little feverish.”

All the while slipping n’ sliding his fingerpads to smear your gluey pussylips open. Mazing down, down, down in a lecherous little pace to plug up your geysering entrance snugly full with two of his fattened digits. 

You’re clutching helplessly onto Choso’s thick yukata sleeve when the elders stare over at you curiously, “I-I’m fine, Ch- my husband. Just a few post-wedding jitters.”

“Awww, that’s alright.” He’s cooing from above you, words sugarcoated with such gentleness - but his hands were anything but. “M’here, m’here.” Setting out a vicious, ceaseless pace that has his manly fingers outlining numerous circles round n’ round your tight, flooding entrance. Motioning in slight, sleazy swirls all around your elastic hole just to fit inside properly. “Your dear Choso’s here, y’know? And I’ll take such good care of you.”

“Ah! Of course-” Ring out the replies, evidently your hurried-out shudders were not enough for your guests to lose interest. Or for Choso, either - because he’s just feeding your slobbering orifice with more fat inches upon grinding inches. “-producing an heir is a very integral part of the marriage contract. It’s understandable to be nervous.”

Shivering, “S-sure.”

“Mhm—” Choso’s trawling his pouted mouth down your perspiration-simmered temple, “-a very integral part. But, of course, we’ve got to make sure that my beloved wife is-” Quirking the very edge of his digits to clash right into the target of your g-spot. “-ready, after all.”

The clingy embrace of your warm cunt so cozy that it’s bumping Choso’s metallic ring further and further from his hilled knuckles to dredge out a chilling, languid massage along your channel. 

It takes everything in you to manage up a half-heartedly narrowed glare up at your chatting husband, easily conversing his way through every battering ram being placed on your pretty pussy. 

He doesn’t make a sign - he doesn’t even make a noise. Nothing except for a sharp, sudden inhale once another innocent peck at your lips makes your filthy hole fountain out a fresh lather of sickly sweet juices. 

Dripping all the way down to his wrist with thickly viscous adhesive, he’s making such a fucking mess. And a loud one, too. 

Slurp after slurp being wrenched out with every pound of his neatly cut nails patterning out little indents onto your most favorite spots - ones that have your legs shaking underneath the humid table. Choso’s bouncing his knee to drum out a staccato against the floor, just to cover up your cute little melody.

He has you going insane.

You’re pushing apart your legs to dig into either side of your chair with just how desperate you were for him. For more more more.

Bumping your thigh against one of his, and the mere touch is enough to send shockwaves down Choso’s sloped body. 

“Trying to tease me, baby?” He’s hovering over you even closer, darting out a hefty thud! of two fingertips- no, three - when did he even bully in another one - onto the goopy roof of your cunt. 

“M’not-” You’re biting out, head lolling ever-so-slightly backwards when Choso furrows his brows and pumps out copious thrusts that hit your forbidden g-spot dead on. Engulfed so deeply inside your hot core that the gentle curves of his palm smudge against your clit now. “J-just keep- talking.”

And, truly, it wasn’t just because your company was peering over the two of you expectantly - it was because Choso sounded so very hot. 

Vibrato husky with an animalistic sort of need, tremoring ever-so-slightly-

“Agreed, I would like a few sons and daughters.” Choso’s nodding along smoothly, although his full attention is focused on you. His wife. And the way your sweltering hot gummy walls clench around his bludgeoning fingers even tighter at the words. Faster. “Maybe three. Maybe five. Although, it’s up to the madam.”

In the corner of your eye, you’re catching them all staring at you, and you urgently force out a nod.

“C’mon now, answer them using your words like a big girl, why don’t you–?” He’s humming, tilting your burning face up. Faster. So that you can’t hide.

Lilting shrill just as unbalanced as your head was, “Y-yes-”

But of course, that wasn’t enough - that would never be enough. “Louder. They can’t hear you over the music, baby.”

Can’t do anything but claw down drawings of red, red lines all across Choso’s milky arms when he bustles into the targets of your honeyed spots even harder. Unsteady syllables spilling out from your lip before you can even register them, “Yes- yes. As…many as possible.”

“That’s it- good girl.”

Fuck. 

And those raked scratches make perfect artwork for him to admire - just as he was admiring you right now. 

It was just such a shame that the others here were, too, even if they didn’t know the complete and utter sin happening just underneath the table cloth. Sloppier. 

Choso’s kissing his teeth, broad deltoids of his shoulder positioning to hide you away from any sleazy gazes. Because they could be near, but they couldn’t see. You were his.

“Then, it’s settled-” He’s drawling, hooded eyes locked onto you. Memorizing your every minute twitch and reaction when he urges his free hand to hold onto yours on your lap. Or, at least, that’s what it looked like to the outside. In fact, Choso’s snugly prying apart your silken robes to roll over your throbbing clit and pinch. “-we can look forward to an heir, soon. Right, madam?”

And that’s all it takes for you to cum.

Your head tucking into his sculptured shoulder, thighs closing with a dull clap! as your high crashes into you headfirst. You don’t need to mutter a single sentence for Choso to know.

For his eyes to widen just a fraction at the way your treacly slit only got infinitely dewier, rounded gumdrops of your slick sprinkling down in a weepy sheen all over his messy hands. Mouth going parched at the realization that you’re orgasming right here, right now. 

“O-oh? Seems my wife agrees.” Choso’s waving those elders away now, not taking his eyes off of you for a single second. It was just too adorable how you were shaking like a leaf at his side, “Well, m’glad. So- so…glad.”

Motioning your hips in such salacious semi-circles to bump up his upright fingers against your every extra sweet orifice.

Your sticky walls were so staggeringly tightly wrapped around him that it’s making his forehead bead with sweat, low puffs of air escaping with every peak he fucks you through. Every peak of white-hot pleasure that he draaags out until your guests are finally - finally - walking back to their own tables. 

“Sh-shit-” you’re mewling when Choso barely hesitates - barely even takes a quick sweep around the room to check who might be looking - before parting from your sappy cunt with a resounding squelch!

Immediately popping those viscously-glazed fingerpads into his starved mouth, he’s letting his glassy eyes sprint to the back of his head. Musing out a moan, “Fuck- fuck!”

You can only watch with an awed gape whilst Choso stares right into your heart-shaped pupils as he cleans himself off. One by one. Before trekking his lustrous fingers back over to your cunt, and measuring out a wide few inches - perhaps nine - from the base of your teary entrance up to your tummy.

“Choso…” you’re whispering, hazy eyes blinking up at him as if through molasses. “Wha’s that for?”

And Choso only grins, stray range of knuckles thoroughly bitten underneath his gleaming canines while he measures you up. 

As if he was holding back. Keeping himself sane. And the half-lided greed in Choso’s eyes told you that he’d fuck you all proper right here and right now if he could. “N-nothing- just making sure of somethin’, my wife. Making sure that you can take me.”

Oh. 

This was far from over. You were fucked. 

And you were completely and utterly sure of it even if the topic of an…heir didn’t come up for the next few days after that. 

Not that you didn’t think about it, though - it was hard not to, when your fatally notorious husband showed such a tender side of himself with his younger brothers. 

With you.

And soon enough even through all the bustling meetings and duties of a madam, you’re still figuring out a way to tell Choso that you really weren’t kidding about what you said during that wedding reception.

Sure, you were drunk on his fingers but - that wasn’t just all, was it?

But you’d sorely underestimated just how busy a clan leader could get. And before you knew it, putting off the conversation for the morning after your wedding night had turned into putting it off for the weekend. 

Then putting it off for next week. Two weeks. 

All the way until you’re trudging along the winding corridors of the Kamo Estate during the most unholy hours of the night. Grumbling groggily to yourself about how you’d finally told him and it had ended supremely well - in a dream, that is.

Choso had been absent for almost the entire day today, attending an important land negotiation with a far-off clan, according to Jin. 

Now, you knew just how powerful your husband was - it was impossible to escape the legends and rumors, in fact - and you trusted him. Still, you couldn’t help but toss and turn the entire night away in your coldly empty bed as you wondered just how safe he would get home.

You’d been to such veiled conferences before, after all. 

And it’s simply pure worry that has you dragging yourself out of your king-sized bed to shuffle into the barely-lit kitchen. Stifling half-blindly in the moonlight through cabinets and coolers to find ah! Exactly what you’ve been looking for. 

Thank goodness this place was empty right now, you didn’t know if you could handle it if the chef was here to lecture you about balanced diets when you’re bites deep into your sugary, shaved icing.

And it’s exactly with this thought in mind that you hear a loud thud! emanating from the far end of the hallway. Your eyes widen, ears searching for more-

Footsteps. 

At this time? Your fingers itch towards the sparkling display of knives tucked in one corner of the granite counter. Ready to aim for that tall approaching shadow, ready to fling just as Choso had taught you when-

“Baby?”

“Oh–” Your breath comes out in a heavy gust of relief, eyes unable to tear away from the shaded outline of your husband, taking up every inch of the doorway. “It’s just you, Cho.”

It was. But there was something about Choso that seemed…different. Off. 

But not in a bad way - your eyes rover appreciatively over the tautly flexed muscles of his upper half, peeking out almost-blasphemously where he’d shrugged the upper half of his deep purple yukata off. 

Glinting bow and arrow stained with crimson, held in one tightly-gripped hand. Your nose wrinkles at the slight, dangerous scent of something metallic. Something not his. 

Yet, you can’t help but ogle the slow path of dewdropped sweat trailing down between the curvaceous bulge of his heaving pecs, bumping up and down over his washboard abs, before disappearing below-

It’s like you’re being bolted with an instant flash of lightning as soon as this happens, snapping your eyes over to find Choso’s weighty ones. And oh- the moment you do it’s like something in him melts. 

THUD!

You’re jumping when his weapons hit the floor - uncaring of whether this might alert anyone else in the household, uncaring of anything other than crossing the sizzling distance between the two of you in three urgent strides. 

You don’t even have the time to process it before Choso halts right before you and falls to his knees. Dark lashes fluttering up at you, he echoes, “Baby.”

Like a broken little mantra. 

“Ch-Choso- baby-” It’s just about the only thing you can manage out through hollowed gasps when he’s immediately digging two hands on either side of your hips to easily and pliably seat you on the icy counter. Just where he wanted. “-what’s gotten into you?”

“Dunno.” He’s garbling out, and you’re letting your boneless legs tumble further and further open to let him bury his face right at his favorite place - into your fluttering cunt. “Was jus’ thinking about you alllll day.”

And you could tell.

Because Choso’s every movement was depraved. Jerky. His sensory fingertips trembling when they card underneath your cottony sleep garments, bringing it up to his canines to rip–!

All with his mouth.

“Fuh-fuck-” You’re squealing at the sudden hit of cold air - followed very closely by a scorching hot breeze overtaking every inch of your cunt when Choso leans in and sniffs. Long, hard. Curdling out a feral keen at the back of his throat, “-that’s so filthy, baby.”

“Nothing’s filthy for me if s’you, madam.” At the glint of something slobbering and sharp, you can tell that he’s grinning. “If s’you or…her.”

He was enamored with your ready core, curving a gentle thumb down the glossy edges to give your driveling hole a good trickle of spittle. 

And Choso Kamo knew he had perfect aim - he knew he didn’t have to make a mess. 

But oh, he couldn’t keep himself from tilting his head just degrees to the side to let the splatters leave dripping wet splotches down your saturated folds, your inner thighs. 

Tongue so long, lolling out drunkenly to smear away that filthy excess. He’s poking heated ounces again and again back into your soppy entrance. You were practically flooding torrents of sweet, sweet juices around him, already making a mess that lacquers his dimpled chin. 

You were always so sweet - so good for him. And he can feel his ears pop already with the greedy anticipation of what he was craving to do. 

“Think you missed me, too.” He’s snickering, teeth sinking down onto the fleshy nub of your clit. It’s enough to make you want to sob. “Didn’t ya?”

Gyrating your hips in such hypnotizing little swivels off of the smooth counter, you’re feeling his candied breaths hit your gummy walls even deeper. Sloppier. Whimpering out, “Yes- yes. Missed you so badly, Cho–”

“Oh yeah?” He’s tensing up the dexterous edge of his tongue to swipe up unhurried skids of his roughened tastebuds around and around your quivering entrance. In and out. Syrupy slick leaking in heaps right as he does, Choso tilts his head back to let those gooey masses slide down his throat. “Mmm— you’re wetter than usual, baby. How badly do you want the ngh- clan leader on his knees for you, hm?”

It was true - and Choso can feel something coiling and coiling heatedly at the base of his stomach at the idea of giving you perhaps…a kid…or two to make sure you’re not so lonely anymore. 

Ah, he was pussydrunk. 

“So- too badly.” You don’t think you’d ever be babbling away like this if Choso wasn’t making out with your needy cunt like that. 

You’re tangling your fingers hastily into his dark, silken locks - gripping desperately onto his sweat-dampened scalp as you use up all your strength and push. All the way until the very tip of Choso’s button nose was meeting your pulsing clit in a harsh smooch, his chin smacking the teary ends of your cunt.

Words tremoring against the very outer ring of your puffy pussy, silvery strings of saliva n’ sap break off when Choso mutters, “Was talkin’ to her, y’know?”

Fuck. 

And you think you would be huffing and puffing about how he was talking with your dousingly wet cunt instead of you. 

That is, if you weren’t talking back to him from between your legs. 

Because the only thing louder than the slack-jawed ah! ah! ah! leaving your lips with every repeated thrust of Choso’s tongue, was the sound of your soppy squelches. “Ohhh- so that’s how your day was? Tell me more…”

So loud - so embarrassing that you can feel your heart race.

And Choso’s was, too, but for a much more lecherous reason as his tongue clashes even harder to draw out those very same pretty noises from you. He was craning his ears closer - he was addicted. 

“Yeah-  yeah, tha’s right.” Choso’s groaning, eyes faltering droopily until they were almost shut at the way his husking growls only make you wetter. Well, he could help with that. Hitting your hot core with wad after weighty wad of even more sugary spit. “Thaaaat’s fuckin’ right, missed how mouthy you hah- are. My talkative girl.”

“Cho- ngh!” You’re biting down on your tongue to hold back your words when Choso raises up a hand to leave a solid spank right on your bloated pussymound. 

He’s nodding along, head lurching intoxicatedly ever closer and closer. Wiping away a glistening streak of slick painted over his blushing cheeks - his blushing cheeks. “That’s right- would’ve made a- haaaah- a whole lotta b-better points than that stupid council does.”

Before pecking a lingering French kiss on your throbbing clit like a lover would. 

And you count one, two, three- partway through four before Choso seems to remember that he’s still in the middle of his conversation with your cute cunt. It’s rude to leave her hanging, he’s pondering.

“Well-” Stringing himself away with such a pained grunt, cerise lower lip plumping out in a pout at the mere thought of being away from you. “-better points than that stupid council d-did. They won’t be making aaaaany comments ‘bout you anymore, madam.”

Your leaden eyelids struggle to flitter open, “Wh-what do you ngh- mean, baby?”

But the only response you get is a quick staccato of swats at your leaky slit, before Choso’s curling in a thick thumb past your watering lips and in to your slicked entrance. Followed by the delicious drag of his lengthy tongue doubly slipping back inside.

Thrust after thrust. 

So extensive that he was skimming across all your ridges, mapping out every sweet spot of yours on his mouth. Your adhesive walls were clinging onto him like a vice, sappy mushes making him pry apart your thighs even more through furrowed brows. 

“Jus’- just means-” He can’t even bear to speak. To break off from stretching you staggeringly open. Your legs wrap mindlessly around Choso’s ravenous head, “-means I don’t let anyone- hah- say anythin’ about my wife.” 

Without a second thought, your eyes find his splayed-out arrows on the floor. The way they were sullied with red…

Oh. 

But you couldn’t bring yourself to do anything other than let your head jerk backwards, muffing out slight whimpers when he alternates in such sloppy measures between swirling the fattened expanse of his tongue all over every possible spot of your gummy walls and sucking on your clit like his favorite candy.

“They won’t say- do- anythin’—” In so deep now that all you could make out were numerous wet gurgles. And the pure, unadulterated love in Choso’s tone when he twists his thumb to graze right against your bruised and battered g-spot. Hard. “Not when I love her so much.”

He’s gonna raise your kids to love you just as damn much.

And when you cum, you think you might be sobbing - you’re shaking. 

Flurries of stars bursting behind your eyes as you dig your fingers through your husband’s perspired strands. Keening out, “Fuck- m’cumming- m’cumming–”

“I know I know.” He smirks hotly against your puffy pussy lips, so close that you could feel the cratered dimple of his grin. “Yer cute cunt told me, baby– heh- wouldn’t mind being welcomed ah- home by my wife like this every day.”

He lets himself be manhandled, pulled and pushed to your every whim. One of the strongest clan leaders whimpering - whimpering - when you pull just a bit too hard to mash his cushiony mouth in a deeper kiss. 

Hot. Sappy. 

You’re still shaking with sparking bouts of heat that rush down and up your spine, legs twitching when Choso pulls away with a loudly kissed mwah! Overly exaggerated just to see that shy, fucked-out expression on your face. 

He was so unfairly pretty like this - a delicate red blush burning all over his face, eyes half-lidded like he was feverish. A shimmery spray of your juiced slick drips down his chin, his bruised lips, all the way up to his regal cheekbones. 

He made a mess. And he was wearing it like a badge of honor.

Rising up, up, up to shutter your ajar jaw and plant a drenching kiss. Choso always left your mind so melty and stupid no matter what he did. 

“Do you…do you want some hngh- sh-shaved ice?” You’re babbling with your cottony tongue, unsure of what exactly to say after something as intense as��that. 

“Nah-” One kiss. Another Two. Five. “-I jus’ had something a whooole lot sweeter, madam.”

Right now it was so quiet in your kitchen. Just you, Choso, and the gleaming moonlight illuminating his pussydrunken enchantment. Even more so than usual. 

You’re glissading your arms around his sweat-matted neck, reeling him in even closer. He smells so good, piney cologne searing your senses even despite that tint of iron. Nervously musing, “Hmmm, wonder if s’always gonna be like hah- this whenever I get…cravings.”

Well- it wasn’t exactly what you wanted to say, but, better than nothing.

“Cravings, huh?” Choso’s eyes twinkle - and you’re not sure if that’s a result of the muted lighting or because of what you just said. Hopefully the latter. 

“Well- well just saying I wouldn’t mind if-”

Cutting yourself off, you’re sure it’s the latter when he rests a massive palm, warm against your tummy. Just for a split-second before tucking his big, strong arms underneath your body and propping you in an easy princess carry. “If you have cravings then I’d be the one cooking for ya, my wife. 24/7, at your feet.”

Yeah, you were fucked. 

But you never really realized just how much - just how badly - until just a few days later; seated on the polished hardwood floor of the famed Kamo archery dojo. 

It was routine for your husband to practice his pinpoint precise shooting, and by now it was your routine to watch him. 

How could you not? Because it was such a heavenly sight.

Choso’s pristine, white yukata unravelled at one muscular shoulder; showing off the rippling curves and dips of his sculptured back. Strong. His honed eyes filmed with a focus he only ever gets in bed. Adonis-like biceps bulging in a lecherous little flex when he draws the string back, back, back and lets go-

“YES!” Yuji’s resounding cheer thunders across the vast chamber with way too much volume than a six-year-old should possibly have. “Let’s goooo- big bwother hit the target again.”

A simpering smile stretches across your lips as soon as he turns to you for reassurance, gesturing out a slow nod at the way Choso keeps piercing bullseye after bullseye. “He did, your brother is very talented, Yuji.”

Humming, “When I grow up m’gonna be just like him.” 

“Of course.” You’re chuckling at his enthusiasm - the youngest of your husband’s brother’s always did have a special spot in your heart. And you can’t help but wonder when - if - you had an heir with Choso, whether they would be much the same. “You are his brother, after all.”

You’re frantically hovering your hands behind him once he bustles to a haphazard stand. Stumbling only a few times as he races over to the neat line of inventory, “Then- I’ll be just like him now.”

“Be careful!”

Ah, he really was a handful - which meant, you really didn’t expect it to go over perfectly smoothly. You’d known that simply wouldn’t have been possible as soon as you met Itadori Yuji. 

Yet, you didn’t expect everything to go so wrong in just a mere matter of seconds. 

Before you can even blink, Yuji’d tottered his way over to one particularly large, wooden bow - one used only by Ryomen Sukuna whenever he visited. Puffing out his chest as he reeled out the massively heavy weapon - overly heavy, way too much for even the most determined child-

CRASH!

“Yuji!” You don’t know who yelps louder - you, or Choso. But with your proximity, you’re the one that reaches him first, cradling the sniffling boy in your arms. 

You jostle away the weighty bow - honestly, how he even managed to lift this in the first place you have no idea. 

“Awww, don’t cry don’t cry–” You’re cooing, distantly registering the worried pants of his older brother skidding to a stop beside you. He always did have him curled around his little finger. Pushing away the pinkish curls from his forehead, “-you’re alright. See? You’re alright.”

“Are you hurt? Are you dizzy? Are you feeling nauseous-”

“Choso.” You warn, catching the way Yuji’s eyes widen in panic. 

Taking a few deeply necessary breaths to calm down. “You- don’t do that-” Choso’s hissing, but you could practically feel the worry seeping into his tone. Thumbing slow circles on his aching shoulders, “-ask me for a bow instead.”

You have to bite back a grin - with the watery glaze taking over his eyes, you wondered who was really hurt - Yuji or Choso himself. 

“M’sorry big bwother.” Blubbering through big, pearly tears that dry salty streaks down his chubby cheeks. He’s batting those lashes in a way you’re sure gets him out of any sort of trouble. Ever. The full, merciless force of it hits your poor heart as Yuji turns to you. “Sorry, mama.”

Mama. 

Mama. 

You freeze. Choso freezes.

Hell, even the twittering birds outside freeze mid-song. 

It seems like everyone in the entire world freezes except for an oblivious Yuji who only continues inching his tiny hands closer towards that guilty bow. Clearly not having learned his lesson - but you didn’t even register that right now. 

You’re staring at Choso, only to find that he’s staring right back. Droopy eyes uncharacteristically wide, blinking rapidly - it didn’t even look like he was breathing right now. 

Maw parting and closing stupidly agape, and you’re almost tempted to reach out and check whether he’s doing okay - before he finally finds his voice again. Finally. Husking out a choked-out, “W-well- maybe we should- ah- should-” He’s turning towards his contrastingly okay younger brother, “Yuji?” 

“Big bwother!” Comes the, unfortunately, helpless answer. 

And something in his beaming expression seems to jolt Choso out of his reverie, something that makes him let out a tight nod. Scooping up the giggling boy over his shoulder, he calls out at you, “Wait here.”

As Choso walks out of the doorway, you could only watch.

Only sit there for what could be four seconds - or maybe even four hundred years - until he’d presumably dropped off Yuji at the safety of Jin. Taking steady, focused strides back to you that thud! thud! thud! right along to the beat of your racing heart.

Choso’s expression is blank - pale as if he’s seen a fucking ghost. And he doesn’t even look at you, can’t even bear to once he walks back to the thickened air of the dojo. Now pointedly alone. 

Very, very alone. 

Wordlessly, he picks up his famed bow. And you swear that you can see his practiced hands tremble. Something was happening. 

It’s like an artwork that you can’t look away from. The fluid motion of aligning a singular arrow to aim for his final, rounded target. Doughy pads of his fingers pinching the string back, back, back until it snaps!

And misses. For the first time in years.

“Fuck.”

You barely have the time to compute - to even suck in a gasp of surprise before your husband comes and crashes into you. It’s as if he was magnetized and couldn’t get away even if he wanted to. 

It’s a frenzy of white billowing sleeves and powerful arms, throwing you over Choso’s shoulder in only two seconds flat - much the same way that he’d done with Yuji moments prior.

Except more…urgent. 

“Choso- Cho!” You’re squealing, as he lurches into hurried treads away. Legs kicking weakly in the air, only for your stubborn self to be granted with an unapologetic spank! right on the mound of your ass. Your nose crinkles as his long, inky locks tickle your face, “What is-”

“Be quiet.” Choso’s rasping, so small that it could not have been more than a whisper. So close that you’re drinking in heady wafts of his masculine cologne. 

Something in his snarling tone makes your stomach tighten. Digits grappling precariously onto the toned curves of his shoulders, your fingertips slide down the sweltering expanse of his exposed skin. 

And only too late do you recognize the familiar pathway towards your shared bed chamber- oh. 

So that was what it was. 

And judging by the dark, primal look swimming in the clan leader’s eyes you could only hope that you made it out alive-

SLAM!

You don’t know what’s forcing you more out of your excited little reverie - the shuddered slam! of your mahogany double doors, so hard that it makes the golden hinges shake, or the way you’re thrown haphazardly on the bed. 

Like some glorified toy. One of Choso’s favorites. 

You’re throwing your arms over his broad shoulders as you fall, lugging him in even closer with each springy bounce on the bedcoils. 

But closer wasn’t close enough for your husband - he’s bullying into every ounce of your personal space, caging you in between two splayed-out palms on either side of your thoroughly spinning head.

“Mama, is it?” Choso starts out. Slow. Thick. Like he was approaching a cornered prey. “Baby, I want…I want it.”

You’re blinking up at him through eager eyes, “Want what, Cho?” 

“I want an heir. I want to make you…” He gulps. The circles of his fingertips were so warm on your skin, trailing down lovingly all across your cheek. Your collarbones, your heaving tits - down to where you predictably flinched as he palmed your tummy. “-a pretty momma.”

Fawny strands of chestnut brown curtain his gaze, but you could tell just how serious he was. Just how greedy. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Choso like this in his entire life. 

All you can breathe out is a crackling, “Yes.”

You said it. You finally said it after all these weeks. 

And it’s the only thing you hear before your yukata is all but torn off of you, Choso doesn’t even realize when he’s doing so. It’s melting away like butter underneath his strength, mere obstacles to where the real prize is - your gorgeous, shivering body.

Pebbles of goosebumps rise onto the surface of your flesh when he throws away those useless pieces of fabrics onto the tatami floor - you can have more newly tailored anyway. Many, many more with just how round and full you’re about to be very soon. 

He’d take care of it for you.

“Oh, madam- madam.” He’s spitting into your unfastened mouth, low growls sounding out across each four corners of your room. Held hostage by the arousal in your eyes, he can’t stop staring. “M’gonna ruin you.”

And Choso is feral like never before. 

Usually one to take his time during sex, finetuning you into it like a sultry waltz. His favorite hobby was to drive you mindlessly wild before he even thought of stuffing you full. But now…

Still not breaking his dreamy eye contact with you, Choso hooks a rapidfire finger over the cute bow-tied hem of your panties. Slurring down an oozing little snail trail of slick that laminates your jittery thighs with evidence of just how badly you wanted him. 

You feel the blistering pant of his mindless oh! fanning your features, leaning backwards with a loosened maw to admire just how glistening you are in this lighting. 

How ready.

With a low, fucked-up whimper breaking at the back of his throat, he rubs over the bloated curvature of your needy pussy. Slipping ever-so-slightly at the saturated puddles leaking out, Choso has no hesitation or shame when he tugs his fingerpads into his mouth once. 

Twice. Thrice. 

Dipping back down for more and more and more-

“Can’t-” He’s guttering out, eyes crinkling and- fuck, were those tears? “I c-”

You reach your hand up to smear away his hot rivulets of salt, and Choso stops his prattling like a broken record forced to a halt. He jolts as if your touch has just sent a zillion shocks of voltage down his spine, all the trekking trailway down to his furious, aching cock. 

Unsteady hands flinging apart his snowy robes - barely even bothering to remove them and wrench down his undergarments before you see it. You finally understand why Choso was so…restless.

Because he’s never been harder. 

Fuck being furious, his bawling cock was seething. Equally as red as the ripest of strawberries, the split-ended crown of his cockhead was just as plumply swollen. All proud inches nestled underneath his painfully-clenching breeder balls, ballooned and lush. Only the barest of your gaze is enough to make Choso’s lustrous tip twitch, laminating himself with a freshly dripping glaze of translucent pre. 

Though, it’s not like you were doing any better. 

Your gluey lips pucker and pout up at him once he’s wrangling your legs into a boneless hold. The feeling of his palms underneath your thighs are so soft - even despite his battle-hardened calluses. Worshipping. 

But the way he’s resting your legs on his shoulders, and folding you in half like a whining lawnchair is the complete opposite. Mercilessly into a-

“M-mating press-” Choso’s getting out through strangled breaths, as if the sole words had his poor sanity fraying at the edges. “-mating press- a- a-” Something he’s never tried out before. His head dips down, pearls of sweat simmering across his trembly upper lip as soon as your sticky folds leave a wet snog on his fattened mushroomy tip. Topping it with a generous heap of honeyed sap, “Well, hello there, baby. I have you in a mating press n’ m’gonna…gonna…”

He couldn’t even finish his sentence. 

Couldn’t even finish his thought before Choso was doing - body moving miles and miles ahead of his stupidly saccharine-sweet mind. 

“F-fuuuuck–” You’re letting off the keenest of whines, the edges of your nails leaving neat crescents all over his toned back. It was the perfect little present for the way he had you so split open. 

And he was barely even pushing past the tip. 

“Oh. Oh.” Choso’s grunts are throaty, as if they weren’t coming from the man himself but somewhere murked and dark inside him. And the same went for his feverish thrusts - tight, rigid little pushes past your slicked-up hole just to fit inside. He’s spitting into your slacked mouth, “C’mon- c’mon c’mon–”

Usually, it takes so long to prepare you to take his nine- no, ten inches. But currently, fast just wasn’t fast enough.

There’s a thundering slam! abovehead - only hours and hours later do you have enough brainpower to realize that it was Choso striking his palm down on the headboard - and it makes your clingy walls grip onto the battering mountain of his dewy head. 

Squeezing in a repeatedly adhesive-like tempo, Choso’s nose crinkles at the rubbery resistance of your snug hole. Still molding to the slightest curves and ridges of his drowned slit with every desperate rut-

“Please- take it- fucking take it.” His voice was trembling on the edge of a crack, thickened exactly the way one does when he’s about to cry. “H-how can I fuck! How can I breed ya…if I don’t-”

And you’re swearing you see his ruddied cheeks glisten with a few slipped-off tears - though, that just might be from the way that your own vision mists over when his stray hand plugs up your spilling entrance to pry two thickened, scissoring digits inside and stretch. “Fucking- take that big fuckin’- cock-”

Bullying in a few more long n’ girthy inches- You’re so full that it feels like Choso’s pushing his bloated crownhead against the spongy edges of your lungs. 

The bed dips and moans with frequent soft creaks! when he plants his curved knees firmly further apart. Flexibly so. And you’re getting a good, greedy eyeful of his pale, bulky thighs - angling at the perfect bend to snap his slender hips and jackhammer-

“Sh-shit-” Your head sinks into the cushiony pillows underneath you, and it already feels like you’re in heaven. “-don’t- don’t know if it’ll fit, Cho–”

With a bitten lip, Choso rovers down his sturdy hand from the surface of the bedframe to measure out ten solid inches. Bringing it down much the same way he did during your wedding reception, “Y-you can, baby–”

“But-”

“You will.” He’s gasping, gracing you with a soft brush of his curvaceous mushroomed head along one of your utmost favorite hidden sweet spots. It’s enough to make you buck. “Gonna take my cock, n’ you’re gonna haaah- take my seed ‘ntil you’re bloated. So I’ll make it fit- fuck- watch, I’ll make it fit.” Before you know it, that very same hand finds itself crowning your head, threatening to push you down- “C-can you say hngh- ‘biiiig stretch’ f’me?”

You’re hiccuping out, “B-big stretch?”

“Nuh uh-” By the time that Choso shakes his head, you’re being sprinkled with loose flecks of his sweat. He was in so deep now. “Say it with me- b-biiig stretch, baby–”

“B-biiig- stretch!” It takes you everything in your body to hold your own against the vicious pounds being planted and struggled into your goopy depths. Choso was determined. Frenzied. 

And god, the way you’re dumbly parroting his words is so hot. He can’t help but dollop out muggy icings of pre that slosh and swab at every nook and cranny inside you. 

“Good girl.” Rewarding you with a slow heart being patterned right on the throbbing peak of your clit, the roughened edges of his fingertips rub you just right. Not too hard. Not too soft. Your husband nuzzles his flushed head into the havened crook of your clammy neck, “S-say it again, madam.”

“Biiig-”

Honestly, it’s a wonder you manage to get exactly two syllables out at all. Because soon enough, Choso’s taking your distracted few seconds to lace his fingers onto your scalp push. To bump his hips back until your geysering cunt was struggling around his fat, bulbous tip.

Before stuffing you full all the way in-

“Fuck- no.” Choso’s spitting out venomously against your thrumming pulse, sharp fringes of his teeth digging in animalistically. Bottomed out but still pushing and pushing- Slamming a lazy stripe of luscious precum down your spongy cervix, “No- no no–”

No sooner are you full of all his massive, rummaging length, he’s making you take even more. This time in the form of dribbling, ribbony volumes of cum that leak and leak and won’t stop from his heated divot. 

It’s ballooning up your tight channel even more. Swashing around and sticking to your gummy walls like a treacly lacquer. Filling you to your very brim-

“S-so much.” You’re gaping, through tear-strung lashes. The shivering edges of your fingers subconsciously dance downwards to splotch over the puddling globs of seed tricking from either side of your sloppy slit. Squeezing out even more to coat Choso’s bulky base with creamy rings upon rings. 

And, usually, your husband might be just a bit embarrassed. Usually, he would have pulled out to make out with your pretty pussy until your scores were more than tied.

But that wasn’t your husband right now. 

“Don’t.” Choso clicks his drunkenly heavy tongue, lips pulling back into what almost looks like an oh-so-feral snarl. And you have to admit that it looks so sexy on him. He’s rudely swatting away your curious hand, “Move that fucking hand n’ let me see.”

It takes only a split-second for both your hands to be pinned underneath one of Choso Kamo’s. 

“Tha’s not enough to take.”

And only one more split-second for him to flip you over onto your tummy and stuff your head into the cushy pillows. 

He’s fucking you like he’s using you. Like he’s pumping his mushy, swollen head to nudge in the weighty heft of his cum deeper and deeper and deeper-

“Y’know I hate hngh- disrespectin’ my wife, baby–” He leans over to sigh against your ear in craving hisses, pinning you with his body. His muscles. You could count each n’ every one of Choso’s bulging abs, glissading damply against your perfectly arched spine. Bubblegum pink nipples pressed roughly into your scorching skin, “Hate it- but…”

You gasp at Choso’s audacity next - at the way it makes you so traitorously soaked when he hikes up one of his feet to rest upon your head. 

Gurgling out a stupid. “Ch-Cho–”

But he didn’t seem to hear you - you didn’t know if he was even managing to breathe at this point. Only letting his devious lips twitch up, up, up into such a satisfied grin. “-but ‘ntil I get my hngh- heh…heir, you’re gonna hafta be my cumdump, madam.”

And if the saturated slurps singing out at a near-deafening tone from your dripping pussy said anything - it was that you loved the idea. 

Especially when the changed angle makes his scouring cockhead maze between the most treasured spots of your jelly-like walls to strike numerous, merciless hits dead-set on your g-spot. 

Ah, there it was, pipes up that small voice in Choso’s overtaken brain. Jostling your hips back onto his with a sudden spank on the target of your drivelling hole, the stinging pressure makes you bump your tenderest spots again and again into his ruthless batters. 

It’s bruising - the proud circumference of his plummy cock against your elastic cervix with every recoiling bounce, the rounded patterns of his balls against the hind of your pretty pussy with each thrust.

If you didn’t think you were being fucked stupid before then you were sure now. 

Your velveteen pillowcase dampens with the ever-flooding saliva spilling from your mouth every time Choso rears his aching shaft back to plant rapid, precise strikes where you wanted him the most. 

Whimpering at how every ramming dab of his split cockhead leaves leakages of pearly white cum all over the bottom of your pussy. That sultry swirl of his dumped heaps inside of you making your head spin just as dizzily. 

You almost don’t notice it when Choso’s drifting both hands to skirt over about halfway down your tummy. Feeling for that bloated, cylindrical outline of him vulgarly messing up your insides, “Gonna be e-even fuller here soon, y’know-” He’s giggling - giggling. Erratically letting his hands slide down to your clit to give the peaked ends just a tiny pinch. “-have you all round. Full. Full-”

He can’t say anything else.

He can’t do anything else - other than watch in purely entranced awe when that makes you cum all over his fucking cock. 

So big n’ thick that your claggy walls can barely even squeeze around his throbbing shaft. The thought makes you huff as he rams rigorously through your blinding high - teeth grit, your fingers fist at the pillows and make sure you can clench-

When you do- oh, when you manage to cling your gummy cunt onto his girth as if to suck out his fucking soul, it makes Choso cum, too.

Fatigued hips somehow matching his cadence, your knees shiver on top of the softened mattress stuttering through every dousing mass of cum gliding inside your cute cunt. It was so heavy having his massive torrentials inside of you, spraying the door to your womb with a slippery sheen.

It was maddening. 

And maybe it’s been hours - maybe it’s been mere minutes. But all you know is that you’re put through rounds and rounds and more rounds. But he’s still not stopping. Still dredging out the tiniest of hollowing grinds. 

Until much, much later Choso’s breath hitches in feverish stutters. It was so steamily hot inside you, only getting more humid by the minute as you ride out yet another crashing high.

“G’na milk e-every ngh- drop-” He titters, fleshy edges of his fingers closing in around where your pussylips were the most buxom. The most leaky. “-n’ you’re gonna ngh- keep it. Keep ‘ntil you give me an h-heir. Remember that, baby– keep it.”

You’re fighting against the weight of his muscular leg on top of you. Was he clamming your pussy shut? 

“Choso, baby.” Your straining out, throat drier than the Sahara at this point. Even despite how the hypnotized way your husband looks at you makes your tongue lather with watery saliva. “Want- want more.”

You think you might just have broken Choso Kamo.

Might just have made him reach another surprising high all over again with just your simple request. He’s lifting off the powerfully pressurized foot crowned on your head in favor of lurching downwards to grab your tender throat into a headlock.

Manhandling you as he pleased. Lifting you off of the tattered pillow, the completely splintered bed frame now. 

Your chin juts over his thick, bulging biceps, fighting for both air and the space-

“More- more, she says-” He’s chuckling out, words cracking a few octaves higher than normal. From the corner of your eye, you sneak glimpses at the way that Choso’s eyes were wide, crazed. Flashing all sorts of feral promises when he plants one, two, three long thuds against your soppy cervix. “Fucking- m-more.”

You’re letting off a tiny whimper - your orgasm nothing but tingles at this point. Yearning for that the piping hot streak of seed flushed into your already-overspilling cunt. Syruping in with the rest of his numerous goopy volumes, it’s thick and needy. 

Only one.

“Sh-shit.” He’s wheezing against your ear, free hand flying down to tug at his reddened base for more more more- one’s not enough. Every possibly wiry wisp and speckle that could fill you up. Could give him an heir. “Can’t cum dry- won’t- oh.”

Rutting into you like Choso won’t stop - didn’t know if he even can stop anymore. You flinch at the suddenly hot splatter! of something warm…and wet at your shoulder. 

“Cho- oh!” Not only was the clan leader drooling out glossy spatters of saliva, he was crying. Hugging you even closer, you’re showered in neverending streams of overstimulated tears.

And Choso can only babble away, “Hope- hope s’a daughter, madam.”

A/N. AYYY y’all have been wanting more dom Choso saurrrr- Anyways hope you have a lovely week <3

Plagiarism not authorized. 

[hxney-lemcn]

Mine, Only Mine — Mr. Crawling, Gap, Silvair, Chopped, Hugeface, and Scarletella x gn! reader

summery: how jealous do some of the Homicipher boys get?

tw: unhealthy relationships (Mr. Hugeface & Scarletella)

wc: 1.2k

Master List

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Crawling

❥I know people have written about how he gets jealous…but I don’t really think he does? Or at least not terribly. The scene with Mr. Chopped and the cat ears show that Mr. Crawling won’t pout or get sad at you showing affection to others, just that he wants to gain the same attention (the ear scene…). So jealousy with Mr. Crawling isn’t too bad, just be prepared to shower him with more affection than the person you originally did. 

❥On the other hand, I do think his jealousy may increase if you ignore him. Say you give more attention to Mr. Scarletella, Mr. Crawling would get a bit sad and pouty, thinking you don’t like him anymore. If this happens, give him lots and lots of attention and reassurance, he’ll be super grateful. I mean he loves your affection anyways, so might as well give him some extra headpats and kisses. Even better if you only show certain signs of affection with him, it makes him feel special. 

❥Overall, not the most jealous, but not completely unaffected either. Make sure he gets his daily dose of attention/quality time and he’ll be as right as rain.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Gap

❥Uh, he gets more jealous than you’d think. Like…his whole thing is he wants to be special to you…in his own strange way. Doesn’t like the thought of someone taking his place as a jokester to you. Also why he brings you things he’d think you like from time to time, just to make sure you still have that special place in your heart for him <3

❥Hates hate hates when you call him bad or not good. He’s good! He swears! Remember how he’s helped you before! Gets all frowny when you call him not good and then call someone else good. He’s good too! Guess he has to prove it, AGAIN. It’s honestly kind of endearing how he has no clue how he actually kind of does like you? But not exactly in a romantic way? It’s honestly hard to label his feelings towards you, so why should I?

❥I’d say he’s the second most jealous in this list of characters, watching on angrily as you praise someone that isn’t him. Be prepared for magazines and books galore when he’s in this mood, trying to prove his worth to you. Kind of strange for someone to try so hard when they claim to not like you…

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Silvair

❥Definitely the chillest one here. Doesn’t really get jealous at all :/ If anything, he finds it entertaining when you’re affectionate with others. Gives him more insight to his lab rats. Yes, he sees everyone as a lab rat. Idk, I can’t really see him get jealous.

❥Maybe…MAYBE if someone else tries doing research on you, or if Ms. Nurse treats you instead he’ll feel a bit off. Like…you’re his test subject, he knows you from the inside out…literally and not in the fun sense. Why would you go to someone who doesn’t know as much about you and how this world affects you? It’s very hard to spot his jealousy, doesn’t even notice it/recognize it himself. He just doesn’t want anyone to mess up his data…that’s all…totally.

❥In conclusion, not really jealous. Doesn’t feel like he needs to be. You’re ‘friends’, doctor and patient, mad scientist and lab rat not many others threaten that balance between you. 

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Chopped

❥Honestly…Mr. Chopped I’m kinda mixed on how he’d be. Like on one hand, I could totally see him getting jealous if you call others cute or pay too much attention to them. On the other…he could probably care less. He loves himself, you love him, why does he need to get jealous? It’s clear how much you like him with the way you pamper him. I mean we get so many examples where you’re affectionate to Mr. Crawling in front of Mr. Chopped and he doesn’t really bat an eye. 

❥Now, I can see if he gets a bit insecure he might get more jealous. Whether it be because Mr. Crawling pats your head or tucks you into bed, Mr. Chopped feels a bit sad. He’d like to tuck you in, you look so comfy. Might be just a bit pouty, eyeing you like a dissatisfied cat. Easily rectified with head pats or even cuddles. Gets side tracked from his jealousy as soon as you give him a sliver of attention honestly.

❥Mr. Chopped is fifty fifty when it comes to jealousy, but it’s never too bad. He’s pretty comfortable with what you both have and doesn’t really feel threatened by others. After all, you did call him cute.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Hugeface

❥I wouldn’t say he gets jealous? More possessive than anything. Like that scene when Mr. Machete stumbles into his little makeshift dollhouse that he made for you and gets all angry that he’s there. It’s more of a ‘you’re not supposed to be here, this is our playtime’ more than actual jealousy. Throws a little fit whenever someone messes up your playtime. Very accusatory lmao.

❥Does not like when you try to escape. Was he not providing enough for you? Were you unhappy? You’re not allowed to leave! You’re his cute human! He can’t just find another one y’know. Mr. Hugeface may be lenient if he sees you happier, you need enrichment after all. Feels extra happy if you come back on your own violation. 

❥The most childish out of all the characters on this list. Isn’t afraid to throw tantrums, will also punish you by putting you in a solid concrete cube if he’s really upset. Yeah…not the most healthy of relationships to have…BUT! I do think you could convince him to be a bit better…? Maybe? Only if you put enough work in communicating with him though. Maybe punish him in your own way like leaving for longer if he threatens to trap you.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Scarletella

❥Uhhhhhhhhhhh. Top of the list when it comes to jealousy. Watches your every move with curiosity and spite. Why are you doing that to Mr. Crawling? Do it to him instead. Why do you look so happy braiding Mr. Chopped’s hair? Style his hair instead. Why are you looking so fondly amused at Mr. Gap? Don’t you find him amusing? You do like him, right? He likes you. He likes you a lot, and he thought he was enough…was he not?

❥Will stare through your skull. It is so intimidating. His smile? Strained, it makes your skin crawl. You have to make sure he doesn’t hurt your friends, he’s so close to snapping, but he knows that would upset you and that’s not his goal. So instead he stands ominously in the background, body staticing in and out while his hand clenches the handle of his umbrella. 

❥Not that easily mended. Likes to monopolize all your time and affection. Needs constant reassurance as well, he’s quite needy. If you like constant validation and no social life go for it, just don’t get too upset if he threatens your other monster friends…he can’t stand that you could like someone that wasn’t him.

[leahcee]

.

don’t mind me I’m just reminiscing? thinking about the past?

[connorsui]

Marked in Metal

Caleb... loves ... buying you rings.

It wasn’t something you directly questioned—at least, not seriously. He had always been like that, always finding little things to slip into your life as a form of joy. Bracelets, necklaces, little earrings here and there.

But ...rings?

Oh, those were his favorite.

— Princess cut, Briolette, Trilliant, Radiant.

Oval and round. The entire catalog.

And it wasn’t just about the aesthetic. No, it was something else entirely—something unspoken in the way he always lingered just a second longer when slipping the ring onto your finger, something in the way his eyes darkened with quiet satisfaction whenever you lifted your hand, light catching on whatever new piece he had picked out for you.

Like now for instances.

"Here," he said one afternoon, handing you a small velvet box. His voice was casual, but his fingers brushed yours when you took it from him. "Saw this new piece on my way home and thought of you."

You barely glanced up from your work before popping the box open, the soft click of the latch followed by a quiet inhale as you took in the ring nestled inside. A smooth sterling silver band, sleek and polished, with fluted rose gold prongs holding a citrine gem. The cut was extravagant, the kind of thing that should have been reserved for engagement rings, but you had long stopped questioning Caleb’s taste.

"Caleb," you groaned, rolling your eyes but still sliding it onto your finger. It fit perfectly, as they always did. "You have to stop doing this."

"And why should I?" He smirked, leaning back against the couch, arm thrown over the backrest as he watched you admire the ring despite your protests. "Looks good on you."

You twisted your fingers, letting the metal catch the light. He could see it in your face—the way your lips curved slightly, the way your brows relaxed—that moment of pure, genuine appreciation. He memorized that expression every time.

Because no matter how much you insisted it was too much, you never turned them down.

And he never had to worry about you asking how much they cost.

But it wasn’t about the price anyway. It was about the way you wore them, the way your hands danced through the air when you talked, your fingers adorned with pieces he had chosen. It was about the quiet thrill of watching everyone else notice, of knowing that every time someone asked where you got them, your answer was always the same.

"Caleb, obviously. He’s the reason I have half my jewelry box."

That was enough for him.

But this one was different.

"Wait, Caleb?" Your voice broke through his thoughts, amused and lilting. "Did you know this was engraved?"

You held up the ring between your fingers, tilting it just enough for the small inscription inside to catch the light.

.C.

Delicate, subtle, almost invisible unless you were looking for it.

He raised a brow, feigning nonchalance. "Oh? …I don't actually remember seeing that anywhere?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. "You seriously didn't notice?"

"Guess not." He shrugged, and you huffed out a laugh, shaking your head.

"I don’t think I believe you."

He didn’t respond, only watching as you lifted your phone, snapping a picture. Within minutes, your messages flooded with the usual teasing.

"Another one? Does Caleb just collect rings for you now?"

"That’s basically a proposal, babe!"

"Correction. This is the one billionth proposal"

And, as always, your reply was the same.

"Of course it’s Caleb. Who else spoils me like this constantly?"

He loved that. Loved knowing that when others have noticed the rings on your fingers, they knew exactly who put them there.

But even when he adorned your hands, his own ring was different.

It never sat on his finger. It had its own place, strung securely onto the same chain as his tags, resting against his chest beneath the layers of his uniform.

Same material, same weight.

But the chain never left his body. It was there in the dead of night, cold against his skin. There in the thick of the day, clinking softly against metal. It was there when the world was loud and chaotic, when exhaustion pulled at his bones, grounding him with the quiet weight of something real.

Something that brought him back to you.

And when he returned home?

when he was finally home, the chain came off—but the ring never stayed in some forgotten drawer.

No, it belonged in the same place it always did.

Right where you were—pressed close against his heart.

[thebestandworstdayofjune]

in the refrigerator light

summary: you are somehow unprepared to run into Logan while on the quest for a midnight snack... in the house you both live in. wc: 1.9 k a/n: to be fair I did warn you that this would happen. I have a few more ideas kicking around in my head, but feel free to send requests if you have any! this doesn't take place during any particular movie, fyi, but you and Logan are both teaching at the school warnings: fluffy fluff, mutant!reader, empathic powers!reader, soft!Logan

You should have been asleep. Even after choosing to stay on at the school past your education, you’d had a hard time shaking habits of the past. It still felt strange to walk freely into professor only areas, and you were always in bed by 11:00 pm every night. Sneaking down to the kitchen to steal one of the chocolate bars you knew Scott had stashed deep in the back of a cabinet felt wrong, but the siren song was too strong to resist. 

You’d been quiet, making sure to avoid the creaky stair (third from the bottom on the right) before shuffling into the kitchen. You rubbed at your eyes as you made your way to the proper cabinet. The only problem being that it was much higher up than you remember. It was times like these that made you wish for a more helpful mutation, like telekinesis or at least a few extra inches of height. You struggled for a few moments, on your tippy toes, stretching your arm as far as you could reach before you gave up. You sighed, raking your hands through your hair and making your peace with the fact that chocolate was not in your future tonight. 

“Scoot over, bub.” You jumped and let out a small shriek, before clasping a hand over your mouth. It was rare that anyone got the drop on you these days, your power more finely tuned and emotions tending to be strong around the manor, but your guard was decidedly down in the place you’d called home for so many years. But Logan was an exception to many rules. HIs hand gently gripped your wrist, pulling you against his chest for a brief moment before moving to stand in front of the cabinet. He reached up into the cabinet, the zip up hoodie he wore pulling up to expose a few inches of his stomach before pulling down a few bars of chocolate with ease. He smiled, the crinkles by his eyes more prominent in the low light of the kitchen. You did your best to appear like you hadn’t just been ogling him. 

“How did you know-”

“Scott’s shit at secrets.” He huffed, rolling his eyes. “You think he’d learn by now to not be such a loud mouth in a house full of people with enhanced hearing”. 

Your laugh was quiet, muffled by your hand in the interest of not waking the others. “Well, in that case, I hope one of those is for me.” 

Logan shrugged, eyes full of mirth. “What’ll you give me for it?” 

You blinked, unsure of yourself. You weren’t used to this Logan, yet. He was usually gruff and reserved, always reluctant to give into the kids in his history class that were trying to derail the lesson with a joke or two. He’d been playful a few times in your presence, and it almost always made you worried that the other shoe was about to drop. Seeing him in pajama pants and a soft grey sweatshirt only added to the strangeness situation. 

For the briefest moment, you considered using your powers. A single touch and you would know exactly how he was feeling. It was a blessing and a curse, to be able to be sure of how others were feeling with a single touch. A god-send on intel gathering or stealthy missions, a terrible temptation at midnight alone in the kitchen of the manor with the man you had harbored a crush on for as long as you’d known him. You make to grab one of the bars out of his hand, but he is too fast for you, quickly lifting them over his head. Your eyes narrowed. 

Fine, two can play at this game. You roll your shoulders back, drawing up your courage. “Depends what you want for it.” 

Logan grinned, dropping his arms and holding the bars behind his back. “Well, what I don’t want is to be an accomplice in your quest for cavities. Chuck’d have my head if he found out I had a part to play.”  

“I’m a big girl, Logan. I can take care of myself” You grab for the chocolate, but he’s too quick for you. For a brief moment, the two of you stare at each other, the moment charged. You lunged for the chocolate again, but Logan is already halfway across the kitchen, waving the chocolate around teasingly. 

“Logan, please” you laugh, following around the island. He cocked his head to the side, smirk playing at the corner of his lips. You were seconds away from stomping your foot and demanding he hand the chocolate over, when his smirk grew into a grin. 

“Alright bub,” he made his way around the island, depositing one of the chocolate bars in your hand. “You know I can’t say no to you.” 

You did your best to tamp down the butterflies that suddenly made a home in your stomach, but his smile was so gentle and he looked so soft, it was hard not to feel a little lovestruck. You snapped a piece of the bar off, and held it out to him. You dutifully busied yourself with breaking off a piece for yourself, ignoring the way that his affectionate gaze seemed to never leave you. 

“You’re not usually up this late,” he says, holding his hand out for another piece. You shrug, dropping another section into his hand. 

“Couldn’t sleep.” 

“Welcome to the club.” You knew that Logan had trouble sleeping, he was usually the first one hunched over a cup of coffee in the mornings, steadfastly ignoring inquiries into how he slept. 

“I, um” You hesitated. Usually offers of using your powers didn’t go well. You took a breath, steadying yourself. The worst he could say was no, right? “I could help with that, if you want.” 

Logan reached out, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. You could tell your eyes were the size of saucers, but you couldn’t find words. After a few moments, Logan took a step back, shaking his head slightly. You blinked owlishly, taking a breath to steady yourself. 

“That’s sweet of you, bub. But I wouldn’t want to tucker you out.” It was no secret around the house that although you had a less physical mutation, it still took some of your energy. Sensing emotions was as natural as breathing, but influencing them was newer, and took much more focus. 

You pointedly glanced at the clock over the stove, noting that it was well past any reasonable bedtime, before facing Logan once more. “That actually sounds really nice.” He mumbled something about not wanting to take advantage of you, but the words died in his throat when your hand found his own. You looked up at him through your lashes, hoping that he would be able to see how earnest you were being. “I don’t want to force you, but I want to be asleep more than anything, and I can tell that you are too wound up about something to even begin to fall asleep.” 

His thumb stroked over the back of your hand a few times, before he stepped around you and led you out of the kitchen. You expected him to turn towards the living room, where you’d caught him ‘resting his eyes’ a few times in the middle of the day. Instead, he turned right making sure to skip the creaky stair (third from the bottom on the right) and right up to the door of your room. 

“A bit presumptuous, no?” You asked, before opening the door and walking through. 

Logan rolled his eyes, leaning against your doorframe. “I was there the first time you tried this. Figured it was best that no one has to pick you up off the floor.” 

You felt your face grow hot, remembering the unmitigated disaster that had occurred the first time Charles suggested that this application of your powers was a possibility. Your chin tilted up, doing your best to project confidence. “Well, it’s been a while since then, I’ve gotten better.” 

If the lighting had been better, you would have seen the faintest pink blush coloring his cheeks. “Rogue’s in my room.” You couldn’t help it, your eyebrows shot up near your hairline. “She and Bobby got into a fight, she wanted somewhere she would be left alone.” His hands were twisting in the pockets of his sweatshirt as he ducked his head down low. 

“Is that why you were prowling around the kitchen?” He rolled his eyes, but nodded all the same. “Well, do you wanna stay here tonight?” He looked like he was about to object, but you held your hand up, effectively silencing him. “You’re doing a favor for Rogue, let me do one for you.” 

“Thought you were already doin’ me a favor, sweetheart.” He protested, all while moving towards your bed. 

You perched on the edge of your bed, consciously doing your best to keep your heart rate in check. The students always joked that between Charles and Jean’s mind reading and Logan being able to hear cheaters hearts speeding up, it wasn’t even worth it to try and cheat in class. It hadn’t occurred to you that if he could hear your heart fluttering, he could definitely hear the measured deep breaths you were taking to mitigate the issue. 

You reached for his hand, and he accepted it readily. His palm was shockingly smooth under yours, it must be from his regenerative powers. Your thumb gently ran across his knuckles, still slightly red from the training session he’d had with some of the students earlier in the day. You tugged on his arm slightly, and he lowered himself down onto the bed beside you. “I thought that it’s important to work as a team, sometimes.” 

“You spyin’ on me, bub?” You sheepishly meet his eyes, but find nothing but tenderness waiting for you. “I’ll try to forgive you.” He drops a kiss on your knuckles, before motioning for you to lay down. “I’ll take the floor.” 

You tightened your grip on his hand. If he really wanted to, he could have broken away easily. Instead, he paused, eyebrows raised and waiting for an explanation. “Not much of a favor if your back hurts in the morning from sleeping on the floor” you shrugged. 

“Only if you’re sure-”

“Just get in the damn bed Logan.” He grinned, pulling back the covers and slipping into the bed. You followed shortly after, and slipped your hand back into his. The both of you laid in silence for a few moments, adjusting to your new arrangement. You were nice and toasty warm, able to feel the heat radiating off him under the covers. You were in the middle of working up the courage to actually use your powers, when soft snores began to emanate from the other side of the bed. You chanced a glance towards him only to find his lashes gently fanned out over his cheeks, and his chest rising and falling with his steady breathing. 

After a few moments, you followed him into dreamland. In the morning, you woke up with his arm firmly around your waist, feeling fully rested for one of the first times in your life. Again, you waited for the awkwardness to come, for your face to flush and your stammer to pick back up, but you were left waiting.

feedback is very much appreciated, as I’ve never written for Logan before! let me know what you think <3

next part

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

lotus

a/n: this has been sitting half-written on my pc for i don't even know how many months (tbh at least half a year. i was living somewhere else when i started it wow). finally took a deep breath and finished it (though with an ending that kinda flies by a bit because just wanted it to get done. i was scared that the story would never see the light of day, so zooming through the ending was a better option)

summary: a nervous breath then escaped his lungs before he uttered, “you do know what kind of massage this is, right?” to which you only blinked back at him all the same, none of your shock evaporation at his words, “you know that I’m here to give you more than just a regular massage?”

warnings: massage therapist!bucky barnes x reader, smut, sex worker!bucky, bucky doesn't have the metal arm in this one, thinking that your friend just signed you up for a normal massage but then it turns out to be an erotic one, kissing, dirty talk, manhandling, fingering, toys, multiple orgasms, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, anal, double penetration

word count: 4000

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With a hand tangled up in one of the ties of the robe you wore, you answered your front door after finally hearing the bells chime.

“Hi,” a soft smile swiftly warmed up the features of the man standing on the other side of the threshold, “are you miss Y/l/n?”

“Yeah, I am,” a tingle of nerves flickered through your body as your gaze washed over him, “you must be the masseuse.”

Why did he have to be so attractive? If it was this difficult to remember to breathe when he was standing completely out of your reach, then how were you going to survive a guy such as him touching you?

Following your gaze down to the folded-up table he carried, he nodded, “guilty,” before setting down the duffle bag he clutched in his other hand and extended it for you to grasp, “my name is Bucky.”

“Bucky,” you briefly shook it, “nice to meet you.”

“You too,” the touch faded, and he bent down to pick the supplies back up, “so, where should I set up?”

“Oh, in here, in the living room,” you gestured behind you and shifted to the side for him to enter. As he set up everything, you stayed at the perimeter and felt your heartbeat thump behind your ribcage, “is it weird that I’m a bit nervous?” you then quietly asked.

Briefly pausing his actions as he unfurled the massage table, he cast a glance your way.

“It’s not weird at all, it’s okay,” he stated in a calm tone, “but I assure you, this is a completely safe space, you’re in good hands.”

“I just–, this wasn’t exactly my idea, or even at all,” your hands fiddle further with the terrycloth tie around your waist as you began to ramble, “Nat, my friend, she told me that I needed to relax, so she booked this appointment for me as a treat. I don’t even know what it is she signed me up for, if it was just like a little five-minute long thing or what.”

“Oh no, she signed you up for the full package, 90 minutes.” 

“Really?” your eyebrows rose, “wow, that’s amazing.”

Once the table was set up and he rummaged through the bag for a towel as well as other supplies, his low timbre filled the room once more.

“So, before we start, I’d just like to ask if there’s anything off limits to you, anything you don’t like or that you’re not interested in? Or perhaps something in particular you’d like today?”

“Uh, I don’t think so,” your eyes narrowed slightly as you thought, quickly scanning through your body to get a good sense, “you can just be as rough with me as you want.”

“Alright, you like it rough, good to know,” you felt yourself suck in a silent breath at the way the phrase fell from his lips, “you ready to begin?”

“Yep,” you swallowed, hoping he didn’t notice how flustered he seemed to make you. 

He then lifted up the ivory sheets he’d sprawled out on the plush bench and held it up high, giving you a smidge of privacy as you dropped your robe to a nearby armchair, before laying down on the table and feeling the cotton drape over you. 

As you layed there on your stomach with your face comfortably nestled in the little nook, you sensed Bucky adjust the fabric, folding it down so that your entire back was exposed. 

A dull click found your ears as he pumped some oil into his palm. The very first touch conjured a brisk breath to fill your lungs as his hands slid along your spine, spreading the slickness around. 

Though when you finally managed to force yourself to relax into his touch, a soft moan slipped from your lips as his meticulous grip found a muscle particularly sore.

“Sorry,” you timidly apologized for the sound. 

But he simply zeroed in on the very spot that had made you groan and said, “don’t apologize, whatever bubbles up, please let it out.”

Your lips stayed half parted as his touch dug deeper, “it just feels really good right there...”

“Yeah, you seem to be holding a lot of tension in your back, especially right here between your shoulder blades.”

“Probably all the time on the couch,” you let out a pitiful chuckle, “I just kept on getting into uncomfortable positions and then stayed like that. Which, funnily enough, is pretty symbolic of how I ended up there in the first place, stuffing my face with Ben and Jerry’s and binging the most depressing of romcoms.”

“Bad breakup?” he guessed. 

“I don’t think you can call it a break-up if you never really were together in the first place,” you let out a sigh. Yet again had you fallen for a guy who’d turned out to be a complete and utter asshole, “men are just pigs,” you spat out, “no offence.”

“Oh, none taken,” he uttered, “you know, it’s actually very common for people to get this particular treatment after something like that.”

“Really? Your touch is on the same level as bawling your eyes out to Joni Mitchell?” you jested, “well, now I’m really happy that I let my friend talk me into this.”

Soon, when his touch had kneaded every inch of your back, it faded away and reappeared lower on your frame as you then felt him fold the sheet up to expose your legs, letting the thin fabric only drape across and cover the curve of your bottom. 

Once his touch had soothingly wandered up the length of your legs and as his broad palms dented your slightly parted thighs, you nearly didn’t notice through the trance-like state you’d drifted off to when his reach crept close enough to your core to feel the heat radiating off it. A gasp parted your lips as his fingers briefly ghosted against the very outside of your puff before retreating back down your thigh. 

“Is it alright if remove this for a bit?” he then asked as you felt his hand clutch the sliver of modesty that remained. 

“Oh, uhm,” you fought to comprehend his question through the haze you’d slipped into, both the haze of relaxation, though maybe more predominately the haze of sin, which was most likely what had swayed you to utter, “sure,” trying your best to stay calm as he removed the sheet completely. 

It became a difficult task to keep your quiet noises at bay and have them not seep through your heavy breath as he then began to massage the soft peak of your butt. 

You tried to remind yourself that it was the biggest muscle on the human body and thereby completely normal to be treated in this manner, but that truth would have been easier to swallow if it had been a less attractive specimen touching you in such a way. 

Eventually, Bucky’s lavish rubs came to spread you apart with each repetitive motion, surely granting himself a perfect view of just how mortifyingly wet you’d become. 

As he let his broad thumbs dig into your sitting points, you told yourself it was the slipperiness of the oil that caused his fingers to sweep closer to your core and not your own nectar that had leaked down towards his touch. 

It felt so good that your hips unconsciously tilted up and into his touch, as his thumbs slid close enough to caress your outer lips, nearly capturing them in a gentle pinch. 

You didn’t know how long it took, how long you essentially grinded into him as if you were in heat, but eventually, you snapped out of your fog and realized just where his fingers were. 

“U-uh… w-what are you doing?” your frame jumped slightly at the realization.

“Do you not like this?” his touch paused, though didn’t retreat. 

“Why–, uhm…” you nearly panted, “you’re just very close to somewhere else.”

And when he simply uttered, “yeah, I know,” in an almost amused and cocky tone. You swiftly propped yourself up onto your arms and glared back at him, successfully prompting him to rip his hands away.

Snatching the sheet back over your frame as you scrambled to a seat, you stared back at him in utter shock, “I’m sorry, but are you actually trying to sleep with me right now?”

His brows furrowed slightly as he blinked back at you, seemingly confused at your outburst, “I’m just doing my job.”

“I’ve had massages before, that was not–… that right there was something else. That was not you doing your job, that was your hands being persuaded by your dick.”

A nervous breath then escaped his lungs before he uttered, “you do know what kind of massage this is, right?” to which you only blinked back at him all the same, none of your shock evaporation at his words, “you know that I’m here to give you more than just a regular massage?”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh boy, I’m sorry, I thought you knew…” his glance fell to the floor as he then began to enlighten, “well, the lotus wellness center, where I work, specializes in the blend of not just physical and mental health, but also sexual health and satisfaction. An erotic massage, like the one you were signed up for, is one of the many services we offer.”

Your eyes had grown as wide as saucers during his explanation, “o-oh…”

“I totally understand if you wanna stop, if you’re not interested.”

“I–…” you tried to make heads or tails of the situation you found yourself in, “so you were gonna–, what? Fuck me?”

“I was gonna try and make you feel good, help you relax and unwind. You were signed up for the aurelia treatment which would involve me using my hands to pleasure you, as well as whatever toys you might be interested in.”

“Toys?”

“Yes, I have a generous collection with me,” he briefly gestured back to the duffle bag resting on the couch. 

“Okay, uhm…” one of your palms came down to brush over your features as you fought to comprehend it all.

“Do you want me to pack up and go?” you heard him ask. 

Slowly, ever so slowly, before you even realized it was moving, you shook your head. Letting your gaze flutter back up to find his, you exhaled lowly, “fuck…”

“I can also just give you a completely traditional massage if that’s what you want.”

“…and if I wanna try the other thing?” you nearly whispered. 

“Do you?”  

“I–…” you tried to speak, though couldn’t find the words and ended up just hazily nodding back at him. 

“Alright,” he gently mirrored the nod that still faintly rocked your head, “I won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with, I promise. You just say the word, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathed, shivering slightly at the tingle of goosebumps that spread across your flesh. 

The way he held your gaze a moment longer before shifting it to the massage table you still sat upon made you feel as if you might melt off it entirely.

“Lay back down,” he faintly nodded to the bench. 

Your eyes stayed glued on him long after you now layed sprawled out on your back. 

Letting his touch graze the sheet you still absentmindedly clutched to your chest, he asked, “do you wanna keep this on?”

“No,” you shook your head faintly, “you can remove it.”

“Okay,” he gently peeled the fabric off of you, “just say if you get cold, alright?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, still having a hard time wrapping your head around the fantasy you found yourself in. 

He began by working at your arms, tenderly spreading some oil across them and massaging down the length of them, one at a time, till his skilful fingers descended to work at your palms. It nearly felt as if he was merely holding your hand before he tossed you into the deep end with how intimate the simple beginning sensed. 

You couldn’t command your gaze to leave his visage as you traced his every move as if he was made of stardust. 

When his warmth let go of your hand, he reached for the bottle of oil that didn’t have a pump and unscrewed the top. Your bottom lip got caught by your teeth as he then poured a bit out over your stomach, curving the s-waves of droplets all the way up and across your boobs, dripping over your pebbly nipples as they stared back at him. 

As Bucky began to rub it in, he first stared softly down at your belly before swooping up, only to skip over your tits entirely and instead yanking a disappointed whimper from your lungs as he then commenced massaging your shoulders. 

You felt a bit lightheaded as you blinked up at him, all tall and broad, looming above your head and digging his warm touch into the base of your neck. 

Though when his rough palms finally did swoop down to caress your soft peaks, he quietly checked in, “this okay?” to which you simply nodded your head, eyebrows knitting together at the intenseness of the built-up anticipation.

Your entire chest cage heaved beneath his touch as he finally massaged your boobs, even occasionally fleeting away to ghost across your nipples, only to capture them in a pinch the next moment. 

You felt as if you were floating down a calm stream, letting the river of sin take you somewhere new and wonderful. 

Eventually, his broad palms swept up and down your form, though each time his reach dared to near your core, he barely touched you at all, missing entirely the spots that throbbed for attention, which of course only caused the sensation to deepen and render you even more desperate from his teasing. 

When he then shifted to stand to the side of the patted table, his deep voice washed over you once more as his touch stayed warm against your skin.

“Everything okay so far?”

“Yeah…” you hummed as you lazily blinked up at him, and the soft smile that curved your lips caused a similar one to bloom upon his own. 

His slow stride then carried him further down till his fingers began to dent the softness of your thighs. 

After he’d made your eyes flutter at the way he worked at the muscles in your legs, focusing on one thigh at a time, slowing working his way up till his fingertips stretched to dizzily brush against your outermost petals, it was then, that his sweeps grew and blossomed till one fleeting tease to your centre morphed into more as he kept coming back, each fluttering time slowly transforming till the maddening pets had become everything you’d dreamed of.

Soft whimpers flowed out of your lungs as he gently folded each of your legs up by your sides and cracked you wide open for him.  

As he gazed down at you with such intensity you’d never experienced before, it only took one step for him to change his angle and stand tall next to your hips. 

Letting his palms run up your inner thighs, the edges of each of his broad thumbs then met and joined on either side of your pussy as he captured it in a light pinch, making you moan softly, “fuck….” as his touch rolled your clit through your glistening puff. 

You nearly didn’t catch it because of how hard your own pants were, but Bucky’s own breaths had picked up as well and with a few stray curses seeping through his teeth as he continued to pluck at the strings of your pleasure. 

But then, before you could truly lose yourself to the ecstasy you felt flicking in your periphery, his hands slipped away, a smirk fast on his lips as a whine escaped you and he returned his attention to the rest of your body. Though thankfully, his torture only carried on a short moment before he finally granted you the first of many treats.

“Oh, yeah,” you couldn’t help but moan as he rubbed your clit and carried you over the peak. 

“Right there?” he leaned down closer to you as he kept up his pace, his free hand coming to rest right beside your head as he loomed over you. 

“Yeah,” you breathlessly panted as your body trembled beneath his touch. 

“Yeah?” he huskily echoed, nearly sharing your breath as he drew out your orgasm for as long as he could, and even as your body began to squirm at the sensitivity that swiftly set in, his touch never left you, only lightened to make it bearable and tickle you back from the high. 

He studied your features fiercely as his fingers then came down to tease your entrance. 

“How about this?” your leaky hole swallowed up the two digits he swiftly filled it with, “how’s that? Is that what you want?”

“Oh fuck!” your back briefly arched and lifted you off the table, closer to him for but a moment as sloppy sounds of your want echoed at the slow rhythm he played you at. 

“Or do you need a little more maybe?” he sneaked another finger inside, “huh?” his frame then bent down till you could feel his hot breath fan across your face, “what do you want? You want something more to make you feel good right here?” his fingers slid back out of your pussy and fluttered up till they found your puffy pearl, “or here?” he briefly soared back down to plug up your cunt once more, but only offered you one messily rock before his digits slipped back out and drifted down much further than you expected, “or maybe even here?” you let out a gasp as the slick pads of his fingers glided over your little rosebud. 

“I–, I–,” you struggled to answer him, feeling so foggy that you might just fall off the table, “fuck…” 

“I have any toy you could dream of with me,” he purred as your grip found his shirt for support, “so, what do you want?”

“I want–, I want–”

“What?” he pushed as he continued to stare down into your eyes. 

And as blinked back at him, only one wish came to mind, one that you timidly whispered, “y-you…”

But as fear began to prickle at your nerves, they all dissipated as the masseuse wasn’t offended at all, your words somehow conjuring a dazzled smile to appear upon his lip before he then chuckled warmly, “roll over for me.”

You nearly gave yourself whiplash from the hast you tried to fulfil his command.         

As he soon kneeled down to be on level with where your head was now twisted and resting on its side, his hand drifted up for you to spot the dildo clutched in his grasp. 

Handing it off to your flicking fingers, his touch briefly lingered on your cheek, stroking it softly as he said, “then pretend this is me, will you? Get it nice and sloppy for me.”

When you began to plant pecks across the silicon, your eyes shadowed him as far as they could as he straightened back up and walked back far enough to disappear from your sight, only for you to know where he’d gone to once you felt his mouth begin to devour you whole. 

It became difficult to concentrate on the task he’d given you, so much so that he had to remind you each time his lavish tongue buried between your legs caused your own to forget itself. 

Arching your ass further up towards his efforts, he tilted away from your drooling cunt and instead nipped up till he lapped against your other hole. 

“Oh, that feels really good,” you moaned around the dildo as you tried to catch a glimpse of him, though only saw the edge of one of his hands and they dented your bottom. 

“Yeah?” he let a dollop of spit drop to your rosebud before he nudged the pad of a thumb against it, “you like having this little hole played with?”

“Uh-huh,” you nodded, then watched as he momentarily dipped away to snatch up a butt plug from the zipped-open treasure trove his bag was. 

Once the toy was snugly buried within your little ass, he snatched the dildo out of your mouth and a string of your drool chased the silicone as he brought it back to tap against the sloppy petals of your pussy. 

It didn’t take very long after he’d begun to fuck you with the toy that you tumbled over the edge once more, making you that much more malleable when he yanked at your legs and manhandled you down to the bottom of the bench till your unsteady feet were once again on the floor and he had you bent over the table like a needy whore. 

That was also when your weak pleas began to bubble out, begging for him to fill you up with something other than a toy. 

Even though you couldn’t see his face, you swore you heard a tinge of astonishment in his tone when he asked you to clarify, making sure it really was him that had you begging and not just the way he made you feel. 

Though once you finally managed to convey the sincerity of your words and convince him of the way he and not just the acts he was performing, drove you wild, it was in the middle of chasing your next high that he broke his pattern and traded out the dildo with his own hard cock. 

A low moan seeped across your spine as he buried his length completely and let himself melt down against your back. Letting himself savour the sweetness of your warmth clenching around his fat girth, it took him a while before he finally began to move and soon found a steady pace that had your toes curling against the floorboards. 

His fingers gently dug into the soreness still remaining all down your back as his hips repeatedly collided with the plush of your ass in desperate thrusts. Though as his digits worked their way down the length of your spine, they eventually found the little plug that still remained in your ass. 

Teasingly twisting the toy, you thought that was everything he had planned, though all of those fantasies fluttered away when he suddenly yanked the small plug out and switched it with the bigger toy still firm in his grasp, your little hole only managing to wink up at him before he stuffed it full once more. 

You lost track of the amount of times he made you cum as the remainder of the intense dance became a bit of a blur. At one point he had you flipped around and lying on your back, gasping up at him as he folded you in half and nearly broke the massage table beneath you from how hard his deep strokes were. At the next, the dildo he drove you mad with was traded out with his own fat cock and he conjured a vibrating wand to hold against your puffy clit as he watched your pussy leak from the bliss. But at the end, once you were nothing more than a puddle on the table, his load painted against your tits as he let his frame drape down atop of yours, a hazy question left your lips.

“Is that usually how that goes?” you asked as you both panted, plastered against one another. 

Raising himself up only enough for his eye to catch your own, he uttered sincerely, “no…” and his gaze flickered down towards your lips, “no, it is not…” before he let himself give you the thing you hadn’t dared to request. The kiss was so sweet it nearly caused you to forget the sinful acts you’d just wrapped up.

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[goldsbitch]

Kiss with a fist

To his twins, the world is ending. To Lando, it’s another exhausting reminder that parenting might actually be harder than racing.

or - No boys allowed near the girls from now on, especially not his rivals' son.

warning: dad! Lando, none, fun, domestic 3k word count stand alone part of Norris Family Polaroids

//

There is a loud crying sound coming from the room the seven year olds share and Lando has never felt so old in his bones. He'd just come back from an exhausting race and those don't exactly get easier with age. In times like these, he longs for the days when he was in his first years in F1, blissfully unaware of just how capable and seamless his body was. Anyway. No time to sulk in. One of his daughters is in distress and the day he does not respond to that will be the day he willingly puts himself up in jail.

He gets up from the couch and rushes over to the kids room. The crying is not stopping and when he enters it somehow starts clicking all in. He kneels down and hugs Maya, who looks like is determined to cry her eyes out. Meanwhile, Olivia is sitting on her bed, exceptionally quiet and has never looked more suspicious in her life, ever.

"We need to keep a closer eye on Liv, I think she's teasing Maya too much these days" he recalls Y/N saying over the phone one late evening. It was an early morning call for him, due to the timezones, but he remembers it clearly. He brushed it off, telling his wife that it's getting late over back home and that she should go and get some sleep while she can. But right now, assessing the current situation, he is not so sure about his previous judgement. Long gone is the time he was scared of being a bad parent, of fucking up. He's come to realization that he will inevitably fuck up - not in the same way as his parents, but in a completely new and original way. The fact they were blessed with twins making it that more likely to happen. He's hugging and caressing one daughter, while eyeing the other. Olivia has this look in her face and his stomach sinks down deeply, because he has seen this look before. In the mirror, many times. He was what most would consider a peaceful quiet child. Unless it was him and his sister alone. He'd tease her mercilessly, wait for her to start crying and then play innocent. His parents fell for that so easily.

And now, he's looking at his own daughter, who stares right back at him, and they both know. He shakes his head, making sure Maya does not see and while it does make him mad, it makes him less mad that it should. Because ultimately, he knows that him and his sisters grew up just fine and this teasing eventually stopped. Still, his other daughter is wallowing in his arms and he can't ignore that.

Maya is the first one to speak. "Daddy...I don't want to have a baby," she leans back from his embrace and pouts at him in a way only seven year old know how. So raw, honest and unfiltered.

Lando must have misheard her. “Come again, sweetheart?”

He brushes few tears away. At least she’s not sobbing anymore and is focused on trying to get the words out. “I don’t want to have a baby, I’m too young for that”.

It’s hard not to agree with that. She is seven years old.

He smiles gently, trying to somehow untangle this. "Why would you have a baby?" Another stream of tears and cries follows and she wraps herself in his arms again. He sighs, as it is does not get easier with time to hear your little daughter cry and he looks up to Olivia, who's still sitting on her bed. He's not mad per say, but he's silently asking her to help him find an answer to this all. This is the first time that Liv's expression shakes up and cracks away, hinting on either guilt or at least a sorrow she feels at the sight of her own twin crying. Good, Lando thinks. He tries as much as he can to avoid automatically blaming her for anything without having enough information about the situation. But, his it's hard to ignore his intuition.

He turns to Maya again. "Sweetie, why would you have a baby? You're so young?"

Maya's voice trips over her own sobs, but she finally speaks again. "I...I kissed a boy today."

Now - hold on. First of all, why is his seven year old daughter kissing some boys? He feels himself tense up. Of course he knew this days would come, but he was silently hoping for ten more years of keeping his little angels as they were. Just young, tiny kids running around playing tag. Not kissing boys, girls or whomever. "Who did you kiss?" he can't stop himself from asking, silently hoping he does not know the parent of said boy, because there is no way of preventing himself from making the "concerned parent phone call". Monte Carlo is small, there is only few nursery schools around here. It's an everyone sort of knows everyone kind of situation. "Maya, don't worry - you're not in trouble," he adds, trying to make sure he keeps up on having his daughter willing to tell him stuff like that. She is not in trouble - the boy is. Lando used to be a boy. He knows what's up.

Maya's lip is trembling and her eyes are wet. He can't bear that sight. "Sweetheart, you're not pregnant. I'm sure of that," he consoles her and after few moments of deep thought, she seems to believe him. She ask once more for confirmation. His answered is interrupted by his other daughter, who now looks equally concerned as Maya was just a minute ago.

"But she is pregnant. That's how it works. Boys at the playground said so," she speaks, oh-so-sure of her claims. He face is serious and has a sense of fatality around it. He begins to understand how other children would fall so deeply under this spell.

Ah, Lando thinks and the penny drops. He runs his hands through his hair and has to chuckle just a bit. He doesn't want Maya to think he’s making fun of her, but the absurdity of the situation is too much. He leans back on his heels, looking between his two daughters. Maya’s face is still flushed from crying, and Olivia is sitting with her arms crossed, looking like a pint-sized prophet of doom.

He clears his throat, trying to sound as serious as possible. "Okay, let's get something straight out of the way. Kissing someone is not how you get pregnant," he speaks and his mind briefly flashes to the panic he and Y/N felt the moment they found out she was pregnant with the twins. It's been a long time ago and enlightening journey since, but he can somewhat understand the sentiment. He tries to ground his children down some more. "Look at me and Mommy. We kiss all the time and she is not pregnant, right?"

Olivia seems intrigued. "So, how do you get pregnant?" He looks at her and curses himself for walking right into that one. It's clear in her face and maneurism that she is going to be a very difficult teenager one day. "Ask Mommy when she comes back," he blurts out, not at all prepared for that talk. He's also already mentally ordering apology bouquet for his dear wife for throwing her under a bus like that. He turns to Maya again. "Anyway, you don't worry. You're not pregnant," he caresses her cheek and once she really does seem more calm, he asks. "Now - who kissed you?"

Maya glances at Olivia, and Lando notices his other daughter watching with laser focus. Olivia’s lips are pressed tightly together, her expression that of someone who knows something and is dying to spill it.

“Do you want me to tell him?” Olivia asks suddenly, looking unable to contain herself any longer.

“Liv,” Lando says with a sigh, shooting her a warning look.

“What? I already know who it was,” Olivia says, folding her arms across her chest with a dramatic flair that only a seven-year-old can pull off. He averts his gaze to Maya, who looks like is ready to fess up.

"You're not in trouble," he says and hopes he can keep up on his promise.

She tenses up and something tells Lando he actually does not want to know. "It was Lucas." Too late. “Lucas,” he repeats, his voice carefully neutral.

Maya nods slowly, her cheeks flushing pink. “Lucas Verstappen,” she specifies. Lando feels his stomach drop. Max Verstappen’s son. Of all the boys in the world, it had to be Lucas, the mini version of the Verstappen gang and what one would call a true heir of their infamous blunt approach to life. If this is true, it marks the beginning of a lifetime of headaches. His poor, sweet little daughter - one he'll have to protect until forever.

"And she kissed him too!" Olivia nearly screams out, letting her opinion on this known by the judgy tone.

Lando eyes grow wide and he silently thankful for Olivia spilling it like it is. Maya's guilt ridden face gives it away all. "Maya, honey, aren't you a little young to be kissing boys?" he asks rhetorically, because of course - his little angel should definitely not be doing that.

"I would never kiss a boy! They are gross and annoying," Olivia blurts out, ever-so-competitive. He's not sure what scares him more, Maya who's running around kissing boys or Olivia, who reminds him of himself more each passing day. Let's see about that, Liv, when in ten years I'm warding off boys from your window, he thinks, but does not say it out loud.

"He kissed me first!" Maya defends herself and snuggles into Lando's embrace more. He sighs. It's not been the quiet chill down he expected to return to.

"Okay, ladies. Let's all calm down. How about some ice-cream?" he offers, hoping that cheap bribing will buy him some time to think. The sudden cheers confirm it and he's adding another five flowers to the bouquet for Y/N, knowing she won't condone this.

//

He's watching his daughters munch on the impromptu ice-cream sundae, both of them sitting silently on the kitchen counter, apparently dead set on destroying their pajamas with colorful stains.

The name Verstappen still rings in his ears. They're suppose to have a little family get together tomorrow and for some reason, that's starting to increasingly bother him.

He excused himself for a moment and goes to the balcony, making what he fears is one of the first distressed "my daughter kissed someone" call in his life - and not the last one. Headache. That's what it is.

The phone rings twice before Max picks up, his voice sounding tired and politely annoyed.

“Lando. What’s up, mate? Is it urgent, I'm kind of dead tonight.”

Lando takes a deep breath, trying to sound calm. Oh, you and your son will be dead very soon.

"Hi Max, yeah, it sort of is," he murmurs, trying to think his strategy through. "We have to cancel tomorrow, something came up." Genius. That's who he is. Now, he just has to move his family away from Monte Carlo and make sure Maya never meets Lucas Verstappen ever again. Problem solved.

Max doesn’t miss a beat. "Cancel? What do you mean cancel? Lucas has been talking about seeing the girls all week." Of course he has. Lando groans internally. Of course Lucas has been excited. This wasn’t just any hangout. This was apparently the next chapter in their little playground romance.

"Yeah, not gonna happen, mate," Lando insists, leaning on the balcony railing, running a hand through his hair, overlooking at his dearest angels, who will need his infinite protection. "We can’t do it. Something came up. Okay, bye."

Max is quick enough to speak before he manages to hang up. "Wait, what? If it's a problem for you and Y/N, we can just take care of the kids, no problem."

Is it the whole Verstappen family that wants to take his precious daughters? Lando knows he might be overreacting, but he is a tired man with a resposibility over two seven year old. Cut him some slack.

"No. Canceled. Bye," he says and kills the call. There, all sorted. He immediately goes on figuring out some back up activity for the family, something that will sound so exciting that they will all forget about the Verstappens.

Max calls him right back and he does not pick it up.

The young father goes on putting the girls down, everyone is now calm and there are no more pregnancy scares. He is good at this. Everything is great. Just as the girls are tucked into bed, eyelids drooping and calm finally restored, Lando’s phone buzzes once more. He glances over at it, expecting Max to be trying again. Instead, he sees Y/N’s name flashing on the screen.

“Hi, love,” Lando answers, trying to sound casual. He winks at his daughters, who are always excited when Mommy's around. “How’s dinner?”

“It’s nice,” Y/N replies, but her tone has an edge, the one where he knows she’s about to interrogate him. “How’s everything at home? The girls okay?”

“They’re fine,” Lando says quickly and decides to leave the kids bedroom, so that he can pace around, as he always does when Y/N sounds like that. “All good here. No problems.”

There’s a beat of silence. He can feel her narrowing her eyes through the phone. He can hear the rush of the restaurant she's at, so her calling him must have a pretty good reason.

"Mm hm. So why did you cancel tomorrow’s hangout with Max and his family?"

Lando rolls his eyes, his brain scrambling for an answer while cursing Max mentally. Ugh. “Uh… something came up?”

"What "something," exactly?" Y/N presses, her voice filled with wonder.

"Just… things," Lando says vaguely, mentally kicking himself.

"Things," Y/N repeats flatly. "Lando, Max is suspicious. He just called me, distressed, asking what was going on, and now he thinks you’re mad at him."

This fires him up again. "Well, I am mad at him! So he got that right." Saying this makes him feel like the child in this scenario. Headache. Again.

Y/N sighs. "Did something happen on the track?" he asks patiently.

"What?" he asks, confused. He shakes his head. "No, no, it's um...The girls don't want to meet Lucas tomorrow, that's all."

Even he can't believe his tone.

"The same girls that spent the whole of yesterday excited about the bouncy castle they have at home?" she speaks with almost annoyed tone now. Lando groans, resting his forehead on the cool countertop. He does not have an answer. Just as he's about to fill her in on the whole kissing debacle, he continues. "Look, unless they're sick or something, can you please call Max and talk this out? I'm at the dinner and I can't just spend it all on the phone with my husband and his friend. Call him and talk it out."

Why is life so hard on him? "Do I have to? Can’t we just-"

"Lando," Y/N interrupts firmly. "You canceled without an explanation. You absolutely have to."

"Fine," he says, defeated. "Have a nice dinner, honey. I miss you," he concludes genuinely.

"Me too," Y/N says, her tone softening slightly. "I’ll check in when I’m on my way home. Love you."

"Love you too," Lando mutters, hanging up. He stares at his phone for a moment, then reluctantly dials Max’s number again.

It rings twice before Max answers, his voice dripping with faux innocence.

"Hey man. What the fuck?" Verstappens - always the pleasure.

"Max," Lando starts, rubbing his temple. "How are you? All good?" he asks politely, like the Brit he used to be once.

"What the fuck do you mean, how am I. You cancel out of nowhere and now Lucas won't talk to me, so yeah, great night off for me," he hears unfiltered tone coming through the speaker. He can't say it does not please him a bit.

"Well, it's late, he should be sleeping anyway," Lando let's out of his mouth before he thinks that through, ragging Max even further.

"You stop giving me instructions on how to raise my child and act like an adult for a moment, would you?"

"If someone should act more adult, it's Lucas," Yeah, Lando. Great comeback. Wow. The eight year old should act more like an adult.

Max manages to brush over that. "Did he do something to the twins? You need to tell me these things, how am I suppose to fix it if I don't know what happened? Or if something has even happened?"

It's hard to fight that logic. Especially after the evening Lando has had today. Lando sighs. There’s no way out of this, so he decides to just rip off the band-aid. "Maya told me… that Lucas kissed her. The silence on the other end is deafening. "And she kissed him back," Lando adds, cringing.

Max’s response is immediate: he bursts into laughter. "Oh, my God," Max wheezes. "Lucas and Maya? That’s amazing."

"It's anything but amazing, Max,” Lando snaps, pacing around again. "She thought she was pregnant because of something the kids on the playground told her! Do you know how much emotional damage I’ve endured in the past hour?"

Max is still laughing, clearly delighted. "Mate, you’re overreacting. They’re small. It’s harmless."

"This is the first boy she’s kissed, Max!" Lando argues. "Your son is now part of her origin story!"

"Oh, please," Max says, still chuckling. "What do you think is going to happen? They’ll run away together? They’re kids, Lando. Relax. It's normal for the to do this."

"I can’t relax," Lando grumbles. "And what’s worse, Olivia is now convinced she’s never falling in love because, and I quote, "boys are gross.""

Max cackles again. "Honestly, that’s probably for the best. Liv’s smart."

Lando's cup of patience, small one to begin with, is truly overflowing.

"Alright, alright," Max says, finally calming down and sensing that teasing Lando is not the way to go about it tonight. "Look, Lucas is a good kid. He probably just thought Maya looked pretty and didn’t know how else to say it. I’ll talk to him, alright? But you don’t need to cancel tomorrow over this."

Lando hesitates, chewing on the inside of his cheek. He knows they would all team up against him anyway. He lost this one. "You’re sure he won’t try anything else?"

Max snorts. "What, like propose? No, Lando, I don’t think so. He’s seven."

Fine.

//

The sound of children’s laughter fills the Verstappens’ backyard, the air warm and bright with sunlight. Like it's all mocking Lando specifically. The infamous bouncy castle stands in all its glory. Lando leans against a chair at the patio table, his arms crossed as he surveys the scene with the intensity of investors watching their car getting overtaken on track.

Maya and Lucas are bouncing together, grinning ear to ear like they’ve completely forgotten the events of yesterday. Meanwhile, Olivia stands off to the side, arms crossed and nose wrinkled in distaste, looking like she’s silently judging the entire scenery. She’s probably drafting her manifesto on why boys are, indeed, “gross.” Lando feels proud. At least one of his daughters is strong enough not to fall for cheap boy's tricks. Not even Y/N seems to understand the gravity of the situation. No matter how long Lando spent trying to explain it to her. Cute, that's what she called it. He hopes this is not a precedent. For now, he stands alone.

"You’re watching them like a prison guard," Y/N comments, nudging Lando gently as she sits down beside him.

"And for good reason," Lando replies, narrowing his eyes at Lucas, who’s apparently successfull at making Maya laugh. "He’s already made a move once. I’m not letting it happen again." He will sit happily sit in every playground they happen to encounter each other at.

Y/N hides her smile behind her coffee cup. "I think we’re safe for now. They’re just kids, Lando. You don’t have to treat Lucas like he’s some F1 rival trying to steal pole position from you."

"He is trying to steal something," Lando grumbles under his breath. Max strolls over, holding a plate of snacks, like the responsible dad he pretends to play, and looking entirely too pleased with himself. "Enjoying the show?"

Lando gives him a side-eye glare. "You think this is funny, don’t you?" Max smirks, popping a grape into his mouth and just nods.

"Your son traumatized my daughters yesterday," Lando fires away.

Max rolls his eyes. "And now they’re bouncing around like best friends again. Kids bounce back back. In this case, literally." Oh, he thinks he's so funny.

As if on cue, Lucas lands a little too close to Maya, sending both of them tumbling onto the floor of the bouncy castle in a fit of giggles. Lando tenses, halfway out of his seat before Y/N grabs his arm.

"Relax," she whispers. "It's fine." "For now," Lando protests, settling back reluctantly. From across the yard, Lucas suddenly stands up and calls out: "Mr. Norris!" Lando freezes, his eyes narrowing as the devil child approaches him. "What?" Lucas grins, holding up a flower he’s picked from the garden. He's rushing over to his and hands it to Lando, eyes filled with expectation and anticipation. "This is for Maya!" Speechless Lando accepts the flower, albeit confused as to why he's handing the flower to him and not to Maya, if she's the supposent recipient. Lucas flashes one look towards his father and in the corner of the eye, Lando can see Max nod approvingly. They really have all teamed up against him. Everyone is watching them and waiting for something exiting to happen. Olivia, the only one having Lando's back, lets out an audible groan loud enough to be heard across the yard.

"Oh, come on," she says, throwing her hands in the air. “This is ridiculous. I’m never falling in love. Ever!”

Y/N snorts into her coffee, Max doubles over laughing, and Lando buries his face in his hands. Meanwhile, happy Lucas runs back to the bouncing castle.

"Why is my life like this?" he wonders, looking up the sky for answers. None come. Y/N pats his shoulder affectionately. "Because you’re the dad of two amazing girls. And one of them might have a little crush. It’s not the end of the world."

"It’s the beginning of the end," Lando mumbles dramatically. Max grins, leaning closer. "You know, if Lucas and Maya end up together, we’ll officially be family. Imagine that, Lando," he pauses dramatically. "Maya Verstappen."

Lando's stomach turns upside down, he groans and turns to Y/N. "We're moving to another continent."

The domestic afternoon continues, adults laughing and talking - apart form Lando, who sits in his observant position, regularly sighing, back leaning and forth in his chair. It’s going to be a long, chaotic road ahead. And it looks like he's the only sane person around - in his opinion exclusively.

----------------------- note: fire up them ideas for this pseudo series!!! love you all

[pholla-jm]

Meet My Wife

IMAGINE: MEET MY WIFE~ LUFFY X F!READER GENRE: FLUFF warnings: f!reader implied. not proof read. slight cursing ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Luffy seemed more excited than usual. I mean, he’s always bouncing off the wall. But it was like he was expecting something and he couldn’t wait for it. 

“What do you think he’s excited about?” Chopper asks Nami.” She just sighs and waves her hand around, “knowing him. He’s probably excited about food.” 

Little did they know, they were about to be in a world of shock. 

Luffy did not waste a single second jumping off the boat as soon as it docked. He continued to run straight into town, like he knew exactly where he was going. 

The rest of the crew just watched him, some in confusion and some of them looked exhausted. Sanji sighs, taking a deep breath of his cigarette. “He’s most likely going to cause trouble.” Nami sighs, already feeling a headache form because of her idiot captain. 

However, it wasn’t food or a new adventure that got him this excited. No, it was someone who was very important to him. He remembered the instructions very clearly. He couldn’t forget it. Just follow the path, there are going to be white flowers along the path. It should lead all the way down to a small house with flowers and different plants all around the place. 

His eyes grew wide seeing the variety of plants and flowers, knowing that you had planted these yourself. The door opens and a large smile covers his face. 

“(y/n)!” He shouts, grabbing your attention. He ran at you, full force and it looked like he wasn’t going to stop. You drop the empty basket you were carrying, fully prepared for him to throw himself onto you. 

And you were right. His body crashes into you. His arms and legs wrapping around you, and he nuzzles his face into your cheek. The first thing he notices is how soft your skin feels against him. The second thing he notices is how sweet you smell. You smelled like fresh laundry, but with a hint of something sweet, like you were just baking. 

“Luffy.” You softly say with a smile on your face. “I didn’t know you were going to be here so soon… I missed you.” You whisper the last part. “I missed you too.” Lufffy pulls back, letting you go a bit. “Are you making something?” He asks. 

You nod your head, “yes. It’s actually almost done. Would you like to try some?” He immediately nods his head yes and you laugh. “I don’t know why I asked. Of course you would. Come inside.” 

He completely lets you go now, and you pick up the empty basket heading back inside. 

The sweet scent is stronger and Luffy basically salivates at the smell. You grab a cloth, pulling out the fresh strawberries and cream croissants. There were only a few, since you weren’t expecting company. 

“Careful, they’re hot.” You say but he doesn’t care. He’s already stuffing his mouth with a croissant. 

His eyes widen and there’s a smile on his face. “They're so good!” He says while grabbing another one. You laugh, “wait. Save one for me.” You grab the last one, taking a bite of it. You were glad how good they came out. 

Once he scarfs down the second croissant, he looks at you and clears his throat. “You should meet my crew!” He says like it was another Tuesday.  

Your eyes widen. “Really?” You ask and he nods his head. “Of course!” You suddenly got nervous and wondered what his crew was like. They had to be nice, right? Luffy only accepted the best of the best. So what would they think of you?

“Like right now?” 

Luffy stands up, “yeah!” He grabs onto your arm and drags you out of the small house. 

“W-wait! Wait! Let me at least clean myself up.” You try to tell him but it falls upon deaf ears. 

You were now leaving your property, and Luffy must've thought you were moving too slow because he suddenly picks you up bridal style. His arms securely wrapped underneath your legs and the other one supporting your back. 

You let out a small gasp, surprised at the action. It had you a bit flustered as he ran back to what you could assume was his ship. 

He was running for about five minutes until the both of you arrived at the port. Multiple ships lined up on the dock, but there was one that stood out to you. A ship with a sheep head. It was… cute. 

You could see people walking on the ship, minding their own business. Until they spot their captain holding some girl. 

The redhead girl gasps, gaining the attention of the other crewmates. 

“Holy shit, Luffy! Did you kidnap someone?!” Nami shouts, a bit horrified. 

Luffy just laughs as he jumps onto the ship, causing you to let out a short yelp at the unexpected height change. 

“No,” Luffy laughs while placing you down, “I want you to meet my wife.” He announces causing everyone on the ship to gasp. Your eyes widened and your cheeks warmed up at his announcement. There was no way he still thinks that the wedding was real…

“What?!” A blonde male shrieks, “you’re telling me that this idiot right here is actually married.” “Yup!” Luffy says with a proud smile on his face and his fists on his hips. “No, I don’t believe it.” Another male says while shaking his head. 

“Well believe it. We kissed and everything. It was official.” He says, causing you to cover your face in embarrassment. You had no idea that Luffy was going to introduce you like this. 

The blonde male cries out, shouting how unfair the universe was. 

“(y/n).” Luffy says while grabbing onto your wrist. He pulls you forward, “I want you to meet my crew!” 

He points at the blonde, “that’s Sanji, our cook.” He then points at the woman, “Nami, our navigator.” He then points at the curly headed man, “Usopp, aaaaand,” he points at the sleeping man with green hair, “Zoro.” 

“Everyone, this is (y/n). My wife!” He pulls you again. This time you were pressed up against him. You honestly felt like you were on fire. 

You wondered how strange this must've looked for them. And you honestly wanted to clear things up.

“B-but Luffy.” You whisper, gaining his attention. “We got married as kids. Kids, Lu.” You emphasize the words kid, hoping that he would get the hint. 

“Oh, yeah.” He says like he almost forgot something important, “I have these.” He pulls out two rings. The same poorly made rings that were made as kids. 

You grab one of the rings, feeling the familiar flutter in your heart. Luffy smiles, “I think they’re too small now. But that’s okay. We can make new ones.” 

A blush dusts your cheeks. It was really sweet that he still considers you his wife. “Yeah… that actually sounds really nice.” 

“Shishishi, I knew you would like that.”

Well... maybe things didn't have to be cleared up right away. Let the crew think the strange things.

[hyuckiefluff]

nasty habits | park jisung

pairing: pervy!jisung x camgirl! reader

genre: smut, a little bit of fluff at the end

summary: what happens when you find out that your top spender as a cam girl isn’t some rich old guy, but an awkward boy from your campus?

wc: 20k+

warnings: cam girl activities, usage of sex toys, cursing, loss of virginity, sub!jisung, masturbation (like a lot of it), oral sex (fem.receiving), jisung is his usual introverted self (and only loud during sex), a lot of sexualization and just overall horniness lol. lmk if i missed anything!

a/n: heeey loves! i was absolutely floored with the amount of love that my latest fic got, so here i am with another one for you. this is my first jisung fic so im excited but also nervous bc jisung is one of my biases. idk why it took me so long to write him. but anyways i hope you all enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it. ps; y/n is terrible at recognizing people or remembering names and i’m only putting that here bc it comes out a few times in the fic lol (she’s just like me fr), ALSO, this is loosely inspired by BJ Alex. oh and one last thing, the idea for this fic or at least the characters’ dynamic was inspired by this tweet.

your college days have been, for the most part, unremarkable in the best way. you pulled decent grades, had a solid group of friends, and were generally well-liked.

but despite being somewhat popular, you managed to keep a lot about yourself private.

and by that, you mean the secret life that only a handful of your closest friends knew about.

after all, being a cam girl wasn’t exactly your average college hobby.

it started on a whim, born from equal parts boredom and curiosity. at first, you had no idea what you were doing. your streams were awkward, your lighting was bad, and your concept was nonexistent. but after a few months, you found your niche and suddenly, you were kind of a big deal on the platform.

granted, the website you streamed on was pretty obscure, the kind of place you could name in public, and nobody would so much as glance your way. still, you made decent money. enough to pay for your first two years of college, entirely out of pocket.

you never flaunted it, and most of your friends didn’t care to pry. they only ever joked about it, like they were doing now after you casually mentioned how much you’d earned last month.

“girl, what the hell. maybe i should start camming too,” giselle said, eyes wide as she stared at the number on your screen.

“you say that like it’s a joke, but i’m dead serious,” karina chimed in, striking a dramatic pose in front of the mirror. “i checked my bank account yesterday and almost cried.”

“i mean, i’m not saying you should, but if you need pointers…” you teased, shooting them a wink

“for real though, you’ve gotten so much confidence from this,” giselle pointed out, leaning back against the bed frame.

“oh yeah, nothing boosts your self-esteem like a 60 year old man telling you your ‘princess bits’ are so pretty he busted one in his pants,” you deadpanned, propping your chin on your hand.

“okay, they can’t all be old men,” karina snorted “like can you see their profiles or anything?” she asked, abandoning the mirror and flopping onto the bed beside you.

“not really. just their usernames and how much they’ve spent on my channel.”

“wait, check your top supporter!” giselle said, bouncing a little in excitement.

you scrolled through the dashboard until his username popped up. the moment your friends saw how much he’d spent on you this year, they both let out a loud gasp.

“what in the sugar daddy is this?” karina said, laughing in disbelief. “eighteen thousand dollars? that’s literally my entire tuition!”

“i don’t get the full amount, though. the site takes a cut, then there’s taxes and all that,” you clarified, shrugging.

“still! that’s insane,” giselle said, shaking her head. “honestly, i don’t feel bad about you paying for our sushi nights anymore.”

you laughed, leaning back into your pillows.

“but aren’t you even a little curious about who this…” karina squinted at the screen, “andyp4rk02 is? i need to know everything about this man.”

“i mean, of course i’m curious. but there’s no way to find out,” you said, twirling a strand of hair absentmindedly.

“unless…” giselle said, dragging the word out with a sly grin.

you raised a brow. “unless what?”

“haechan.”

you frowned. “what about him?”

“he could probably hack into this thing,” she said with a casual wave of her hand, as if that wasn’t a completely ridiculous suggestion.

“giselle, he’s a computer science major, not a dark web hacker,” karina said, rolling her eyes.

“okay, but remember when i got locked out of my netflix? he did some tech magic on his computer and got my account back.”

“yeah, because recovering a netflix account is exactly the same as hacking into a cam site,” you said dryly.

“i’m just saying, have you seen his setup? it’s literally something out of a spy movie,” giselle insisted.

karina shrugged. “it wouldn’t hurt to ask him…”

you hesitated, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “i don’t know, guys…”

“oh, come on,” karina said, nudging your shoulder. “don’t you want to know who this guy is?”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

they somehow managed to convince you, which was how you found yourself shivering outside haechan’s dorm, rubbing your arms to keep warm. the air was biting, and as always, haechan wasn’t picking up his phone.

“when he opens this door, i’m kicking him straight in the balls,” you muttered, bouncing on your toes to stave off the cold. giselle was furiously rubbing her hands up and down your arms and karina’s, trying to share what little warmth she had.

“we should’ve called earlier,” karina said through chattering teeth, her lower lip trembling. “he might not even be in.”

giselle huffed dramatically. “okay, this is ridiculous.” she stepped back and cupped her hands around her mouth. “lee haechan, come out right now!” her voice echoed down the street, startling a group of students walking by.

“haechan! get your ass down here!” you joined in, your voice cracking slightly in the cold.

karina gave a small, pitiful laugh. “he lives on the second floor… there’s no way he heard that.”

before she could finish, the door creaked open, revealing one of his roommates. you recognized him immediately but, as usual, couldn’t recall his name. he was younger than you by a year and usually kept to himself whenever you visited.

“uh… hey?” he said, blinking at the sight of the three of you standing there like frostbitten strays. he leaned awkwardly against the doorframe, clearly wondering why three girls were yelling outside their dorm at 9 p.m. on a tuesday.

giselle, ever the charmer, broke into a dazzling smile. “hi! thank you! we’re here for haechan.”

“okay,” he said quietly, still eyeing you all with suspicion. “he’s probably in his room playing league or something.” he stepped aside slowly, letting you in.

“thank you,” you muttered as you walked past, catching the way his gaze immediately dropped to the floor when you made eye contact.

once inside, you didn’t waste any time. storming up to haechan’s door, you knocked violently before pushing it open without waiting for an answer.

“what the hell—” haechan swiveled in his gaming chair, his startled expression melting into a sly grin as soon as he saw you. “hii, girls. to what do i owe the pleasure?” his tone shifted into his mock customer service voice as he leaned back, giving you his most charming smile.

giselle jabbed a finger into his shoulder, making him wince. “were you jerking off, or is your phone shoved up your ass? why didn’t you answer our calls?”

“sorry, i was mid-round, and my phone was on silent,” he said, rubbing his shoulder and smiling sheepishly.

karina folded her arms and sat on the edge of his bed, only to spring back up with a grimace. “ugh, have you even left your room this week?” she asked, glaring at the mountain of empty takeout containers and water bottles scattered across the floor.

“it’s winter break,” haechan said, turning back to his computer and clicking out of the game. “of course i haven’t.”

giselle gestured dramatically at the mess. “you’re one step away from being in a hoarders episode, dude.”

haechan ignored her, spinning in his chair to face you again. “so, what brings such beautiful company to my humble abode?” his eyes lingered on you pointedly.

“he only looked at y/n while saying that. wow.” giselle placed a hand on her chest in mock offense.

“she’s not gonna suck your dick, haechan,” karina said flatly, shaking her head.

“i didn’t even say anything!” he protested, deflating slightly in his chair, his pout almost comical.

“anyway,” you interrupted, rolling your eyes. “i need a favor.”

haechan perked up immediately. “anything for you,” he said with a wink, which earned an exaggerated gagging noise from karina.

you crossed your arms, leaning against the desk. “okay, first: how’s your hacking game these days?”

“eh… like a seven. why?”

“do you think you could, uh, hack into angel corner?”

his eyebrows shot up. “oh, oh.” he swiveled back to his computer, clearly intrigued. “i mean, i’m not super familiar with their system—it depends on their encryption layers and backend coding. but…” he trailed off, tapping his fingers thoughtfully against the desk. “it shouldn’t be too hard. why do you want me to hack them, though?”

you fiddled with the hem of your sweater, trying to look as innocent as possible. “just… curious about one of my subscribers.”

giselle chimed in unhelpfully. “her top subscriber.”

haechan spun his chair back around, narrowing his eyes. “and what exactly do you want to know?”

you hesitated, glancing at karina and giselle. the truth was, you hadn’t really thought this through.

“everything,” karina said firmly, her eyes glinting with a kind of mischievous excitement.

haechan smirked, leaning back in his chair. “okay, but what’s in it for me?”

giselle thought for a second and then grinned, throwing an arm around your shoulder. “y/n will sit on your lap while you do your nerdy shit.”

haechan shot out of his chair, clapping his hands. “deal!”

“huh?! i did not agree to this.” you immediately protested.

“c’mooon,” giselle said with a pout. “don’t you want to know?”

haechan patted his lap smugly. “don’t worry, baby. i don’t bite.”

groaning, you finally gave in, muttering curses under your breath as you sat on his lap. he sighed contentedly, spinning back toward his computer. with a few quick clicks, he opened a screen that looked straight out of a movie just as giselle said before. lines of code and strange tabs you didn’t recognize.

“how do you even know how to do this?” you asked, leaning slightly to the side to avoid touching his chest.

“self-taught,” he replied with a shrug.

“great,” you muttered. “i’m trusting a bootleg hacker to invade my subscriber’s privacy. that’s just fantastic.”

“hey, relax,” haechan said, grinning. “you’re in good hands.”

“can we get this over with so i can get off you?” you groaned, shifting uncomfortably on haechan’s lap.

“why? i’m cozy,” he said with a cheeky grin, snuggling into your back. you retaliated with a flick to his forehead.

“ow!” he yelped, immediately rubbing the spot. “i’m so nice to you and all you do is hurt me.”

“you’ll cope. now, what’s this?” you asked, pointing at the maze of numbers and codes flickering across the screen.

“this,” he said, his brows knitting in concentration, “is me trying to break through their firewall… which is a lot more complicated than i thought.”

“well, obviously,” karina chimed in from behind you, inspecting her nails, only half invested in the conversation. “that site probably has CEOs and politicians on it. maybe one of them is your top subscriber, because who else has eighteen thousand dollars to blow on a cam girl?”

“what?!” haechan yelled, whipping around so fast you nearly fell off his lap. “eighteen thousand?!”

“that was my ear,” you muttered, steadying yourself.

he cleared his throat dramatically, but his ears flushed pink. “right, sorry. anyway—oh, wait, i’m in!”

“wait, really?!” you leaned forward in excitement, your hands clutching the edge of his desk. “oh my god, that’s so cool, i could kiss you right now!”

“please do,” haechan replied, staring at you with wide, hopeful eyes.

“be a man,” karina said, smacking him on the back of his head as she moved closer.

“okay, so… bad news or good news first?” haechan asked, his smug grin returning as he reclined slightly in his chair.

“just rip the band-aid off,” you said, crossing your arms. “what’s the bad news?”

“your top spender is smart. like, annoyingly smart. the only personal info he filled out was his gender, and for his name he used a zelda character.”

“what a virgin,” he added with a laugh.

“look who’s talking,” giselle shot back.

“hey, i’m not the one spending thousands on a cam girl who wouldn’t touch me with a ten-foot pole,” haechan retorted, his tone defensive. “and for the record, i do get some action, thank you very much.”

“sure you do,” karina muttered, rolling her eyes. “anyway, what’s the good news?”

haechan grinned like a cat who’d caught a particularly juicy mouse. “i can get his IP address.”

“wait, for real? what are you waiting for?” giselle leaned in, her eyes darting to the screen.

“hold on.” you hesitated, guilt prickling at the edges of your excitement. “isn’t this… a bit much? like, it feels illegal.”

giselle waved a hand dismissively. “please. we’ve come this far… we can’t leave with just this. we already knew he was a guy. only a man would be that desperate.”

“and besides,” karina added, “you’ve been sitting on this nerd’s lap for twenty minutes. make it worth something.”

“touché,” giselle said, nodding. “by the way, you can get up now.”

“yeah, but…” you paused, shifting slightly. “he was right—his lap is cozy.”

“told ya,” haechan said smugly, shooting you a wink. “so, should i pull up his IP or what?”

you sighed covering your face with your hands, hoping it would make the shame and ethical gray area feel a little less overwhelming “ugh. fine. just do it.”

haechan’s fingers flew across the keyboard, a blur of taps and clicks as lines of code scrolled rapidly across the screen. within three minutes, he sat back triumphantly.

“got it,” he said. but then his smile faltered, his brows knitting together in confusion. “wait… that can’t be right.”

“what?” you dropped your hands and leaned forward. “what’s wrong?”

karina’s eyes widened as she stared at the screen. “isn’t that…?”

giselle’s voice was barely above a whisper. “isn’t that this dorm?”

you all stared at the address blinking on the screen. it was the exact building you were sitting in.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

“you’ve all been staring at me for the past three minutes, and i’m feeling very threatened right now,” haechan said, his voice trembling.

the three of you stood in front of him, arms crossed and glares locked onto his soul.

“well, we just think it’s way too much of a freaky coincidence that her top spender just so happens to live here,” giselle said, her tone accusatory. “care to explain?”

“wait, wait, wait,” haechan stammered, his hands flying up in surrender. “you’re not seriously implying i’m the top spender, right? cause that’s just—” he laughed nervously, “—ridiculous!”

“oh, is it?” karina quipped, raising a perfectly arched brow. “you’re always flirting with y/n and acting like a simp. what’s a few thousand dollars for your ‘queen’?”

“oh, come on!” haechan groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “i’m naturally a flirty guy. that’s my thing! and where do you guys think i’d even get that kind of money?”

he gestured around the room to back up his claim. the pile of ramen cups and the stack of free campus hoodies spoke louder than he ever could.

“besides,” he added, dropping his arms, “i’m not even subscribed to her channel. i admit i checked it out a few times after y/n told me about it, but i promise i’m not a weirdo or anything. you’re my best friend, y/n.”

his voice softened at the end, and you felt yourself relaxing slightly. haechan might be a flirt, a tease, and a relentless pain in the ass, but he wasn’t the kind of person to keep something like this hidden from you.

“he’s telling the truth, you guys,” you said finally, breaking the tension.

karina tilted her head, sizing him up. “yeah, i didn’t think a bum like him would drop that much money on you anyway.” she scoffed, crossing her arms tighter. “he asked me for five dollars the other day… by the way, give me back my money.”

“dude, it was five bucks! let it go,”

“let it go?” karina shot back. “i could’ve gotten a latte with that!”

“okay, okay,” giselle cut in, waving her hands to calm them down. “if it’s not haechan, who else could it be? is there anyone in this dorm who’s… obsessed with you?”

you blinked, thinking hard. “not that i know of. i mean, i don’t really talk to anyone here except for haechan.”

“how many guys live here?” giselle asked, turning to haechan.

“including me? 5,” he said, counting on his fingers. “but i’m pretty sure jeno has a girlfriend... so that leaves mark, jaemin, and jisung.”

“since when has having a girlfriend ever stopped a man from doing something shady?” karina deadpanned, crossing her arms.

“true,” haechan admitted with a shrug, “but let’s be real, girls… all of them are full-time students barely scraping by with part-time jobs. i doubt any of them have that kind of cash to drop freely.”

“you never know,” giselle chimed in. “isn’t mark’s brother the dealer on campus? maybe he borrowed some money.”

karina snorted. “you’re forgetting mark is practically a saint. the guy’s too religious and too much of a goody two-shoes to even think about something like that.”

“okay, what about jaemin?” giselle countered. “he’s always wearing designer stuff. what if he’s secretly loaded?”

karina gave her an incredulous look. “have you seen jaemin? he’s got a different girl drooling over his shoulder every other day. i don’t think he needs to subscribe to a cam girl to satisfy himself and i’m sure all those were gifts from desperate girls”

“then that leaves jisung,” you said slowly, the name clicking into place. “wait… isn’t he the one who let us in earlier? the freshman?”

karina nodded. “oh right, the tall awkward kid. that would explain why he couldn’t even look at you.”

“wait, jisung?” haechan burst out laughing. “no way. the kid’s barely in his twenties! you’re telling me he somehow scraped together eighteen thousand dollars to spend on y/n?”

“well, he does live in this building so that makes him a suspect…” giselle reasoned, tapping her chin thoughtfully.

“ugh, this is getting too weird,” you muttered, pacing the small room. “are we really saying jisung might be the guy?”

“i mean, you never know,” karina said with a smirk. “quiet ones are always full of surprises.”

haechan groaned, flopping back into his chair. “this is turning into a bad episode of CSI”

“if he’s the top spender, that means he has a thing for y/n,” giselle said, grinning. “we should just ask him directly.”

“absolutely not,” you said quickly, your face heating up.

“why not?” karina teased. “we’re already halfway to solving this mystery. might as well get the confession.”

“no, i think this has already gotten out of control… you guys are too caught up on finding who it is but personally i don’t care that much, i’m fine with not knowing”

“really, even after finding out he’s living in this very dorm?” karina asked walking up to you.

“yeah. i don’t care.” you were lying and they could probably tell by your face but, surprisingly, they didn’t press you.

“okay, fine. let’s go home.”

“i think we should have a sleepover. what do you think, girls?” haechan said and you responded by throwing a pillow at him as you exited the room.

“damn, not even a thank you.” he said, rubbing his head.

you sprinted back into the room and gave him a quick peck on his cheek. “thank you!” you said sweetly.

“and clean your room, it stinks!” you yelled from the hallway.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

winter break had ended, and after coming back from visiting your family, you’d mostly forgotten about the fact that your top spender lived in one of your best friend’s dorms.

but your dismissive attitude disappeared as soon as the new term started.

suddenly, you were hyper-aware of every one of haechan’s roommates. even the ones you’d previously ruled out. like, why was jeno suddenly smiling at you from across the dining hall? and was that… a smirk you saw on mark’s face as you walked by? certainly not—you had to be imagining things. you were just being extremely paranoid.

“hey, gorg!!!” giselle greeted you with extra enthusiasm, practically bouncing into the room.

“you’re happy today,” karina observed, raising an eyebrow.

“i am! i really think i cracked this case, y’all.”

you sighed, already bracing yourself. “enlighten us,” you said flatly.

karina rolled her eyes. “you do know no one cares anymore, right?”

giselle ignored her and continued. “by the way, how were you guys’ breaks?” she asked casually before immediately cutting herself off. “never mind, we’ll get to that later. listen, i was in line for food earlier, and guess who i saw?”

when neither of you spoke, she dramatically continued, “jaemin.”

“fork found in kitchen. of course he’d be at the cafeteria during lunch,” you said, unimpressed.

“no, but listen! i said hi to him, and he flinched so hard he nearly dropped his phone. then he tried to hide it.”

“maybe somebody sent him nudes or something,” karina said, shrugging.

giselle shook her head, leaning in conspiratorially. “no, but catch this… he asked if i was here alone, and when i pointed at you”—she turned to you with a wide grin—“he blushed furiously.”

you tsked, slumping back in your chair. “that still proves nothing.”

“okay, but isn’t it suspicious?” giselle pressed. “why would he blush that hard just because i mentioned you?”

“because he’s a human being with a working circulatory system?” you shot back.

karina snorted. “for real. giselle, you’re acting like you just uncovered a government conspiracy.”

“you guys are just blind,” giselle huffed, crossing her arms. “mark my words… it’s him. jaemin’s the one.”

“even if it was him, what am i supposed to do with that information? march up to him and say, ‘hey, thanks for the eighteen grand’?”

“you should,” karina said with a smirk. “at least get him to buy you lunch.”

giselle sighed dramatically, feeling like she was surrounded by fools. “fine. don’t believe me. but when this all comes out, just remember i called it first.”

“boo!”

haechan’s voice was directly in your ear, and you jumped so hard you nearly spilled your coffee all over yourself.

“what the hell! i almost ruined my new skirt,” you snapped, quickly checking to make sure no drops had actually landed on the fabric.

“did you buy that with jaemin’s allowance?” he teased, a grin stretching across his face.

you responded by flipping him off, which only made him laugh as he slid into the seat next to you.

“you heard everything?” karina asked, giving him an unimpressed look.

“hard not to,” he replied casually. “in case you didn’t know, gi, your discreet voice is about as discreet as a foghorn.”

giselle rolled her eyes. “thanks for the input, hacker boy.”

“i’ve already said to drop the topic,” you cut in, frustrated. “what if one of them hears? and! you guys are being so obvious about it… don’t think i haven’t noticed the pointed stares you keep giving to every guy from the dorm. i’m sure they’ve noticed, too.”

“we’re just trying to help,” giselle said, stabbing at her salad with unnecessary force.

“and i do appreciate it,” you replied, though your tight smile probably said otherwise, “but i’d appreciate it even more if we all just moved on.”

your tone made it clear that the discussion was over, and the table fell into an awkward silence.

you felt a little bad about shutting them down so abruptly, but the truth was, you didn’t want them to figure out who your top spender was. not because you cared about protecting his identity, exactly… but because you feared that, in the process, they’d also find out the full truth:

you’d already interacted with him before.

not just casually, either. your top spender had paid for private sessions. more than once.

you still didn’t know what he looked like since he’d never turned on his camera but you could probably recognize his voice. a voice that, no matter how much you tried to ignore it, had been replaying in your head ever since that night you found out he was likely a student in this university. a deep voice that had a habit of making your heart race despite your best efforts to stay professional.

“i know you said to drop it, but is it just me or does hae’s nerdy friend keep looking this way every few seconds?” karina asked, nodding subtly toward a table a few feet away.

you turned your head, catching a glimpse of jisung sitting by himself, fiddling with his phone. “maybe he wants to sit with us,” you shrugged. “call him over, hae.”

“yo, jisung!” haechan called, raising a hand to wave the taller boy over.

jisung froze in place, his eyes widening briefly before he hastily shoved on his headphones and scurried away like a startled deer.

you frowned, puzzled. “what was that about?”

“that was so weird,” giselle snorted, biting back a laugh.

“ah, he’s just awkward like that,” haechan said with a casual wave of his hand. “probably saw me sitting with gorgeous girls” he locked eyes with you as he said this “and got scared.”

“anyways,” you rolled your eyes, but the slight twitch at the corner of your lips betrayed your amusement. “i have to go.”

“part-time obligations?” karina asked, raising an eyebrow knowingly.

“possibly,” you shrugged nonchalantly as you got up.

“can i come?” haechan asked.

you rolled your eyes at haechan’s hopeful grin as he stood up. “you wish,” you said, pushing him back into his seat before grabbing your bag and heading out.

your destination wasn’t your dorm or the library. instead, you made your way to the small studio you rented off-campus, tucked far enough away to avoid suspicion.

the studio was modest, just big enough to fit a bed, a desk, a small bathroom, and your filming setup. the air smelled faintly of vanilla, thanks to the diffuser you kept running to set the mood. locking the door behind you, you exhaled deeply and began preparing for the night.

the routine was familiar, almost comforting. you hopped into the shower, letting the warm water relax your muscles as you mentally ran through the checklist. after drying off, you slipped into your costume for the night—a delicate white lace dress with baby blue accents that hugged your body in all the right places.

at the vanity, you carefully applied your makeup, adding just enough to transform yourself into collette, your cam girl persona and paired with a small mask that covered your eyes and half of your nose. the wig was the final touch, a wavy style that framed your face perfectly, making you almost unrecognizable from your day-to-day self.

“let’s see,” you adjusted the camera angle to capture the bed and the soft glow of the fairy lights behind it.

you glanced at the table beside the bed, where the new toys you’d promised to showcase were neatly arranged. taking one last look in the mirror, you marveled at how different you looked.

“all right,” you muttered to yourself, glancing at your reflection one last time. “let’s get this show started.”

you hit start on your stream, and the chat immediately flooded with messages, emojis, and tips.

“hi, guys!” you greeted, your voice shifting into a higher, sweeter tone. “missed you all so much during the break.”

the messages came in rapid-fire:

“omg collette’s back!”

“you look stunning as always.”

“been waiting for this for weeks!”

you giggled, leaning closer to the camera so that your cleavage filled the frame. “you’re all too sweet. did you miss me that much?”

the chat practically exploded with affirmations, and the pings of tips coming in made you smile wider.

“i see you guys like the new outfit,” you teased, slowly standing to give them a full view of your legs, moisturized and shimmering under the warm light. “but i didn’t just dress up for no reason. i have a surprise for you tonight.”

you reached for the toys on the desk, holding one up for the camera. “look what i got during the break,” you said, biting your lip playfully. “i thought you’d want to help me break them in.”

the tips surged as viewers expressed their excitement, but one notification caught your eye. andyp4rk02 has tipped $100.

you grinned, recognizing the username instantly. “hi, andy,” you said, your tone dropping to something more intimate. “you’re late today. i thought you’d ditched me for someone else.”

a new ping followed, this time $50, accompanied by a highlighted message: “sorry ;) private livestream later to make it up to you?”

you laughed softly, leaning back on the bed. “hmm,” you tapped your chin thoughtfully. “i think i can squeeze you in on my busy schedule.” with a wink, you moved to grab one of the toys, careful not to linger too long on a single viewer.

“shall we begin?” you asked, spreading your legs slightly to reveal that you were wearing nothing underneath the flimsy lace dress.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

on the other side of the screen, jisung sat in his dimly lit dorm, his face illuminated only by the glow of his computer. he’d barely made it back in time, his breath still heavy from the sprint across campus. it didn’t help that the second he clicked into your livestream, you were already spread out on the bed, teasing the camera with that perfect smile.

he adjusted his glasses nervously, a bead of sweat trickling down his temple. his heart was racing, but not from the run. no, it was from you. when you spread your legs, his breath hitched, and he felt his stomach tighten.

“you’re late today,” you’d said, and jisung shivered. god, it was like you were talking directly to him. well, you technically were, but still.

almost as if on autopilot, he unbuckled his belt and pushed his pants down. his fingers wrapped around himself, and he leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on the screen.

the angle of the camera was perfect. from his perspective, it was easy to imagine that it wasn’t the pink dildo but his own dick sliding in and out of you.

“fuck,” he whispered under his breath as you slid the dildo inside yourself, your lips parting in a perfect "o" shape as you let out a soft moan.

“feels so good,” you breathed into the camera, your lashes fluttering. “can you make me feel good, too?”

“yes,” jisung groaned, his voice shaky as he gripped himself tighter. “god, yes.”

your moans grew louder, your body arching in a way that made his pulse skyrocket. his brows furrowed, and he bit down on his lip, trying to keep quiet so none of his roommates would hear.

you tilted your head back, the camera catching the curve of your neck and the way your chest rose and fell with each breath. “don’t stop,” you whimpered.

as your voice came through his headphones, sultry and sweet, he muttered to himself, “so perfect. so perfect it’s insane.”

his hand moved faster, his mind filled with nothing but the image of you—so close, yet so untouchable.

he leaned closer, his breath fogging the screen for a moment. “god… i can make you feel so much better than that piece of plastic,” he muttered, his tone almost resentful.

“you don’t even know what i’d do to you,” he whispered

in a minute, jisung came hard, his entire body jerking as his cum shot up and splattered directly onto his keyboard and monitor. he barely registered the mess he made until he heard the faint crackle of his PC struggling under the assault.

“no, no, no—fuck!” he exclaimed, his voice cracking as he scrambled to wipe the pc with the sleeve of his hoodie.

it was too late. the screen flickered, the image of you mid-moan freezing for a few painful seconds before the whole system shorted out with a pathetic wheeze and went black. jisung sat there in stunned silence for a moment, his hand still clutching the stained hoodie sleeve.

“shit…” he muttered, not out of concern for his destroyed PC but because he was now going to miss the rest of your live.

this wasn’t the first time this happened. clearly, his setup was already on its last legs from similar incidents but it still sent a wave of frustration through him.

he slumped back in his chair, running a hand through his damp hair. “guess i’ll just have to catch the replay,” he mumbled, though the thought didn’t satisfy him nearly as much.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

the first day of the semester loomed the next morning. you had promised yourself this was the year you’d start fresh. on time to every class, taking meticulous notes, and becoming the academic weapon you’d always meant to be.

of course, none of that happened.

you didn’t hear your alarm because you’d been up until 3 a.m. doing private livestreams for your top subscribers. normally, private sessions didn’t last more than 20 minutes, but andy had an uncanny way of distracting you with his playful, teasing messages, keeping you hooked well past the scheduled time.

you ran into your first class fifteen minutes late, panting slightly and trying not to look as frazzled as you felt. the professor shot you a disapproving look, but a quick apologetic smile from you had him stammering and waving you off. men are so simple, you thought smugly.

after quickly scanning the room, you noticed all the front-row seats were taken which left you with no choice but to settle near the back. you sighed and headed to an open seat in the second-to-last row, cursing your luck.

on your right sat some frat guy you vaguely recognized from the same house as karina’s boyfriend. his name escaped you, but since he was already asleep with his mouth hanging open, you didn’t bother introducing yourself.

on your left, the person was less immediately recognizable. he was hunched over, hoodie drawn tight around his face, typing furiously on his laptop. his long, slender fingers flew across the keyboard with precision, but he didn’t seem remotely aware of your presence.

you cleared your throat softly, hoping to get his attention. nothing.

you tried again, slightly louder this time, but his focus didn’t waver. finally, you tapped his shoulder lightly.

“excuse me, did i miss anything important?”

his fingers froze mid-typing, but he still didn’t look at you. instead, he tilted his laptop slightly in your direction, revealing a neatly formatted list of bullet points. most likely corrections to the syllabus the professor went over at the start of class.

“oh,” you said, caught off guard. “can i take a pic of that?”

he gave a small nod, still not meeting your eyes.

you quickly snapped a photo and smiled. “thank you so much,” you said, your tone warm as you instinctively squeezed his forearm in gratitude.

you felt his entire body stiffen under your touch, his arm tense as if you’d zapped him.

“mhm…” he finally muttered, his voice low and rough from disuse.

you glanced at him again, catching a glimpse of his side profile as he adjusted his hoodie. sharp jawline, glasses slightly askew, and lips pressed into a thin line as he quickly returned his focus to his laptop.

you tilted your head slightly, curiosity piqued. something about him seemed familiar, but you couldn’t quite place it.

“well, thanks again,” you said softly, giving him one last smile before turning back to face the professor.

behind his laptop, jisung exhaled shakily, the spot where you’d touched him burning.

jisung knew you were one of haechan’s friends. he’d watched you walk in and out of the dorm more times than he cared to admit. you were always laughing, tossing your hair over your shoulder in a way that made jisung’s eyes land on you unavoidably.

normally, he wouldn’t even glance twice at the girls his roommates brought around. they were all the same: loud, shallow, and obsessed with their reflection in any shiny surface.

but you weren’t like them.

he’d noticed it the first time you came over. how your voice was softer, more melodic, how you smelled like warm vanilla instead of the overpowering floral perfumes he hated. he remembered catching a glimpse of you bending down to grab something off the floor and how his gaze lingered too long on the curve of your legs before he snapped his head away.

since then, it had only gotten worse. it annoyed him that his brain seemed to remember every little detail about you. the way your lips always looked plump and shiny, as if you’d just licked them. how your laugh was this low, throaty sound that made his chest feel tight.

it was frustrating, how easily you wormed your way into his thoughts.

and now, here you were, sitting next to him. jisung felt trapped, his senses overwhelmed by your closeness. the faint rustle of your skirt, the way your knee accidentally grazed his thigh, the soft, almost unintentional hum you made as you shifted in your seat.

he knew it was all normal, just small, insignificant things. but to him, it felt like you were doing it on purpose. when you tapped his shoulder, jisung’s heart practically jumped out of his chest. his first thought was how warm your hand was.

his second thought was how unfair it was that you could touch him so casually.

“did i miss anything important?” you asked, your voice sweet, your smile even sweeter.

jisung didn’t respond right away. he was too busy trying not to look at the way your lips curved when you spoke. he knew if he opened his mouth, something embarrassing would come out. so instead, he tilted his laptop screen toward you, his fingers twitching against the keyboard. you asked if you could take a picture, and normally he didn’t like sharing his notes but he nodded before he could even stop himself.

“thank you so much,” you said, your voice dripping with warmth. and then, as if to kill him on the spot, you squeezed his forearm lightly.

jisung felt like static electricity was zipping through his body. his skin tingled where you touched him, and he stared straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge how his breath hitched.

she doesn’t even know what she’s doing, he thought bitterly, his jaw tightening. so damn oblivious.

when you crossed your legs, jisung’s eyes flickered downward before he could stop himself. he caught the briefest glimpse of skin, the hem of your skirt riding up just enough to reveal more of your thigh, and his face flushed.

stop it, he scolded himself, tearing his gaze away.

but he couldn’t help it. he hated himself for it, but he couldn’t stop the way his imagination spiraled. he wondered what it would feel like if you touched him for more than a second. if your fingers lingered. if you looked at him the way you looked at your stupid phone.

his hands curled into fists under the desk, nails digging into his palms. he shifted uncomfortably, trying to will his body into behaving, but your proximity was making it impossible to think straight.

when the professor announced that these would be your assigned seats for the semester, jisung nearly groaned out loud. six months. six months of sitting next to you, of your bare legs grazing his, of your infuriatingly sweet perfume clouding his brain.

how am i supposed to survive this?

jisung clenched his jaw, his gaze flicking to the faint sparkle of lotion on your legs again.

she probably doesn’t even know how many guys in this room would kill to sit where i’m sitting right now, he thought, biting the inside of his cheek.

and yet, despite everything, jisung couldn’t help but feel a sick sort of satisfaction at being this close to you. like he was privy to something no one else was.

and as messed up as it was, he liked that you didn’t know. that you had no idea how much space you took up in his mind.

he glanced sideways at you again, the corner of his lip twitching as you absentmindedly adjusted your skirt.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

jisung bought a new pc, but it wouldn’t be delivered until the end of the week due to delays in the post office. he hated waiting. the old one had been perfect for watching your livestreams but now he was stuck with his laptop. the smaller screen didn’t do you justice. everything felt cramped and wrong, your image reduced to something far too small and impersonal. it frustrated him to no end.

so, in his growing desperation, jisung resorted to something he swore he wouldn’t do: borrowing haechan’s pc. at first, he only asked when he knew haechan would be out for hours, spinning some lie about needing to work on assignments that required a better setup for coding. surprisingly, haechan didn’t question him. he barely seemed to care, too busy running off to hang out with you and your group of friends. lately, you all seemed closer than ever, constantly whispering and giggling amongst yourselves.

not that jisung cared, of course.

but ever since you’d started sitting next to him in class, he couldn’t help but notice you even more. the way you crossed and uncrossed your legs every six or seven minutes or tapped your temple when the professor talked about a complicated topic. he hated that he was paying attention to things he usually wouldn’t. it was a complete waste of time.

today, jisung was forcing himself to focus. he had an essay due tomorrow, and he’d been putting it off for way too long, distracted by you (clearly) and everything Collette— streams, photos, even the grainy replays he managed to dig up online. last night was supposed to be productive, but instead, he’d spent hours rewatching one of the camgirl’s older private streams. by the time he passed out, his laptop was dangerously close to falling off his bed, his boxers halfway down his legs, and his dick sore after a night of relentless jerking off.

he made his way to the library, determined to lock himself in one of the private study rooms and finally finish his work. he needed to focus. no distractions, no excuses.

but when he opened the door to the room he’d booked, all of his resolve shattered.

you were there.

your books and laptop scattered across the table, and you were leaning over, reaching for something just out of your grasp. jisung froze in the doorway, his breath catching as his eyes landed on you. or, more specifically, the strip of black lace peeking out from under your skirt.

he knew he should look away. but his body didn’t seem to get the memo. instead, his eyes remained fixed on the sight, his chest tightening as if someone had sucked all the air out of the room.

his fingers twitched at his side, gripping the strap of his bag until his knuckles turned white. why are you wearing that? he thought, the question racing through his mind before he could stop it. are you wearing it for someone?

you shifted slightly, turning your head as if you sensed someone behind you, and that was enough to snap him out of his trance.

“uh—sorry,” jisung croaked, his voice cracking embarrassingly. he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and cleared his throat. “i—uh—this is... my room. i mean, the room i booked.”

you turned fully to him, startled at first, but then your expression softened into a smile when you realized it was him.

“oh, jisung!” you said brightly, smoothing down your skirt. “i didn’t realize this room was taken. sorry, i’ve just been so distracted, i guess i wasn’t paying attention.”

he forced himself to meet your eyes, his heart hammering in his chest. you recognized him now. during the first week of the semester, you’d seemed to be trying to place him in your mind, but he figured you finally connected the dots and realized he was haechan’s roommate after all.

“it’s... fine,” he muttered, stepping fully into the room and closing the door behind him. the sound echoed louder than it should have, making him wince. “i didn’t know anyone would be here.”

“well, i can leave if you want,” you offered, gesturing toward your scattered books and notes. “but if you don’t mind sharing, i really need to finish studying for a test tomorrow.”

jisung hesitated, his mind racing. on one hand, the idea of sharing a small, enclosed space with you was borderline terrifying. but on the other hand, the thought of you leaving made his stomach twist in a way he didn’t like to think too hard about.

“no need,” he mumbled, setting his bag down at the far end of the table. “you can stay.”

you beamed at him, and he felt a weird mix of pride and dread settle in his chest.

“thanks! you’re a lifesaver.”

you turned back to your laptop, leaving him to settle into his seat. jisung tried his best to focus on his essay, but his eyes kept drifting to you: the way you twirled your pen between your fingers, the way your lips pursed as you concentrated, the way your skirt kept riding up with every slight movement.

he bit the inside of his cheek, forcing his gaze back to his screen. his essay wasn’t going to write itself, and the sooner he finished, the sooner he could escape this.

but as jisung stared blankly at the screen, the words refused to come to him. his mind was too fogged up, the image of your black lace panties flashing at him. he could still feel the phantom heat pooling uncomfortably low in his stomach.

he adjusted his glasses for the tenth time in five minutes, fingers fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie sleeve. he needed to concentrate, needed to shove every inappropriate thought out of his head and focus on the stupid essay that was due in less than twelve hours.

but every tap of your pen, every soft sigh as you read your notes pulled his attention like a magnet. he could feel his skin prickling under the weight of his own thoughts, and it was starting to make him nauseous.

you shifted in your chair, crossing one leg over the other, and jisung caught a glimpse of your bare thighs again. he wondered how soft they’d feel under his fingers. he clenched his jaw, staring harder at the blinking cursor on his laptop. just focus. just write.

“hey,” you said suddenly, your voice soft but startling in the quiet room. jisung’s head snapped up so fast his glasses slipped down his nose.

“yeah?” he croaked, his voice coming out embarrassingly hoarse. he cleared his throat and tried again. “what’s up?”

you held up a book. “do you know anything about this? it’s for my history class, but i’m kind of lost on what the professor’s looking for.”

jisung blinked at the book, trying to register the title through the haze clouding his brain. the sight of your manicured fingers gripping the edge of the hardcover didn’t help his focus.

“uh… yeah, i think so,” he mumbled, his words fumbling over themselves. “i took that class last semester. what’s the assignment?”

you slid your chair closer to his, flipping the book open to a highlighted section. jisung stiffened as you leaned in, your shoulder brushing against his.

he could smell your perfume better now. it made his head swim, and his palms sweat.

“here,” you said, pointing to a passage. “i’m supposed to write an analysis on this, but honestly, it’s not making any sense to me.”

jisung forced himself to look at the page, his eyes skimming over the text even though he couldn’t process a single word. your proximity was unbearable, and the way you tilted your head to look at him made him hyper-aware of every inch of space between you.

“um,” he started, his voice cracking again. “it’s… about, uh, symbolism, i think. like how they use imagery to—”

his words faltered as your leg shifted, pressing briefly against his under the table.

“oh, i get it now!” you said, your eyes lighting up as you turned back to the book. “thanks, jisung, you’re really helpful.”

he swallowed hard, nodding stiffly as you returned to your side of the table. his hands trembled slightly as he adjusted his laptop, trying desperately to block out the lingering warmth of your touch.

as the first hour dragged on, jisung realized he’d barely touched his essay. instead, he found himself cataloging every little thing you did, learning more about your quirks and mannerisms than the topic he was supposed to be researching.

he noticed the way you squinted slightly when reading something closely. do you need glasses? the thought struck him out of nowhere, and the idea of you wearing a pair made his throat tighten and his dick stir to life.

you only seemed to use blue highlighters and matching blue post-it notes. the monochrome dedication was oddly satisfying to watch. jisung noticed you had a habit of twirling the highlighter between your fingers when you were deep in thought, the motion almost hypnotic.

when you weren’t sipping on your drink or snacking on something you’d fidget endlessly, picking up your phone, or tapping your nails on the table in an uneven rhythm. once, you opened an app but closed it just as quickly, as if scolding yourself for getting distracted. jisung smirked at that.

he noticed the way you pouted while typing, your lips forming a subtle, natural curve. every time you got stuck on something, you’d grab a blank page from your notebook and start scribbling aimlessly sometimes doodling stars or flowers in the margins, other times writing the same word over and over like you were trying to etch it into your brain.

you also had a habit of adjusting your necklace every few minutes, fiddling with the pendant as if grounding yourself. jisung wondered if it had some kind of sentimental value.

and then there was the small gasp you let out every time you found a passage you liked, quickly followed by you underlining it with almost comical precision. jisung thought it was cute, though he tried to push that thought away.

by the time the second hour rolled around, he was practically vibrating with tension. not just from the overwhelming presence of you, but from his own failure to accomplish anything.

you sighed softly and closed your laptop, stretching in your seat with a lazy grace that made his stomach flip. the movement caused your shirt to ride up slightly, exposing a sliver of skin and a tiny birthmark just above your hip bone.

jisung’s eyes widened. it was a small, and it was a flushed, pinkish hue, vaguely resembling the shape of a flower petal—or maybe a heart if he squinted.

why does that look so familiar?

he frowned, his brain scrambling to piece together the connection. it snagged at him, like an itch he couldn’t quite reach. had he seen it on you before? no, that didn’t make sense.

and then it hit him.

his heart stuttered as he remembered one of the streams he’d watched not long ago… collette’s stream. she’d been wearing lingerie that night, black with sheer panels, and at one point, she’d adjusted the waistband, revealing a glimpse of a tiny birthmark right above the hip.

holy shit.

jisung’s face burned as he realized the truth, his hands clenching into fists under the table. he couldn’t believe it. the girl he’d been obsessing over online, the one he’d jerked off to more times than he could count, was sitting right next to him.

he stumbled out of his seat, movements clumsy and frantic as he fumbled to gather his things. his hands trembled slightly as he zipped his backpack and he mumbled some half-formed excuse about having plans with haechan. the words tumbled out so quickly they were barely coherent. before you could even process what he was saying, let alone respond, he was already at the door, practically tripping over himself in his rush to leave.

“what an odd kid,” you giggled to yourself, shaking your head at his bizarre behavior.

he was strange, sure, but undeniably cute in his awkwardness. you’d always had a soft spot for guys who didn’t know what to do with themselves, and jisung was no exception. there was something endearing about the way he seemed perpetually out of place, like he wasn’t entirely comfortable in his own skin. but beneath the oversized hoodies and baggy sweatpants, you could tell he was hiding something.

he had broad shoulders that stretched the fabric of his clothes in a way that made you want to see more, and you still hadn’t forgotten the time he’d stripped off his hoodie on that unbearably hot day. the hem of his shirt had lifted with it, giving you the briefest glimpse of his waist, narrow and impossibly toned. you’d been thinking about that moment more often than you’d like to admit.

sitting next to him in class had only amplified things. you didn’t miss the way his eyes darted toward you every few minutes, his gaze lingering on your legs before he quickly looked away, as if he thought you wouldn’t notice. that’s exactly why you made it a point to only wear skirts to that class; short ones, ones that made it impossible for him not to look. it was a game, one you were starting to enjoy far too much.

you liked his hands too. he had large hands with long, slender fingers that flew clumsily over the keys of his laptop. you caught yourself staring at them during class, imagining how they’d feel against your skin, the way they’d grip your waist or tangle in your hair. you wondered if they were soft or if they’d leave a pleasant roughness behind.

his glasses added to the appeal, big-framed and slightly crooked on his nose. they couldn’t hide his soft, pretty eyes, though, or the moles scattered across his pale skin. every detail about him seemed perfectly crafted to make him irresistible in the most unassuming way.

but then there was the question that had been gnawing at the back of your mind, the one you couldn’t seem to shake: was jisung really your top spender? your friends had been so sure, pointing out all the coincidences, and you couldn’t deny that it was starting to feel like too much to ignore.

you smiled to yourself at the thought, unable to help the way your lips curled into something slightly wicked. haechan had mentioned how much time jisung spent in his room, his activities hardly a secret if you listened to the muffled sounds that occasionally slipped through the walls.

the idea made your pulse quicken, a thrill running down your spine as you considered how to take things to the next level. if jisung was your top spender then he was already yours in ways he probably didn’t even realize.

you toyed with the idea of making the first move, testing the waters to see just how far you could push him. he was skittish, easily flustered, and you had no doubt that one well-placed touch or whispered word would send him into a complete meltdown.

you suspected that if you really went for it, jisung might just have a heart attack on the spot. and for some reason, that thought only made you want to do it more.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

the next time you met him in class, you decided it was time to confirm once and for all if he was into you. you dressed for the occasion, a skirt that showed just enough leg to make him squirm, paired with a low-cut top and your favorite push-up bra, the one that made your boobs look perfect. you threw on a sweater for good measure, unzipping it casually when you sat next to him, just enough to reveal the curve of your collarbones and the top of your cleavage.

“hey, jisung!” you said, your voice soft and lilting.

he barely looked at you, his lips moving in what you assumed was a greeting, but it was so quiet you couldn’t make out the words. he didn’t hold your gaze for more than a second, and from the way he kept staring at his laptop, you wondered if he’d even noticed the effort you put into your outfit.

you leaned in slightly, catching the faint scent of his detergent mixed with something musky. “sungie?” you whispered, your voice low and sweet.

his jaw clenched at the nickname, and his hands froze over his laptop keys. “hm?” he finally managed, his eyes flickering up to your face for the briefest of moments before darting away again.

“do you want to work on the project together?” you asked, tilting your head innocently.

his brows furrowed as he blinked at you, his expression caught somewhere between confusion and panic. “what… what project?” he stammered, his voice shaky, his breath audibly hitching when his gaze unintentionally dropped to your chest.

“the one he just announced,” you said, nodding toward the screen where the professor had outlined the details of the group assignment.

you watched as his Adam's apple bobbed with a nervous swallow, and he peeled his eyes away from you with visible effort. “oh… uh…” he trailed off, biting his lip. the gesture drew your attention to just how plush and soft they looked.

“if you don’t want to, it’s okay,” you said, leaning back slightly, your pout deliberate and perfectly executed. “i just thought since you helped me with my assignment last time, you’d be a good partner.”

he glanced at you again, his gaze lingering this time, as if trying to gauge your expression. your wide, hopeful eyes seemed to make his decision for him. “okay…” he mumbled, the word barely audible.

“really? yay!” you said, your voice bright with excitement as you reached out and wrapped your hands around his arm in a playful squeeze. the movement was quick, but enough for your chest to press lightly against him, the warmth of your body radiating through his hoodie.

jisung stiffened immediately, every nerve in his body firing off alarms. the combination of your softness and the faint scent of vanilla clinging to your skin was almost enough to send him over the edge. he inhaled deeply, trying to keep his composure, but the air felt thick and suffocating, and he was perilously close to letting out a moan that would’ve humiliated him in front of the entire room.

“i promise i won’t be a burden,” you added, flashing him a dazzling smile that showcased your perfectly sized teeth. “i’ll do my part, i swear.”

he nodded mechanically, his brain too messed up with the feel of your body against his and the lingering image of your lips curling into that smile. “y-yeah…” he muttered, his voice cracking slightly.

as you turned your attention back to the professor, jisung exhaled slowly, his pulse racing. his hands gripped his laptop so tightly his knuckles turned white, and he realized with growing dread that this partnership might actually kill him.

when class ended, you stayed behind, which was unusual since you were usually one of the first to dart out the door. as jisung zipped up his backpack and slung it over his shoulder, he noticed you looking at him expectantly. he panicked. did he have something of yours?

jisung glanced nervously at his belongings, double-checking as if your pencil or notebook might have somehow ended up with him. but you didn’t say anything. the silence stretched awkwardly until you finally stood up.

since the rows were so narrow, your movement brought you close… too close. jisung gulped as you stepped into his space, your perfume wrapping around him. he tightened his grip on his backpack straps.

“do you wanna start working on the project now? i have classes every day, and my evenings are pretty busy, so…” your voice trailed off meaningfully. jisung knew. oh, he knew. your evenings were reserved for livestreams. his evenings were also reserved for your livestreams. obviously, the project couldn’t cut into those sacred hours.

“uh, okay… do you wanna go to the library?” he managed, pushing his glasses up his nose. they kept sliding down because he had to crane his neck to look at you from this close distance.

“sure! next time, we can work at your dorm. i’d offer mine, but we have a strict no-boys policy in the apartment,” you said with a laugh, then added, “though my roommates break that rule all the time.”

“what about you?” the question tumbled out of jisung’s mouth before his brain could intercept it. his eyes widened as if he couldn’t believe he asked that

but you didn’t seem fazed. instead, you grinned. “you know, a lady doesn’t kiss and tell,” you teased, throwing in a wink that made his brain implode just a little.

as you spoke, jisung’s gaze flitted over you again—your mannerisms, your voice, that unmistakable charisma. the longer he looked, the more it hit him like a sledgehammer to the face. how had he not recognized you as collette sooner? sure, you wore a mask on the streams, and your hair was styled differently, but it was unmistakable now. you were her. and yet, standing here in front of him, you felt even more unattainable.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

at the library again, you couldn’t find a private room since you hadn’t booked ahead, so you settled for a secluded table tucked into the corner of the study area. it was jisung’s favorite spot on campus, not that he’d ever admit that to you. he didn’t want to look more like a loser than he already did.

you’d tied your hair up in a ponytail, and jisung wished you hadn’t. the simple change opened up your neck and collarbones, exposing more skin for his eyes to betray him over. he swore he could count the faint freckles scattered across your shoulders if he stared long enough. and, god, did he want to.

jisung sighed, pressing his palms into his eyes in an attempt to reset his brain. he needed to focus. if he was going to make it through this study session, he needed to stop thinking about your freckles or how your lip gloss shimmered every time your mouth moved.

focus, jisung. he started mentally listing the least sexy things he could think of: spongebob, frogs, khaki jeans, loud chewing. he even dredged up the memory of his fourth-grade math teacher, a grumpy woman he was convinced secretly hated him. it worked, until he realized you were talking to him, and he’d been staring straight past you like an idiot.

“sorry, what was that?” he blurted, blinking rapidly and focusing in on your glossy lips forming the last word of whatever you’d said.

you tilted your head slightly, your ponytail swaying with the movement. “i said, do you want to split up the research? or do you just want to work on the same section together?”

“uh…” jisung’s brain scrambled for footing, his face heating up again. “splitting it up is fine. yeah. let’s do that.”

you smiled at him, and he swore it felt like the library got ten degrees hotter. “great! i’ll take the first half, and you can take the second?”

“sure,” he mumbled, fumbling to pull out his laptop. as you turned back to your notes, jisung caught himself glancing at your neck and down to your cleavage again. frogs, he thought desperately. frogs. khaki jeans. loud chewing. but none of it helped.

he needed a cold shower. desperately. every time you leaned into him, jisung’s resolve cracked a little more. he was barely hanging on as it was, his left hand glued to his lap, pressing down in a feeble attempt to hide the semi he’d been sporting for the last twenty minutes.

“what do you think of this?” you asked, sliding your laptop toward him. your voice was sweet, your tone light and inviting, but jisung couldn’t focus on anything except how close you were.

“that’s good,” he mumbled quickly, trying to sound casual even though his throat felt like sandpaper.

“really?” you tilted your head, eyeing him skeptically. “you say that about everything i show you.”

“cause you’re really good at this,” he blurted out. he pressed harder on his lap, his fingers twitching in frustration.

you laughed softly, the sound making his heart stutter. then, to his horror, you gave him a slow once-over, your eyes narrowing slightly as you studied him. “you okay? you look tense.”

“yup, all good,” he said too quickly, his voice high-pitched. he glued his eyes to his laptop, pretending to focus on the passage in front of him, though the words blurred together into an unintelligible mess. please stop looking at me, he begged silently. please.

but instead, you cocked your head, resting your chin in your hand. “you know,” you began thoughtfully, “you sound like someone i know.”

jisung froze. fuck.

his mind went blank, panic flooding his system. his ears burned, and he felt a bead of sweat slide down the back of his neck. did you figure it out? do you know?

“but it couldn’t possibly be,” you said, shaking your head slightly as you turned back to your notes. “you’re too different.”

he released a shaky breath, his heart pounding so violently it felt like it might burst through his ribs. his lips pressed into a tight line as he risked a glance at you. so you did remember andy. jisung had assumed that with so many followers, even your most loyal supporter might fade into the background of your memory. but the private livestreams, the filthy words jisung had whispered that made you moan harder, all the praises and compliments he showered you with—it seemed those had stuck with you. because you remembered his voice.

“i’m gonna use the restroom really quick,” you said, standing up abruptly.

jisung’s eyes followed you as you walked away, the sway of your hips distracting him momentarily before reality snapped back into focus. as soon as you were out of sight, he groaned, his shoulders slumping as he looked down at his lap and the unmistakable tent that had formed there.

he needed to take care of this. now.

standing up, jisung winced at the sensitivity and began making his way toward the bathroom, his head down in an attempt to avoid eye contact with anyone. but just as he approached the hallway, he caught the sound of muffled voices. one of them raised, the other low and pleading. his steps faltered when he recognized your voice.

he crept closer and pressed himself against the wall, just barely peeking around the corner. there you were, gesturing wildly, your brows furrowed in anger as you stood toe-to-toe with someone jisung instantly recognized as sungchan, the captain of the basketball team.

“i told you to leave me alone,” you snapped, your voice sharp. “texting me from taro’s phone? really? now you’re dragging other people into this? why can’t you just understand that i want nothing to do with you anymore?”

“y/n, please,” sungchan said, his tone dripping with desperation. “i don’t know what else you want me to do. i’ve apologized a million times, and i’ve cut all communication with her. i haven’t seen her in months.”

he took a step closer, but you shoved him back by the chest.

“you should’ve done that before fucking her, don’t you think?” you laughed bitterly, shaking your head in disbelief.

“hey, it didn’t mean a thing to me, you know that,” sungchan said, his voice softening as he reached for your hip and squeezed. “you’re the only one i want.”

your body stiffened at his touch, and you glared up at him. “don’t touch me,” you hissed, but he didn’t move, his grip firm.

jisung’s jaw clenched. his fists balled at his sides as his eye twitched. why the hell was this guy touching you when it was clear you didn’t want him to?

“c’mon, baby,” sungchan purred, leaning in dangerously close to your neck. “you know i’m the only one who can make you feel good.”

before jisung could stop himself, he was stepping out from behind the corner. he cleared his throat loudly. the sound startled no one, so he did it again, this time pairing it with a sharp, “hey.”

his voice came out deeper than he expected, reverberating in the narrow hallway.

sungchan’s head snapped up, pulling away from your neck as he turned to look at the interruption. your eyes widened when they landed on jisung, standing there taller than usual, his broad shoulders squared.

“just wanted to check if you were alright,” jisung said, his gaze fixed on you, his voice steady.

sungchan’s expression darkened as his grip on your hip tightened. “and who the hell are you?” he spat, his tone venomous.

jisung didn’t flinch at sungchan’s hostility. his dark eyes flickered to your hip, where sungchan’s hand still rested, and then back to sungchan’s face.

“her partner,” jisung said evenly, his tone calm yet carrying a subtle edge. technically, he wasn’t lying, you were his group partner. “and she doesn’t look too comfortable right now.”

you glanced at jisung, your lips parting in surprise. sungchan let out a dry laugh, his hand finally dropping from your hip as he turned to fully face jisung. he towered over most people, but jisung stood his ground, unbothered by the difference in height.

“you’re her partner?” sungchan sneered, looking jisung up and down with a smirk that screamed condescension. “you don’t seem like her type.”

jisung’s jaw tightened, but his expression remained neutral. he looked at you instead, his voice softening slightly. “you sure you’re okay?”

your lips pressed together as you nodded quickly, your hands fidgeting at your sides. “i’m fine, jisung. really.”

but sungchan wasn’t done. “jisung, huh?” he repeated, his smirk widening. “sounds familiar. oh, wait—” he tilted his head, mockingly stroking his chin. “aren’t you that quiet little nobody who’s always hiding in haechan’s shadow?”

jisung didn’t react to the insult, though his nails dug into his palms. “that’s me,” he said with a shrug, his voice still maddeningly steady. “and you’re the guy who can’t take a hint and harasses girls.”

sungchan’s smirk dropped instantly, his expression hardening. “what did you just say?”

“you heard me,” jisung replied, his voice low. he adjusted his glasses with one hand, his confidence only making sungchan’s irritation grow. “she asked you to leave her alone, didn’t she? or was that too complicated for you to understand?”

you blinked at jisung, momentarily stunned at his boldness. sungchan, on the other hand, took a step forward, his fists clenching.

“listen here, you little shi—”

“stop!” your voice cut through the tension. both jisung and sungchan turned to look at you. you stepped between them, your expression firm as you faced sungchan. “i meant what i said, sungchan. this is over. stop calling me, stop texting me, stop showing up where i am. just—stop. i don’t want to see you anymore.”

sungchan’s jaw tightened, his nostrils flaring as he stared at you. “fine,” he finally said, his voice clipped. “but don’t come crawling back when you realize no one else is gonna treat you like i did.”

jisung couldn’t hold back the quiet scoff that escaped him, and sungchan shot him a glare before storming off down the hallway.

as the echo of sungchan’s footsteps faded, the tension in your shoulders eased slightly. you turned to jisung, your expression both grateful and embarrassed.

“thanks,” you said softly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “you didn’t have to do that.”

jisung shrugged, his face a little pink as he adjusted his glasses again. “it’s no big deal. i just… couldn’t stand there and do nothing.”

“still, i appreciate it. my knight in shining glasses” you gave him a small smile.

jisung’s ears burned at the nickname, and he looked away, suddenly very interested in the floor. “ha, yeah.”

you laughed lightly “c’mon,” you said, gesturing toward the library’s main area. “let’s continue working”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

you continued having sessions for the project after class, and slowly, jisung started coming out of his shell. he still mumbled and stuttered every now and then, especially when your attention lingered on him for too long, but he was starting to hold actual conversations now. and once he got going, it was hard to stop him. he’d gush about the most random things, like his favorite video game characters or how much he hated remakes of old horror movies. sometimes, he’d pull up conspiracy theory videos about aliens on his phone, his voice picking up speed as he rambled about the possibility of extraterrestrial life.

“i mean, think about it… how could we be the only ones in this massive universe? that’s just statistically improbable,” he’d say, adjusting his glasses as he leaned closer to show you grainy footage of a supposed UFO. you’d nod along, amused by his enthusiasm, even if half of it went over your head.

you also learned jisung had a thing for metal music. he shyly pulled out his phone one day to show you his collection of signed albums from bands you’d never even heard of. “this one’s from when they did a secret show in busan,” he explained, his fingers tracing the signatures like they were sacred artifacts. “and this? their first album. impossible to find in good condition.”

“wow, you’re really into this,” you said, smirking as you scrolled through the pictures. “so... are you in a band or something?”

he flushed immediately, shaking his head. “no, no! i’m not cool enough for that,” he muttered.

you couldn’t help but smile. “i think you’re cool,” you said simply, and his ears turned pink.

but jisung’s curiosity didn’t stop at music or aliens. he was fascinated by the simplest things. one time, you brought a new lip gloss to class—the kind that didn’t smudge or rub off no matter what. jisung had been so impressed that he begged you to show him how it worked.

“wait, so it stays on? like, even if you eat something? how?” he asked, eyes wide as you swiped some on the back of your hand.

“even if i kissed you right now it wouldn’t come off”

“oh… w-what’s in it? do you have the ingredients list?” he stuttered, his hand coming up to his face to hide the blush on his cheeks.

you laughed. “are you serious right now?”

“yes! this is pretty cool,” he said shyly. “i need to know.”

he was, all in all, a total nerd. but you found that endearing. you liked how he could get so passionate about the smallest details, even if he didn’t realize how cute he looked when he did it.

what you wanted to know most, though, was if he was really loaded. after all, someone had to be, to spend eighteen thousand dollars like that. one particular evening, while you were working on the project at a cafe, you decided to subtly bring it up.

“so... you said you tutor a lot of students, right?” you asked, stirring your iced coffee.

jisung nodded, flipping through his notes. “yeah. it’s decent money, especially before exams.”

“and you... do homework for them too?” you added, raising an eyebrow.

he hesitated, looking a little guilty. “only when they pay extra,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck. “but yeah. it’s not a big deal.”

“huh,” you said, leaning back in your chair. “you must be really good at it to make that much money.”

“i mean, i guess,” he mumbled, avoiding your gaze. “but it’s not that much.”

“you sure about that?” you teased, giving him a knowing look. “because eighteen thousand isn’t exactly chump change.”

his head snapped up, and for a moment, he looked like a scared hamster. “w-what?” he stammered.

“nothing,” you said, smiling innocently.

he went back to his notes, but you didn’t miss the way his hand trembled slightly as he flipped the page. interesting.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

the next time jisung almost had a heart attack because of you was after one particularly grueling day of tutoring half of sungchan’s frat. he’d spent hours going over equations with guys who clearly had no interest in learning and had been on edge the whole time, doing his best to avoid running into sungchan himself. all the bravery he’d mustered at the library had definitely worn off.

he finally made it back to his dorm, exhausted and ready to collapse, only to freeze in the doorway at the sight of you sitting prettily on the edge of his bed, flipping through one of the XXX magazines sitting on his desk. his eyes widened, and his mouth opened to say something, but no words came out.

you noticed him and laughed at his expression. “one of your roommates let me in,” you said, your voice light and teasing. “i think his name’s jaemin?”

jisung blinked, his brain struggling to process. “uh… yeah, jaemin,” he managed to stammer.

“i came to see haechan, but he wasn’t in,” you explained, crossing your legs in a way jisung was so familiar with now. “so i thought i’d pay my new best friend a visit.”

his stomach did a full somersault as he realized you were talking about him. “oh… uhm, hi” he said weakly, scratching the back of his head as he stepped inside, shutting the door behind him.

“hi,” you echoed with a grin, holding up the magazine. “some interesting reading material you’ve got here.”

“t-that’s not mine,” he blurted out, his face flushing red. “it’s haechan’s. i swear.”

you tilted your head, clearly unconvinced but too amused to care. “no need to be embarrassed,” you said casually, placing the magazine back on his desk. “you’re not the first boy in whose room i’ve found porn.”

jisung’s ears burned, and he had no idea how to respond to that. “right…” he muttered, shifting awkwardly.

“your room’s cleaner than i expected,” you added, glancing around.

“did you think i’d be messy?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“hmm, more like… sloppy,” you said, arching a brow in a way that could only be described as suggestive.

jisung swallowed hard, unsure if you were flirting or just messing with him. either way, his brain was short-circuiting. “oh?” he said, his voice coming out higher than he intended.

you laughed and leaned back on your hands, watching him with that same playful glint in your eyes. “relax, jisung. i’m just messing with you.”

he let out a small, nervous chuckle and stepped further into the room, trying to act like your presence wasn’t completely throwing him off. “so, uh… what brings you here?” he asked, carefully setting his backpack down.

“just bored,” you said with a shrug. “and since you’re my new best friend, i figured you’d entertain me.”

he blinked. “entertain?” shit, he almost got hard just hearing that.

“obviously,” you said, grinning. “you’re way more fun than haechan anyway.”

jisung doubted that, but he wasn’t about to argue. instead, he sat down at his desk, desperately trying to ignore how pretty you looked sitting on his bed.

“how about you show me how to play that game you talked about?” you asked, walking over to him and resting your arm on his gaming chair.

jisung blinked up at you, startled. “you wanna learn how to play League of Legends?” he asked, his eyebrows shooting up.

“sure. it sounded fun when you told me about it,” you said with a casual shrug.

“uhm, okay then,” jisung said, his voice a little higher than usual as he leaned to flip the power switch on his PC. then he paused, realizing he didn’t have an extra chair. “wait, let me go borrow haechan’s chair,” he said quickly, jogging out of the room.

when jisung returned, chair in hand, his steps faltered. you were leaning over his desk, your skirt riding up just enough to show him what color were your panties today. his first thought, entirely unhelpful, was how badly he wanted to bend you over that desk. his second thought, unfortunately delayed, was that you had turned on his monitor.

and on the screen, clear as day, was his account page.

“so, it was you,” you said, the tone of your voice laced with triumph.

jisung’s eyes widened, panic flaring to life. “what—what are you talking about?” he stammered, dropping the chair with a clatter.

“andyp4rk02,” you said, your voice lilting with satisfaction as you turned to face him, crossing your arms. “i felt it was you. but i’m glad to have a confirmation now.”

jisung froze, his breath catching in his throat as his brain scrambled for something to say. “i—uh—what—”

“you’re not even gonna try to deny it?” you teased, stepping closer to him, the corner of your mouth quirking up in a smirk. “honestly, i was starting to think i was crazy. but you just confirmed it.”

“i—it’s not—” jisung’s voice cracked as he tried to speak, his mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air.

you tilted your head, watching him struggle with an almost predatory gleam in your eyes. “relax, jisung. i’m not mad,” you said, your tone softer now, though it didn’t erase the teasing edge. “in fact…” you took another step closer, your voice lowering slightly. “i’m intrigued.”

“huh?” jisung’s voice was barely above a whisper, his throat dry as he tried to process what you were saying.

“the one thing i’m most curious about,” you said, taking a step closer, your tone casual but your gaze sharp, “is how you… a freshman, who doesn’t seem to have a job besides tutoring, managed to splurge thousands of dollars on me?”

jisung swallowed hard, his hands tightening into fists at his sides. “i just…” he mumbled, looking away, his ears burning as he avoided your piercing gaze.

“c’mon, don’t be shy.” you leaned in slightly, your smirk widening. “andy would’ve bent me over that desk over there and started spilling every single thing i asked for.”

jisung’s eyes snapped up to your face, wide with shock. how did you know exactly what had flashed through his mind mere seconds ago?

“s-sorry,” jisung stammered, looking like he wanted to shrink into the floor. “this is just… are you really not uncomfortable? with me, i mean?”

“why would i be?” you asked, tilting your head as though the question itself was ridiculous. “i’ve gotten to know you better now. i know you’re not a weirdo or anything.”

jisung blinked, staring at you like you’d just told him the sky wasn’t blue. “but i—i mean, with everything i said to you before… all of that—”

“all of that was online,” you cut him off smoothly, your tone light. “and honestly? i think it’s kinda cute how much you adored me. well, adore me,” you corrected with a sly grin.

jisung’s jaw dropped slightly, his face somehow heating even more. “you… think it’s cute?”

“of course,” you said with a soft shrug, your tone so casual it was almost disarming. “you’ve been sweet this whole time, even when you were trying so hard to hide it. honestly, i’m flattered.”

your lips curled into a teasing smile as you leaned in just slightly. “but now, i want to know—” your voice dipped lower, warm and slow. your eyes locked with his, drawing him in without effort. “how did you manage it? the money, i mean.”

jisung swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he struggled to form a coherent response. “well… uhm…” he shifted nervously, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck. “i… saved up a lot of money since i was a kid,” he began, his voice quiet but steady as he forced himself to meet your gaze.

“i made a system,” he continued, his words gaining a bit more confidence as he explained. “i cashed a lot of favors, even in school. i’ve been doing other people’s homework since primary, practically. also…” he hesitated, his eyes flickering to the ground for a moment before darting back to you. “my dad… he started giving me an allowance every month when i was 14, and i never really used it for anything. so… i’ve just been saving. for a long time.”

you tilted your head slightly, clearly intrigued. “wow,” you murmured, crossing your arms in thought. the movement wasn’t intentional—or maybe it was—but it pushed your cleavage up just enough to make jisung’s brain stutter.

his eyes flickered down for half a second before he froze, his face turning crimson. his chest tightened, his breath shallow, because he was sure that if he so much as brushed against you right now, he’d moan like some desperate, pathetic fool.

“that’s… impressive,” you added, breaking the silence, though your tone had shifted, tinged with something almost playful. “you must’ve been really dedicated to saving all that up.” your words hung in the air, light and teasing, but your gaze lingered, as if searching for something deeper.

“y-yeah,” jisung stammered, his hands fidgeting by his sides. “i guess i’ve just… always been good with managing money.”

“clearly,” you said with a grin. you leaned in slightly, your voice dropping just enough to send his heart into overdrive. “it’s kinda sexy, you know.”

jisung’s brain went blank, his entire body tensing as if he couldn’t process what he’d just heard. sexy? he repeated in his mind, struggling not to outwardly combust. his mouth opened as if to respond, but no words came out, and the only sound was the faint hum of his computer in the background.

“you okay?” you asked, your smile widening as you noticed his wide-eyed expression.

“y-yeah,” he managed to croak out, though his voice cracked slightly.

“relax, jisung,” you said, stepping closer, your fingers brushing the edge of his sleeve. his breath hitched, and you couldn’t help but smile at how utterly helpless he looked under your gaze.

“i-i am,” he stammered, but the way he gripped the desk behind him for support said otherwise.

you laughed softly, tilting your head as your hand slid up his arm, fingers ghosting over his bicep before trailing down to rest lightly on his chest. “sure you are,” you murmured, leaning in so your lips were just inches from his ear. “you’ve been nervous since you entered the room.”

“i… i’m not nervous,” he said, his voice cracking slightly.

“oh, really?” you teased, letting your hand slip under the hem of his shirt. your fingertips grazed the warm skin of his stomach, and he jolted, sucking in a sharp breath. “but you’re trembling.”

“t-that’s not—” his words were cut off when your other hand came up to brush the hair out of his face, your touch gentle yet firm as you tilted his chin up to meet your eyes.

“you’re so cute,” you whispered, your thumb lightly grazing his jawline. his eyes widened, his lips parting slightly.

“you’ve been so sweet to me, sungie,” you continued, your voice dropping lower. “how could i not want to thank you?”

“t-thank me?” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.

you didn’t answer right away. instead, you leaned in, pressing a featherlight kiss to his cheek, so close to the corner of his mouth that he let out an involuntary whimper. “mhmm,” you hummed, your lips brushing against his skin as you moved to the other side, leaving a trail of soft kisses along his jawline.

jisung’s breathing was ragged now, his chest rising and falling rapidly as your hand slid further up his shirt, your nails grazing lightly against his ribs. “is this okay?” you asked softly, your lips hovering near his ear.

“y-yeah,” he managed to choke out, his voice trembling.

“good,” you murmured, pressing a kiss just below his ear, then another on the side of his neck. his hands gripped the edge of the desk so tightly his knuckles were white, and he let out a shaky breath, his head tilting slightly to give you more access.

you smirked, trailing your lips back up to his cheek, stopping just short of his lips. “you’re so quiet now,” you teased, your fingers lightly tracing circles on his stomach. “no more stuttering?”

“i… i don’t…” jisung panted, his words trailing off as your lips brushed against the corner of his mouth.

“you don’t what?” you asked, pulling back just enough to meet his dazed gaze. his eyes were half-lidded, his face flushed, and his lips parted as he struggled to catch his breath.

before he could answer, the sharp buzz of your phone vibrating broke the moment. you blinked, startled, and jisung let out a shaky exhale, his head dropping back against the wall in relief… or frustration.

“hold that thought,” you said, your voice still low as you reached into your pocket. your fingers lingered on his stomach for a moment before you pulled away completely.

jisung watched in a daze as you checked your phone, your lips pressing together. “looks like i’ve got to go,” you said, slipping the device back into your pocket.

“w-what?” he stammered, his voice cracking again as he stared at you in disbelief. “y-you’re leaving?”

“for now,” you said with a wink, stepping back and smoothing your skirt. “don’t miss me too much, okay?”

jisung could only nod dumbly, still leaning against the desk like his legs might give out at any moment.

“oh, and jisung?” you added, pausing at the door. he looked up, his wide eyes meeting yours. “you might want to take care of… that.” your gaze flicked downward for just a moment, and his face turned a brilliant shade of red as he scrambled to adjust his shirt.

you laughed, shooting him one last playful smile before disappearing out the door, leaving him flustered, breathless, and utterly unable to think about anything else but how good your lips felt on his skin.

that night, jisung lost count of how many times he jerked off. by the time he was done, he was so spent he didn’t even bother cleaning up properly. he passed out with a mess of cum smeared across his abdomen, his sheets damp and sticking to his skin.

the sound of retching woke him up.

he groaned, squinting as the sunlight poured directly onto his face. blinking sleepily, he turned his head to see haechan standing at the foot of his bed, his face twisted into an expression of pure disgust.

“look at the state of you…” haechan said, shaking his head like a disappointed parent. “seriously, dude, your dick’s gonna disintegrate if you keep going like this.”

“get out,” jisung groaned, voice hoarse. he rolled over, pulling the blanket halfway over his head to shield himself from both the sunlight and his roommate’s judgment.

“i would, but i have a message from y/n,”

jisung sat up at the sound of your name. his heart pounding as if he’d been jolted with electricity.

“she said she can’t meet you at the library today…”

jisung froze, the sudden buzz of energy deflating into cold panic. “oh,” he said softly, his voice laced with disappointment.

his mind immediately began spiraling. were you avoiding him? now that you knew he was andy, did you think he was a creep? were you disgusted? did you regret what happened yesterday? every terrible scenario played in his head as he stared blankly ahead, anxiety tightening its grip on his chest.

before he could spiral further, haechan continued, dragging out his words for dramatic effect.

“…she said she wants to meet you somewhere else instead.”

jisung’s head snapped toward him. “what?”

“she said she sent you the address and tried calling, but your phone’s off.”

his eyes darted to the floor where his phone lay facedown. practically leaping out of bed, he stumbled over the blanket, barely managing to stay upright as he grabbed the phone and plugged it into the charger.

“relax, dude. she’s not breaking up with you,” haechan said with a smirk.

“shut up,” jisung muttered, his focus entirely on the phone as it turned back on. when the screen finally lit up, he saw your message waiting for him.

his thumb hovered over it before he opened it. the address you’d sent was for a studio about thirty minutes away from campus. jisung frowned, his mind racing again. why there? what kind of place was it? and more importantly, how was he supposed to get there?

he groaned, already planning how he could convince jeno to lend him his car for the evening. but before he could get too far into his thoughts, he noticed haechan still standing there, arms crossed and a suspicious look on his face.

“what?” jisung asked, narrowing his eyes.

“nothing,” haechan said, but the grin spreading across his face said otherwise. “have fun tonight.”

with a wink, haechan strolled out of the room, leaving jisung standing there, equal parts nervous and excited, as he tried to figure out just what you had planned.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

by the time jisung reached the address you sent, he was soaked through to the bone. his hair sticking to his forehead, dripping rainwater down his face, and his clothes clung to his skin, cold and uncomfortable. jeno had flat-out refused to lend him his car, so jisung had to take the bus. the bus stop was two blocks away, and by the time he’d sprinted there in the pouring rain, his sneakers squelched with every step.

he stood now, breathless and drenched, staring up at the old building in front of him. the windows were grimy, and the exterior had an eerie, almost abandoned feel to it. with a reluctant sigh, he pushed the heavy door open and stepped into the lobby. it was completely quiet. the reception desk was empty, and no one was in sight, so he made his way up the narrow staircase to the third floor.

when he reached the door, his heart was hammering. should he have texted to let you know he was here? was he being too forward? after a beat of hesitation, he knocked, his knuckles tapping softly against the wood.

the door swung open after his third knock.

there you were, looking impossibly beautiful. your pink flowy dress caught the light, the fabric swirling around your legs as you smiled up at him. he’d never seen you wear a dress like that before. your makeup was flawless, more than usual, and the sight made his breath catch in his throat.

"you’re really punctual," you said with a soft smile, stepping aside to let him in.

but jisung didn’t move at first. his eyes scanned the space around him as he took it all in.

“is this…” he breathed in disbelief.

“welcome to collette’s studio.” you patted him lightly on the back, gently pushing him further inside.

“i wanted you to see it,” you continued, walking ahead, your fingers brushing against the smooth white sheets of the bed that dominated the center of the room. you glanced back at him with an expectant look.

jisung felt like he’d been dropped into one of his wet dreams. "i’m…" his words faltered as his senses overloaded, trying to catch up with what was happening.

"in shock?" you giggled softly, the sound light and airy. "you’re the first person i bring here."

"really?" he asked, his backpack slipping off his shoulder and falling to the floor with a soft thud.

“you brought your notes?” you asked, a teasing smile tugging at your lips.

"yeah…" he stammered, feeling foolish now. "aren’t we gonna finish… the project?"

your gaze locked with his as you moved closer, your presence drawing him in. his eyes flicked nervously to the neon sign hanging on the wall.

"hm, we can… or we could do something more fun?" you suggested, your voice a soft temptation. you stepped closer, until there was barely any space between you two.

jisung tried to keep his composure, but his body betrayed him. every inch of him stiffened as you moved into his personal space.

"i have a proposal for you, sungie," you said, your voice lowering, honeyed and sweet. your hand found its way to the back of his neck, your fingers tracing the skin there lightly, coaxing a soft sigh from his lips.

"y-yeah?" he breathed out, eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment at the sensation of your touch.

"would you like to guest on my channel?"

jisung’s eyes snapped open, disbelief painting his expression. “what?… y-you mean… do a livestream with you?”

he could barely comprehend what you were saying, his brain scrambling to process the words. "but you… you never do that… it’s always just collette."

you smiled softly, a glint of something mysterious dancing in your eyes. "you’re right, but for a while, i’ve been thinking of changing that. i just never found anyone i trusted enough for it."

jisung’s mind was racing. he couldn’t believe this was happening. you, asking him? how many times had he imagined being in this room, taking you in that very bed? but now that the opportunity was right in front of him, he was frozen. what if he wasn’t enough? what if he couldn’t satisfy you like you wanted?

“it’s okay if you don’t want to… it was pretty sudden of me to ask this,” you said, sensing his hesitation. you slowly withdrew your hand from his neck, leaving him cold and wanting more.

jisung panicked. he didn’t want you to think he was rejecting you, but the fear of embarrassing himself in front of not only you but a whole audience gripped him tight. what if he couldn’t live up to your expectations?

but then again, the thought of you finding someone else to do this with made his stomach twist with anxiety. he couldn’t back down now.

with shaky hands, he finally nodded, his voice barely a whisper. "i’ll do it."

“really?” you asked, your voice tinged with genuine surprise. you hadn’t expected him to agree. jisung didn’t exactly strike you as the type to willingly step into the spotlight, let alone in this particular way. this had every potential to go sideways.

but there he was, standing in front of you, his expression a blend of nervousness and determination. he looked like he was trying to keep himself from bolting.

you extended your hand toward him, watching as his gaze flickered down to it. he hesitated, just for a moment, before his much larger hand engulfed yours. his touch was clammy, his grip tentative, but it was enough.

“have you done this before?” you asked, glancing back at him as you led him toward the bed.

he looked utterly petrified, like a deer caught in headlights, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. “a livestream, you mean? uh… yeah, i’ve—uh—seen a few… i mean, no! not seen, done! wait, i mean—”

you chuckled softly, cutting off his flustered rambling. “no, silly. i meant… is this your first time having sex?”

your tone was so casual and devoid of any judgment that it caught him completely off guard. his entire face went up in flames. he nodded slowly, his lips pressed into a tight line.

your smile softened, and you stepped closer, placing your hands lightly on his chest. “then, we should practice before turning the camera on, don’t you think?”

he swallowed hard, his lips parting in a nervous attempt to respond, but no words came out. he simply nodded, his breaths shallow and uneven when you pushed him down onto the bed.

you reached for the straps of your dress and slid them off your shoulders, the fabric slipping down your body and pooling at your feet. jisung’s eyes went wide, his lips slightly parted as he stared at you. his gaze flickered nervously, starting at your feet and slowly working its way up, lingering on the delicate white lace of your underwear. he looked like he was on the verge of tearing up.

you moved closer, settling yourself onto his lap. the sudden pressure made him suck in a sharp breath, his hands hovering awkwardly at his sides.

“tell me what you like,” you murmured, leaning in just enough for your lips to ghost over the shell of his ear.

“w-what do you mean?” his voice cracked, and he looked up at you with wide, panicked eyes. his hands were still frozen in place, unsure of what to do, so you gently took them and placed them on your waist.

“you can touch me,” you said softly, brushing a stray strand of hair out of his face. “when you watch my streams… what do you like?”

his whole body tensed, his fingers spreading hesitantly over your waist. he looked like he wanted to crawl out of his skin, but at the same time, he couldn’t seem to look away. “uhm… i-i don’t know… i… i pretty much like everything,” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

“do you like when i use the toys?” you asked, your lips brushing against his as you spoke.

“y-yes,” he breathed, the word coming out shaky and unsteady.

“do you like it more when i lay down or when i sit?” you asked, trailing your hands under the hem of his shirt and tugging it up.

his breath hitched as you motioned for him to stand. he obeyed, his movements clumsy as he pulled off his shirt and hesitated with his pants. his hands trembled as he pushed them down, leaving him standing there in just his boxers, his face burning crimson.

“uhm” he started, his voice cracking. he swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to the floor before flicking back to you. “when you sit?”

the second the words left his mouth, you pushed him gently, and he stumbled back onto the bed with a gasp. the flush on his cheeks deepened, spreading to the tips of his ears, as he looked up at you with anticipation.

“good,” you murmured, your fingers trailing along his chest. “then let’s see if you like this more.”

the sight of you straddling his lap made jisung’s throat go dry, his mouth parting slightly as his breath quickened. was this really happening? was he actually about to lose his virginity with the girl he had spent countless nights fantasizing about? every inch of him buzzed with nervous energy, and for a fleeting moment, he thought he might actually cry—happy tears, of course, but still tears.

before his mind could spiral further, he felt the soft press of your lips against his. the sensation was so unexpected and overwhelming that he whimpered without meaning to. the sound would’ve embarrassed him any other time, but he was too lost in the moment to care. his lips parted instinctively, allowing your tongue to slide into his mouth, deepening the kiss.

your fingers threaded into his hair, massaging his scalp, and a low moan escaped him. the warmth of your touch was intoxicating, but then your hips shifted, brushing against the hardness in his boxers, and jisung gasped into your mouth.

“shit,” he whispered, his voice shaky as his hips jerked up in response, pressing himself against your core. the friction drew a needy, broken moan from you that he immediately wished he could record and replay for the rest of his life. his head fell back slightly, breaking the kiss.

“how does that feel?” you murmured, grinding your hips against him again. “hm?”

“g-good… so… go—” his words trailed off, his eyes snapping open as he caught you unclasping your bra. the sight of you now bare from the waist up making him forget how to breathe.

he’d seen you topless before on your livestreams, but this was something else entirely. now, you were right in front of him, real and tangible. your breasts were perfect, even better than his wildest dreams, and his hands twitched on your hips, desperate to touch but unsure if he even had the right to.

“go ahead,” you said softly, as if you’d read his mind.

jisung hesitated, the thought flashing through his mind: am i even worthy of this? but before doubt could take hold, you grabbed his hands, guiding them to your chest.

“fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his fingers trembling as they cupped the warm, supple flesh. the softness beneath his palms made his head spin, and he instinctively squeezed, earning a quiet hum of approval from you. “so… perfect,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, shyness seeping into his tone.

you smiled at him and leaned in closer, pushing your chest into his hands. his thumbs grazed over your nipples, and you bit your lip, the simple action making his heart feel like it might pound out of his chest.

“you’re doing so well, sungie,” you praised, your words wrapping around him like a warm blanket. he felt his confidence grow just a little, his hands becoming bolder as he continued to touch you, mesmerized by how soft and warm you were.

“c-can i…?” he trailed off, his lips brushing against your collarbone as he spoke.

“go ahead,” you encouraged, and his mouth descended hesitantly, leaving a tentative kiss on the curve of your breast. the feeling was so new that he couldn’t stop the soft groan that escaped him.

jisung pressed his lips against your skin again, this time lingering a little longer. he felt the soft rise and fall of your chest beneath him, and it was mesmerizing. the warmth, the way you smelled faintly of vanilla, and the soft sighs you let out as he kissed along the curve of your breast—it was too much for him, and not enough all at once.

you tilted your head back slightly, giving him more room, your fingers still tangled in his hair as he kissed lower. his tongue darted out, shyly tracing your skin, and he heard you hum in approval. the sound sent a jolt straight through him, and his hips involuntarily bucked up into yours, pressing against your core.

“that’s it, sungie,” you murmured, your voice like velvet, guiding him. “you can touch more if you want. i don’t bite”

the teasing lilt in your voice made his entire face flush, but it also spurred him on. he let one hand wander, sliding up your side hesitantly before it cupped your other breast. his touch was still timid, his thumb brushing over your nipple experimentally. when you gasped softly and your hips shifted against his, jisung nearly lost it.

“does that feel good?” he asked, his voice barely audible, shaky and full of nerves.

“mhmm,” you nodded, your lips ghosting over the shell of his ear. “you’re doing so well.”

the praise made him braver, and he leaned back slightly to look at you. your hair was slightly mussed, your lips parted, and your eyes were hooded as you gazed down at him. you looked like a dream, like something he’d only ever dared to imagine in the privacy of his own room.

jisung’s breath came in shallow pants as he watched you. your skin was soft, and your scent filled his senses, making it impossible for him to think about anything else.

“take these off too,” you murmured, your fingers tugging lightly at the waistband of his boxers.

his entire face burned crimson as he nodded, his hands shaking slightly as he hooked his thumbs under the fabric and began to slide them down. his heart was pounding so hard he thought it wasn’t normal, but the thought of stopping never even crossed his mind.

you leaned back just enough to give him room, watching as he pushed the boxers down his hips, his movements awkward and nervous. once he kicked them off completely, he sat there, completely bare before you, his hands fidgeting at his sides as he avoided your gaze.

“hey,” you said softly, reaching out to tilt his chin up so he’d look at you. “don’t be shy. you’re perfect, sungie.”

his eyes widened slightly at your words, his lips parting as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

“you’re really cute when you’re flustered, you know that?” you teased, leaning in to kiss him again. this time, the kiss was slower, deeper, and jisung melted into it, his hands finally moving to rest on your waist.

you shifted in his lap, pressing your core against him, and he gasped into your mouth, his hips jerking up instinctively.

“s-sorry,” he stammered, pulling back slightly, his face a deep shade of red.

“don’t apologize,” you said, brushing your fingers through his hair. “you’re doing so well.”

your praise made his chest swell, and he swallowed hard, his eyes flicking down to where your bodies were pressed together.

“touch me more, sungie,” you encouraged, taking his hands and guiding them up your sides, over your ribs, until they were back on your chest.

his fingers trembled as they cupped you, his thumbs brushing over your nipples experimentally. when you let out a soft moan, his confidence grew, and he leaned down to kiss your neck, his lips trailing lower until they found the curve of your breast.

“just like that,” you whispered, your fingers threading through his hair again as he continued exploring your body.

your hands slid down his back, your nails grazing his skin lightly, and jisung shivered under your touch. his own hands started to roam more boldly, tracing the curve of your waist, the small of your back, and finally settling on your ass.

you shifted again, grinding down against him, and he let out a choked moan, his head falling against your shoulder as he tried to catch his breath.

“you’re so sensitive,” you murmured, kissing the side of his neck.

“i… i c-can’t help it,” he stuttered, his voice shaky. “you’re… you’re just…”

you smiled, pressing a finger to his lips to hush him. “it’s okay, sungie. just let me take care of you.”

he nodded, his hands gripping your hips tighter as you continued to move against him. every touch, every kiss, every sound you made drove him closer to the edge, and he didn’t know how much more he could take.

you leaned back slightly, reaching between your bodies to tug your panties down, and jisung watched with wide eyes as you discarded them. he couldn’t believe this was happening, like any moment he might wake up in his bed, alone and frustrated.

“are you okay?” you asked, your voice soft as you looked at him.

“y-yeah,” he said quickly, nodding. i just can’t believe this is real, he wanted to say but he was scared he’d sound like a loser.

“wait a second,” you said, sliding off his lap, the sudden loss of your weight making jisung let out a soft, involuntary hiss.

his eyes darted down, and he realized—much to his horror—that his dick was now standing proudly at full attention, no longer constrained by his boxers. in his mind, it was almost mocking him, like it was giving him a thumbs-up for finally letting his hand rest after all those nights of longing for you. jisung felt a wave of self-consciousness wash over him, and his first instinct was to grab a blanket or pillow to cover himself.

just as he was about to reach for one, his attention was drawn to you. you were bent over by your bedside drawer, rummaging through it with an air of purpose. then, you pulled something out, holding it up for him to see… a shiny silver wrapper.

a condom.

jisung felt like his heart stopped beating for a second as he stared at the little package in your hands. something about seeing it made everything feel impossibly, undeniably real.

“ultrathin… so you can feel everything,” you said casually, your voice laced with amusement as you turned back toward him.

goodness, she’s gonna kill me. jisung thought, swallowing hard as he swore his dick twitched at your words.

“you’re quite big, sungie…” you mused, crawling back onto the bed with a grace that made his breath hitch. you moved toward him slowly, your eyes dark with intent. the way you approached him reminded him of a lioness stalking her prey.

“let’s see if it fits,” you added, a playful smile on your lips as you straddled his thighs.

jisung was completely frozen, his pulse pounding in his ears as he watched you unwrapping the condom with practiced ease. your hands moved so skillfully, the shiny material glinting faintly in the light. then you paused, looking up at him with a question in your eyes.

“may i?” you asked softly, your voice almost sweet, though your expression held that same predatory confidence.

“y-yeah,” he stammered, the word barely audible as he nodded frantically. in his mind, he was screaming, please, yes, god, yes.

the corner of your mouth quirked up as you leaned forward. your fingers were gentle but firm as you grasped his dick, and jisung couldn’t stop the shuddering gasp that escaped his lips. you slid the condom over him with ease, the mix of precum and the lubricant on the condom making it glide smoothly down his shaft.

it fit perfectly.

“fits you like a glove,” you murmured, your tone teasing as you leaned back to admire your handiwork.

jisung didn’t know what to do. his hands twitched at his sides, his mouth slightly open as he tried to breathe through the overwhelming sensations coursing through him.

then, without warning, you slid up his body, settling back onto his lap. the sudden pressure against his dick made him let out a low, shaky moan.

“ready?” you asked, your voice softer now, your hands resting on his chest as you leaned forward.

jisung swallowed hard, his wide eyes meeting yours. “y-yeah,” he croaked, his voice cracking slightly.

you lifted yourself slightly, aligning him with your entrance. jisung was trembling under you, his hands gripping the sheets as if holding on for dear life.

"breathe, sungie," you whispered, stroking his chest gently. his wide, panicked eyes met yours, and you smiled softly to reassure him.

he nodded quickly, forcing himself to take a shaky breath. when he exhaled, you sank down just a little, the tip of him slipping inside. his whole body jerked in response, a desperate, broken moan escaping his lips.

“fuck…” he muttered, his head falling back against the pillow. his grip on the sheets tightened, his knuckles turning white. the heat, the wetness, the feeling of you was unlike anything he’d ever imagined.

“good?” you asked, tilting your head as you hovered above him, testing his reaction.

“s-so good,” jisung gasped, his voice trembling. “so… tight… warm…”

you couldn’t help but smirk at his reaction, but you didn’t tease him. instead, you lowered yourself further, slowly taking him inch by inch. jisung’s breathing grew heavier with every movement, his hips twitching upward involuntarily as if his body couldn’t help but chase the sensation.

"easy," you murmured, pressing a hand against his chest to still him. "let me take care of you."

jisung nodded dumbly, biting his lip as he tried to stay still. his eyes were fixed on you, watching every little movement you made in adoration.

when you finally took all of him, you let out a soft sigh of relief, adjusting to the stretch. jisung, on the other hand, looked like he was seconds away from imploding.

"you're... you're perfect," he blurted out, his voice breaking with emotion.

you laughed softly, leaning down to brush your lips against his. “you’re pretty perfect yourself, sungie.”

you gave him a moment to catch his breath, your hands gently running up and down his sides to calm him. when you started to move, lifting yourself slowly and sinking back down, his head shot up from the pillow.

“oh my god—” jisung groaned, his hands flying to your hips instinctively. “oh my god, oh my god…”

his grip was unsure, as if he didn’t know whether to hold on tighter or let go. his hips bucked slightly beneath you, and you gasped at the unexpected movement.

"you're doing so well," you encouraged him, your voice breathy but soothing. you leaned forward, kissing the corner of his mouth before nipping at his jaw.

jisung whimpered at the praise, his hands sliding up your sides as he tried to ground himself. his lips found yours again, and this time, he kissed you with a bit more confidence, his tongue shyly seeking yours.

you rolled your hips against him, drawing a strangled moan from deep in his chest. his reactions were so genuine, so raw. it made your heart race just as much as his.

“faster,” he whispered against your lips, surprising both you and himself. his cheeks flushed red immediately after the word left his mouth.

you smiled, pressing your forehead against his as you obliged, picking up the pace. his grip on your hips tightened as he tried to meet your movements, his breaths coming faster and more uneven.

“you’re close, aren’t you?” you asked softly, brushing his damp hair out of his face.

jisung nodded rapidly, his eyes squeezed shut as his whole body tensed beneath you. “i—i can’t… i can’t hold it,” he stammered, his voice breaking with desperation.

“it’s okay,” you reassured him, your voice gentle. “let go for me, sungie.”

the permission was all he needed. with a choked cry, jisung’s hips jerked upward, and he came harder than he ever thought possible. his whole body trembled as he gripped you tightly, burying his face in your shoulder as he rode out the waves of pleasure.

you held him through it, running your fingers through his hair and whispering soft words of encouragement. when his breathing finally started to slow, you leaned back slightly to look at him.

his face was flushed, his chest heaving, and his eyes glazed over as he tried to process what just happened.

“you okay?” you asked, stroking his cheek gently.

jisung blinked up at you, a dazed but blissful smile spreading across his face. “y-yeah,” he breathed, his voice hoarse. “that was… amazing.”

you laughed softly, leaning down to kiss him again. “you did so well, sungie.”

he blushed at the praise, his hands resting on your thighs as he tried to steady himself. “thank you,” he mumbled shyly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“don’t thank me yet,” you teased. “we’re just getting started.”

the next day...

“sungie,” you said, your voice soft and slightly breathless. you were sprawled out on your couch, your notes and research scattered across the coffee table, all but forgotten.

“last night’s livestream got the most views i’ve had in months,” you murmured, looking down at him. “they must like you.”

jisung looked up from between your legs, his glasses fogged and slightly crooked on his face. his lips were swollen and glistening with your arousal, his cheeks flushed a deep red.

“really?” he asked, only half-interested. but before you could respond, he dove back down, his eager mouth finding your folds once again.

a sharp gasp left your lips as his tongue traced over you. this was already the second time today he’d eaten you out, and he’d only gotten better since his first attempt this morning.

earlier, you’d guided him through it, patiently showing him what felt good, what didn’t, and how to read the reactions of your body.

jisung’s long tongue worked wonders, licking and teasing in ways that had you gripping the cushions for dear life. when he sucked gently on your clit and flicked his tongue over it in quick succession, your thighs quivered against his head. he took note of the way your hips bucked involuntarily, doubling down on the action and making you cry out.

“you’re such a quick learner,” you panted, your fingers threading through his hair, tugging lightly to spur him on.

he hummed against you, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your core. the sound was almost self-satisfied, as though he was proud of the way he had you unraveling beneath him.

the combination of his inexperience and raw enthusiasm was intoxicating. jisung wasn’t just doing this to please you. he genuinely wanted to understand every inch of you, to learn what made you tick and what brought you to the edge.

and he was succeeding.

your thighs clenched around his head, your body arching off the couch as he alternated between languid strokes of his tongue and quick flicks against your most sensitive spot. “s-sungie, oh my god,” you whimpered, your grip on his hair tightening.

he pulled back just enough to look up at you, his glasses messier than ever. “does that mean i’m doing good?” he asked, his voice slightly muffled, and for a second, his shy, eager-to-please demeanor broke through.

you let out a breathless laugh, your hand cupping his cheek affectionately. “you’re doing amazing, baby.”

his lips quirked into a bashful smile before he returned his attention to your core, determined to coax another round of trembling moans from your lips.

jisung park, you thought as you teetered on the edge of bliss, was quickly becoming an overachiever in the best way possible.

a/n: my inbox is always open for any comments about the fic! thank you for reading <3

[neon-sunsets]

okay. let’s talk about jayce’s monologue, since people are calling him ableist.

for context, not that it matters: I have a significant mobility disability and a progressive chronic illness which, even when managed, can kill me. I’m not in exactly the same boat as viktor since my disease isn’t terminal, but I’ve had very similar experiences to him. this shapes my perception of him and of this storyline.

this is the monologue:

You’ve always wanted to cure what you thought were weaknesses. Your leg. Your disease. But you were never broken, Viktor. There’s beauty in imperfections. They made you what you are. An inseparable piece of everything I admired about you.

first, it should be noted that “what you thought were weaknesses” is not the same thing as “things that are good.” jayce is not saying that viktor’s disease is or was a good thing. what he is saying is that he admired (loved) everything that viktor was, which included the things viktor thought made him a burden or a problem. remember also that jayce almost doomed the world because he couldn’t let viktor die; he would never imply that viktor dying was a good thing.

the next question, then, is whether viktor sees himself as a burden or not. I think it’s implied that he does — it’s certainly not unrealistic to think that viktor might have come to view himself, or at least his disease, as a burden and a flaw. disabled people often view ourselves that way either because of internalized ableism or because society constantly tells us that we’re burdens and that our bodies are abnormal and wrong. viktor displays behaviors that indicate internalized ableism, including hiding the fact that he’s coughing up blood from jayce the first few times it happens and generally refusing to be in the public eye in a way that is self-effacing and not just him being private. yes, he says in act 1 of season 1 that he believes in himself, but he does also call himself a cripple in a dismissive way in that same scene; also, he doesn’t have the disease at that point. arguably the entire scene where he runs despite clearly being in pain is an example of his internalized ableism, but that’s another post.

more evidence for viktor’s perception of himself being negative is that he clearly has a sense that he doesn’t deserve to be loved (specifically by jayce, but maybe also in general). we see this when he asks jayce why he’s still persisting in saving him. we see this with his generally self-effacing behavior. we see this with the fact that in all of season 1, the only person he allows to touch him is jayce, and that the only person he actively touches in the entire show is jayce. viktor is reserved and not good with his emotions, which is a huge part of his arc this season. all of these behaviors point to him having a negative self-perception.

I think it’s important to really consider how jayce perceives viktor and how viktor perceives himself. I don’t think this season handled everything perfectly, but I think they handled this very well. viktor has been written with a fullness and complexity that most disabled characters don’t ever get. him being morally grey doesn’t mean he’s “problematic” or “bad representation.” obviously I’m only one disabled person, but I really love jayce and viktor and I think their story is beautifully written.

[chunksworld]

Swim

IZ*ONE Kim Minju x Male Reader | (Tags: Smut)

A/N: #BreedMinju. Thank you to Kaede for beta reading as always.

————————

You never imagined in your wet dreams, in all of the times you masturbated to her, or even that time you drunk texted her a picture of you shirtless after one too many drinks at the bar that the woman you met inside the elevator during your first day at the company some two odd years ago would be in your apartment watching some rom-com from the 90s that you are too inebriated to remember the title of. Your heart is pounding, partly because of the double serving of triple shot espresso you perhaps shouldn’t have drank this morning and partly because she looks devastatingly stunning in that white shirt that completely conceals whatever shorts she maybe wearing underneath which further accentuates those long legs of hers—

“I don’t remember the TV facing this direction, unless there’s something on my face?”

Shit.

Aside from her God-given physical features, it’s the way she can toy with your feelings and flirt with you so effortlessly that always leaves you wanting for more. Every single little interaction with her is an adventure on its own; the way she would wink at you every time you pass by her in the office, the way she would walk up to you to fix your tie while telling you how your perfume “smells like the oceanside on a summer day” —whatever the hell that means— or how she would always give you words of encouragement with that bright smile of hers during stressful days. 

It should mean something, has to mean something. Right? You can’t ask anyone for advice either, not when you’re the only two people born on this side of the century in your department. Your coworkers are either divorced or having a midlife crisis, and quite frankly, you might be having a quarter-life crisis if such a thing exists. You can’t stay professional any longer, and you are more than thankful that you’re not at the workplace right now because the thoughts swimming inside your head are absolutely not safe for work. And it’s all because of this fucking woman that’s laughing as if everything is sunshine and rainbows: Kim Minju. 

It doesn’t help that she’s the prettiest woman you know. even more so than the handful of girls you’ve hooked up with during college. Evidently, you are not the only one that shares that sentiment because you don’t miss the old way some of your older male coworkers would give her a certain, disgusting look that you wish to erase from your memories and you know she deserves better than them. She deserves someone like you, but you don’t exactly know if that feeling is reciprocated. But as to how far you can push your luck, you haven’t found out the answer to that yet—perhaps tonight is the night. 

“Are you still with me? Or did my goddess face lure you in too deep?” 

That now makes the two of you not paying attention to the movie—granted you’ve already seen it at least a dozen times during college when you were a hopeless romantic but who are you to turn down Minju when she specifically requested it? Plus, that’s not your concern at this very moment when she scoots ever so closely to you and the heat her skin radiates is enough to burn you. “Honestly, I don’t blame you if you have a crush on me. I sort of have that effect on guys.” There’s that fucking wink again, and the way she pouts her lips as if she is posing for a selfie. “I admire your resilience though, most guys would have me moaning their names on their bed already by this point.”

“Not funny, Minju.” It really isn’t, not when she’s mere inches away from you and if you were just a bit more drunk now those irresistible lips of hers would be meshed with yours now. You try to look away but you can’t, they captivate you to no end and you don’t even want to look away now—the sheen on those cherry red lips, the way they stand out against her milky white skin, the way she then bites her lower lips as to tempt you even further, the way sweat slowly drips down the side of her face and to her neck and you think they’d look good with your bite marks all over them.

Even if you look down, her succulent thighs and legs are all that will pervade your senses and you won’t be able to stop thinking about how you just want to rip whatever garments she’s wearing underneath and have her spread her legs while you eat her out like she’s your last meal on Earth. “You can’t just keep doing this for years and not expect me to make a move eventually.”

“Then what’s stopping you, hmm?” 

Minju somehow shifts even closer to you, her lips practically brushing against yours, her eyes staring deep into your soul, her hands resting on your thighs. She probes into you even deeper, much deeper than any other time and emergency sirens are popping up in your head. There have been many close encounters like this, way too many for your liking. 

The way she would wear pencil skirts on certain days and make it her mission to bend over in front of you as much as possible to show the unreal curvature of her ass—then proceeding to smirk as if she doesn’t know how much your cock wants to burst through your pants. The way she would purposely bump into you and pretend to fall so you can pull her into an inadvertent hug. 

Or when she would wear those dresses that hug her curves tightly during galas and she would give you a courtesy hug for a second longer than corporate policies would allow. Or when she kissed you during Christmas party last year and claimed that she had to do it because you two were “underneath a mistletoe.” 

It all has to end tonight, because God forbid you have to spend another night alone on your bed making a mess while you shoot ropes after ropes all over yourself thinking about her. It’s exhausting having to play these games with her when you’re 99% sure she is into you and you have to take action now before someone else does.

“Minju, I don’t think you’re ready for what I’m packing down there.” You test the waters even further, carefully studying her facial expressions while trying not to get lost in her eyes. It’s quite a difficult task when the alcohol is hitting you harder by the minute but when a sly grin appears across her face as if to challenge that statement, you know you have her right where you want her.

“Oh trust me, I know what you’re packing down there.” Minju glances downwards at your erection and your sweatpants are doing a poor job with how it’s about to poke through your pants. “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be spending my Friday night here when I could be hanging out with Chaewon and Yujin.” It’s getting dangerous now, her hands traveling down your body and cupping your length through two layers of clothing.

And honestly you might as well be naked now with the way your cock reacts to her touch —your tip is leaking heavily and your breath starts to shorten. “So what’s it gonna be? You can’t tell me you have a different plan for how this night is going to end.” You can’t push back any further, you won’t push back. You take the first dip, lips pressed hungrily onto hers and she takes this opportunity to swing her legs over and straddle you on your couch—the movie in the background is long forgotten and all you care about right now is her.

You straighten yourself up and wrap your arms around her waist possessively; two years of pent up sexual frustration finally coming to an end and you make the most of it. Her lips are everything you’ve dreamed of; soft and sweet and succulent and you can’t help but think about how they slot in with yours perfectly as if you were meant to kiss her all this time. Your hands travel to her face to cup her cheeks, pushing her head deeper into yours and you notice her hands encircling around your back. 

You take a break to catch your bearings, staring deep again at her now lust-filled eyes and you get a front row seat to the facial expression you’ve been dying to see for forever now.  She moans into your mouth when one of your hands slides underneath her dress shirt to feel her smooth skin and the ridges of her abs which itself isn’t a surprise—what is surprising is the lack of bra when you travel further upwards and you come into contact with tits that you are sure is perky and round. “What a fucking slut, Minju. No bra?”

Your suspicions are confirmed when you practically rip the buttons off her shirt and throw it somewhere in your living room and your mouth waters at the sight of her breasts, they are definitely not the biggest you’ve seen but the way they sit on her perfectly shaped body with all of her curves and intricacies is more than enough to make up for it. “What’s the use of wearing one when I knew we were gonna end up like this anyways?” But before you could dive down to taste them you find your shirt being removed as well and the hunger in your eyes is mirrored by the way she’s staring down at your own pack of abs. 

“I mean if I had it my way I would’ve told you to be shirtless already with only your boxers on before I came over but you can’t have everything in life right?” She is as handsy as you, those delicate fingers mapping your chest and your stomach with every little touch as if to decipher where her lips would go later. But you absolutely cannot wait any longer, grabbing her hand and placing it on her sides while you devour her nipples. Taking her left breasts between your lips while massaging the right one and the whimper of your name that escapes her lips is downright sinful while you alternate between the two. 

You lick, slurp, and at times even get your teeth involved—just anything that can get her squirming and writhing on your lap is enough to fuel you. Even more so when she pushes your head deeper into her chest and she’s moaning “more please, fuck” in between whimpers.

Minju is one needy girl and that’s one fact that you find out quickly when she starts to grind on your hips and you can feel just how warm and wet her shorts are. You inadvertently bite on her nipples and she screams your name at the sensation. You utter a “sorry” in response but it doesn’t really matter when she gets off of you and you think you’ve absolutely screwed up. Fucking great. She stands up and you are about to give a more sincere and heartfelt apology but those thoughts are quickly washed away when she removes her shorts and then her panties.

“I want to see that cock. Now.”

You don’t waste a single moment before you proceed to do the same thing to your undergarments and the sight of her fully naked in front of you causes you to leak even more precum with your cock freely exposed to the air. Minju looks hot—which in itself might be an understatement with the way she’s fucking you with those wide eyes of hers, the way her nipples are glimmering under the lights of your living room thanks to your saliva, the way her abs contract with every breath she takes, the way those stocky thighs are slick with her essence. Forget those wet dreams because none of them could match witnessing the actual Kim Minju naked in real life in your apartment.

Minju squeals when you drag her back down towards you to make her straddle your lap again. No more games, no more foreplay, you slowly sink her down your cock and drink in her moans when she buries her face in your shoulder. She is suffocatingly tight, extremely wet but tight and you almost spill mere seconds after finally inserting your entire length inside her. You wince slightly as her manicured nails press into your shoulders and eventually your back. “Fucking—shit—If I only knew—” 

Your pace is slow and methodical, even though you want to just pound her into oblivion and have her screaming to the point your neighbors will complain the morning after. She is Minju after all and she deserves that respect, but as to how long you can control yourself you don’t know. For now, you are content to just have her in your arms and revel in this moment that you’d never thought would ever come. Just feeling how your cock molds perfectly inside her and how her small bunny hops gradually increase over time and her face becomes lost in pleasure is more than enough.

Especially when you feel every inch of her goddess-like body pressed against yours when she arches up to you; her thighs bouncing against yours, her abs grinding against yours, and those breasts pressed against your chest. “—so deep, fuck—harder!” It’s about time you take control and you do just that, you plant your feet to the ground and you grab handfuls of her asscheeks with each hand before thrusting up in time with her thrust and Minju’s gone completely delirious now. 

Gone are the coherent sentences as they are now replaced by expletive-filled chants of pleasure. She’s damn near crying on your cock, tears welling up in her eyes due to pleasure and so you pull her face away to get a glimpse of her sweat-misted face and how her eyes are unfocused. You don’t know what came over you but you feel your heart skip a beat seeing such surreal beauty up close and personal so you pull her in for another makeout session, continuing your long and hard thrusts while your tongue ravages her mouth much like your cock does with her pussy.

“Fucking hell, we should’ve done this sooner.” Another kiss on her lips, then another lick of her nipples—make that two licks, no in fact, you devour them once more. It’s becoming clearer that they’re starting to become your favorite part of her body and it’s completely justified. “ I can’t believe I had to jack off to your pictures when you were just one call away.” The woman in question doesn’t respond but she blushes, the raw honesty of your words is enough to reveal that shy and demure side of her again despite the situation you two are currently in. 

Minju just brushes her hair aside in response while looking away, taking the initiative to bounce on your cock and you let her take over once again. ���W-Well I’m here now—“ A particularly hard thrust deep into a certain spot inside her has her clenching around your cock much tighter than usual, you take mental note of this “—I hope I’m as good as advertised.” Of course she is and even better than whatever scenario you were cooking up inside your head, but instead of showing it through words you just smile at her and hope that it’s enough to show your admiration and you let your body do the talking.

You’re noticing how tired she’s becoming being on top so you don’t waste any more time and pick up the pace while still letting her guide the way. It’s silence between the two of you aside from the sounds of passionate lovemaking and that is just enough to push you two closer to the edge. You feel her clench tighter around you again and likewise you can feel your balls throbbing in anticipation too. It’s been a stressful week at work and there’s no better place to unload than inside her welcoming pussy. You’re just as close to her as reaching your orgasm and it’s becoming extremely difficult not to do anything but to burst inside hers. 

Forget the lovemaking, you lift her up by her asscheeks and stand up from the couch and you immediately feel her limbs coil around your body as she gasps at the sensation of being fully seated by your cock. You start to thrust up again, this time more relentlessly without the restrictions of the couch and she’s leaking even more now and you can actually feel her juices stream down your cock and you know she’s extremely close. “D-Don’t stop, please. Don’t you ever fucking stop!” She’s bouncing much higher than before, almost completely unsheathing your length before she crashes back down on it again and now she’s actually crying in pleasure. 

“Hnnghhh! Fuck! I can’t, I can’t—” There was certainly no way she was going to last any longer. “—G-Gonna cum on your cock!” And a few more of those wild thrusts is all it takes to set her off, going limp and forcing you to grab hold of her even tighter so she doesn’t slip off—a task given difficult given how much sweat is emanating both of your bodies but you don’t care especially when all of those juices causes you to slip out of her for a minute and you don’t care about the mess you two are making on the floor at this very moment when you’re about to follow her with your own orgasm. 

“Such a fucking good girl for me, Minju.” You slide back inside her, this time it’s easier thanks to the lubrication she provided and you can’t help but grit your teeth and close your eyes. It’s too much, all of this. What transpired tonight and what it means for your future. It’s all too much to handle and you can’t hold it any longer. You’re about to give her the biggest load you’ve ever given anyone.  “You deserve all of this, I’ve wanted you so fucking bad.“ All she can do is nod as she is still sensitive from her own orgasm but with the way she’s wrapping her arms around you tighter she wants it as badly as you do. “Gonna fucking cum inside.”

“Please! I want your hot—hnggh—I want your cum. Please. When a beautiful woman like her gives you such a permission you don’t waste it, you hold her tight as you begin to pump ropes after ropes of cum in her pussy with every deep thrust. You don’t want to stop cumming, can’t stop cumming—your legs going weak and forcing you to sit down on the couch while you continue to unload deep inside Minju. It feels fucking euphoric, feeling your load drip back down to your cock and balls as that seemed to drain the soul out of you. 

You’ve been holding back from the moment you first saw her all those years ago and there’s no better feeling than this, not even a promotion could rival how addicting having sex with her feels and you want more. You want to continue diving into the ocean that is Kim Minju even if it means drowning, nothing else matters but her.

As if to try to coax more cum out of you, Minju continues to grind her hips while kissing you. This time it’s much more slow and gentle while you lay her on the couch and hover on top of her. It’s beautiful how her hair, though disheveled, cascades down her shoulders and fans out on the cushion below. 

Her limbs are still wrapped tight around you, your softening cock starting to harden while you begin to fuck her once more—you’re making a mess of the couch with how you’re fucking your cam back into her but it doesn’t matter when she’s going to be filled again. “You still have enough cum for me? I’m surprised.” 

You place kisses on her neck this time, making sure to leave marks dark enough that no amount of foundation can conceal it once Monday comes around. Surprisingly she doesn’t protest, perhaps she does want everyone to find out about you two. “Guess I didn’t do a good job of draining you, huh?” You respond by fucking her harder into the couch, feeling the furniture creak and move with every thrust and you render her speechless once again. 

Lean down to capture those bouncing tits in your mouth and continue to work her to another orgasm which wasn’t difficult to accomplish considering how sensitive she still is. It didn’t take long to set you off either and you unload whatever remaining load you have, which is still plenty considering you almost passed out with how much you left inside her just ten minutes ago.

She urges you to sit up on the couch again and she gets off of it to kneel down in front of you before then taking your flaccid cock in her mouth to clean you off. The sight is pornographic, the way she shows off your combined juices on her tongue before making a show of swallowing it all. “Hmm, we taste good together. I don’t mind having some more of that.”

Minju gets off her knees to sit down right beside you and the way her naked body glistens under the natural light outside your apartment is an unparalleled sight that has your heart swooning and doing backflips. “Well, I’m free this entire weekend.” And perhaps shooting your shot when all of this has already happened is quite a ridiculous predicament to be in but you don’t want to be selfish after all. Surely a girl like her has plenty of suitors you’re not aware of and you don’t want to tie her down especially when nothing is official yet.

“I guess I could be convinced.”

Those ten seconds of silence felt like an eternity. But it was all worth it the moment she gives you that smile that makes your heart race even faster. And despite kissing her for what seems like a million times already, this one has special weight. As if to tell the world that the most beautiful woman you have ever known and perhaps will ever know is now yours and there’s nothing that could change that. Screw all of those disgusting old men with their mid-life crisis because your quarter-life crisis just ended in the most satisfying way possible.

You’re embarrassed by the way you whine the moment you don’t feel her lips on yours anymore but you are quickly consoled the moment she stands up and turns around to flaunt that perfectly shaped ass of hers. Suddenly, blood rushes to your cock again as if you didn’t cum twice already. 

“Come on, take me to your bedroom.” Minju eyes you like a piece of meat once again when she pulls you up to your feet. 

“There’s one more hole you forgot to fill.”

[navybrat817]

Hold You Tight: Part 9

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 8 | Series Masterlist | Part 10

Chapter Summary: Bucky takes you home, but will he keep his hands to himself?

Chapter Word Count: Over 3.7k

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, tension, dirty talk, unease, possessiveness, inner turmoil, slight feels, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight and thank you for your patience! Hope you lovelies continue to enjoy. Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You thought you heard the men wish you well once more when Bucky led you out of the office. You weren’t completely sure since you tried to block everything out, but attempting to disassociate wouldn’t exactly do you any good. The night wasn’t over yet and you had to stay sharp. You didn’t know what Bucky had planned for when he got you home. Were you prepared at all?

Not in the least.

You half expected to walk back through the front of the club to leave, but Ray directed you to a door near the back once he gave Bucky a nod. The car was waiting in the alley and you took a moment to glance up at the sky. You could only make out one star and you wished in that moment you could grow wings and fly away. But when did wishing upon a star do you any good?

“Let’s get you back to your place,” Bucky said, helping you into the car.

You had to give him credit for trying to keep up his end of the bargain by getting you home on time. Your body refused to relax though once he sat beside you and took your hand. Was he trying to get you accustomed to his touch? Make you crave him? It bothered you that in spite of your determination he drew you in to a certain degree. But you wouldn’t let him take you to bed tonight. You weren’t ready to cross that inevitable line.

Maybe, just maybe, if your performance in bed disappointed him, he’d get bored and walk away. The thought almost made you laugh. That wasn’t happening. If anything, he’d probably love teaching you how to be his perfect lover.

“I think tonight went well,” Bucky smiled.

“Which part exactly?” You mumbled, pulling your hand away. The part where he forced you to go, how his men all but admitted they knew Bucky stalked you, or how they beat the hell out of a man?

“Just the night in general. I knew everyone would love you, but I really think Thor wants to be your big brother now,” Bucky replied. You wanted it so badly to be endearing, but Thor was dangerous. He mentioned a father-in-law. How exactly did he find his wife? And bringing up the flower donations to the hospital. Bucky seemed upset. Why? “Which he’ll have to fight Steve for.”

“Fighting. You guys seem to excel in that arena,” you said, remembering how they all took turns beating up John. “But I guess Steve does have a bit of that ‘big brother’ vibe, helping you take total control of my life and whatnot.”

“Not total control. I’m still letting you work, but maybe I can buy the shop.” He chuckled at your thunderous expression. The light threat had you seeing red. “I probably shouldn't joke about that, should I?”

“Letting me work? Like it’s your decision? And don’t you dare buy the shop.” You pushed at him to keep from slapping him when he chuckled again. Not with enough force to get him far away from you, but you needed some sort of space in the vehicle. He also needed a good hit over the head. “You’re a bully, do you know that? So are your friends.”

His laughter died off quickly when he reached out and gently took your hand again, prying your fingers away from your palm. You didn’t notice it stung from your nails until he brought your hand to his mouth and kissed it. “You think we’re bullies?” He asked against your skin.

“Yes. Besides nearly beating that jerk to death, you do realize that you use force and threats to dominate and intimidate. That’s a form of bullying, Bucky,” you said. Was he deliberately being obtuse or was he lost in his delusion that this was all normal?

“I wouldn’t say we’re bullies. I call it protecting and keeping what’s mine,” he said. There was no shame on his end.

“Right. Because I’m a possession and not a person,” you said, your face scrunching up as you tried not to cry. You needed rest. If part of Bucky’s plan was to wear you down by overwhelming you, mission accomplished. “I’m so tired. I just want to go to bed.”

“You’re a person, not a possession, Kotyonok. And not just a person, a good person who gives so much of herself to others. And probably one of the only people who rightfully calls me out on my shit.” His response drew you up short. “Outside of my friends, no one else does that.”

“Maybe because they’re afraid of you and what you can do,” you said after a moment. Fear could make anyone say what they thought people wanted to hear. “Either that or they want your approval,” you added, which you could also understand to a point. People wanted a sense of belonging, especially with those who had influence and power.

“Maybe they are afraid,” he agreed, brushing his lips against your palm again with a sigh. “What is it about me that scares you most?”

“I’m not really sure exactly,” you admitted. There was so much about the situation that terrified you. What he was capable of. How he inserted himself into various aspects of your life and so quickly. How far he was willing to go to keep you. “But I think it’s your conviction. That you’re so sure that I’m your other half and no one can convince you otherwise, not even me.”

You could scream until your lungs gave out that you didn’t belong with him and you knew in your heart he’d argue until his last breath that you did. He was steadfast in that belief that you were soulmates. That conviction was so strong that what you really feared was that he would somehow convince you that he was right: that you belonged together.

Those steel blue eyes of his met yours and mesmerized you for a heartbeat before you looked away. “Love is scary. It’s natural to be afraid of it.” His lips brushed your ear, making you shiver. “But giving someone the most fragile parts of yourself is one of the bravest things a person can do.”

There was truth in his words, but it felt like he moved another chess piece into place. He was trying to disarm you and you couldn’t let him. “Who painted that black dahlia in your office?” You asked suddenly, feeling him move back enough that you could turn your head toward him. “And why display that flower?” You didn’t believe for a second that he chose it for aesthetic purposes.

“Beautiful, isn't it? Steve painted it,” he replied with an odd mixture of affection and bitterness. “It’s for my parents.”

“Steve is a gifted artist.” You hoped your voice stayed even enough that Bucky wouldn’t get jealous of you complimenting another man’s talent. “I don't know if the symbolism of flowers mean anything to you, but the black dahlia-”

“Betrayal. Sadness. Darkness,” he ticked off, his voice cold enough that another shiver moved through your body. “It was the last flower my dad ever got my mom and it serves as a reminder.”

You swallowed as warning bells sounded in your mind to tread carefully. “And what's that?”

He moved close, your eyes shutting as his hand wrapped around the nape of your neck. “That I'll never do to you what he did to her.”

There was suppressed rage within him. Sorrow. It rolled off him in waves strong enough that they could drown you. He said earlier that his dad got what he deserved. What had he done to his mom?

“You’re in pain,” you whispered. He was hurting and you logically shouldn’t care. So why did you want to know the cause of that hurt? “You have to tell me why.”

It wasn’t for you to use to your advantage. You weren’t sure if you could manipulate someone else. If you knew what happened though, it would at least give you more answers to who Bucky was and why he was the way he was. It could help you gain some sort of understanding.

“I’m not in pain when I’m with you,” he whispered, bringing your hand on his chest. Was he relying on you to chase away whatever haunted him? “Later. I’ve overwhelmed you enough for one evening.”

You let out a breath. You swore he was doing this on purpose, giving you just enough information that you’d wait around until he gave you more. “I can’t argue with you there,” you said, his heart racing under your touch. “Just answer one thing for me, please.”

“What’s that?”

“Marc from the bookstore,” you began, the man’s kind face shimmering in your mind. “Did anything happen to him?”

“I’d question another man being on your mind, but I know you’re just concerned about his well-being.” An easy smile crossed Bucky’s face as you bit your tongue. You could think about anyone you wanted to. “I can’t speak for him right this second, but he was perfectly fine when you and I left. He was just having a chat with one of my associates.”

You exhaled, thankful Marc wasn't hurt. “What kind of chat?” You asked. He was a nice guy, though he did seem to know a bit about Bucky. What exactly was he involved in?

“He just got a warning to be careful about what he does or doesn’t say to his customers.” You tensed before he kissed your forehead. Did he know about the conversation you two had? “And I don’t think the two of you should be alone with each other in the bookstore going forward.”

Just when Bucky had you feeling some sort of sympathy for him moments ago he shocked you right out of it. “Another decision that isn’t yours to make,” you stated, the car coming to a stop. “And you really don’t have to walk me up. I think we’ve had enough of each other’s company tonight.”

“I said I’m tucking you into bed and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” The smile he gave you was nothing short of cocky when he added, “And you owe me a photo. I’m going to get it.”

He was a dog with a bone. He wouldn’t let that go. “Why don’t you just take a photo of me giving you the finger?” You suggested as he helped you out of the car.

“Only if you do it with a smile. I’ll even set it as the background on my phone,” he winked. Your reluctance and defiance of him didn’t phase him in the slightest. “And if you give me the finger, I’ll take it as an invitation that you want to fuck me.”

“Let’s go, please.”

You said nothing else as you went into the building, your anxiety mounting by the second. The slow rise of the elevator didn’t help, Bucky’s hip pressed against yours like he couldn’t stand to have space between you. You figure he’d shove you against the wall and claim your mouth, but he didn’t make a move. It impressed you that he behaved until you got to your floor. It didn’t stop your hand from shaking when you got your keys out.

“Still don’t want to say good night now?”

“I don’t want to say good night at all,” he answered, following you into the apartment and turning on the light. The welcoming feeling you expected when you got home wasn't there. There was a chill in the usual warmth.

“Well, you’ll have to sooner or later,” you said, swallowing when you faced Bucky. He shut the door and watched intently as you set your keys and bag down. You were quiet as you stared back, tension thick as you tried to predict what he was going to do. Once again, he managed to hold all the power in your home.

“Have I told you how beautiful you are?” He asked, heat and hunger in his stare as he slowly advanced.

Your throat went dry as you stepped back. “You have.”

“So beautiful and so good.” You made another move to retreat when he stepped forward, his manner confident and compelling as he reached out and prevented you from moving back further. “It’s driving me crazy not having you yet.”

“Please, you don’t…” you trailed off when he sank to his knees, unexpected heat flowing from your core. He guided one of your hands to his shoulder to brace yourself, his eyes soft as he helped remove one of your shoes. You found it difficult to breathe as he removed the other, his hand brushing your ankle with infinite tenderness. Like it was an honor to touch and be on his knees for you.

“I know the first time I taste you I’ll never want to stop. I’ll have to wake up every day between your thighs. Fall asleep that way, too.” His hand slid up your calf and his eyes darkened when your other hand found its way to his thick locks. Wetness gathered between your legs when his touch moved to your thigh. “Your pussy is hungry for me, isn’t it? My fingers, my tongue, my cock. I’ll feed her well.”

His voice was like velvet. Seductive. Aching. “Bucky…” Your breath rushed out swiftly when he kissed your mound through your clothes, tormenting you with arousal you didn’t ask for. It frightened you.

“I can smell you,” he murmured, nosing along where his lips had been before he sat back. “Smell so fucking good.”

Moving your shoes out of the way, he rose to his full height again as you willed your legs not to shake. You weren’t used to anyone looking at you, let alone speak to you, the way he did. Stark desire. Possessiveness. His form of love. Your heart pounded and you refused to answer him or glance down. If you looked at the front of his pants…

He took your hand and pulled you in the direction of the bedroom. Your heart pounded with mounting speed, your heels digging into the floor. “You still haven't kissed me,” you blurted out, hoping it would prevent him from taking you to bed. Or would he take that as an invitation to kiss your lips?

“No, I haven't.” You tried to keep some distance between you as he went to your bed, his hand moving along the blanket. You couldn't breathe. “It scares you how much your body wants mine, doesn’t it?”

“Is that what you think?” You asked, forcing air back into your lungs. It did scare you. It also scared you that you didn’t push him away or scream when he dropped to his knees to remove your shoes. Where was your fighting instinct?

“It is what I think.” The ease in which he moved away from the bed to your dresser to find your pajamas frightened you, too. Like he belonged in your room. You thought back to the night he broke in and left your gift on your bed. How much time did he take to look around? “Like love, giving your body to someone can be scary. You have to trust that you won't get hurt when you’re physically vulnerable.”

“You swore you wouldn't hurt me,” you reminded him.

“And I won't. But you know what else I think?” His magnetic gaze stayed on you as he brought a nightgown over. “That no guy has ever really taken care of you and you’re apprehensive to let me try.”

If you were apprehensive, it was because he was a walking red flag. “What makes you…” Your words stopped when he grasped the bottom of your shirt and pulled it up. Your arms instinctively went up before you realized what you were doing. Removing your shirt, you didn’t get a chance to cover your breasts before he slipped the nightgown on you.

“Your past boyfriends never did anything for you. Emotionally, physically,” he stated, sliding his hands under the nightgown to your hips. Grasping the hem of your pants, he pushed them down as far as he could. “I’ll bet they didn’t even buy you flowers and used the excuse that they didn’t because you’re a florist.”

The words were tiny cuts on old wounds, but you wouldn't give him the satisfaction. “And you will?”

“I will. I’ll give you the life and love you deserve, making you forget any other man out there existed before me.” His eyes raked over you as you stepped out of your pants, your panties still soaked. “But I’m not gonna fuck you.”

Exhaling slowly, relief flooded you. Though you couldn’t help but wonder why he wasn’t trying to take what he wanted. “You won’t?”

“Not tonight.” He shook his head even as his fingers moved along your waist. “Like I said, I’ve overwhelmed you enough. Sleeping with you might really put you over the edge.”

“Thanks.” He desired you, but continued to hold it at bay for your sake. How long would that last? “I appreciate that.”

“And we both know the moment I take you to bed, you’ll be begging for more.” His voice dropped as he toyed with the soft fabric. “And as much as I want to stay in bed with you all night and morning and give us what we both crave, I still need to get things in place at the penthouse and you need rest. You understand.”

You tried not to smile and failed. He acted as if he was doing you a favor. Cocky bastard. “I guess we’ll just have to suffer until then.” Sarcasm continued to be a good way to deflect.

He exhaled at your light teasing, his body still a bit tense. Being close to you and not having you was probably driving him mad. “Maybe we'll have to have another private call and finish what we started. Give us both some relief.” He turned you toward the door and gave you a light swat on your ass. “Go wash your face and brush your teeth before I change my mind.”

You made it to the bathroom in record time, not having to be told twice. You didn’t want to risk staying there in case he lost his resolve. Looking in the mirror as you went through the rest of your nighttime routine, you expected to look more exhausted from the whirlwind of the day. You somehow looked wide awake. Was the experience giving you thicker skin? Or did his desire for you somehow give you a bit of a twisted spark? You’d still be billing him for your future therapy bills either way.

A couple of deep breaths and you made your way back to your bedroom. You paused when you saw Bucky holding a framed photo of you and your friends, longing in his eyes when he lifted his gaze. “You look so happy,” he murmured, carefully setting the frame down on the nightstand before he pulled the blankets back for you. “Can you do me one favor and I’ll go?”

“I was happy. It was a fun day.” You slipped into bed when he gave you space to do so, but his body was still close to yours. Firm. Hard. He really could pin you down and do what he wanted if he wished. “What’s the favor?”

He tucked the blanket around you, his hair falling into his face. You almost reached up to brush it back, but refrained. Who knew what your touch would do? “Look at me like you love me. Please.”

You stiffened as you stared up at his face, your heart simultaneously racing and breaking for him. Love was something that provided a sense of connection, fulfillment. It was a way to show you that you weren’t alone in the world. You wanted to believe you were worthy of love, that you could build a life with someone. Bucky believed he was that someone.

Why?

You weren’t sure if it was his yearning gaze or if you were ready for the night to end, but your expression softened as you imagined meeting him in another life. Going on fun dates, talking about books, making each other laugh as you cooked together, snuggling under a blanket as you talked about your future. You found yourself smiling at the images that went through your mind. What could’ve been. What could be if he lessened his hold a bit on you.

He audibly exhaled when he snapped a photo on his phone, making you blink. “Thank you. Now I can look at this whenever I’m not near you and need to feel your love.”

Words escaped you, the invisible collar around your throat getting tighter. You could only nod and wonder how you kept throwing fuel on the fire of his want for you. Which one of you would burn first?

“Get some sleep. Dream sweet dreams.” You felt featherlight kisses on each eyelid when you shut them. “You know, I’ll sleep a lot easier once you’re in my bed.”

“If you get me into your bed,” you mumbled, refusing to look at him.

“Stubborn kitten.” He chuckled and gave each eyelid one more kiss. Why were his lips so soft? “Maybe I’ll stop by the shop tomorrow so I can take you to lunch. You can tell Addison all about it.”

“Maybe.” You yawned and snuggled more into your pillows. “Good night, Bucky.”

A finger moved along your cheek before it stopped abruptly. “Good night, Kotyonok.”

Bucky still hadn't kissed your mouth.

You didn’t open your eyes as he left, but you didn’t fall asleep right away either. Your body was too wound up. Too many questions went through your mind. Like what happened with his parents and how exactly he’d move you out of your place.

The man was a step ahead in everything. You’d be in his penthouse before the month was over. He’d get his way, but maybe it didn't have to be his way completely. He could give you an area in the place for you and you alone. It wouldn’t hurt to ask. After all, he did say he’d make it up to you by dragging you out tonight.

And if he cared the way he said he did, he could give you that one small thing.

Is our poor Kotyonok starting to accept the inevitable? Will Bucky stop by the shop? And how much longer until he really takes you to bed?Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

Breakfast Time

My son’s stuck in a time loop again.

He thinks I don’t know, of course. He’s never told me that this happens to him (or that he can do this, possibly; I’m not sure which it is.) Maybe I’m a bad mother, if I haven’t proven myself worthy of that trust. But there is only so many times that one can watch their son trudge through a day with bored impatience, anticipating everything you say just a little too quickly and showing no surprise to even the most surprising event, and then come downstairs the next day disoriented but rejuvenated and with a new zest for life and a tendency to get blindsided by even the most predictable things, before one makes the obvious connection.

I don’t think he’s lived through this day too many times yet, because he’s not frustrated by my good morning joke but not surprised by the monster attack being announced on the news. He eats his toast makes polite conversation that sounds just a little too rote until his sister comes down, and he puts his toast down in that distinctive way that make her eyes widen in sudden realisation, a reaction I never would have noticed if I wasn’t looking for it. He told her about three time loops ago, I think, although it might’ve been earlier and I just never noticed the signal until then. I make sure to keep the smile on my face as I push a plate of toast towards her.

The thing on the news is some kind of flying beast, and my son’s eyes don’t leave the TV screen. I expect that calm, solid determination that I usually see in his expression on days like this, but instead he watches it only with a wary sort of calculation. I suppress a sigh – it looks like I won’t be remembering today, then.

The pair exchange glances and look to me. “Hey, mum, I figured we should go to school early. We’ve both got these big tests coming up and – ”

“Yes, fine, whatever. Go.” I know what you’re thinking – obviously they’re off to do something dangerous, and obviously they’re far too young for this sort of thing, and obviously I shouldn’t enable this, and I’m a terrible parent for letting them run off to maybe get themselves killed someday. But I put this to you:

How, exactly, do you expect me to stop them?

As my son heads for the door, though, I almost stop him. I consider, not for the first time, just telling him what I know, what I’ve figured out, and asking him to explain everything, to say where he’s going and what he plans to do about that thing and if his sister is involved and if they at least have help, to put my mind at ease. I don’t, though. Because, logically… I must have done that before, right? In at least one of the countless days that never happened. I must have gotten worried or angry or just fed up with this ridiculous charade and told him that he wasn’t as good at hiding as he thought he was. He has to know that I know, right? And yet, he still chooses to let it play out like this.

Or, perhaps, he told me once. That must have happened, right? I must have been there to help, to patch his wounds and dry his tears and listen to him confess his fears or his worries or his regrets about this big responsibility, about whatever he’s doing out there. He must have told me, at some point, at least once, in one of those nonexistent days. And afterwards, he chose not to tell the me that stuck around. Meaning that I must have given him some reason to keep this secret.

What did I do to him? What did I say to him? How bad a confidante must I have been, that he chooses instead to keep me in the dark?

They leave, they ‘go to school early’, and I start on the dishes. As I wash my daughter’s breakfast crumbs away, the plate slips from my fingers and shatters on the tiles at my feet. I sigh, and turn to get a broom.

Then stop. Pick up all the other dirty plates. And shatter them, one by one, on the tiles.

Then I leave the mess behind me, pull a full tub of rocky road ice cream out of the freezer, and resolve to spend the day eating junk and watching youtube videos. After all, it’s not like it’s going to matter tomorrow, right?