#and even the obvious and not obvious origin of her name

[pedropascallme]

Meet The Rileys

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x f!Reader

Summary: "The most troubling fact was that you wouldn’t be concealed backup—a position you had become accustomed to holding on operations like this. Instead, you would be front and center, playing the housewife to Simon’s working man."

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI!!!!) reader is American (no other descriptors), canon typical violence but just barely, maskless Ghost, fake relationship, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), p in v sex, kinda soft!Dom Simon, some hair pulling, dirty talk, mild degradation, lots of praise, creampie, I still don't know how the military works or how undercover missions work, if I missed anything please let me know!

AN: To be so honest guys I'm not thrilled with this, but I did what I could. Is the plot nonsense? Perhaps. We're rolling with it.

Bonnie Riley.

The name was right there in bold typeface, printed on the fake ID Price had handed you.

Bonnie Riley, from Connecticut, who looked just like you.

But she wasn’t you. Not in a literal sense, anyway.

She was preppy and proper—presentable, in her tennis whites, her hair loose around her face.

Covert operations were awkward. At their worst, they served as a chilling reminder that so many people had no regard for life outside their own; at best, they were mind-numbing, and a bit uncanny, as you were forced into an entirely new role.

When Price had approached the Task Force with the assignment—an undercover op somewhere in Nowheresville, USA—you had been eager, made excited by the notion of returning to the states.

You missed sweet tea; you missed the rounded, drawled accents of America.

But it was only after you had agreed to the mission that it came to light what you would have to do.

One cartel was working with another, but the details of the brief got hazy from there. The country was suspicious about ulterior motives, worried by the links the domestic group had to other countries. Your job was to find out whether those suspicions were warranted.

As far as stealth missions were concerned, this one was comparatively bland.

The most troubling fact was that you wouldn’t be concealed backup—a position you had become accustomed to holding on operations like this. Instead, you would be front and center, playing the housewife to Simon’s working man.

You still weren’t entirely sure how you’d ended up in this position, or whether it was even necessary. But your hand had been forced, as had his.

Ghost’s title as Lieutenant meant a heightened level of responsibility, which was obvious, and more than fair; his consistent silence made him fit for a job that required a hefty dose of observation.

You, in turn, were given the task of having his back; paying attention to his whereabouts just as closely as you did the targets.

Plus, you were the only woman on the Task Force, and an American, to boot.

Playing house ensured that you wouldn’t garner any skepticism moving into the cul-de-sac, granting easy access to the targets.

You leaned against the window of the rented moving van, turning the ID in your hand.

Dragging your finger along the laminated edges, you found yourself thinking of the fake ID you had bought in high school. You smiled at one memory of awkwardly ordering drinks at the local bar, before your father had walked in and seen you and your friends sipping unhappily on warm beer.

You were grounded for a week, but your parents had let you keep the shoddy piece of plastic.

That fake had been adorned with your real name; it was only as fake as it needed to be.

Now, you were Bonnie Riley—faker than fake.

The name Bonnie had been your idea. It was a favorite of Soap’s when addressing you, and you figured a nickname would be easier to remember than something original and unfamiliar. Simon hadn’t been on board with the concept of an alias, stubbornly refusing to pick a name; Price had stepped in and deemed him ‘Jim.’ (“Strong British name, eh?” “S’not me.” “That’s the point, Lieutenant.”)

But when it came to choosing last names, you’d all struggled. Something like ‘Smith’ would be too ambiguous, but anything more unique might be a struggle to remember or explain, were you to get caught up in your web of lies.

When it was time to create the faulty identification, Price had grown frustrated.

“Might as well keep Riley, for all I care—” He had pinched the bridge of his nose as he addressed Simon, “If that’s something you can agree on. God's sake, you’re married.”

“Who says I’d take his last name?” You scowled, already far from pleased by what the mission entailed, but now growing frustrated that your voice wasn’t being heard.

“Aliases aren’t legally binding, Sergeant.” Price quirked a brow at you, daring you to continue your argument.

You had hesitated.

“Should we really go with one of our legal names?”

You posed the question rhetorically, not expecting a response from either of the men.

Realistically, you knew it was a fine idea—it was unassuming, common enough to go unquestioned but not common enough to seem deliberately chosen to blend in. It was easy to remember, and it’s not like people outside the barracks knew Ghost by his real name, anyway.

“Fine," you sighed, resigned. "I’ll be a Riley.”

“Welcome addition.” Simon had nodded in agreement, voice gravelly.

You winced at the memory, watching the landscape pass by as Price drove the van down the highway.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like Simon—he was a fantastic Lieutenant, someone you considered a friend before you considered him a coworker. But therein lay the problem; you did like him, maybe a bit too much.

There was a heightened level of anxiety now as you realized that the time and effort you’d spent trying to ignore your feelings for him would be nullified by your need to act domestic with him.

Not to mention his phrasing when the name had been decided upon—a welcome addition. It produced a pang in your stomach not unlike butterflies, which made you more embarrassed, than anything.

You looked down at the ID again. Your picture next to the Riley name made you feel something warm in your chest.

It was an alias, sure—a sham—but the sight was gratifying, either way.

You yawned, growing wary of the silence in the van.

“I still don’t understand why this is something we have to do.” You spoke up, dropping the ID in your lap and staring at Price in the rearview mirror.

“Got somewhere t’be?” He replied with an amused huff.

You rolled your eyes, turning back to the window.

“Just doesn’t seem like our jurisdiction,” you frowned, “Cartel in Middle America? More of an FBI racket, no?”

“Usually.” Price adjusted the mirror.

“But…?” You prompted him when he didn’t continue.

“But, this cartel may be on the ins with a British operation in Wales. And the Welsh fellas are working with a group somewhere on the European continent,” Price drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, “FBI thinks collusion could lead to something bigger than just moving drugs. Already gotten word of terroristic threats.”

“So now you have Ghost and I playing Mulder and Scully?” You scoffed, still staring out the window.

“You’ll have your kit back on in no time, Sergeant.” Price chuckled.

“Good,” you smiled, finally meeting his gaze in the mirror again, “This sweater is itchy.”

“Consider yerself lucky, lass,” Soap piped up from the passenger seat, turning his body to look back at you. “Least ye got a regular sweater. Poor Ghost looks a pure fandan.”

“Nobody knows what ‘at means, MacTavish.” Simon shifted in his seat, typically stoic but clad in a sweater vest and looking just as abysmally preppy as you did.

He looked handsome, but the clothes were so uncharacteristic of him that the thought made you feel somewhat guilty.

“Sorry, LT,” Soap craned his neck to look at Ghost, “A brief translation: ye look like a dick.”

Gaz huffed a laugh under his breath next to you, and Simon clenched his jaw.

~~~

The neighborhood was so polished that it looked unnatural. Identical houses lined up in rows; yards with high, pruned bushes; shiny cars, parked carefully in front of white garages.

This was wealthy territory, and it made you uncomfortable to stare the upper class in the face after spending so much time in the barracks.

There wasn’t much to unpack, despite the number of boxes that had been loaded into the van. Most of them were empty, or filled with small items that would come in handy during the stakeout that would be occurring during the foreseeable future.

But the weightlessness was certainly beneficial, and as Gaz, Soap, and Price acted as movers, you stifled a laugh at their attempts to make it seem as though the boxes were full and heavy.

“This’s the last of it.” Gaz dropped the final box in the middle of the floor.

The cardboard made a clinking sound when it hit the hardwood, and you saw Kyle’s expression turn to one of vague panic as he opened the box to reveal a set of extension cords and small mics.

“Good,” Price didn’t seem bothered about Gaz’s carelessness over the equipment. “S’get ourselves set up here.”

You folded the empty boxes as they were unpacked, stacking them up beside you.

“Why do we all need to be here.” You quickly grew bored of unpacking in silence, mind still buzzing with nagging questions.

“Reinforcements.” Price said simply.

“For a sting operation that we haven’t even started?” You countered.

“Rather do all the work yourself?” Gaz looked up at you, smirking, and you tossed a sheet of bubble wrap at him.

It flew sideways, swaying as it floated to the ground.

“What do we do if people see you?” You voiced a larger concern, “Think they’ll buy it if we tell them the movers just...decided to stick around?”

“Tell ‘em we’re yer kids.” Soap had settled onto the floor, fiddling with an extension cord.

You looked at the Sergeants and Price; none of the three could pass as younger than you, and none of them looked like you or Simon in any capacity.

“You’re stupid.” You laughed quietly, shaking your head at the obvious faults in Soap’s idea.

“Oi—s’no way to talk to your son.” Kyle laughed.

“Big house,” Price butted in, “Nobody’ll see us. And there should be no reason anybody should come in.”

“There room for us all?” Gaz perked up, “Or is someone sleeping on the couch?”

“Not me.” Johnny perked up, ready to argue.

“There’s space,” the Captain chewed his cheek, hesitating before he looked at you, “You two are sharing, though.” He gestured to Ghost.

“Why us?” Your gaze shifted to Simon, who didn’t seem to care, or maybe he just hadn’t heard; he was busy setting up one of the monitors.

“Married.”

“Aliases aren’t legally binding.” You threw his words from weeks ago back at him. “Why can’t any other combination of us share a room?”

“Assume it’s cause the rest of us take up too much space,” Gaz smirked, “’Nd Soap snores.”

“Dinnae!”

“Just—” Price sighed. He’d clearly been anticipating your pushback. “Unless you’d rather take the couch��”

You swallowed, weighing your options.

Sleeping on the couch would be the more admirable thing to do. Simon was putting a lot of effort into this mission—and he outranked you. It felt only fair that he got the opportunity to sleep in a real bed.

Plus, you could feel your ears heating up at the mere thought of sharing a bed with him, and you didn’t want to know what would happen if it actually came to fruition.

“I can take the couch,” Simon spoke up before you had the chance to respond to Price. “Don’t plan on doin’ much sleeping, anyway.”

“Typical honeymooner.” Johnny chuckled.

“Rather keep watch ‘an stay kushy.” Ghost scoffed.

“Don’t care what you do in here. Just remember that outside this house, you’re married.” Price nodded, picking up the pile of empty cardboard boxes at your feet and tossing them by the front door.

“Right,” you sighed. “Yeah.”

~~~

You walked down the stairs slowly; it was dark, and you didn’t want to run the risk of missing a step and tripping over yourself.

Being in a new place always made you uneasy. You had become so accustomed to life on a military base—small rooms and small beds, curfews and floodlights—that anything else felt unnerving.

This house had shadows in new places, the bed was against a different wall. It all felt so liminal, and you despised it.

You remedied your discomfort by wandering the halls, trying to acclimate to your surroundings.

There was quiet chatter coming from the living room, and you turned the corner to see Simon awake on the couch, flipping through TV channels.

“What you doin’ up?” He didn’t bother turning to look at you.

“Big house,” you mumbled, not at all surprised by his knowledge of your presence; he was intuitive to a frightening degree. “Trying to...gather my bearings.”

Simon grunted a response, still not looking at you. You rounded the corner of the couch, keeping your distance.

“Why are you still up?” You chanced the question.

“Been a long time since I ‘ad cable.” He almost smiled, and you liked the way it looked; the light from the TV illuminated his face, and he seemed so docile.

“So, you’re just doing a, uh…” You looked at the TV, “A Brady Bunch rerun marathon?”

He looked up at you, not replying, but he smiled for real now, and that was just as good a response as any.

“Still in your day clothes.” You pointed out.

“My stuff’s in the room you’re sleeping in,” Simon shifted on the couch, and you tried not to focus on the way he let one hand fall over the curve of his thigh. “Didn’t wanna bother you.”

“Wouldn’t bother me,” you shook your head, “Change, LT. You’re allowed to get comfortable.”

“Who said anything ‘bout being uncomfortable?” He challenged.

“Ghost, you’re wearing pleated slacks,” you scoffed at him, “I’m uncomfortable just looking at you.”

“Miss my casual attire, love?” He smirked, and you rolled your eyes.

“Yeah. Already sick of having to look at you without the mask.”

It was a deflection, really, to hide the fact that you were thoroughly enjoying being able to see him without the hinderance of the balaclava.

“You wound me, Sergeant.” He heaved a sigh, the smirk on his lips still obvious.

“You gonna change, or not?”

He stared up at you for a moment, short strands of blond hair falling over his face as he analyzed you.

“A’right,” he conceded, standing up and walking over to you. “Go on.”

You smiled, nodding in approval at his cession as you made your way up the stairs.

The bedroom was big—too big for just one person. The high ceiling and lack of any furniture, save for the bed, only served to make it seem even more spacious, which in turn made it feel even emptier.

Having Simon in it with you made it much cozier, and you couldn’t tell if it was just because he physically took up so much space, or if it was just his presence alone that soothed you.

Wordlessly, Simon grabbed the duffel he’d tossed beneath the bed. You watched on intently as he hoisted it by the strap over his shoulder.

He really did look so handsome like this. In another life, maybe this is how he’d be living; white picket fence, a nine-to-five. Maybe even a dog—you could picture him so clearly with a German Shephard by his side.

But you couldn’t imagine Simon living the domestic life in suburbia, not really. You couldn’t picture him without the scars and the grit.

It’s what made him Simon, and you didn’t necessarily think that was a bad thing.

“What’s your story?” You sat on the edge of the bed.

“Y’know enough.” He grunted, turning to you.

“No, your—” You sighed, rolling your eyes. “Your backstory. For…” You gestured between yourself and him.

He nodded in acknowledgement.

“Married two years, together f’eight—”

“You work slow, Jim.”

“I’m careful, sweetheart,” he quirked a brow at you, and you smiled, allowing him to continue. “Moved ‘ere from England cause you missed being home.”

“What do you do for a living?” You prompted.

“IT.” He gritted out.

“Nobody will believe that.”

“’Nd they’ll believe you’re a ‘ousewife?” He shot back.

You shook your head, laughing softly. “Fair.”

He shifted his jaw, and the conversation was over. He turned to leave, but you had one more thing on your mind.

“You don’t have to sleep on the couch for the whole op,” you called after him quietly. “I can…we can trade off, every night. If you’d like.”

He turned to look at you again, standing in the doorway.

He shook his head. “Deserve your beauty sleep, Mrs. Riley.”

He turned to leave, closing the door behind him, and you could hear his footsteps as he walked back downstairs. You were left alone in the stupidly large bedroom, the sound of your pulse rattling around your skull.

~~~

To any outward observer, it looked like a chance encounter; people meeting, exchanging pleasantries as neighbors do, finding a sort of simpatico.

But it was a well thought out plan—as well thought out as it could be.

Price had given you the instructions over coffee that morning. You were bleary eyed and felt ill-prepared, but you had to admit, the man worked fast.

“Make sure they stop.” Price stood with folded arms as he watched you and Simon leave the house.

“Can’t really force it.” You paused in the foyer to point out the flaw in his logic, uncertain whether this would pan out the way you all hoped.

“Trap ‘em with small talk.” Price countered.

“Yeah—cause Ghost is known for his chit-chat.”

“S’why you’re helpin’ him.” Price cracked a small smile upon hearing your swipe at Simon.

“What do we do if this works?” You felt a little anxious about being in the spotlight through all of this, “You want us to walk right back inside? Cause that seems—I feel like that wouldn’t…look right.”

“Drive around,” Price shrugged, “Go wherever your heart desires.”

“Pick up some groceries!” Gaz shouted from another room, eavesdropping.

“Aye—yer kids are sick o’cereal and cheese sandwiches.” Soap added his two cents from the couch.

You rolled your eyes as you made your way out of the house in yet another uncomfortably starched outfit.

Simon was already outside, leaning against the front wall of the house. He seemed to have positioned himself fairly purposefully behind the hedges that lined the lawn; he held himself awkwardly without his kit, arms crossed and shoulders hunched.

You realized he was likely trying to find comfort in a more sniper-like position so that he wouldn’t have to face the world more than he already had to in this situation.

“C’mon,” Simon nodded at you when you closed the door. “Y’a’right?”

You nodded, sighing. “We’re getting groceries after this.”

He made a face, but he didn’t say anything as he pushed himself off the wall and followed you down to the driveway.

A few feet from the garage, Simon grabbed your arm.

“Look.”

His voice was low, a gravelly whisper as he nodded to something down the street.

You followed his gaze and saw a couple approaching—they fit the description, matched the pictures; target acquired.

Simon opened the garage door, an action that made him look busy and ensured they would take notice of the two of you.

It worked; they looked up with startled smiles.

“Oh—new neighbors!” The woman called out before she had even reached your driveway.

Her accent rang out as clearly East coast. These were city folk who had run West to avoid the prying eyes and greedy pockets of whichever police department they were under the jurisdiction of; they were finding solace in small-town ambience while they made bank off of moving goods.

“Hi, there!” You waved, smiling wide as you encouraged them closer, attempting to rope them into conversation. “Just moved in.”

“That’s so great! That house has been empty so long...”

The woman finally stood before you, and you could see now that she was older than you, probably by at least ten years or so—though she was clearly putting effort into hiding it.

“About time someone made a home out of it—I was just saying so. Rob,” she turned to her husband, who trailed behind her, “Wasn’t I just saying so?”

“You were,” he nodded, sliding an arm around her waist and reaching his free hand out to Simon. “Robert Ferguson—this is my wife, Deborah.”

“Call me Deb!” She exclaimed, feigning bashfulness.

“Jim Riley,” Simon shook Robert’s hand, nodding sideways at you. “My wife, Bonnie.”

“You’re British!” Deb looked absolutely astounded by this revelation.

“Yes.” Simon nodded, and you couldn’t help but notice how the muscle in his jaw ticked; all of his focus seemed to be on making his features behave to hide his feelings now that the balaclava was off.

“What brings you to our neck of the woods?” Robert asked, quirking a brow, and you wondered if he was already onto you.

“Missed home,” you finally found the opportunity to speak up, inching yourself closer to Simon to keep up the guise of married life. “We’ve been living overseas for so long; I just couldn’t go another day of rain and beans.”

Simon glanced down at you, the corner of his mouth twitching into a begrudging, but amused, smirk. He wrapped an arm around your waist and tugged you against him.

“S’right.”

You swallowed the sound that wanted to come out of your mouth when his hand made contact with your body.

It was for show, and you knew that, but it felt nice; he was warm, and you could feel the soft rhythm of his heartbeat when you leaned into him.

You willed your blood back down when it began to rush to your cheeks.

“Overseas…You military?” Robert prodded.

“No—I’m in IT.” Simon quickly shut down any discussion of military service, which you knew was not done with any satisfaction.

“Scars are from a wonky laptop, then?” Robert laughed, but you could tell he was prying, trying to get a feel for you.

Simon cleared his throat, putting his free hand in his pocket to avoid reaching up and tracing the scars on his cheek.

He hadn’t really considered that the scars that marred him would be visible; he’d practically forgotten what his own face looked like at this point.

He didn’t think anybody would care to notice the details.

“Mining accident,” you rushed to cover for him. “We lived in Wales for a few years—when we met.”

You looked up at Simon, who looked confused, but grateful.

“Turns out, he’s not as good with a pickaxe as he is with a computer.” You forced a laugh, and Deb followed suit, wheezing out a giggle.

Robert nodded, buying the lie, and you chanced a smile at him.

“Well, if you need anything…” Robert turned from you to look at Simon, who had regained his composure—though you weren’t sure if anyone but you had noticed he’d lost it. “We’re right down the street, love to—”

“You should come for dinner sometime!” Deb butted in.

“We’d love to have you.” Robert nodded.

And just like that, you were in.

You said your goodbyes and watched on as they turned to walk back down your driveway.

Robert paused for a moment.

“You golf, Jim?”

“Once or twice.” Simon lied—he’d never so much as picked up a golf club.

“Should come down to the club sometime—meet some of the other guys in the neighborhood.” Robert smiled, rejoining his wife and walking off.

You and Simon stayed silent as you loaded yourselves into the car.

You drummed on your thigh, staring out the windshield and watching the house get smaller as Simon backed out of the driveway.

The car was nice. It matched the setting; sleek and shiny, though the vehicle didn’t feature any of the off-putting atmosphere that the neighborhood seemed to buzz with.

Simon had taken the moving van back to the lot it had come from the previous day. When he returned in the new car, you hadn’t asked anybody where it had come from, or why you needed something so flashy.

“Wales?” He finally spoke when he turned onto the main road.

“The other group Price mentioned—they operate out of Wales,” you explained, “First thing that came to mind.”

“Right,” Simon nodded, “And I worked in a mine?”

“I just associate Wales with the miner riots…” You felt flustered, maybe a bit embarrassed by the link you’d come up with.

“Where’d you learn about ‘at?” Simon smirked, shooting a glance at you before refocusing on the road.

“They teach us a little more in history class than just Paul Revere and his midnight ride.” You found yourself grinning at him.

“‘Nd you think I’m ‘at old?” He shook his head, “Old enough t’be a miner in nineteen-eighty?”

“In that outfit?” You pointed out his sweater vest, “Yeah.”

“Cheeky thing.” He dropped a hand to your thigh, patting your leg twice before removing it.

For a second time in an hour, you caught the sound that would have otherwise passed your lips. You straightened your skirt in an effort to chase the warmth his palm had pressed into your skin.

“Just thank me, LT,” you sighed, “Saved your ass.”

“Won’t be the last time, sweetheart.”

~~~

It was dark by the time you returned to the house; the streetlamps that lined the road had turned on, and the houses were unlit—save for a few bedroom lamps that glowed through curtained windows.

Simon put the bags of groceries on the kitchen island, tossing the car keys down next to them. He ran a hand over his face, pressing his palms onto the counter.

Soap wandered from his chosen bedroom when he’d heard the front door, sidling up next to Simon and sorting through the food that was still stacked in the bags.

“Johnny?” Simon sighed.

“Aye?” Soap pulled out an apple.

“C’you teach me ‘ow to golf by tomorrow?”

“Think just cause I’m Scottish I play golf?” Soap scoffed, peeling the sticker from the apple.

“Do you?” Simon quirked a brow.

Soap rolled his eyes, hesitating.

“Aye…”

“He agreed to play a round with the target.” You cut in on their conversation, pouring yourself a glass of water and kicking off your shoes.

“Didn’t agree,” Simon scowled, “Didn’t even respond.”

“Told him you’d golfed before, though,” You finished your water, putting the cup in the sink and shooing Johnny away from the grocery bags so you could unpack them. “Seems to me like you haven’t…”

“Already lyin’ about everything else.” Simon folded his arms, glaring.

“Yeah?” You quirked a brow. “You sure you weren’t just trying to fit in? To seem cool?”

“Haud yer wheesht,” Soap laughed, “Ye fight like a married couple.”

“S’the point, yeah?” Simon huffed.

“And ye still won’t share a bed,” Johnny rolled his eyes, “Shame—most couples a’least start in the same room.”

You shook your head with a laugh, trying not to let the topic of conversation get under your skin.

You were bickering like a married couple. It was one thing to keep up the act when you were in public, around people who might recount what they’ve seen to the targets, but it was increasingly obvious that the make-believe was seeping into your real life.

Ghost was on your mind far more often than you’d care to admit. But now, rather than fantasies of lust and satin bedsheets, you were imagining him as the husband he was pretending to be.

Soap put a hand on your forearm when you reached into the bag of groceries again, silently reprimanding you for doing the unpacking, and taking on the job himself.

You thanked him and made your way to the staircase.

Simon followed you, and you turned to shoot him a curious look.

“Don’t need attitude ‘bout my sleep clothes again.” He passed you on the stairs, and you sped up to meet him as he pushed the bedroom door open.

“Didn’t realize you put your stuff back up here.” You watched him wrangle his duffel from beneath the bed.

“Didn’t realize I needed to tell you.” Simon shot back, and you rolled your eyes.

“Does this mean you’re going to stay up here tonight?” You pondered aloud.

“No,” he answered simply, “Fine on th’couch.”

You nodded, slightly stung, but you could understand the awkwardness of the position you’d both been put in.

The room fell silent for a beat.

“Do you miss the mask?”

You thought back on his actions earlier in the day, when you’d watched his face morph in response to the conversation with Robert and Deb.

“I mean…you seem kinda naked without it.”

“Think about me naked a lot?” Simon stood back up, smirking; a pair of sweatpants slung over his shoulder.

“Just—” you rolled your eyes. The answer was yes, often, but he didn’t need to know that. “It’s weird seeing you without it for so long.”

“Not comfortable to ‘ave it off, ‘f’at’s what you’re asking.” He sighed, and you nodded.

“Did you pack it?”

“No.” He almost scoffed, but he seemed to catch himself when he realized that your question was genuine.

“Are you sure you want to take the couch again?” You broached the topic once more, “You can sleep up here—I’m fine with sleeping downstairs, instead of—”

“Stop,” his voice toed the line of superior rather than friend for a moment, “S’a’right.”

“Ok…” You mumbled in lieu of an apology.

“Quick thinking today,” his voiced turned softer—by his standards, at least. “Impressive.”

“Does this make me a trophy wife?” You smiled, trying not to grow flustered by his praise. “My skillful lies?”

He seemed to waver for a moment, brow creasing slightly as he thought.

“No…” He shook his head, turning to walk out of the room. “‘At’s not what does it.”

~~~

Simon struggled to feign interest in the discussion happening around him; the topic of conversation was just as showy as the country club itself.

Getting closer to the targets felt like a loss, despite the overall net gain.

The men who surrounded him—all with the same bland accents and unflattering polo shirts—pushed him into the reality that he was an outsider, no matter who they thought he was or who he was pretending to be.

It wasn’t often that he felt small, but there was a creeping isolation that came with undercover work. Though he tried not to let it get to him, Simon felt completely alien.

With golf clubs in hand, they spoke about absolutely nothing despite talking so incessantly, occasionally pausing to sip their beers.

Soap’s introductory explanation on how to properly hold a golf club had done little to assist in Simon’s actual gameplay, and he knew he must’ve looked downright miserable despite making an effort to remain upbeat.

That was never his forte, though.

He watched Robert swing his club against the green, and the loud thwack made Simon feel more comfortable; it didn’t echo in the way a gunshot would’ve, but it was a nice disruption from the tedium.

A young woman drove a cart over to the hole they were on, offering an array of concessions. When she left, slowly carting herself away, Robert let out a whistle.

“If I were ten years younger…” He sipped his beer through a smarmy expression.

“What happened to age is just a number?” One of the other men chuckled, and Simon felt himself cringe. “I like them young, they should like me old.”

The other men laughed, clinking their bottles together. They looked at Simon expectantly, and he felt cornered in a way he had never felt before.

“Mm?” He offered, running a thumb over his golf club.

“Ah, c’mon, Jim—wives ain’t here. That girl a prize, or what?” One of them nudged Simon’s arm, and he tensed.

He convinced himself that it was pressure from his obligation; that his disgust at the notion of looking at another woman lay in the act he was attempting to put up, convincing those around him that he was a diligent husband.

But he knew the truth.

“Bonnie’s all I need.” He forced a smile, trying to maintain a level of geniality.

“Give it ten years.” Robert smirked, and the others laughed.

The group of men moved on to the next hole, and Simon trailed behind them.

He already knew he hated these people. The things they did for profit, their willingness to allow everybody else’s lives to go to shit for a few extra dollars in their accounts; it was enraging.

But this anger stemmed from something else, an unfamiliar frustration that blossomed in his chest.

You were enough for him. You always had been, you always would be, and how dare they think you weren’t as perfect as he thought you were.

Not that you even needed to be—flaws and all, he’d take you over anybody; he’d choose you in a heartbeat every time.

For the mission, he reminded himself. For the mission.

~~~

Simon was active in gaining intel for several days in a row—infiltrating the inner circle, seeing what there was to see, hearing what there was to hear.

They trusted him enough to mutter when he was still nearby, and that was good enough, for now.  

Simon had been so busy that you barely saw him, rarely encountered him when he wasn’t on his way into or out of the house.

And the separation, for whatever reason, made you feel anxious. You worried that he was mad, despite the fact that there was no real interaction between the two of you in recent memory that would’ve caused any conflict.

Maybe you had crossed a boundary that you hadn’t realized was there; you had really been gunning for him to sleep in the bedroom—and with or without you there, he clearly had no interest in doing so.

But you kept pushing. You wanted to keep pushing.

You recognized that the anxiety probably stemmed from elsewhere, but you didn’t want to acknowledge your feelings more than you’d already had to lately.

Now, though, you felt alright. Better than alright, even; you felt pretty, and, what’s more, you felt eager.

It was just dinner, a meal with the targets; something that would hopefully see the culmination of Simon putting so much effort into gaining Robert’s trust. But the thought that went into your outfit, your daintily applied makeup, the inner turmoil of what you should do with your hair—it almost felt like a date. One you were excited about; one you’d call your mom to dish about at the end of the night.

You felt girlish; you felt thrilled; you told yourself it was for the mission.

The mission was what was making your heart bounce around in your ribs and your stomach flip with every step.

“Look at ye,” Soap whistled as you walked down the stairs in a dress that was only a bit less tweedy than the outfits you’d been wearing. “Hot date planned, lass?”

You rolled your eyes.

“Something like that.”

“Who’s th’lucky guy?”

“My husband.” You quirked a brow, a shy smile grazing your lips.

“Where’s the man o’the hour, then?” Soap chuckled.

“Probably fixin’ up his hair,” Gaz cut in, smirking, “Now that we can all see it.”

“Perfection takes time, Sergeant.” Simon inserted himself into the conversation, emerging from down the hall and fiddling with the cuffs of his shirt.

It was almost unnerving how good he looked.

You’d become so used to seeing him in fatigues, in a full kit and a balaclava, that seeing him in anything else felt foreign. The past few days had remedied that, if only slightly, and though the outfit he wore now was similar to those he’d been wearing for the past few days, something felt different.

Maybe it was the tautness of the sleeves around his biceps, or the fact that there was no sweater vest in sight, or that he’d gelled his hair back enough to make it seem like he put effort into it without really doing anything at all.

Whatever it was, you swallowed thickly, and tried not to stare.

“Christ…” Soap huffed, a borderline sympathetic look on his face as he gave Simon the once over.

“Never seen a man this handsome, Johnny?” Simon smirked.

“Never seen a man this outta his depth.” Soap countered, laughing.

Simon didn’t bother with a reply, grunting resentfully at Soap before turning to you and effectively shutting Johnny and Kyle out.

“Wired?”

His voice was hushed, as if he intended on keeping the conversation a secret despite the fact that Soap and Gaz had already been more than clued in on what was happening.

You nodded, unable to ignore the sticky, tight feeling of the tape on your skin where you’d planted the wire.

You were worried you might sweat it off, but the dress had a tight bodice; you hoped that if the tape did come unstuck, the fabric would keep it in place.

“Good.” Was his only reply, and then he had his hand on your waist, ushering you out the door.

You tried to think of anything other than the way his palm fit so naturally with the curve of your body.

Simon didn’t mind the perfect fit.

~~~

Dinner was nice, for lack of a better word. That was the only way you knew how to describe it; carb heavy and seasoned. It was better than anything you might get in the mess hall, and you didn’t complain when Deb offered seconds.

The conversation, though, was dreary, and you had to pinch yourself to stay awake. There was something so uninteresting about the lives these people led, despite their involvement in such high-stakes business.

After what felt like ages of trying to seem intrigued by their vacation stories and fine china, Deb piped up with a new topic of discussion.

“Rob just got the car—oh, what do you call it, baby?” She posed the question eagerly, anticipating a reason to brag.

“Wrapped.” Robert shot her a smug look, equally as interested in showing off.

“He got the car wrapped—it’s gorgeous!” Deb fawned over the thought of the newly done-up car.

“Cost a fortune.” Robert rolled his neck, looking at Simon and searching for jealousy in his eyes.

“But so worth it.” Deb swirled her glass of wine before taking a long sip.

“I bet.” Simon nodded slowly, not bothering with eye contact or compliments.

“Why don’t you show Jim, baby?” Deb swallowed the wine in her mouth before turning to Robert, “You boys go out to the garage, leave us to our girl talk.”

“Yes,” you tried not to seem too keen on her suggestion, exchanging a knowing glance with Simon. “That’s a great idea.”

Simon smiled softly, a look that was meant only for you—fashioned so as to express understanding and gratitude.

And maybe something else.

He got up with Robert, following him to the garage.

~~~

“You a big car guy?” Robert closed the door that connected the main house to the garage once Simon had made it over the threshold.

“Not particularly.” Simon shrugged; he’d never even had a car of his own.

“Should get into it—ladies love it.”

“Do they?” Simon smirked.

“You’d be surprised by how much a woman appreciates a nice set of wheels.” Robert laughed.

Simon bit his tongue; it was clear that this man knew nothing about women—then again, neither did Simon, so he just nodded through his doubts.

Robert smacked a hand down on the hood of the car. It was bright red, almost glittery, and Simon didn’t understand why it was anything to brag about.

“S’nice.” He offered, letting his eyes trail over the entire vehicle before looking back up at Robert.

“Hope so. Cost a pretty fuckin’ penny.”

“You mentioned.” Simon grunted, though he tried his best to make it seem lighthearted.

There was a pause then, and Simon waited to see if the conversation wouldn’t move; he wanted to make sure he had Robert exactly where he wanted him.

He might not know women, but Simon knew a rat when he encountered one.

“How’d you do it?” Simon’s tone bordered aloof; he let his gaze fall over the car once more, attempting to seem almost disconnected by his interest in the flashy color.

“What?” Robert leaned against the car.

“Afford it.”

“Saved up,” Robert sighed and picked his nails, “Worked for it.”

Simon nodded. “What was it you said you do f’work?”

“IT.” Robert scoffed, eyes darting over Simon’s form.

He seemed impatient, somewhat antsy; either Robert was onto this sting, or he was about to spill.

“Y’know…I been thinking, Jim,” Robert spoke slowly, straightening up from his spot on the car to look Simon in the eyes. “Don’t seem to be out of the house much unless you’re with me and the other fellas.”

“Solitary job,” Simon tilted his head, “Nice house.”

“Uh-huh,” Robert sucked his teeth for a moment before continuing. “Your wife’s a real peach—real prize.”

“She is,” Simon felt the words slip from his mouth without thinking about it, “She’s my everything.”

He barely heard himself, but he knew he’d said it, and he knew it was true, sham marriage or not.

“Never seem to wanna plant one on her.”

If only you knew, you bastard. Simon kept the thought to himself, rolling his eyes at himself; now wasn’t the time.

“Shy.” Simon offered.

“You or her?”

Simon shrugged; he didn’t care if his cover was blown now. He knew what was happening—he’d been here before, plenty of times, and he’d be here again.

He was far from scared, despite the clear attempts of intimidation on Robert’s part.

Robert seemed comforted by Simon’s casual air; the lack of any obvious fear made him settle.

He returned to a more reserved, trusting state, and Simon could only infer that the grilling was a matter of initiation—a poor method to weed out those who weren’t able to handle the truth.

“I—I like you, Jim,” Robert nodded, gaze glued to the floor and chin grazing his chest as he spoke. “I do.”

“I’m glad,” Simon grit his teeth. “Happy to have a friend in the area. Good start.”

Lure flies with honey, that was the saying. Simon was doing just that, however frustratingly slow-going it was.

“If I show you something—tell you something…” Robert seemed to ponder aloud, not quite looking at Simon as he spoke, his gaze now settled vaguely into the distance. “You be able to keep a secret?” His voice was low, his tone almost sour.

“Yeah,” Simon nodded, waiting. “Sure.”

“Sure,” Robert scoffed, “Need a yes or a no.”

“Yes,” Simon couldn’t help the smirk that crept over his face now. “Yes, I can keep a secret.”

“Good.”

Robert walked to the far wall of the garage. Simon watched on as he popped the lid off of one of the various paint cans that littered a shelf, digging around in it only to pull out a slip of paper.

Easy access: anybody could’ve reached in and found it. Further proof to Simon that these people had no clue what they were doing.

Robert handed the paper to Simon. It was obviously some sort of blueprint; an outline, incredibly amateur. But it was evidence of deeper plans.

A bomb of some kind, but messy and unfinished.

“What’s’is?” Simon feigned ignorance—the more Robert talked, the more a takedown was warranted.

“You never seen a bomb before?” Robert furrowed his brow.

“What’s it for?” Simon pressed on.

“What’s with the questions?” Robert shot back.

“’Umor me.”

Robert exhaled slowly, huffing into the air as he walked around Simon, practically stalking him.

“You wanna know how I could afford a car like that?” Robert laughed, gesturing to the garish car, “How I can afford a wife like mine?” He paused, grabbing the paper from Simon’s hand. “It’s all money, Jim—just without the trail.”

“What are you saying?” Simon was playing a little fast and loose now, but he was eager to get this over with.

“I’m saying,” Robert put the blueprint back into the paint can and sealed it shut again, “If you say anything about this, I’ll gut you.”

Robert walked back over to Simon, putting his hands in his pockets.

“What?” Simon quirked a brow, trying desperately to keep his features under control as his lips threatened to curl upwards into a smile.

Suddenly, Robert lunged, and Simon’s back was against the wall; a small knife pressed to his throat.

He almost allowed himself the joy of kicking Robert’s ass, finishing this once and for all, but he knew better.

Instead, he just stared; this was far from a dire situation. He’d had guns to his head and landmines underfoot—a dull Swiss army knife was hardly comparable.

Still, he feigned shock, putting his hands up and freezing.  

“You tell me right now if this is something you don’t think you can handle,” Robert was growling, “You tell me right now if you’re gonna cry like a bitch about this to your wife—you hear me?”

“I hear you.” Simon swallowed, and the blade dug against his Adam’s apple.

“This is bigger than you. This is something that’ll give people like us a leg up,” Robert rambled, “Give us everything.”

People like us. Simon missed his gun.

“So you’re building a bomb.” Simon kept his voice above a whisper to ensure the mic picked it up.

“That’s it.” Robert nodded.

“Why?”

“Stop with the fucking questions!” Robert was growing more agitated by the second, “You wearin’ a wire?”

“Why would I be wearing a wire?” Simon deadpanned.

“Fuck!”

Rob dropped the knife from Simon’s throat for a brief moment to reset his grip as his palms grew sweaty, quickly replacing it with a bit more pressure.

“Alright—alright. Listen…we got connections. Ok? Down in Germany, in Britain—that’s your neck of the woods, right?”

Robert smiled, as if adding humor to the situation would lessen the impact of holding a knife to Simon’s throat.

“Gonna target the airports.” Robert’s eyes were dark, but deeply uncertain.

“The airports?” Simon had a feeling that was coming—same old tired story, same old awkward plan.

“Major hubs in every country. Get to New York, London—guys in Germany can get this to Frankfurt,” Robert wiped his forehead with the back of his free hand, “No movement through the big city hubs, harder to smuggle shit in—no competition.”

Christ. This was hardly worth the FBI’s time, let alone the Task Force’s; these people had no idea what they were doing. This was the most hastily tacked together plan Simon had ever heard—not to mention completely batshit insane, and not at all logical.

“In a year, we’ll be rich. Get access to our own planes—drones, we’ll be the biggest cartel in the country.”

“Right.” Simon couldn’t stop his voice from taking on an amused lilt.

“So…you in?”

~~~

“Blond, British—and he’s so tall!" Deb shook her head with a giggle. "You are one lucky girl.”

Once Simon had followed Robert out, you found that Deb was serious about the aforementioned girl talk.

Eagerly, she poked and prodded into your personal life. It wasn’t as if you cared, but it was hard to keep your lies straight when you were faced with question after question.

At least she was tipsy—that made it easier for you to get away with things on the off-chance that you slipped up.

“Can’t complain.” Your face burned in response to the heaps of praise Deb lauded Ghost’s husband alter ego with.

“How’d you meet him?” Deb’s eyes went wide, and for a moment she looked so young, so excited. “Was it love at first sight—oh! I love that.”

She seemed to be filling in the blanks herself, and you played along.

“Something like that, yeah.” You sighed.

Deb topped off your glass of wine, and you smiled.

In another life—maybe the one where Simon had a German Shephard—you thought you might be friends with Deb for real; you were in a book club together, you drank together on Saturdays and gossiped about the other families in town.

“That’s so sweet—I love it. Love it!” She topped her own glass off. “Have you thought about kids? Got that nice big house now.”

“I…we haven’t really talked about it…”

You yourself had never considered children an option—not at the moment, anyway.

Maybe someday. Maybe when you retired; maybe if you found someone who understood all the nightmares and the adrenaline; maybe when the time was right, and the stars aligned, and you could trust yourself to properly hold an infant. 

You dared, momentarily, to imagine Simon as a father—a father to your children. Chubby babies with his piercing gaze; fat little hands that grabbed at his nose, traced his scars.

Maybe you did want kids.

“Honey, it’s just us,” Deb leaned forward over the table, “Is he…you know…?”

You stared blankly at her.

She sighed, almost giggling. “He shooting blanks? Cause Rob—”

You almost spat out your wine.

“No! No—no, it’s not—” You exhaled through a surprised smile, “…We really just...haven’t thought about it.”

“You’re young,” Deb shrugged, “There’s time.”

There was a pause as you both sipped your wine.

“So,” she glanced up at you with a smirk, “He’s good in bed, then?”

You looked at her like a deer in headlights. You tried to think of a lie, wondering if you could stall for time by chugging the wine in your glass.

“I mean—he certainly looks it. You don’t have to worry about me, but some of the women in this town—God, they’ll be all over him if they get the chance.” Deb continued, her animated gestures threatening to spill the wine over the rim of her glass.

You felt a flare of unwarranted jealousy at the thought of Simon being interested in other women; of other women being interested in him.

“I’m not worried.” You lied, unsure of why it was a lie.

Deb leaned in even further, and you could see every eyelash where they connected to her eyelid.

“He go down on you?”

Now, you did chug what was in your glass.

Before you had time to answer, Simon and Robert walked back into the dining room.

Something was wrong. Robert looked tense, but Simon seemed overly casual.

Simon was never casual.

“Grab y’coat, love,” Simon tilted his head forward a bit, which struck you as odd, but you knew better than to question it. “S’get on our way.”

“Oh,” you pouted, trying to make it seem as though you were disappointed to part from the other couple. “Alright.”

“Thank you for having us,” Simon shook Robert’s hand, and maybe his grip was a little stronger than necessary. “Was lovely. Really.”

“Come back soon!” Deb stood, swaying a bit as she placed both her hands on Simon’s outstretched one, “This was so fun.”

Robert said nothing, grunting a farewell as Simon shuffled you to the front door and out of the house.

You didn’t like how silent he was being as he walked you to the car. It wasn’t out of character—he was always quiet. But this silence seemed more anxious than anything.

You found your voice when you had gotten a good few yards from the house.

“Jim…?”

“Sh.” Simon turned his face towards you, and it was then that you realized he was bleeding from a cut on his neck.

“Jim.” You pressed on, uncertain about what to call him when you were in this strange limbo.

“Shut up.” He hissed, opening the passenger door and all but pushing you in.

When he took his seat behind the wheel, you glared at him.

“Lieutenant, you’re bleeding.”

“Not a word till we get home.” Simon was whispering.

Home. It almost felt real for a moment.

When you didn’t respond, he grabbed your face to hammer his point in.

“Got it?”

You huffed at him, and he dropped his hand. For a split second, you were tempted to ask him to replace it; to continue to hold you, even in the slightly callous way, just because.

Instead, you turned to stare out the window as he put the car in drive.

~~~

The house was calm; the lights were off, and the only sound was the faint hum of the monitors scattered about. Everybody else had already gone to bed, that much was clear.

The stillness left you and Simon to yourselves, and you weren’t sure whether or not that was a good thing.

Simon closed the door behind himself, stretching his shoulders back and undoing the top two buttons on his shirt.

“Got what we need.” He said simply, rolling his neck.

“Why’d you get all paranoid back there?” You turned to him, your discontent with his demand for silence in the car overpowering your interest in what he’d uncovered.

“’Ad to be certain.”

“About…?”

“We’re bugging ‘em—s’not crazy to think they might be doin’ the same to us.” Simon tilted his gaze down at you, and you sighed.

He had a point.

“You…” You eyed the nick on his throat with uncertainty. “You got what we need?”

Simon nodded as he untucked his shirt and peeled the tape off the wire, “Gotta make sure the mic picked it up.”

“You’re bleeding.” You mentioned once more.

“S’fine.”

“LT.”

“Enough.”

You stared at each other, tense.

“Let me clean it, at least.”

“S’not necessary.” 

“…Simon…”

“What?”

You hesitated, looking down at the floor before you could find the confidence to make eye contact.

You didn’t want to come off as desperate.

“Let’s…let’s go upstairs,” you sighed, “Let’s listen to the tape, let me just…wipe it off.” You tilted your head at him, hoping he could see that this was important to you.

Not that you knew why it was so important.

He surrendered with a sigh, dropping his head and gesturing forward with his hands. You led him up the stairs.

~~~

You put the tape into the slot, hitting play before turning your attention to Simon.

He sat on the edge of the bed, legs spread; he’d undone a third button on his shirt, and you tried not to ogle his chest.

You’d managed to locate a first aid kit, but upon closer inspection of Simon’s scrape, all you really needed was Neosporin and a band aid.

You moved to stand between his knees, fingers drifting to his chin and encouraging him to tilt his head back as you began gently cleaning the scratch and applying the Neosporin.

“Shallow.” You muttered, now clearly able to see that this was a nothing—something you’d talked up to yourself, thinking it would be more serious than it was.

He had been right—it wasn’t a big deal. But you still felt a weird obligation to patch him up, and there was a large chance that what compelled you to do so was the promise of being able to touch him.

“Mm.” Simon grunted, and you could feel the vibrations move through his throat.

You fell silent, listening to the tape.

Your hands went shaky as you heard how Robert interrogated Simon—not that it was really grounds for any anxiety; Simon could hold his own just fine, and Robert clearly wasn’t well versed in grilling someone.

“Your wife’s a real peach—real prize.”

“She is. She’s my everything.”

You chanced a glance up at Simon upon hearing his words played back on the recording.

He was already looking back at you, and even without the mask, his face was unreadable.

He waved off your attempt to put a small bandage on his scratch, and even so, you found yourself reluctant to leave your place between his legs. So you stayed, and you listened back to the whole tape like that; him sitting on the bed, you standing awkwardly in front of him.

When the tape looped, you sighed, walking over to remove it from the slot. You found a safe space for it in your luggage.

“Told you.” He seemed smug, but you knew it was in jest.  

You looked at him, rolling your eyes.

“Yes, well—thank you, LT.”

“Don’t ‘ave to be my wife anymore.” His words were sudden, and you felt a bit hurt by his apparent eagerness to be rid of this partnership.

Simon wasn’t entirely sure why he said it. He spoke mostly out of disappointment; he liked having you as his wife, even if it was pretend.

He liked to have something tangible, something that proved he could do it, someday. He liked having you. And maybe, in his own, socially awkward way, he was trying to gauge your interest; look for indicators in your reaction to see if his affection for you was one-sided.

“It’s a shame,” you laughed nervously, “I was just getting used to it.”

He smirked, still looking at you.

“Glad you got what we needed,” you were suddenly very set on changing the subject. “Deb wouldn’t talk about anything important.”

“Girl talk.” Simon echoed Deb’s earlier sentiment with a barely-there smile.

“She only cared about the kind of sex you and I have.” You winced as soon as you said it—so much for veering the conversation into less awkward territory.

“What’d you tell ‘er?” Simon seemed genuinely curious now, and you couldn’t help but imagine what you would’ve said to Deb had this been a real marriage.

“Told her it’s just pathetic missionary,” you smirked, “And I always fake it.”

Simon chuckled lowly, shaking his head.

“Let’s ‘ear it.”

“What?” Your brow furrowed.

“Tape,” he nodded to the tape player. “Showed you mine, yeah?”

“Ghost—”

“None o’that,” he huffed, smirking. “C’mon.”

You hesitated, but did as he instructed.

There was a sick part of you that was somewhat eager to see what he would do when faced with the questions you’d been barraged with.

You managed to reach into the neckline of your dress, peeling the wire from your skin. You put the tape into the machine and hit play.

This time, you stayed next to the tape player, leaning against the wall and watching Simon.

You snuck glances at him while the tape played, alternating between keeping your gaze on the floor and letting your eyes dart up at him. It was so unimportant—such awkward lies told by your recorded voice.

But you wondered if he could see through it all.

When you heard Deb on the tape player asking whether Simon went down on you or not, followed by Simon and Robert re-entering the room, you popped the tape from the slot.

“See?” You huffed as you tossed the tape into your luggage alongside the other one. “Nothing important.”

“Y’never answered ‘er.” Simon’s voice was low, almost hesitant.

“Hm?” You looked up at him, confused.

“Never answered ‘er question,” he tilted his head back, eying you up in your entirety. “Do I?”

“You…” You felt warm.

“C’mon,” he smirked, “Part o'the backstory, yeah?”

“I don’t…” You breathed, “I didn’t think that far.”

“D’you want me to?”

“To think up a backstory about our sex life?” You scoffed.

“To go down on you.” His voice was suddenly serious, and the low tone he had taken morphed from nervous to downright possessive.

You felt your heart flip, or maybe it was your stomach; your body felt too tingly to tell what was what anymore.

“I…” You took a breath, nodding slowly. “Yes.”

Simon exhaled audibly, maybe a sigh of pride. He clapped a hand down on his thigh, encouraging you to take a seat on his lap.

You practically tiptoed to him, perching yourself on his thigh and letting him wrap an arm around your waist. His other hand fiddled with the hem of your dress where it rested, just above your knee, and the subtle gesture made your pulse pick up.

He leaned in, not to kiss you, but to appreciate your proximity. You could feel his breath against your neck, your jaw; he paused just below your ear, pulling back to look down at you.

“Look pretty,” he muttered, “Don’t think I told you ‘at yet tonight.”

“Thank you…” You found the confidence to bring a hand up to his collar, fiddling with the unbuttoned part of his shirt. You still couldn’t look at him, not trusting yourself to remain collected beneath his gaze.

He smiled softly, bringing his fingers to your chin and tilting your face up to him.

“You gettin’ shy on me, Mrs. Riley?”

You swallowed, unable to stop the way your eyelids fluttered in response to his touch.

“No,” you sucked in a breath. “Just—don’t usually hear things like that from you.”

“Y’like it?” He quirked a brow, still smiling.

“Yeah,” you nodded as best you could with his hand beneath your chin. “I do.”

“Good,” he nodded back at you. “S’good…Do it more often, then.”

There was a moment of incredibly charged silence between the two of you before he finally leaned in to kiss you.

It was slow, but eager; you wrapped your arms around his neck, and he slipped his tongue past your parted lips once you’d matched the pace of his movements.

You allowed yourself the same kind exploration, pushing your tongue against his, licking into his mouth just as he did to you. You let your spit mingle, breath turning heavy when Simon brought both of his hands to your waist.

You trailed your palms from behind his neck to his chest, running your hands over the bit of exposed flesh his semi-unbuttoned shirt allowed, tugging gently on the fabric. Simon let out a quiet groan, and it spurred you on; you dipped your fingers beneath his collar, grazing your nails over his skin.

His hands wandered over your back, finding the zipper on your dress and toying with it. You made a sound of approval, soft and breathy against his lips, as a go-ahead for him to strip you of the layer. He tugged the zipper down, and you let the top of the dress fall over your shoulders, exposing your front to him.

He didn’t even look at your bare chest, too focused on pressing his mouth to yours. You, in turn, pushed your body against his—a subtle gesture, one to encourage him to lie down, and it worked well enough; he leaned back on his forearms, breaking the kiss to admire you as you looked down at him.

“Take it off, sweetheart.” He reached a hand up to fiddle with one of the straps of your dress where it hung loose over your arm.

Somewhat reluctant to rise from his lap, so content with the closeness, you obliged nonetheless.

You let the fabric of the dress pool around your feet, leaving you completely bare, save for the basic panties you had on.

Simon looked unbelievably pleased as he drank you in.

“Got a damn good-looking wife.” He teased, sitting up and reaching out to run his hand over your side.

“Yeah?” You looked down at him, responding in a similarly playful tone. “Your everything?”

“Yeah…” Simon glanced up at you, cold stare reduced to something more tender, though still serious, “Yeah, ‘at’s right.”

You smiled softly, unsure of how to respond.

Simon busied himself, playing with the waistband of your underwear.

He hooked his fingers beneath the elastic and slid your panties down your legs, exposing your core to the temperate air of the bedroom. You stepped out of them, along with your dress, and waited with bated breath for his next move.

He gripped your thighs, enjoying the warmth of your body and the sight before him; you could feel his breath fan against your stomach, his eyes glued to your form.

“Sit,” Simon commanded as he rose from his seat on the edge of the bed. “Here. C’mon.”

You took the spot where he had previously been sitting, pressing your thighs together and staring up at him with uncertainty.

With little hesitation, Simon moved to kneel before you, placing a hand on one of your knees.

“Open.”

He seemed focused, determined, and the imbalance of his title and the fact that he remained fully clothed wasn’t lost on you; it made your heart beat a little faster, head swimming with desire despite the as yet gentle, chaste touches he’d laid upon you.

You spread your legs for him, and he made a sound akin to a soft growl. He pressed a kiss to your knee before moving up your leg, nipping at the plush skin of your thigh and pulling breathy gasps from you as you watched him move further up your body.

By the time you could feel his breath fanning your bare cunt, you had grown impatient, fingers lacing in his hair and tugging gently as you combed through the strands. Simon huffed a shaky breath, glancing up at you with a look that verged a sneer.

“Fuckin’ needy,” he whispered, and you could feel the displaced air around your body as he spoke, “Use y’fuckin’ words if you want it so bad, love.”

“Simon…” You let your eyes flutter closed, letting the outline of him between your thighs fall in and out of focus, “Please…like you said you would.”

“Say it.” He was demanding, desperate to hear the words fall from your lips.

“Go—go down on me. Taste me. Just like you promised.” You felt pathetic begging for it, but you didn’t really mind, given the circumstances.

You tried to keep your voice even, but the anticipation was killing you. He smirked, a subtle expression, as he leaned his face forward into your cunt.

“Man o’my word.” He quirked a brow before all but diving into you with his tongue.

You inhaled a gasp, a choked sound that hit the back of your throat sharply. Still pulling gently on his hair, you spread your legs even wider, hungry for the feeling of his tongue on your cunt.

“Fuck—” You couldn’t find the words, content to offer brief curses of gratitude while he flicked his tongue over your clit.

He teased the bud, flattening his tongue over you before pulling back to delicately trace it with the muscle.

He wrapped his lips around you, sucking and applying pressure to varying degrees while occasionally letting his teeth threaten to close around you. It offered a sort of sinful thrill; the suspense of whether or not he’d really bite down made your back arch as you watched him.

When he pulled his mouth off of your clit, he licked a stripe up your slit before using his tongue to tease your entrance, slowly tracing your hole before pushing into you.

Simon looked drunk off you; eyes closed and groaning softly as he licked into the warmth of your cunt. He collected your slick, swallowing it as if it were a sort of heavenly ambrosia.

“Christ,” Simon pulled back for a moment, bringing a hand down to your core and spreading the messy combination of spit and slick around, admiring how you glistened. “Fuckin’ soaked, sweetheart, look’t you.”

You bucked your hips with a whimper when he swiped over your clit, and he growled at the reaction.

“You need more?” He looked so smug, “Give you a finger, see ‘ow much you can take?”

“Yes.” You breathed the one-word response, looking down at him with half-lidded eyes.

He growled at your enthusiasm, removing his hand to lick one more stripe up your cunt before pressing his middle finger to your hole and slowly pushing in.

“Fuck,” he muttered, entranced by the way you wrapped around the digit, “So fucking tight.”

He thrust his finger down to his knuckle, curling the digit upwards and letting it dance over your most tender spot.

You whined, reaching for his wrist and lazily tugging at it.

“'At's’it,” he finally tore his gaze from your cunt, “You enjoying y’self, sweetheart? You feel nice?”

“Simon I—I’m gonna cum.” You gasped as he leaned forward again to press his tongue to your clit.

“Nah, no you’re not,” Simon shook his head with a smirk, “Gonna give y’another—not fair ‘f my girl only gets to cum on one finger, yeah?”

You just mewled, letting your body fall back onto the mattress and raising your hips in submission.

Simon pressed kisses to your inner thigh as he pulled his hand back, giving himself the space to push another finger into you. He followed the same pattern, curling them up against your g-spot, sucking eagerly on your clit and watching you squirm from the stimulation.

“Still wanna cum f’me, sweet girl?” The thrust of his fingers slowed, focusing all of his energy on your sweet spot, twisting his wrist to amplify the squelch of your cunt. “Wanna show me 'ow this pretty cunt can squeeze me nice ‘n’tight?”

“Ye—es,” you sighed, “Simon, just like—like that.”

“Right ‘ere, yeah?” Simon’s gaze darted between your face and your core, as if he couldn’t decide which view was prettier. “C’mon, love—right on my 'and like this, lemme taste it.”

He brought his mouth down to you again, sucking down hard and speeding up the pace of his fingers again. He made a point to nudge your delicate spot every time, in sync with the pressure he put on your clit.

Your back arched, writhing in pleasure under him and letting your orgasm consume you all at once; it was white-hot, a culmination of your longing for him, coupled with the speed at which he’d let his walls down and allowed you the pleasure of having him.

Your legs trembled, muscles tensing rhythmically as you gasped through your high and the shivered aftershocks.

“Look’t ‘at,” Simon groaned, still nestled between your legs, “Fuckin’ perfect, sweetheart.”

You reached down to comb your hand through his hair. When he continued lapping at your slick, nose nudging your clit and refusing to let up until the experience bordered overstimulation, you yanked lightly at the strands between your fingers.

“Right,” he sighed, allowing you to pull him away from your core and placing kisses on your inner thigh instead. “Can’t get enough, love.”

“Hardly an issue…” You mumbled, staring down at him with your lust-blown eyes, cheeks flushed.

He continued to nip at the skin of your legs, alternating between each of your thighs and occasionally pulling away to admire the subtle marks his teeth left on you.

It gave you enough time to recover from your release. But just as soon as the heat in your core began to quell, you were hit with a fresh ache between your legs, amplified by his breath fanning your skin and the position he remained in, so close to where you still wanted him.

“Simon…” You sighed, propping yourself up on your elbows to gaze down at him properly.

He managed to tear himself away from you, replacing his mouth with his hands and pressing his palms soothingly against the tops of your thighs as he analyzed your expression.

He didn’t respond, staring up at you expectantly and waiting for you to continue.

“Give me more.” Your voice didn’t falter now, well aware of what you wanted and what you hoped to receive.

“You givin’ orders now, sweetheart?” He chuckled lowly, letting his fingers press a bit harder into the plush flesh of your thighs.

“Not as your subordinate,” you smiled shyly, “As your wife.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek, trying to read his expression; his eyes seemed to darken just as much as his smirk widened.

“…Please?” You added in an effort to get him to respond, whether it be verbally or physically.

“S’right,” he nodded, “Knew my wife ‘ad better manners 'an my Sergeant.”

You laughed softly at his words, appreciating the uncharacteristically lighthearted approach he seemed to be taking.

But he cut your giggles off, forcing you to replace them with a gasp as he grabbed you by the ankles and stood.

“Y’want it like this?” He practically cooed, though his voice was sweet to a mocking degree, “Lemme fuck you out while you lay ‘ere?”

He rested your legs on his chest, positioning himself in a more than suggestive manner as he pressed his hips to the back of your thighs.

“S’at what you want, love? Or did you want me to bend y’over?” He let your legs fall, leaning over you so that he was close enough to let his nose press against your cheek. “Treat my sweet wife like a fuckin’ whore…”

Your mouth felt dry, breath hitching in your throat at the apparent promise he was making to treat you as gently or as roughly as you deemed fit.

“You…” You felt lost for words, turning your face and letting your nose bump his. “Bend me over.”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” he breathed his words softly. “Can’t leave my girl wanting.”

He left feather-light kisses over your jawline, maneuvering his hands under you to haul you up and flip you onto your stomach. You let out a soft grunt, content to allow him to manipulate your form and position to his liking.

“Christ, ‘at’s a sight…” Simon ran a hand over the curve of your ass after he’d helped you settle, his calloused fingers rubbing roughly against your softer flesh.

You laughed softly—at the gesture, at his words. There was comfort in knowing him this way; in seeing the man with the mask fall out of his stoic demeanor and into something so much more gracious and inviting.

You pushed back against his hand, chasing the heat and weight of his palm and whining slightly as you became impatient at his lack of action.

Simon tsked softly, now using both hands to knead your ass.

“Gave y’what you wanted, love,” he gave your ass a light smack, and your whine caught in your throat. “Lend me some patience, yeah? Wanna admire what’s mine.”

The sheer avidity in his voice, the quiet tone in which his possessive words spilled out, made you exhale a dreamy sigh as you surrendered to his touch.

You stretched your arms out in front of you on the mattress, resting your head on your bicep and letting your eyes drift closed.

Simon’s breath was hot against your skin, and there was a moment where you wondered if he was going to ignore your pleas and instead use this time to go down on you again—not that you would complain, but it was amusing to think that a man so tough in stature could be so easily pussy whipped.

Instead, though, after what felt like ages of him simply sweeping his hands over your body, kneading your flesh and pressing open-mouthed kisses to the back of your thighs, he seemed to vanish from behind you.

You emitted a quiet whimper in confusion, craning your neck in an attempt to look back at him from where you lay spread out on the mattress.

Simon shushed you softly, pressing his hand to the small of your back.

“Not leavin’ you,” he spoke gleefully through a growl, thrilled by your need for him. “But I can’t fuck you with my trousers done up, sweetheart.��

You nodded lazily, listening to him unfasten his pants and pull his cock from its confines.

The waiting was the worst part; you had already done so much waiting for him in the time that you’d known him.

Still, the building suspense was oddly delicious, forcing your body to acknowledge that you would finally, finally, be getting what you’d been craving.

You whined when Simon finally offered more contact, placing his cock between your ass cheeks and rocking his hips.

He was heavy against you, and the warm, smooth skin of his length urged a new flood of arousal throughout your body.

You could feel the fabric of his pants rub against the back of your thighs, and you subconsciously pushed yourself back towards him to chase the implication of his power.

“Gonna go nice ‘nd slow f’you, love.” Simon moved, fisting his cock and aligning himself with your entrance.

You sucked in a breath. “Don’t have to…”

“Can’t go breakin’ my wife in 'alf.” He answered frankly, and you wanted to point out his ego in the moment, but as his cockhead nudged your hole, you forgot all about chastising him.

“Simon—”

“Easy, sweetheart…” Simon sunk into you slowly, as he’d promised; his hands guiding your hips backwards onto him. “Jus’ take what I give you.”

You let out a shaky breath when he bottomed out, mewling softly into the bedspread as you grew accustomed to the intrusion of his cock inside you.

“’Ere you go,” he groaned, looking down to get a proper eyeful of your cunt wrapped snugly around him. “Feel nice, sweetheart?”

“Y—eah,” you kept your face buried in the comforter, the pleasure of the stretch absolutely overwhelming. “S’so good…”

“I know.” Even with your back to him, you knew he was smirking.

He pulled out quickly, eager to get it over with so that he could bury his cock back inside of you. He thrust back into you just as fast, swallowing a moan as he was hit with the pleasure that was being hugged by the warmth of your cunt.

“Fuck,” he swallowed a moan, tossing his head back, “Such a fucking—you got the most perfect cunt, sweetheart. Made f’me.”

“For you,” you moved your head, tilting your face up in a poor attempt to look at him behind you. “For you, Simon.”

“’At’s right.” His grip seemed to tighten on your hips, possessive to the point of leaving his fingerprints on your skin.

Maybe it was the way you said his name with such fierce desire, undercut only by your quiet whimpers; maybe it was your murmured promise: for him, and only him. Something about this—about you—had him completely at your beck and call, no matter what the reason.

He moved one of his hands to press against the top of your back, pushing you down and forcing your back to arch.

“What a pretty fuckin’ picture,” his thrusts were growing sloppy in the midst of his enjoyment, and he reeled himself in slightly as he spoke. “So easy to fuck you out, sweetheart—little slut of a ‘ousewife, you are.”

The position allowed him to fuck into you deeper, his cock pounding your cervix with every thrust of his hips.

You gripped the bedspread, desperate to ground yourself in the haze of such intense bliss.

“Simon—,” you felt your eyes roll back as you tried to maintain a level of composure so that you could get your words out. “So fucking—y-you’re so deep, Simon.”

“Yeah, you say my fucking name,” he leaned forward, pressing his lips to your shoulder. “You let everyone ‘ear who’s nice ‘n’deep in your pretty cunt.”

“S—imon!” You heeded his request, though you needed no instruction.

He straightened up, and his speed steadily increased.

You felt a heady sort of pleasure that traveled throughout your body and all but turned off your brain. Babbling, you reached back for him as best you could.

“What d’you need, sweet girl?” Simon took your hand in his, rubbing his thumb over your palm. “’M right ‘ere.”

“…See you…” you tried to verbalize your want. “Wanna—see you.”

Simon’s hips slowed, stilling inside of you as he took in your request.

“You wanna see?” He wasn’t asking as if he’d misheard; he was teasing, drawing the scenario out before he inevitably gave into you. “Wanna watch yourself get fucked, love? Act like a whore while I treat you like one?”

You moaned in lieu of any real response, nodding against the mattress.

“Prefer to see my face, or my cock?” He queried, once again leaning forward to press kisses to your shoulder.

For some reason, although the latter option was absolutely something you’d like to see—a front row seat, watching him fuck you senseless—you felt yourself much more eager to watch him; to view the pleasure on his face as a mirror of your own enjoyment.

You wanted a domestic level of intimacy, something filthy but so pure, in its own right.

“Let me see your face, Simon,” you whined, “Please.”

He let out a sharp breath, not quite a laugh but in the same realm.

“Hoping you’d say ‘at.” Simon slid his hands down your body to grab your waist, using his grip as leverage to slowly pull himself out of you.

You whimpered at the sudden emptiness, and he stroked his palm over your back in an apparent effort to soothe you.

“C’mon. S’get you up.” He squeezed your sides, encouraging you to flip over onto the mattress.

Just as you settled onto your back, Simon moved away, dropping himself onto the bed and patting his thigh.

You turned to face him as best you could, still hazy with lust, and shot him a curious look.

“Come sit, sweetheart,” he smirked down at you, “Wanna see how you look bouncin’ on my cock.”

You smiled, “You just want me to do all the work.”

“Promise no wife o’mine’s gonna be left wanting,” Simon quirked a brow at you, leaning forward to coax you over to him. “’Less y’keep talking back like ‘at.”

You fell into his arms, allowing him to pull you onto his lap. You rolled your hips against his cock, the zipper and fabric of his pants biting gently at the flesh of your ass as you made yourself comfortable.

“All the work,” Simon huffed, reaching between your bodies to align himself with you again; you lifted your hips to provide the necessary space. “Kinda shit husband d’you think I am?”

“You—fuck—” Any retort you’d had planned was immediately subdued when he pushed you down onto his length, one hand on your hip while the other splayed out over your ribcage to keep you balanced on top of him.

“Can you manage, sweetheart?” He was teasing again, taunting you as you tried to compose yourself by pressing your hands onto his chest.

“It…” you breathed, refamiliarizing yourself with the stretch of his cock nestled deep inside of you. “Simon…”

You rocked your hips slowly, grinding down on him and letting him open you up; enjoying the tingling pressure of having him buried in your cunt.

“What’s’at?” He reached up, pressing his thumb to your bottom lip.

“I—” you kissed the pad of his thumb, gaze drifting down to his face. “I love it.”

Simon grit his teeth, pushing his thumb between your lips and letting his jaw fall open when you began to suck eagerly on the digit.

“Yeah…” His eyes drifted from your face to your figure, his free hand rubbing up and down your side as he began to pull you back and forth over him.

He pulled his thumb from your mouth, trailing the wet digit over your nipples and watching them pebble before he placed the hand on your thigh, his other hand still rubbing over your side.

Your head fell back, breath coming out in short puffs. His control was easy, comfortable to be under, and the occasional twitch of his fingers when he felt you clench around his cock was something you could get used to.

When you’d become accustomed to the position, you used your hands on his chest as resistance to push yourself up and down on his length.

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart—look’t ‘at…” Simon’s voice was raspy, chest heaving as he watched you bounce your hips over his cock. “Pretty cunt’s making a fuckin’ mess on me.”

You chanced a glance down, craning your neck to get a proper look at his cock as it disappeared into you.

He was right—it was messy; slick and wet, you coated him with your arousal. You could feel the stickiness between your thighs and under your ass when you ground yourself down against him.

Simon tsked, reaching up to wrap a hand loosely around your throat, refocusing your attention on his face.

“Said you wanted t’see my face, love,” he smirked up at you, forcing the smug look as best he could through the daze of having you ride him. “You fuckin’ look at me, then.”

You moaned, eyes fluttering closed at the way his fingers felt around your neck before you quickly opened them to stare down at him.

He dropped the hand from your throat, but it stayed on your skin, roaming your body and exploring every dimple and curve of you.

“Perfect,” he was muttering to himself now, admiring you in a way that felt so unfamiliar but so natural to the both of you. “You’re fucking perfect. My sweet girl—fuckin’ incredible.”

You whined, feeling as though you could cry.

His actions were one thing; his touch, the way he raised his hips to meet you, chasing the warmth of your cunt and burying his fingers into your flesh. But the words he spoke, the tenderness you were receiving from such a typically cold man—one you’d yearned for, one you’d assumed would never reciprocate your hunger for a decent touch, a kiss—made you feel a sweeping sense of pride; a sort of validation that made your ears warm and your heart stutter happily.

It was almost too much, and you could feel the spring in your abdomen tense in the same way the muscles in your thighs did as the exertion of riding him became more than a little tiring for you.

But Simon knew—intuitive to a frightening degree—and as your hips stuttered above him, he wrapped his arms around you, pressing a hand to your back and coaxing you to curl against his chest.

“So good, sweetheart,” he mumbled into your hair, arms still wrapped around you as he bucked his hips. “Perfect little wife, did your best, yeah? Ridin’ me so nice, let me put in the work now, right?”

You whimpered into the crook of his neck, relishing in the way he used your cunt like a toy for himself; hands moving to your hips to keep you steady, he fucked into you at a much faster pace, but the comfort you found lying on his chest was unparalleled.

When he pushed you down a bit rougher, letting the head of his cock punch into your cervix and making you let out a mewl of pained contentment, your jaw went slack. You felt drool pooling beneath your cheek and over the shoulder of his shirt.

Simon all but laughed when he felt the damp spot on his shirt, craning his neck to smile at you as he slowed the pace of his thrusts enough to reach up and tug you back gently by the hair. He forced your gaze on his, letting his voice take on a sweet, taunting lilt.

“What would the ladies in the neighborhood say if they saw you dirtying my clothes like this?” He cooed, pushing his cock into you so slowly that you could feel your walls moving, contorting to take the intrusion inch by inch. “Soaking my pants ‘nd droolin’ on my shirt? What would they think, sweetheart?”

“Probably be—be jealous…” you sighed, the angle and his slow movements creating the perfect storm to properly stimulate the spot on your front wall while your clit dragged over the base of him. “Probably want you just as bad as I do.”

“Fuck ‘em,” Simon growled, voice coming out almost hoarse as he spoke, his grip on your hair tightening ever so slightly. “Only want you.”

Suddenly he was burying his face into your chest, mouthing at your breasts and offering deep, fast thrusts up into you.

You cried out, clawing at his shoulders as you found the strength to wrap your arms around him and press yourself against him.

“Pretty thing,” Simon moved to look back at you. “Only want my wife. Only need you, sweet girl.”

“Simon—” You could feel the lust reach a fever pitch, the spring in your abdomen threatening to unfurl completely.

“I know, sweetheart,” he was panting, putting all of his effort that wasn’t focused on fucking you into responding to your moans. “C’mon ‘nd give it to me. I got you, lemme ‘ave it.”

It was almost pleading, the way his words came out, and it only served to push you over the edge.

You felt a deep seated tingle, muscles spasming and stomach tightening as a soft, needy gasp of his name escaped your lips.

You felt electric, charged and satisfied, slumping into Simon and letting yourself free-fall into the warmth that bloomed from your core around his cock.

“Fuck, ‘at’s it,” Simon moaned beneath you, wrapping his arms around you tightly as his hips stuttered feverishly, chasing your release in an effort to find his own. “Talk to me, sweetheart, gotta—”

“Inside,” you breathed, already anticipating the question and dead set on your answer. “Inside me, Simon. Please.”

He groaned, head falling back and eyes squeezing closed; wanting to draw out the pleasure of being inside of you, if only for a moment longer.

“I’ll give it t’you, love, I—fuck, lemme see you. Show me ‘at pretty face. Wanna see my wife when I fill ‘er sweet fuckin’ cunt up.”

You pushed yourself up, immediately obliging.

Pressing your forehead to his, noses brushing, he captured you in a brief but bruising kiss before pulling back to admire you above him.

“Fuck—‘ere you go, my pretty fuckin’ girl,” his eyes were heavily lidded, his gaze plastered to you, hungry and triumphant but so soft. “Jus’—Christ—”

Simon met his high with a grunt, thrusting lazily into you and coating your walls with his spend.

You whimpered, melting into him once more; listening to the way your breath fell in sync with his; appreciating the warmth of his release inside of you.

Simon sighed, splaying a hand over your back and tracing shapes on your skin.

After a moment of tranquil silence, he reached for your hips and carefully eased you off of him, both of you making quiet sounds of discontent.

Just as soon as you were off of him, though, you curled into his side, slinging a leg over him and pressing your face to his chest. He wrapped an arm around you, tugging you against him in a manner that made you feel like you were made to be there, flush against him.

“I’m gonna ask you one more time, Simon,” you spoke softly, but there was already a level of playfulness returning to your tone. “Do you wanna sleep up here tonight?”

You felt him huff a breath, laughing at your question.

“Does the bed come with the woman?” He tilted his face to look down at you.

“Up to you…” You held your breath, though you were unsure why; at this point, it seemed clear that he wanted you around, that he was just as eager to share space with you as you were with him.

“I’ll stay, sweetheart,” his other hand came up to toy with your hair. “Be a damn shame to make you sleep alone, Mrs. Riley.”

“What a doting husband.” You rolled your eyes, but you released the breath you’d been holding. 

“Don’t you forget it.” He tugged playfully on a strand of your hair, and you squeaked, swatting at him just as impishly.

~~~

By habit, you woke up early.

The room was quiet, bathed in a blanket of hazy sunlight that poked in through the curtains.

You didn’t remember falling asleep, so intent on staying up and appreciating Simon’s presence next to you in this brand new, exceedingly pleasant way.

But now that you were awake, you could enjoy it again.

His arms were still wrapped around you, soft breath fanning the top of your head as you lay tucked into his chest.

Sometime during the night he’d stripped down to match your level of nudity, and you trailed a finger over his bare shoulders, admiring him. You couldn’t help but press a kiss to his skin, warming your lips with the heat that radiated from him.

He stirred slightly, grunting as he tugged you further against him. He placed a kiss to the top of your head before falling back asleep, and you closed your eyes, happy to join him.

Covert operations were awkward. Not this one, though. 

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[narutothoughts]

Au where Naruto is insane about all his teammates (not just sasuke) so when Tsunade refuses the hat and kakashi is basically forced into it he goes a little wacky and joins anbu to help Kakashi better.

In the past, Kakashi swore himself to his village four times. Has the Konoha headband that he received at graduation from the academy as proof of the first time. Has his first chunin vest as proof of the second. His Jonin greens as proof of the third and his anbu tattoo as proof of the fourth.

He never expected to do it again with the Hokage’s hat as proof of the fifth. But he does. His village needs him and he’s never once turned from her, even at his worst.

Kakashi has the reputation. The skill. The intelligence. The heritage. The connections. The power.

With kakashi as Hokage and officially off active duty, the situation is more strained than before. It becomes readily apparent to all the higher ups just how much heavy lifting Kakashi was doing when it came to completing all the A and S rank missions.

Naruto…well he sees the grief that shadows Kakashi’s eye more than the hat’s veil could ever hide. The exhaustion in his perpetually slumped shoulders.

He refuses to let this be where they part ways and allow himself be shuffled off to a new genin sensei as if team seven wasn’t the best thing he ever had.

So he doesn’t. He lets getting sasuke back become a second priority and focuses on being able to help kakashi as best he can. Sasuke chose to leave but kakashi…he doesn’t want the hat or the distance it’s forced. It’s obvious to anyone who knew him as more than cold blooded Kakashi.

He will help his sensei.

It’s odd how much things shift after that. Time feels more compressed, like he’s fighting against it and working with it all at once. But somehow he finds his own teachers, both conventional and not.

After all, the old granny whose perfume he complemented and ended up learning about poisons from in Suna wasn’t exactly a normal teacher. Although he did find a bingo book entry that looked just like her minus a few (dozen) wrinkles. The fact it said she was both originally from Konoha and now dead was…interesting. The dock workers he met in water when he was disguised as a fisherman’s son looking for work taught him all kinds of knots that he adapted for his traps wasn’t conventional either. Not to mention the blacksmith he was hired to protect…or the bounty hunters he fought…or the missing nin…or that other missing nin…

Anyone that can teach him anything, he listens to. He internalizes. And he grows from it all.

It’s inevitable really that he joins ANBU. It’s where he can help his sensei best and so he does. He takes on the missions that are a few steps left of a suicide run and comes back with fewer and fewer injuries each time.

Things settle in the village again with another major player able to take on the workload. Kakashi hates it but can’t help but feel grateful for it anyway. He mourns the new darkness in his most cheerful students eyes but smiles as false bravado solidifies into quiet confidence and genuine contentment.

They both learn to lean on eachother. Kakashi knows any mission he gives Naruto will not only get completed, but also result in at least two more allies and a trade deal with a small village that’s not even on their maps. Naruto reveals in the unhesitant trust placed in him.

Time passes and the fourth war comes. Kakashi dies in front of Naruto, only alive long enough to pass him a blood stained hat with blood seeping through his face mask.

Naruto takes on the responsibility passed to him and leads his village in the war for 5 yrs.

Blah blah blah apocalyptic hell scape, he kills madara and rabbit goddess, no one’s left, Kurama suggests time travel, he takes it, gets sent to the past as a red haired and purple eyed version of himself, picks out a name, gets in bingo book, kills everyone he needs to to prevent it blah blah blah

This was entirely inspired by one scene I was imagining where Naruto gives a speech before his entire shinobi force and asks his anbu to step forward. It’s almost silent as people turn to each other in shock as they watch their friends and family step forward at their hokages command. Even quieter still when it’s clear the vast majority of the shinobi left alive are all ANBU.

[samstarium]

OK. yes i will try to explain to the best of my ability. i love mindbound vrissy and i hope (not that kind) u will consider the possibility after this ramble.

i talked abt omega kids classpects a little bit in this post, including vrissy, but i realized i didn't rlly articulate the "why" for her, so let's try to do that now. i'll try to source stuff when i can. this'll be kinda long, so i'll put it under the cut.

we do know that vrissy HAS a (dub)canon classpect, so that's a start in looking at how she's been coded, at least. its highly likely she's going to follow in the classpect footsteps of her predecessor like the trolls have in the past, but i think taking (haha, cuz thief) vriska's class instead of the aspect would b a good subversion. i always think of how hsbc, especially candy, feels a bit off-- the pieces are there, but everything is just a little weird. and a great way to show that is in how ancestral titles work for the new generation.

hsbc page 465

when vriska suggests she use her thief of light powers, ik vrissy says she doesn't have "anything like that," but i think that's a bit of a red herring. vriska mentions the two of them having luck, and specifies her own classpect, but vrissy's reaction doesn't necessarily read as non-thief to me. i also think she might be over-exaggerating how different they are to avoid the comparisons.

hsbc page 463

to me it always feels like aspects are the primary identifier for homestuck characters; even when they haven't reached their full class potential or even godtiered yet, they are liable to view the world through their aspect. class is something that characters are less comfortable with expressing, and often they try to downplay their own class or even attempt to imitate someone else's for one reason or another. i don't agree w/ everything from od, but i think his roleplay theory is relevant here. classes are weird.

as stated, i think it's pretty obvious she's not a light player, but the way roach specifies she doesn't have thief of light powers, and that her powers are just a "little different" (countering vrissy's "anything like that" retort) leads to believe that the thief role is here to stay.

anyways, enough about thieves for now.

the mind aspect is weird. i mean, most of the aspects r weird one way or the other but mind seems to be fairly hard for even veteran classpectors to pin down (the ez didnt help, "remaining rational" is not the phrase id use for mind but whatever). a lot of ppl think mind is abt facades, but in one of my favorite classpecting docs tamago describes it as filters, deliberate ways of shifting one's appearance to other ppl for one reason or another.

hsbc page 60

^ this image isn't a citation for anything i just think it's a cute intro

everyone can act different around different ppl, but for the mindbound its something they r consciously thinking abt quite a lot... that is to say, mind players are often fairly concerned with how they come off, moreso than most other aspects. as the classic heartbound embraces themself with their whole chest, the mind player is deeply concerned w/ adapting their mannerisms to what's needed.

she has some of her ancestral namesake's insecurity, for sure, but also some of the tact and awareness that the original vriska seems to lack. when they first meet and vriska begins to waffle on about reality and nonsense like that, vrissy knows exactly what to say to snap her out of it. she picks up the vibe and adjusts.

candy 37

she can also see through vriska's bullshit just as quick. i love this line man. vrissy is rlly good at figurin out when someone isnt being honest w/ her, or w/ themself.

candy 37

after vriska checks in with terezi, vrissy also understands, w/o exchanging any words, that her ancestor needs distance. she's very perceptive, honestly.

hsbc page 57

the rest of their interaction has some mind-y elements as well. vrissy immediately accepts the nickname placed upon her (names and renaming are very mind-related, given the emphasis on the outer presentation of one's self)

for all of her teenaged hangups, she is hyperaware of the larger situation on earth c and the fact that... actions have consequences, basically. tavros is under the whims of the elder vriska, harry still thinks the clown escapade is a joke, vrissy knows the reality of what might happen to them

hsbc page 75

and she's very concerned with the Plan (her own capitalization). all about the plan with those mindfolk. she brings up consequences a few more times as they fumble the clown and hide, giving her much more of a level head than even the fretfulness of her kismesis tavvy.

you are right that running into an active warzone is not the behavior of someone very concerned w/ consequences, but i think that has mroe to do w/ her still needing to grow and develop than it does a dismissal of the mind aspect. even terezi had her irrational moments, n balancing out the opposing aspect is often just as important to a homestuck character's development as mastering their own (grimdark rose and void is a good example). so i definitely get where you're coming from but i think enough characters act "out of aspect" to justify it.

also i think vrissy becoming a sort of mind foil for vriska like terezi was as opposed to another light player would b cool. balancing out her rashness with some caution bc skaia knows she needs it.

there's probably also some tidbits during the vent escape shenanigans, but i've run out of steam to cover that w/ a play-by-play so uhh. yeah that's it

so well plenty of this is absolutely up for debate and her arc hasn't even gotten started rlly i hope at least some of this makes sense as to why i think vrissy could b a thief of mind. ok byeeeeeeee

Can anyone give me a good explanation as to why so many people think Vrissy is a mind player? Because to me it really seems like a completely random far-off guess than an actual simplification of her role and character.... After seeing so much of her dialogue I'm pretty sure consequences are the furthest thing from her mind especially when considering the fact that the last thing we saw her do was mindlessly run into an active warzone because her boyfriend and sister were one-upping her by doing some cool shit.

Like am I seriously supposed to think that the girl who trusted Harry Anderson to assist her in a plan involving bringing a celebrity's CORPSE into a SCHOOL would be the aspect commonly associated with choice, foresight and tact????? It almost feels as though the fandom is playing some elaborate prank on me and me only

[hailsatanacab]

@the-ghost-trader - ooooh, i love this! it has the potential to be so incredibly sad, too, like poor Damian just trying to carve out something normal for himself only for it blow up in his face

BUT, shockingly, i'm not about the angst today! not yet anyway 😇

---

“So, how was your day?”

Despite his answering groan, Damian likes this. This. This whole… thing he has with Danielle. With Ellie. 

And, yeah, he’s not exactly told any of the others yet, but can you blame him? For wanting to keep something, anything, to himself. Wanting to keep this small little slice of goodness he’s managed to carve out, untouched and unmarred by his family, by their other lives, by the rogues, the vigilantes, the assassins, everyone.

“That bad, huh?”

Being with Ellie is freeing. That’s the best way to describe it.

She knows. Damian surprised even himself when he told her—not about the others, mind, but he supposes it’s not hard to put two and two together and Dani has always been smarter than most—but it’s the best decision he’s ever made, and no matter what the niggling little voice in the back of his head says (the one that sounds suspiciously like Father), he can’t bring himself to regret it.

He won’t. Because having Ellie know gives him freedom.

She’s a safe place, a hand to hold, a warm, welcoming presence when things inevitably turn ugly. It’s the freedom to just be normal when everything else in his life spirals into stranger and more stressful missions.

“Richard is being insufferable again. I do not understand his incessant need to know everything about my life.”

“Oh? What’s he done now?” 

“I was subjected to an hour long interrogation about my love life, like it’s any of his business. It’s infuriating!”

“Ugh, tell me about it. I get the same thing from Jazz, constantly. It can be suffocating.” Ellie says as she curls herself tighter into his side. “But it’s just how they show they care.”

“Yes, well, sometimes I wish he wouldn’t—”

“Hey!” Ellie pushes herself up to glare at him, punctuating her shout with a soft whack to his arm for good measure. “What have I said about using that word?”

“Yes, yes,” he placates with a roll of his eyes, “‘Be careful what you wish for.’ I apologise, it won't happen again.”

“Damn straight it won't.”

She maintains eye contact with him for a second longer before tucking herself back into his side, squirming around with a long, contented hum that Damian can feel rumble through him. He smiles and doesn’t complain even when he has to shift to give her more room after a particularly strong elbow jabs him in the ribs. It means leaving the warm patch on the couch, but he’s rewarded with another long, happy moan as she settles and Damian can’t bring himself to mind.

Ellie constantly makes noises. Little mews and hums and laughs and songs known only to her. It reminds him of a cat, sometimes. He likes it. It calms him down; it means she’s happy, so he's happy.

They settle back into the cushions and Damian lets the subject drop, not wanting to spoil the moment. Outside, the wind changes direction and from where he’s laying he can watch as the snow starts to come down thick and heavy. Hopefully it’ll mean a quiet night's patrol.

“Is that why you haven’t introduced me yet?”

“What?” He can't help it, he stiffens at the thought of losing his secret, of the scrutiny he'll be inviting if he lets anyone know.

“Are you worried I’ll embarrass you?”

Damian’s eyes snap down quick to reassure her, only to see her light, teasing grin. He lets out a breath of relief. It figures she wouldn't worry about that.

“Of course not, don’t be absurd. You could never embarrass me.”

“I don’t know,” she muses, her voice taking on a dangerous lilt, “that sounds like a challenge.”

“Believe me, having been subjected to Father’s Brucie persona at every gala I’ve been to, it would take a lot to embarrass me.”

“Alright, bet. I’ll get you, just you wait.”

“You’ve already got me.”

She flicks him on the nose. “You’re such a sap.”

He hums his agreement, enjoying the tinkling sound of her laughter. And then, before he can think otherwise, he asks, “Is that why you haven’t introduced me?”

“That’s different,” she scowls. “You know how hard it is to get there, there’s no signal, and Danny only gets a break like—oh, Ancients!”

Damian gets another elbow to the ribs as she bolts upright, a manic grin on her face that has him laughing.

“What is it?”

“It’s the holidays! It’s nearly Truce Day! You know I said I had a family thing around Christmas?”

“Yes?” 

“Well, do you want to come to it? I can introduce you then! I mean, it’s going to be a bit formal and you’ll have to meet everyone, not just family. There’s going to be some banquets, you’ll have to sit through some long speeches and you have to be on your best behaviour at all times, okay? Absolutely no fighting, it’s called Truce Day for a reason!”

“What?”

“Yeah, it’ll be perfect! I think Jazz is going in a couple days earlier to help with the preparations, so I’ll get her to let Danny know—and fair warning, he will try to give you the shovel talk, but this is great! It’s Truce Day, so he can’t actually do anything about it!”

“I’m sorry, but you're going to have to explain a bit.”

“Yeah, I know, it’s a bit much—but that’s family, right? Danny can get pretty protective over me, which is why going on Truce Day is the best time to do it! He can’t even command the Fright Knight to stab you! It’s genius!”

“Ellie, what?”

“Like, yeah, sure, he’s the king, but even he has to obey the rules of Truce Day—and then once you’ve spent all day with him, he’ll see that you’re a fantastic, wonderful, kind, brilliant, smart, strong, capable person and he’ll get over himself and everything will be good!"

Damian collapses down onto the couch, the wind knocked out of him. This is… He had not expected anything like this at all. For all that Ellie talked about her family, she had never mentioned this.

“Did you… did you say your brother is a king?”

“Yeah! High King Phantom, have I…” The manic grin slips off her face as she turns round and notices Damian. “Have I not mentioned that before?”

“No. No, you have not.”

“Ah. Sorry. Probably should clarify that I’m also a princess.”

“Right. Yes, that follows.”

“And I’m not really his sister, I’m his clone.”

“What?”

Damian blinks and tries to say more, but he has no idea what he’s meant to do with… any of this information. 

Normal. He thought she was meant to be his normal. Nothing could have prepared him for this.

Not that it changed anything, of course, of that he was certain. It’s just… a lot to take in. Overwhelming. But it's okay! He takes a deep breath, and another, and a sense of calm washes over him. Ellie makes one of her little hums as she cocks her head to the side to consider him and he can't help but relax at the normalcy of the sound. It'll be okay, he's dealt with stranger and he can deal with this.

“I’ve, uh… I’ve told you that we’re half ghosts, though, right?”

“What?”

[amatres]

cant believe i managed to put together a character inspiration graph. some are stronger than others, but it's fun to be able to put one together for once :') Anyway, inspiration board for aurora

Characters: -Snow Maiden (from the fairytale of the same name) -Odette (from the ballet Swan Lake) -The Unicorn/Amalthea (from The Last Unicorn) -Ninian (from Fire Emblem Blazing Blade) -The Princess (from Slay the Princess) -Sleeping Beauty/Rosamund du Prix (the fairytale of the same name/Dimension 20 Neverafter)

[raymoo--hackery]

Drew some OC shit :P

[eats-the-stars]

everybody who went to a private catholic school name the craziest personal belief an instructor lectured the class on.

i'll go first: mentally disabled people are free of original sin, just like animals, so they get a free pass to heaven

[tvrningout-a]

i’ll have y’all know that i’ve been researching raven creatures and i’m about to go stupid go crazy and add this lady to the blog when i get back

[audarcy]

The original percy jackson series is about cycles of abuse and neglect, right. Were introduced to percy as a kid who has clearly been left behind by a school system that has given up on him, restless and unengaged and self-defetist because hes been given nothing that works for him and no one even tries to meet him where he is. Then hes told no, listen, your neurodivergence is amazing and you just need to be given something that actually utilizes your unique palatte. And thats obviously the uplifting idea rick wanted for his kids, right. But once we get to know chb the same cycles are happening there too. There are kids "left behind" there too for one reason or another, because their parents dont want to claim them, because their parents werent important enough to get a cabin. Do you get it, all the kids who dont fit the most common neurotypes get shoved into the same closet. Kids are being left in a cruel world to fend for themselves without the tools they need. Theyre dying because no one bothered to accommodate them. Its such an obvious parallel that the first chapter introduces a teacher whos written to be especially hard on percys disability and she turns out to literally be one of these monsters trying to kill him. Meanwhile sally jackson tells him she named him after Perseus because she wanted a redemption for a hero whos story ended in tragedy. Meanwhile every book in the series replicates a greek myth step for step until the moment they break the cycle. Annabeth, playing Odysseus, is talked down from her hubris and grounded by her friends. Percy, playing Heracles, meets someone wronged by the original Heracles and rights his wrongs by refusing to go down the same selfish path as him. Monsters are reborn because they are--as the books explicitly call them--achetypes. These kids are stuck inside the cyclical nature of mythology because thats what happens to mythology, it gets retold over and over again. But these are the kids who have to live it. The series ends with percy being offered immortality and he rejects it because he wants to use his godly favor to force them to break their cycle of neglecting their kids. The series ends with a declaration that we cant keep letting this happen. The very first book offees the same choice. It ends with percy refusing to keep the head of medusa as a spoil of war, refusing his heroic reward. He lets his mother have the head and use it to kill gabe. Isnt that fucking crazy for a kids book? Gabe wasnt a Monster. He wasnt going to Turn to Dust and Disappear in a narratively convenient way. He was a living breathing mortal dude and percy and his mom killed him without remorse. Break the cycle of abuse!!!! Dont let this happen again!!! Anyway thats why the original percy jackson series is Hey where are you going with our breadsticks

[hollowsentinel]

Fuck it.

Hebert has a Handgun: everywhere Taylor looks, she sees guns and munitions. Sometimes they are in incredibly inconvenient places. At least one time she finds a gun, it is in her backpack. At school. Where Madison can see if her gaze falls just so.

But that's not important.

What's important is how unimportant Taylor is in spite of this. The guns are a side note in her life. She is so very small in the end. She is just a speck of dust is the great cosmos of the universe. The night sky is beautiful beyond the words she loves with her mother.

Brockton Bay is bright. Boston is brighter still even in the distance. The stars? The galaxy? The universe as seen from a rooftop? It shines clearly in spite of all the reasons that would obscure it.

Clearly, Taylor is parahuman. Or she is under the effect of a parahuman power. Her vision remains sharp with or without her glasses. (She can wear sunglasses at night with no issues at all.) But what sort of cape just sees clearly? Try as she might, sharp vision is nothing so special as to challenge any of the problems in Brockton Bay.

But that is no reason not to try.

A gun on school grounds cannot stop her. It is nothing a tattoo cannot fix. It may be a pain to explain the tramp stamp, but at least it is not grounds for immediate expulsion and criminal record. Or getting gunned down by cops.

[madamechrissy]

I'll look After You

Pairings: Satoru Gojo x fem reader (reader is a mom)

Summary: You longed to hear from Satoru, After an epic night hooking up in a club bathroom, sure you'd been strangers, but he has your number, he made you feel so special... but... he never contacts you again. Ten months later, you have a beautiful baby named Reign, with those exact blue eyes. You never saw him again, couldn't even find him, so now, you are living your life as a single mom. Messy bun, dark circles, exhausted, you run into Satoru one day, and he sees her, his baby girl, and sees you struggling, he knows then, you're what's been missing in his life.

CW: MDNI- Sweet and emotional story, SO MUCH fluff here, Satoru is a freaking doll, misunderstanding led to him not knowing (nothing is kept from anyone on purpose) Fluffy long oneshot, watch Satoru fall in love with reader and his lil girl. Gojo being a dad and being cute! Explicit smut at the end- warnings- breed kink (it's me???) oral (f receiving) dirty talk, possessive Satoru (When isn't he?) Also some flashbacks to the original bathroom hookup (fingering, dirty talk etc) Sexual tension, 10.6k WC <3

Here is the full oneshot! Comments and reblogs SO appreciated if you enjoy <3

You often wondered about him, Satoru was his name.

As you look down at your baby girl, with her brilliant blue eyes while she’s cooing happily, giving you a gummy little grin, you wonder what he’d think if he knew about her. The random guy at the bar you gave your number to after hooking up in a bathroom, the guy who never called, the guy with no social media of which to speak. The guy you never, ever saw again.

Your baby’s father, the best thing that ever happened to you, surely, but also it was very difficult, being a single mom, you’d have to go back to work soon which you were dreading, spending sleepless nights up feeding, changing her. It had been a rough pregnancy, and a shocking one at that, people had questioned you over and over, some mentioned not having her.

But something in you knew you could do this, you could have this baby, you’re broke as fuck but she has all she needs, and she makes you so happy, but those eyes are unmistakable. No one has eyes like that, except her and her… well was he her dad? You wonder if he’d run ten million miles from you if he knew, or would he have been okay with it?

It’s odd that just a night of fun, alcohol and being on antibiotics created this amazing little girl, but you can’t be upset, not when she brightens your world. But you still ache at times, for her to have a dad, you hope you’re enough. You wonder about him though, the bright energetic man, the one that had made you feel more in one evening than anyone ever.

The last man you’d been with.

Yes, it’s been that long, Reign was two months old, so you’re damn near a year, you say it’s because you’re so busy, but something deep in you knows that you felt something for him, deeper than the obvious physical. Something about how he looked at you, at how he laughed, at how he made you feel so special.

You assume it must have been some act, clearly, here you are, alone after all. You both only knew each other’s first names, it’s true, but he had that number. Maybe it wasn’t all you thought it was? Maybe he just was that sort of guy, the one that made women think they’re his everything with one of his kisses, maybe you were just too drunk, and he was too pretty.

You blink a bit, shaking the haze thoughts of him as you yawn a bit, exhausted from Reign keeping you up all night, her tummy had been hurting. You’re sleepily putting things in the cart, baby items, groceries, the essentials, you catch sight of yourself in the mirror above the produce, wincing then. You have a messy bun and are in pajamas, god help you if you ever wanted to meet a guy.

‘Oh hi, I have a baby with a random blue eyed dude from a bar, I’m broke as fuck, and I wear pajamas to the store. Wanna date?’

Yeah. That would go over well.

“It’s… it’s… you!?” You sleepily look up then, so exhausted you barely register the six foot three man for a moment, then suddenly it all hits.

He stares at you, those blue eyes, the eyes your baby has, wide now, his pouty pink lips dropped open. He’s just as gorgeous as you remember him, like it’s some dream, you feel weak then, chest rising and falling as your breaths come too quickly. He steps closer to you then, he hasn’t seen her yet, nestled in her little car seat on the cart, you’re panicking.

“Do you even remember me? Oh my god, that night my phone broke, and I had just got it, they couldn’t transfer the numbers! And I tried to look you up? But I couldn’t find you… and I never saw you… and then- fuck I’m rambling.” He laughs nervously, swiping his hand through his snowy locks. “Forgive me, please… what I mean to say is… Hi?”

“Hi…” Your baby whines then, and Satoru pauses, blinking and you move to the side then, he steps closer when Reign opens her eyes, grinning at him.

Satoru’s heart pounds in his chest, his entire world tilts on its axis, he was already so thrown off by seeing you again, the girl he hasn’t been able to stop thinking of, but now… he looks at you in shock, you look exhausted, but so beautiful, your eyes tear up then, he watches your shoulders slump, then he looks back at the baby, realization sinking in.

“She’s… is she… there’s no way…”

“She’s yours, I only hooked up with you for the past… year.” You manage to say softly, right in the middle of the fruit aisle, Satoru was finding out you have his baby.

“You did this alone?” He says then, blinking back emotions for a girl he barely knew, but who now has a part of him, a part he wants to know so badly suddenly, shocking him.

“I had no clue who you were, how to tell you, even if so, it’s not your responsibility okay? I take care of her just fine, I make it work.” Satoru’s heart breaks then, seeing how tired you are, seeing the endless baby items and cheap toilet paper, a cheap bottle of wine, is that all you get yourself?

You did this alone, you have his baby alone, altering your life while he’s living his just the same, partying with his best friends, working and living a luxurious life. Satoru was rich, and it’s clear his baby and his baby’s mother are struggling, and he’s here doing what? Could he have tried harder to find you!? Could he…

“We’re okay, you don’t have to worry. I’d never come for you for anything, I am happy being her mommy.” You say with a tired smile, reaching to touch her little chubby cheek, and Satoru has never seen anything so beautiful, the two of you.

He’s felt so empty for this year, is this what he was missing?

“Can I… please… Can I know her?” He asks, gulping now, and you blink in shock, nodding quickly.

“I would love that.” You can’t stop your tears then, sniffling and shaking your head. “Please, let’s talk out of a produce aisle?” You whisper, he nods quickly, unable to take his eyes off you, off his baby.

After paying for your groceries, which you protest to, he’s out by your car now, a little minivan that makes him smile, picturing you as some pretty soccer mom already. You take her out of the car seat then, holding her carefully, smiling up nervously at Satoru. His chest swells at seeing you hold her, some instinct takes over, he instantly knows then.

He needs to take care of you both.

“I thought you’d freak out if you knew, be upset or want nothing to do with…”

“God no, no. I mean I don’t know what to think, but… she’s beautiful. Like her mom.” His words make you flush.

“I’m a wreck, Satoru, look at me.”

“You just need some help, doing it all alone?”

“You don’t have to, okay? I can do it.”

He brushes a tendril back off your temple, sighing as he looks at you, at those dark circles that just make you more beautiful, but show the fragility you’re keeping under wraps as best as you can. “I want to help, this is on me too.”

“It’s not, I was on the pill but… antibiotics.” You grumble, holding the baby to your chest now, she is sucking on her little binkie, bright pink. “It’s all on me, I’d love you to be in her life, but don’t feel obligated to pay for anything.”

“You’re stubborn, will she be too?” He narrows his eyes, and you giggle then, the first time in a long time you’ve heard that sound.

“She’s already stubborn, she gave me a hard time, wouldn’t come out.” She wriggles then, and you step a little closer to Satoru. “Wanna hold her?”

“Can you… tell me how to?” He asks, and you smile at him, for a tall, buff man he’s so sweet and precious, nervous even.

“Yes, hold your arms like this.” He does as you ask, holding his arms out, as you gently place Reign in his arms. “Hold her head just so. There you go, hey Reign, this is your dad.”

“Reign?” He asks, in shock as he looks into her eyes, his eyes, but she has your nose, your hair. His lips. She’s… “Perfect.”

“Isn’t she? Is it okay if I call you her dad?”

“It’s… perfect.” He says again, smiling at you, tears making his snowy lashes spike just so, you feel so complete then somehow. You can’t explain it, seeing this melts you, and Reign is so happy she's cooing, sucking on her binky and staring at him, you watch him melt right with you. “HI there, dumpling.”

“Dumpling? She's got a nickname huh.” He grins so big, nodding.

“I moved out of the city for the past year but I just came back to town. How far are you?”

“Oh like ten minutes. Would you… like to come over tomorrow? I'd say today but my place is a wreck.”

“I'd love to. Can I get her something please?”

“You don't have to… but she can always use binkies she throws these things. Ugh, see?” Reign spits out her binky and Satoru snorts as you catch it. She then touches his cheek, and he chokes up.

“I… oh my god. I love her?” He whispers in wonder, and you exhale, blinking tears that refuse to stop falling. “Is that crazy?”

“No. I loved her when I first saw her too. Fuck I'm a wreck “

“Hey…” He steps closer, handing you her carefully and then placing his big hands on your shoulders. “I am here now for both of you, however you'll let me be. Shh.” He brushes your back, resting his head on yours as you hold her close.

“I never thought I'd see you, tell you. I'm overwhelmed. I'm sorry.”

“Yeah me too.”

Of course he is, fuck. He just found out he's a dad, and he's honestly taking it better than anyone could. He brushes your tears away, and your pulse quickens, you clear your throat then. “We don't even know each other, it's insane huh?”

“Absolutely insane. But… I can't wait to spend time with her.” He says softly, you smile up at him, trying not to read so much into it, so happy he wants to be in her life but you have to remember that doesn't mean with you.

“Come over tomorrow I'll cook you lunch? Please don't break your phone again.” He laughs then, nodding as you two exchange numbers.

“Last name is Gojo. I hope one day hers can be?” And yours, he thinks, but he knows it's crazy to say, as he watches you smile so pretty through your tears.

“Maybe we can do that someday. Well, Reign, say bye to dad.” Satoru kisses her little forehead, leaning up then, thinking of kissing you. You both stand there a moment before he opens your door, and you set Reign back in her little pink car seat. You smile up at him again. “I am sorry I'm in pajamas by the way, ugh.”

“They're cute, little snowmen.” You snort, rolling your eyes as you slide in your car, hoping you will see him tomorrow with everything. “See you both soon.”

You drive away, and Satoru calls his driver and assistant then. “Can you order me everything a baby girl needs? And I need it by tomorrow.”

******

There’s a knock on your door, you peek in the mirror one more time, you took a bath last night, your hair is shimmering and clean for once, you have just a little concealer on for those dark circles, a little lip gloss. You’re wearing clothes and not sweats or pajamas, a little top with a cardigan and jeans, nothing fancy but you look human again.

You can’t believe that Satoru will come, until you open that door and see him, standing next to a tired looking dark haired man holding an insane amount of glittery pink bags. Satoru’s grinning at you, wearing Gucci shades and a dress shirt probably worth more than your rent, only one little bag in his hand swinging side to side as he greets you.

“Satoru, you… what is all this?” You ask curiously, and he shrugs a broad shoulder, handing you the little bag.

“All that is for Regin, this is for you though.”

“What!? It’s too many things!”

“Miss, may I?”

You realize he’s just standing there struggling, and come to then. “Oh, yes I’m so sorry! Put them on the table?”

Satoru and Kiyotaka walk in then, you have a little place, it’s about the size of Satoru’s living room altogether, but it’s comfy and clean, lived in and every bit of it has something of you. He sees pictures of you pregnant on your little silver fridge, pictures of Reign all over, along with Christmas cards all placed with magnets. He sees you’ve baked cookies, too, the scent making him starve.

Almost as much as your scent, so sweet and intoxicating, as he stands next to you, gesturing to the bags. “I wanted to get her something, remember?”

“This is a whole store though!” Kiyotaka leaves now, and you’re delving into the bags, gasping as you pull out the softest, fuzziest pink blanket. “Oh my god…”

“I just had them buy everything for a girl? Is pink good?”

You giggle then, smiling as you pull out a pretty pink dress. “She doesn’t know colors yet, Satoru.”

Of course she doesn’t.

Satoru truly doesn’t know shit about kids, he called and told his mom, asking for advice, and almost gave her a heart attack he thinks. “Of course not, I… where is she? Is she napping?”

“She is, but don’t worry she usually wakes up soon. Oh these are so cute, how expensive are these!? She’s gonna wear them for like a week!” You ask then, pulling out a little baby pair of fancy shoes, then two more. “She can’t even walk yet… ah, but these are so cute though.” You’re clearly conflicted, he chuckles a bit, then you stand up. “Oh my god, I’m a shitty host!”

“You’re cute.” His words, all husky with that deep voice of his, make you flush now, making you even cuter to him. “You look pretty today.”

“Oh thank you, I didn’t want you to think I’m constantly a monster.” He snorts, rolling his eyes.

“You’re cute either way. This was you pregnant?” He asks, as you lead him to the kitchen.

“Yes, I was a whale, oh god.” He touches the photo then, a longing surging through him, he missed this, he missed you like this. He feels an ache washing through him, looking at your glowing face and round tummy.

“No, you were beautiful.” Your breath catches, eyes shooting to his as he looks at you now, feeling something pulling you towards him, it’s like he takes the air out of your lungs just standing here.

“You’re very sweet, Satoru… thank you.” You manage to breathe out the words, when he looks down at your body now, heating it up with his gaze.

“Did you like being pregnant?”

The words throw images in your mind, of him over you, putting more babies in you, fucking insane ones that you shove down quickly. He was clearly caring, and wanting to be involved, you needed to keep your thoughts to that and only that, despite the way your stomach is fluttering at his proximity.

“I did love being pregnant, feeling her move and kick, singing to my tummy and feeling her calm down. But towards the end it was really rough, because she decided she wasn’t coming out.” You say with a little laugh, Satoru can see in how you speak how much you adore her. “Would you like to see more pictures later?”

“I’d love to. You didn’t open what I got you.”

“You shouldn’t get me anything. Oh, do you want some cookies?”

“Yes please.” He starts munching down on them, moaning. “You baked these?”

“I bake when I’m nervous? It gets insane how much I bake.” He smiles then, you’re tucking your shimmering hair behind your ear, grabbing him a glass of milk before you go grab the little bag.

“Open it, now.” He sips his milk as you sit on the barstool by the counter, fingers gently pulling apart tissue paper, until you open a little box and see a gift card.

“To a spa!? I haven’t ever been to a spa? What I can’t!”

“You will. When you’re comfortable I could watch her, so you could get some time to yourself.” You sniffle then, the kindness of him after all the overwhelming months you’ve had is too much, you shake your head.

“I can’t, it’s all too much, you shouldn’t feel like you have to do this!” He walks to you then, brushing a tear from your cheek, exhaling as he leans down so close.

“Sweetheart, I’m fucking rich, okay?”

“I assumed… wealthy with your clothes…”

“No, filthy fucking rich. Let me spend it on my baby and get her mom just a little thing please? How can you take care of her without any care for you?”

“I just do it, Satoru. I just do it.” He brushes more of your tears now, his lips far too close, you still don’t know him truly but the gesture is melting every defense you may have had up.

“Just go relax one day, not now, when you’re more comfortable.” Reign starts crying then, making Satoru back off just as you’d leaned your chin up, and you two had been so close. You back away too, nervously standing.

“I’ll go get her for you.” You say with a big smile, eyes still watery, and then you bring her out, Satoru’s heart swells even more than it did seeing you, he eagerly picks her up this time, versus being so nervous as before. “Dad spoiled you already.”

“Not even close to spoiled yet.” He murmurs, snuggling her to him.

“Have a seat, please.” He sits on the couch with her, you take one of the many little blankets, gently laying it over her and then sitting on the couch with him, as he stares at her in wonder.

“She barely cries?”

“That’s around you, it seems. She likes you already.” Your words fill him with far too much happiness, a happiness he’s never known, but also such a longing.

“I wish I could have been there.” He whispers, brokenly, the handsome white haired man holding your little girl, and suddenly you can picture it, maybe his big bright smile during what was a difficult labor.

“You’re here now.” You assure him, a hand gentle on his shoulder, the caress delicate before you think better of it, pulling your hand back. “I thought about you a lot, I mean… I tried to find you.”

“I wish you had.”

“Really?” He nods then, emotional. “Satoru Gojo, you surprised me, I thought for sure you’d turn and run.”

“Nah, why? Look at her.” She’s blinking her long lashes, grinning at him then. “So what do I like… do with her? Besides holding her?”

You laugh softly then, it’s so easy to have him around, it feels so natural that it’s weird. “Well you can feed her a bottle I pumped, but I breast feed mostly.”

He gulps now, looking at your top, where your nipples were pressing against the thin fabric. “Oh?”

“Yeah, depending on her mood, sometimes she is vicious. I’ll show you.” You gently take your top up, feeling his gaze when you pull off your nursing bra.

“That thing is easy access.” He murmurs, you giggle a bit, nervous for him to see you when you let it drop, revealing one of your pretty breasts to him, leaving him dazed before he snaps out of it, handing you Reign.

It’s very intimate, sitting with him while you feed her, she’s sucking hard, so hard you wince then, her little long nails digging into your breast as Satoru smirks. “You’re gonna laugh at this pain?”

“She’s just like her dad, look at her go. A pro.” You snort, rolling your eyes and shaking your head as Reign aggressively punches your breasts for more milk.

“I wouldn’t know, I don’t think you did that.” You murmur thoughtfully, pushing back flashes of the night while she suckles.

“That’s a tragedy.” You look down shyly, lashes casting shadows on your cheeks, while you feed his daughter, his daughter, it’s still not comprehending, it’s still taking him a lot to conceive it’s real. “Look at her face, oh my god!”

Your heart warms as he leans over, and Reign has stopped drinking, a goofy smile on her face. “She’s milk drunk.”

“What now? She looks high as fuck.” You hold in your laughter so you don’t wake her now, her eyes are shut and she’s still sucking on nothing.

“She does look stoned, it always cracks me up. Do you wanna put her to bed? I’ll show you where she sleeps.”

He nods and takes her again, watching your nipple with just a droplet of milk on it, he swipes it away before he can think better, making you shoot your eyes to him, lips parted. You hastily put the bra back up as a blush pinkens Satoru’s cheeks, slipping down your top, his touch on your sensitive nipples almost ended you just now. The desire for him in every way is almost insane.

You show him to the only room in your little place, it’s got a crib and a bassinet, and a tiny little bed that he assumes you must sleep in. You start wrapping her up in the new pink blanket then, swaddling her so tight, he watches in wonder at it, as you bundle her up.

“She’ll like a little burrito.” You snort in laughter, trying to keep quiet and covering your mouth then, looking up at Satoru in amusement.

“She kind of is? Babies like to be swaddled, they feel comfy.”

“You know so much… Have you had any experience before?” You both watch as she settles now.

“No, I learned all this from lots of books and bugging the shit out of my mother. Though she even thought I was crazy to have her. But something…” You trail off then, shaking your head. “Sorry.”

“No, please go on. Something?”

“Something told me I was meant to have her, it sounds crazy. But… I knew I could do it, even if it’s a lot.”

Satoru’s hand comes to rest on the small of your back, as you turn your head to look back up at him, seeing the emotions written all over his perfect face. “You’re doing great.”

You break down then at that, sobbing against his chest as he holds you, soothing rubs on your back. “I needed that, shit I’m sorry.”

“Shh, it’s okay.” You stay like that for a moment, letting him hold you against his chest, your face buried against his shirt, tears spilling freely while you take several breaths. “You’re a great mom, I can already see.”

“Shit…” You pull yourself together, taking several breaths and leaning back then, Satoru’s cupping your face and it takes everything not to kiss him, this man who you still barely know. “I really appreciate that. It’s been hard so far, but I love her so much, it's impossible how deeply.”

“I can feel it already. You, missy, need that break.”

“I couldn’t…”

“I want to be involved, I want to care for her, and that means her mom too. Yeah?” You shake your head, earning his little glare. “Stubborn little brat.”

“Excuse me!?” You glare right back, and he grins.

“You are one!”

“Me a brat?” Your eyes narrow as you cross your arms.

“Mmhmm.” Satoru tilts your chin up, your head falls back then, and he imagines entwining his fingers in it, imagining kissing you just like that night. He leans even closer and you pull back, clearing your throat.

“We should step out so we don’t wake her.” You murmur, when you’re back in the living room you’re carefully folding all the clothes he’s bought. “Oh, I promised lunch! You up for stir fry?”

“I’m up for anything you wanna make, after eating those cookies.” You set to work, and soon the two of you are eating lunch together, Satoru moans as he devours the food. “My god you’re a good cook.”

“Thank you, I love to cook.” You nibble on your rice thoughtfully. “Ugh, I’m gonna hate leaving her to work.”

Satoru scowls now. “Huh?”

“Maternity leave is over in two weeks. I’m just going to work part time though, so I’ll still see her plenty. Maybe I’ll bring her to work?”

“Where do you work?”

“A library, I’m very exciting.” Satoru grins now.

“You look like a little librarian.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Goodie goodie, despite the bathroom…” You both quiet then, as his mind whirls, and yours spins, remembering.

“S-Satoru!” You’d cried out as his fingers had pumped in and out of your tight little entrance, soaking his fingers as he kissed down your neck, you watched your reflection in the mirror as he pressed you against the sink, free hand gripping you right under your chin.

“Fuck, look at you? So sexy…” He murmurs, the club's music pounding like your heart in your chest. He has a big hand muffling your cries as you soak his hands, dripping all over him. “Hear her?”

His murmur against your ear makes you tremble, shivers sending down your spine as he builds that pressure inside you. You nod, drooling against his palm, when he is hitting that spot that has your eyes rolling back, pressing on it over and over with his long, thick fingers. You’re screaming into his hand, ass arching against him.

“That’s it, pretty, cum f’me huh?”

You both get quiet then, you see it clear as day, your face in that mirror as he’d filled you, and he remembers sucking your juices off his fingers, god it’s been almost a year and he can’t get your taste off his mind. He’d been with a few women here and there since he didn’t think he’d see you again, but they were nothing like it, nothing like you.

How your body responded, every little muffled cry, he remembers dying to get you fully naked, planning it all out when he would call you. He wanted you to not even leave his bed, he’d fully taste you, make you cum with his mouth. He’d get to look into your eyes as he filled you so good, have your legs up over his shoulders while he pumped inside.

It’s like electricity in your quiet little home, the two of you sitting in a daze, your breath comes quicker when he leans across the table, brushing your cheek with his fingers, feeling the heat on them. “Warm?” He teases.

“Um, a little.” You stand then, taking his plate and smiling, acting as normal as you can. “All done?”

“Yeah, thank you.” He watches you wash them then, he can’t even fathom not having a dishwasher, but you’re there with your pretty hands and that sponge. He doesn’t want you to work, he doesn’t want you even doing this, you should just enjoy the baby.

But with how stubborn you are, how independent? He doesn’t know if you’ll even take his offer when he makes it.

“How about you come to my place with the little Dumpling this weekend? Maybe… stay a night? I’ll have her something set up.”

“Stay the night?” You nearly break the dish you’re drying, Satoru catches it, suddenly next to you. “Who are you, Edward Cullen?”

“Pshh, I look like a glittery fucking vampire?”

“A bit.” You’re both laughing softly then, he dries the plates and you show him where to put them up. “It’s nice having a giant around.”

“Almost whacked my head on your ceiling fans.”

“The hardships of being stupidly tall, hmm?”

“Hmm.” He leans against the counter now, snowy lashes lowering as he studies you intently, those eyes that just do something to you, even after this long. It feels like you’ve known him, when one of his hands delicately brushes down your shoulder, feeling the soft knit of your cardigan. “You dress like a little librarian.”

“Do I now? Not that night.”

His nostrils flare just a bit. “Not that night.”

Satoru had you lifted on that sink, sinking inside you for the first time, damn near whimpering in your ear as he kissed on your breasts, trying to yank them out as much as he could but failing. “Slutty little dress.”

“S-slutty? You’re… slutty!” You’re clinging to him as he stuffs you so full, too fucking full, your cunt is drooling down his veiny length as he fucks into you, your thighs pressing against his narrow hips.

“Both are, listen to her… ha…” He’s got one hand cupping your face, looking at you before he slams his lips down, tongues dancing while his cock keeps thrusting, tip dragging your spot, as you fall apart in the bathroom, a tangle of limbs intermingling with muffled cries. “F-fuck…”

“That dress still does things to my mind.” He admits, and you wonder then, how’d you both get so close? How were you nearly flush against him?

“Does it now?” Your attempt at a tease meets with a broken voice, and you clear your throat, looking down shyly. “I don’t think my ass would fit in it now, your baby girl gave me some hips.”

“I bet they’re sexy.”

“She gave me stretch marks too.”

“Sexy.”

“You’re ridiculous.” You shake your head then, brushing a hand up his chest, wondering just what his body looks like. He's clearly built, you can tell he's muscular, but you have to wonder just how he looks. “You… don’t date anyone?”

“Nah. I mean I have had some dates this year, but nothing serious.” He couldn’t say it’s because of you, because he compares women to this random girl he felt such a pull to, and now it’s a million times worse. Even picturing cute little stretch marks from having his baby makes Satoru feral, it takes a lot not to show you, to act cool and calm with a little smirk.

“I haven’t at all. I mean… I’m so busy with Reign, and the pregnancy.”

“Been a while then?” His words are full of suggestion, his hand now brushes the air across your waist, hovering, like he wants to pull you in, and you’d let him, when Reign starts crying. You both step apart, his hands in his pockets, yours nervously fidgeting with your sweater.

“I’ll go get her.” You come back with her now, and Satoru lights up at seeing her in your arms, bending down to kiss her downy soft hair, sighing.

“Why does she smell so good?”

“Baby smell. I know, it’s addictive.” You inhale her scent, smiling as you are once again a centimeter from Satoru’s lips, your gaze goes to them, glossy and plump.

“Will you come this weekend?”

“Y-yeah, I’ll be there Satoru.”

“I am going to learn things, I promise.”

“Satoru, just take it one day at a time. You’re doing great.” He nods then, gulping down his every emotion as he leaves you two, and it feels so awful and wrong to leave you both, every force in the world pulling him back.

“How’d it go, Mr. Gojo?” Kiyotaka asks, as he’s driving him back home.

“Amazing. They're so beautiful.”

“They?”

“I mean…” You both are. “Kiyotaka, do you know shit about babies?” The man smiles tiredly then, shaking his head.

“No, Mr. Gojo, but I see you’re so… happy?”

Satoru has a silly grin then. “I am, I want to set something up for them, think you can order more baby things? For my place?”

“Certainly, Sir.” He smiles as he watches Satoru in the rearview mirror, he never would have pictured something like this, but it’s clear Satoru is beaming.

*****

“Come in, come in!” You pause in awe as you carry Reign inside Satoru’s insanely beautiful home. It's probably ten of your place if not more, sleek and elegant, everything brand new and sparkling clean. He’s instantly taking Reign, who is babbling at him as he cradles her, melting you completely before you even take a step.

“Your place is beautiful.” You murmur, he smiles at you then, taking your diaper bag off your arm and leading you inside.

“Thank you for coming, I missed her already!? Yes I did, dumpling!” He plants kisses all over her face now, Satoru Gojo holding your baby just did things to your heart, rewired your brain, seeing them both light up.

“She missed you too.” You murmur softly, Satoru looks at you then, white teeth glinting under the soft lights, taking in your pretty dress.

“Mama looks pretty.” He whispers, loud on purpose clearly, you’re a blushing mess, when Satoru’s blue eyes sweep over you.

“You’re too much.” You say, but you’re lowkey falling bad, you’d talked with him so much these past few days, as he asked endless questions, but also as you two got to know each other. You’d fallen asleep on the phone last night, Satoru had listened to your light little snore, smiling and falling asleep with you.

It seems too easy, which terrifies you, but so far it’s been Satoru being excited to be a dad, so you keep trying to remind yourself that is what this was, but it’s hard when he looks at you that way. “Too much? You haven’t seen shit. Come on.”

“Oh god.” You follow him now, as he leads you through a wide open hall, winking at you.

“Ya ready?”

“I think so?” He opens the door and it takes your breath for a moment, it’s a fully done nursery with everything a baby could need and more. There’s a pretty crib, a bassinet, a rocking chair even, it’s painted a baby pink with little teddy bears lining the ceiling. 

“I know, I went overboard, I don’t know how to not go overboard when I do things? And I want the best for her? I know you probably won’t be-”

“Satoru.”

“Hmm?”

You smile then, placing a hand over his where it rests on Reign’s lap. “It’s beautiful, it’s so beautiful.”

He exhales in relief then. “Yeah!?”

You’re giggling now. “Yeah.”

“Mommy likes it, yes!” His enthusiasm is infectious, it’s the first time you think you’ve truly been light hearted in so long, as he places her gently in the crib. “I had my mom go crazy and paid for it to get set up, really I did nothing but pay out.”

“It’s the most thoughtful thing in the world.” You hug him then on impulse, before pulling back shyly, your eyes meet each other, his hands on your waist. “But how will she go back to my shitty place? I hope she doesn’t get bougie.”

“I want her bougie.” You laugh again softly, she’s playing with the little ovehanging baby mobile, she’s enamored by the hanging stars. You watch him lean over the crib then. “She’s a princess, you know.”

You can’t take it then, you have to step out, shaking now, struggling to catch your breath, when Satoru steps out with you, looking at you with concern. Your feelings of him are utterly overwhelming, the beauty of Satoru fawning over his little girl puts these thoughts in your mind, of being a real family. As someone who didn’t have a father, and didn’t think Reign would, the hope filling you is so much.

“I got too excited.” He nervously admits, leaning against the wall next to you and rubbing the back of his neck. “I want her to have everything, if my mom didn’t talk me out of it she’d already have a pony.” You snort then, even through your tears. “There, a little laugh.”

“It’s not you, this is amazing, it’s just… I planned my life, I planned it all out with her, alone. And now… we won’t be? I don’t know how to process it, how to really believe it. But I’m so happy she’ll have it.”

“C’mere.” He pulls you against him into a big hug, arms wrapped around you tightly, bringing you against his chest. “I didn’t think I’d have this, a baby girl? I know what you mean, it’s not what I pictured.”

“Exactly. And… maybe I enjoy this too much.” You look up at him now, his lips quirked up at the side.

“Me too much?” He raises a brow.

“Maybe.”

“Hmm.” Satoru leans down close, when the doorbell rings, he exhales then, laughing softly, pressing a kiss on your forehead. “So I may have invited my mom. Is that okay?”

“Of course it is.” You are trying to calm your nerves when you meet her, long silky white hair and bright blue eyes. It's clear those genetics are strong, she surprises you by wrapping you in a hug.

“Where’s this grandbaby of mine?”

Soon she’s melting over Reign like the two of you have been, and Satoru’s made you both hot cocoa, family isn’t something you’ve really had, and to feel this comfortable and good? It’s almost like some dream, as you all are so cozy inside, and Reign is just getting fawned over, giving you a little bit of a reprieve until she’s hungry.

“I have a bottle, do you wanna feed her, Satoru?”

“I can do that?” You smile at him, nodding, and soon he’s got a bottle in her mouth, you position his arm just so as his mom watches you both with a knowing smile on her face.

“You know, I could always babysit sometime. For you two… to go out.” You both blush now, looking up at her.

“Go out?” You almost squeak the words out, sipping your cocoa now that it's gone just a little cold, enamored with watching Satoru.

“Yes, go out. Parents need time away.”

“We’re not… um…”

“I’d take you out.” Satoru says softly, and you feel those butterflies in your tummy going wild.

“Yeah?” You manage to ask, failing at being subtle.

“Yeah.” He smirks a bit, then Reign coughs. “What’s wrong!?”

“She needs to burp, calm down.” You lift her against your chest, patting her back now. “This is what you’ll do, it’s just some air in her tummy.”

“Oh thank god.”

“You three are precious.” His mom checks her phone then. “I have a meeting, but I hope to see much more of you both.”

“Me too Mrs. Gojo!” She smiles, planting a kiss on Reign’s head then yours before she leaves. “She’s amazing!?”

“I know, right? She was dying to meet her.” His hand rubs Reign’s little back, so big it’s as long as her almost, his other arm resting over the couch, brushing against you when he leans closer. “Thank you for having her.”

“Oh, Satoru… I just wish…”

“Yeah, me too.” He inhales and exhales, his eyes swimming with emotions. “I wish badly. I hate that I missed her coming into the world.”

“I’m so sorry… but I swear, she’ll not remember that, she won’t remember it at all.”

“But you remember.”

“Satoru, it's not your fault, don’t dare blame yourself.” He sighs now, his hand dropping off Reign to rest on your thigh over the thin black tights you wore.

“I don’t want you working yet. Will you let me help?”

“Satoru…” You shake your head. “You are not going to pay my bills.”

“Then stay with me? Stay the year with your baby… with our baby, please. She should have her mom home.”

“It’s too much of an offer, I can’t just live here! We aren’t even…”

“If you hate it I’ll get you your own place. I promise. Just let me take care of you… of both of you?” You stand, turning away, Satoru’s hands grip the sides of your arms as he leans close. “Please think about it.”

“I’m not a charity case, Satoru. I’m okay where I am.”

“I know that, okay? But I missed all of the pregnancy, I didn’t get to help with any medical bills, anything. Please just…” He turns your chin to face him, his glossy lips ever tempting as they hover just above yours. “Please think about it.”

“It’s overwhelming, okay?” He nods then, you lean back just so, feeling his lithe body against your back, leaning back just so.

“You’re not alone anymore.”

“Satoru…” He wraps his arm around you, resting his chin on your head. “You don’t have to do all this.”

“I want to.” For you and Reign, but Satoru can tell your pride is getting in the way, and he can tell you’re conflicted. “Give it time, no rush, yeah?”

*****

After a few weeks of constantly being at Satoru’s house, you damn near almost live there. You come over at about the same time Satoru’s off work, and he learns more and more about Reign every single day. He’s learned how to change diapers, how to feed her, and learns what certain cries mean. Reign rolls over for the first time on her mat and you’ve never seen anyone more excited than Satoru.

He takes selfies with her and they are Insta famous, he has Reign’s name painted on the nursery door, though she tends to still sleep in the room you stay in, with her little bassinet. Satoru’s had you in the guest room, but what you don’t know is at night he checks on you both, he kisses Reign’s forehead and tucks you in, he watches how cute the both of you are.

He watches you with Reign, ever attentive, and it’s about the time you’d have to go back to work, he can feel how devastated you are thinking of it, when you all are quietly sitting in the living room, having nibbled on takeout as Reign sleeps. You take a breath then, looking at the man you’re falling deeper for every day, every moment you spend with him.

“Satoru…”

“Yeah, sweets?” His little nickname always does something to you.

“I would love to stay with you, to stay home with her for a few more months, if you’re sure it’s still okay?”

Satoru jumps up then, picking you up and spinning you, you’re laughing breathlessly as he eases you down, and you’re flush against his body. Despite the endless times you’ve ached to kiss him, to do so much more, you both have been a little apprehensive, you both don’t know what’s okay, what’s not. You both feel far, far too much and are afraid of it.

“You’ll stay!?”

“I’ll stay. But I’ll cook, and help pick up, and-”

“Shh. Just stay.” He’s cupping your face, he’s so close you can almost taste his sweet breath, your lashes lowering over your eyes now. “I want you with her, let me do that for you? And… I want you here. All the time I… miss you when you’re not.”

“Are you giving me puppy dog eyes!?” You demand with a grin, and he pouts his lips.

“Maybe. Is it working?”

“It’s working.” You don’t stop yourself, not this once, when you lean up on your tiptoes, pressing your lips to his, and when you do, the eclectic shocks shoot from his lips, it’s just like that night a year ago, but more intense. You pull back nervously, looking away. “I’m sorry, I…”

“No.” Is all he says, pulling you back, bending low and taking over your lips, he moves them gently over yours, big hands taking over your waist and dragging you closer, mouth opening, tongue slipping past the seam of your lips. Your mouth opens in a gasp, and then his tongue delves inside it. “Don’t apologize for kissing me.”

“Satoru…” He’s exhaling against your lips, kissing you again, soon your back is on the couch, and he’s moving over you, his hand trailing your waist, up to your breasts, your hands clinging to his shirt, gripping the smooth fabric as you fall apart from his kisses. They’re sweet, intense kisses, slow like he wants to savor every moment with you, growing more and more insistent.

He pulls up, just looking at you now, your thighs are around his hips, you feel that ache between them, not just physically either, you crave more and more of him, and you have been since you saw him again. You both just look at each other, speaking without words as he slips up your top, and you yank it nervously, earning his frown, stopping your hand.

“Not ready yet?” He asks, you shake your head.

“You won’t… I’m not… I don’t like my tummy anymore.” You admit softly, tears threatening to spill, Satoru lifts your shirt then, leaning down and running his thumb across the little stretch marks Reign left.

“Well, baby girl… I love your tummy. Should I show you?” You shake your head, breaths coming quicker and quicker now. “You had my baby, you carried her for me, and she left you more beautiful than before.”

“Oh, Satoru…” He kisses your tummy then, and desire shoots straight through you, your hands finally entwining in that silky hair you’ve craved to feel for so long, he’s looking at you under lidded eyes, pressing kisses lower.

“You’re beautiful everywhere. I bet it was sexy pregnant.”

You giggle just a bit, making Satoru smile against your skin, fingers tugging down your pants then, earning a little cry that makes his cock so hard it hurts. He’s been dying to taste you on his tongue, to feel you around his fingers, watch that pretty face in pleasure again, but he’s tried to take his time, tried to focus on Reign, but the thing is, he loves both of you.

He’s in love with you.

The way you move, the way you smile, the way you are with his baby? How your eyes brighten when Reign did something new, how you blushed when he gave you a compliment. But also, how your hips are shifting now, how your eyes are getting lidded, dilated with desire, and how the little silver lines run across where his baby was inside you.

“Satoru… that feels too good I… mmm!” You cry out quietly when his fingers find your slick heat, finding you drenched already.

“You this easy for me?” He asks, you want to retort, something witty, but you can’t, you just gasp out in pleasure when he’s got your pants off, and he’s parting your thighs, long fingers pressing in the plush of your skin as he stares at your pussy. “Fuck you’re pretty.”

You’re trembling as you’re fully bare in front of him, his breath on your clit alone makes you jerk, he places a teasing flick of his tongue right on your clit, you cover your mouth to hide the pathetic moan. He flicks his tongue again, thumps slipping the plump lips of your sex apart, watching the wetness pool out of your little hole, he catches it with his tongue, groaning as he tastes you.

Your hands clutch his hair so hard you’re tugging at his head, eyes rolling back in your skull, biting your lip hard not to make too much noise. He looks up at you, slinking his tongue all the way up your dripping pussy now, from your hole to your clit, groaning as you drip all over his mouth, his face.

“It tastes as good as I remember.” He whispers, enjoying that ruby red blush on your cheeks. “You’re so cute like this, sensitive?”

“You’re torturing me.” He chuckles, the hot air making you whimper, a sound that shoots desire through him. “Please…”

“Please what, pretty?” He casually licks you once more, leisurely as if he has all the time in the world, tilting his head just so to flick the underside of it, watching the tiny little clit twitch. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

“Make me cum, please.” He moans then, devouring your pussy, his movements less teasing and precise and sloppy, now, lapping up all the juices that pour as you cry out in pleasure, hips bucking up for more, then you feel his fingers sliding in and out of you now, pressing in deep, finding that spongy spot that makes you shiver.

“There you go, you’re clenching me s’good. Can’t wait to feel you around me.” He murmurs, curling his fingers just so,  your legs are shaking so hard, you’re falling off that edge, chest rising and falling with your breaths.

“M-gonna… Toru…” Satoru moans now, the sound vibrating against your heat, he looks at you then, eyes dilated and dark, leaning up, his chin coated in your slick, shimmering.

“Cum for me, baby.” At that he sucks your clit into his mouth, tongue swirling around it, humming and making you shatter under him.

You come so hard you see stars bursting, eyes rolled back, your mouth in the most slutty O as you gasp out, you’re arching off the couch, his name a quiet little broken scream in the quiet room. You feel his smug grin against your sensitive bud, as he nips at it then with his teeth, making you jerk and whimper, leaning back to study your clenching little hole.

“There you go, so good for me, hmm?” He coles those words, slipping up you now, sliding his finger up and down your drippy slit, kissing you, letting you taste yourself off him.

“Need you. All of you.” You murmur then, he pauses his kisses, looking down at you, and emotions surge and mix with the pleasure, the insane need for him to fill you, over and over again.

“If we do, I want more than just… co parenting. I want more than just sex. I want…” Satoru gulps then, cupping your face carefully, your hand comes to grip his wrist, thumb brushing over his strong, fluttering pulse.

“I want more too.” You admit, swallowing nervously, as one of your hands rests on his chest.

“I want you to be my girl.” You’re crying then, nodding eagerly at his sweet and pure words, when he’s kissing you again, salty tears mixing with your taste. “Will you be? My girl?”

“I would love to be yours.” He moans again, standing then, helping you up, your arms wrap around his neck as he carries you, your lips don’t separate when he backs into his bedroom.

“Want you in my bed, every night.” He whispers, easing you onto the floor to stand, slipping your top off and revealing your breasts which sway just a bit, you eagerly unbutton his shirt, showing every inch of his chiseled, perfect frame. You gasp when you finally see him, fingertips trailing across sculpted muscles.

“You’re perfect, Satoru.” You whisper in wonder, and he cups your face again, kissing you deeply, a kiss so beautiful it ruins you forever, Satoru has ruined you forever, you know now what you knew that night deep down. “It’s only you.”

“It’s only you. You’re perfect.” You gasp as he picks you up again, laying you on the bed, you’re eagerly tugging on his pants, gasping when you see his huge, veiny length, something you’d had inside of you bud hadn’t even seen. You stroke him, earning his soft whine, he pins your wrist above your head.

“Lemme touch him, please?” You beg, earning both your hands pinned, as you laugh breathlessly.

“No way, I’m not busting quick, I’ve waited too long for this.” You giggle, earning his pretty glare. “I’m not.”

“You didn’t bust quick that night?”

“Yeah, I did.” You shake your head at him, gasping when he’s pressing against your entrance, he tenses, muscles flexing, when suddenly you both hear it, Reign on the baby monitor. “Shit.”

“Shit…” You both stay completely silent. “Maybe she’ll stop?”

“I sure hope so. Need to get you pregnant again.”

You blink in shock now, as Reign quiets. “Huh!?”

Satoru grins, a devious fucking grin, as he presses your legs apart, one over his shoulder, sinking in as you bite your lip, so filled by him, trembling beneath him as you roll your hips. “I need to see you pregnant, gonna be so fucking sexy.”

“You’re insane, Satoru Gojo.” You gasp when he shoves his length fully inside you, bottoming out and you’re so full you can’t breathe, clinging to his bare shoulders desperately as he moans, feeling your walls flutter.

“You didn’t know that yet? I’ll have to show you, sweetheart.” He’s fucking you then so good, thrusting in and out of your slick cunt, which is drooling all the way down his veiny length. He’s smirking as he rolls his hips just so, watching you start to come apart. “You love it, huh? Cock filling you so deep?”

“Please…” His leaking tip kisses your cervix, you shudder under him, cumming so hard you can’t tether yourself anymore, and he revels in it, in your pretty face all scrunched up, all reddened as you cry out.

“That’s it, can’t help yourself? Want me to fucking fill you?”

“Please…”

“You’re such a good girl, hmm?” The words short circuit what’s left of your brain, as Satoru leans back on his knees, hands slipping up your body, gripping your breasts, which have little droplets of milk. You whimper, trying to cover them. “Ah-ah.”

He leans forward, sucking them then, you’re so sensitive you scream, thanking everything Satoru has a huge home and that the baby couldn’t hear anything, because the sounds he writhes out of you are filthy. He leans up, licking the little droplets off and grinning again, possessively gripping your throat, hovering over you as his cock slides in again.

“God, even that’s sweet. All of you. Sweet and slutty.” He huffs, you’re kissing him desperately, nails pressing against his scalp as they grip his hair. “My girl, you’re all mine now, hmm?”

“Wanna be… y-your girl.” You whisper, ending him as your cunt gushes down on him, as he feels the tight muscles grip him like a vise, he eases back, shoving your legs up then in a mating press, every instinct making him crave to make you his again. Cum in you, fill you, make you pregnant. “Toru… I haven’t… not a lot of… exper-ah!”

“That’s alright baby, I’ll fuck you so good, all you gotta do is take it, yeah? Look so fucking pretty f’me.” The sweet, emotional and cute Satoru is now feral, psychotic and possessive, his eyes so blue they hurt to look at, but you’re nodding eagerly. You’ve never been fucked like this, not even close, but he assures you, over and over that you can take him. “That’s right, gonna take all of me.”

Your thighs are smushed against your breasts as Satoru fucks you harder, perfect strokes that hit every spot, spots you can’t even figure out, the ridge of his cock hitting again and again until you’re close, already having cum twice. You’re sobbing under him as he leans his weight on your thighs, folding you in half and going deeper, deeper, bottoming out.

His balls slap heavy on your ass, so full and ready to pump his load in your eager hole, you’re a mess, tears on your cheeks, mumbling incoherently, pussy drooling and loosening more and more. You take him, all of him greedily then, as he slows just a bit, leaning up to press your thighs even higher, watching his cock disappear as your cunt sucks him in.

“Oh look, she’s taking me s’good, she wants it huh? You want it, greedy, slutty pussy.” He’s talking to your pussy, but you also can’t care, not when you’re so close, incoherently whining. “Can’t talk, sweetheart?”

“Gonna… cum… again… Satoru!” He moans as you speak his name, using a forearm to press your legs up, angling his cock just so, shoving deep as he presses a thumb to your clit, ending you utterly.

“There you go, cum on lemme fuckin feel her milk me.” He huffs, husky voice hoarse as your orgasm washes over you, full body, you’re shaking and sobbing as your arousal pours down him, making him tense, gasping. “Oh fuck…”

“Cum in me. Cum in me, please.” You beg weakly, and Satoru does then, full mating press, pumping all his cum so deep, filling you to the brim as he leans down, whimpering with you, tongues sloppy as you kiss.

“Feel s’perfect… gonna make you a mommy again, yeah?” You nod weakly, cunt throbbing as he pumps more and more, nails pressing into his back as you both ride your orgasms out, until you’re sensitive messes. “F-fucking… b-baby…”

“Satoru, g-god…” He is exhaling, easing your sore thighs down then, pulling out and watching the mess that pours from your pussy, a mix of his cum and yours, he grins at it.

“You’re so messy, hmm?” He shoves two fingers in your cunt, pushing his cum back in as you scream out. “Aww, you can’t take it baby?”

“Too much, ngh!” Satoru slips his fingers out, sucking on them and moaning, before repeating it, shoving them in your mouth, you moan as you suck them greedily, both kissing again, a tangled mess of limbs.

“Taste us together, god.”

“So yummy.” He kisses you again, again, again, as you struggle to come back down, heart still racing. “My god…”

“Yeah, holy fuck.”

“You’re like… you have a breed kink like bad.” He snorts then, kissing up the side of your neck.

“Could it have to do with the fact that my girl is gorgeous with my baby? And I’d love to really see her pregnant?”

“I want you there too. I do, even if this is insane.”

“Is it?”

“Yes, first we have a baby, then we move in together? What next, a first date?”

“You know… yes. Mom offered?”

You giggle at him. “So is this you asking me on a date!?”

“Mmhmm, with my cum pouring out. Wasting it, tsk tsk.” He starts kissing down your body again, when Reign cries, this time loudly. “Ugh.”

“Ugh.” You agree, brushing back his hair when he kisses your tummy. “You make me feel beautiful, Satoru.”

“You are.” He says simply, kissing you deeply, helping you up. “Most beautiful girls there are.”

“I…” You almost say it, but you’re still so afraid, those words on the tip of your tongue. Satoru smiles as if he knows.

“Go check on her.”

“Yeah.” You are soon all dressed, and Reign is no longer crying once she gets swaddled, her binky in her mouth. Satoru comes behind you, arms wrapping you tightly and pulling you against him.

“So, that date?”

“Mmm, got plans already?” You look back at him, as he holds you so sweetly in the quiet room.

“Yeah, the spa you never went to, brat.”

“Oh! Yes, let’s.”

*****

Satoru Gojo and you have had a baby, then moved in, and then you had your first date, which was both of you getting pampered, you were giggling when Satoru kept eating the cucumbers meant for his eyes, when he moved the masseuse because he got jealous of him. “My girl, I’ll rub your back.”

“So jealous.” You tease, but you then sigh in pleasure as his big hands rub your body just so.

“Maybe I am. Maybe I don’t ever wanna lose my girls.” You pause then, leaning up, breasts revealed as you’re just wearing a little towel. But Satoru’s eyes are serious, when he gently rubs his hands down to the back of your hips.

“You’re not losing us.” He’s kissing you, leaning over you in the spa, when he whispers in your ear.

“Let’s go.”

In the backseat of Satoru’s driver’s car, headed back home, you and Satoru devour each other, his hands on your rib cage, his lips on your nipples. Your head falling back, arching up for more, never, ever able to get enough. He’s filling you again, and you’re soaking him again, he’s fucking up into you one moment, one moment you’re controlling it.

A push and pull, a back and forth, endless kisses, until he’s filled you up again, whispering the lewdest things, picturing you as his wife, picturing you pregnant again, but the words are coming out as muffled, dirty words that don’t match. And you feel the same, you think the same, but you’re too fucked out to speak, too lost in everything that is Satoru Gojo.

That night, Reign is up and down, and you’ve just given her a bath, singing to her and cradling her. Satoru watches you, emotions catching in his throat, as a sliver of moonlight darts through the windows, illuminating the faces of the two girls he adores. Reign is being fussy, huffing, but then she hears you sing, and she’s calming, drifting off just so.

You catch him watching you, smiling at him, laying her back down gently. Satoru leans over, brushing a thumb across her cheek, as she sleeps so peacefully. “I love you, dumpling.” He murmurs to her, your heart aches at his words, as you repeat them softly to her, and Satoru wraps an arm around you.

“I love both of you.” You look at him then, so nervous, but he exhales, kissing you softly, feeling tears fall from his eyes, pulling back to see you’re trembling. “I know it’s a lot, but you have to know that I love you. I love both of you so much it hurts.”

“I love both of you.” Your heart hammers in your chest, as a hand slips up your back, and he leans down, blue eyes swirling with tears. “I’ll take care of you both, always. I… I’m complete now, with you both. I can’t ever lose you.”

“Satoru, never. I never want to be without you again.” Your hushed whispers are followed by sweet kisses, until you both close the door quietly, and Satoru has you picked up in his arms, effortless as you hold onto him, resting your foreheads against each other. “I’m home, here.”

“You are home, here. Want you to have my last name, both of you. Please.” You nod, sniffling as he carries you, kissing you desperately, pressing you against the door of his room once you’re back inside. “Need you to have my last fuckin’ name.”

“We will, Satoru. We’ll all be Gojos, hmm?” He grins so big then, easing you down and turning you, vivid memories of that night filling your mind, overwhelming your senses. Your head falls back as he kisses down your neck, slipping your shorts to the side to find you.

“So ready f’me?” You nod weakly. “Good, need to have a whole fucking clan of Gojos, yeah? Gonna give it to me?”

“Mnh, yes.”

You would give Satoru anything, and finally every piece that seemed so out of sorts is in place, as you found something you didn’t know was missing, and he found a family he didn’t know he had. As he eagerly works you so well that night again, you also know you want to give him more.

Taglist: @tiredofeverythingandmyself @yenayaps @bunheadusa @moonlitwitchdaisy @heartsteelkaynconsumer @zoebella30 @twinkling-moonlillie @iamrgo @sylussss7 @minaa-06 @kindablackenedsuperhero @alygator77 @lilica75 @ufoev3 @bub-ss @ailoveyuta @i-luv-ateez-sm @strawberiicreme @gina239 @uhnosav @myahfig4 @silverfangmarks @stxrlingpearl @gojodickbig @jkslaugh97 @ivyvenus333 @msbfc @karmcrim15 @ap-o-llo @loafteaw @kimkimoruo @gh0stgirl333 @victoria1676 @its-carlerrr @evelynxxo @lynnist @burdened-by-images @safixiovi @nanamis-eyebrow @clqxuds @safixiovi Perma tags: @cuntphoric @n1vi @indiewritesxoxo

Rest tagged in comments!

read on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62133598

[dashcon-two]

DashCon 2 Venue Announcement, Vendor's Hall, and More!

The DashCon 2 team is thrilled to announce the concrete answers to all your biggest questions. Where it is, when it is, how to buy tickets, and more. You ready?

TL;DR

Where: DashCon 2 will be held at the Japanese Canadian Cultural Centre in North York, Toronto

When: July 5th, 2025

What: Tickets will go live on February 22nd. Vendor Applications will be open on February 1st, and Panelist Applications on February 10th.

Our Venue!!

[6 Sakura Way, North York, ON M3C 1Z5]

Image belongs to Bartman905 on Wordpress

The JCCC has previously hosted plenty of other fan conventions, notably the Anime North Halloween Event and Pretty Heroes. Given their experience with convention hosting and gorgeous venue space, we think they’re the perfect fit.

So, why did this take so long?

Well… the JCCC wasn’t our first pick. Our first pick, who we won’t name, dropped us unexpectedly after months of negotiations. Why? Original DashCon’s reputation. We literally got DashCon’d before the convention had even started!!

While we were expecting this and had backup plans, we were blindsided by a rejection this late into the negotiation process. After reaching out to our other contacts, we settled on the JCCC, but we had to restart the entire process. So much of our planning had to be restarted or paused, which set us way behind schedule. Naturally, we didn’t want to say anything about losing our venue spot until we’d adequately replaced it.

We’re happy to say that the Classic DashCon Venue Struggle is over and done with - and our rental with the JCCC is paid in advance. No $17k hostage situation necessary.

However, all this provokes another obvious question: why did you go public with the project when you hadn’t signed with the venue yet? In short: Strange Aeons’ DashCon: An Extensive Oral History video. We were already knee-deep in the project behind the scenes before finding out she was making a YouTube video about DashCon, pushing the story into the public eye again. The team was concerned that declaring we were organizing DashCon 2 soon after Strange Aeons’ video would imply it was a rush-job inspired by her video. We were far enough along in the initial venue negotiations that we decided to go public with the video rather than after it.

Date & Time

DashCon 2 will be held for one day: Saturday, 5th July 2025. We alluded to using the same weekend as the original DashCon when we first went public, but unfortunately this date wasn’t available at our venue. This does mean it’s pretty close to the American 4th of July - in our defense, we didn’t really think of that, we’re Canadian.

The convention will open to the public at 9:30 AM and close at 9:30 PM. All this information and more will be available on our website.

(These hours may be subject to minor changes, please always check our website for our most recent info!)

Admission

Ticket sales to in-person DashCon 2 will open on Feb 22nd! Mark your calendars…

We’ll be processing ticket sales through Simpli Events, an all-Canadian competitor to Eventbrite. You can click here to find the events page.

We’re working on the feasibility of expanding DashCon 2 into a hybrid event, with live-streams of the most anticipated panels/events and some other informal online panels hosted on a private Discord. More information on those will come at a later date.

Vendor and Panel Applications

DashCon 2’s Artist Alley/Vendor's Hall is a space for independent artisans who create print media, handmade crafts, or other merchandise. If you want the opportunity to sell your merchandise at DashCon 2, then you’ll be excited to learn that vendor applications will open on February 1st!

Please see www.dashcontwo.com/dealers-hall/ for more details about tables, prices, and merchandise. The link to the application form will be posted there.

We’re also happy to say that we’re opening panel applications on February 10th! We have a few guest panellists already lined up (including a few we can’t talk about yet), but we’re excited to open applications to everyone with a good idea! All DashCon 2 panels will be moderated by our volunteer team, and we’ll put out more info soon about volunteer sign-ups!

[incognit0slut]

Angel

PART 5 OF KINKTOBER | MAIN MASTERLIST

Single Dad!Spencer x Nanny!Reader Spencer likes having you around to look after his daughter, in fact, he likes you a bit too much.

content: (18+) 5.4k, breeding kink, fingering, fem oral, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, overstimulation, d/s dynamic but he still tries to be a gentleman although reader doesn’t want him to, mutual pining, body worship with slight religious metaphors bc he’s down so bad, and of course sweet aftercare a/n: 1) i know the gif isn’t spencer but i just had to; 2) i changed the title from the original plan bc i was listening to angel baby while writing this; 3) if i have the chance to describe his happy trail and tummy i will in a heartbeat; 4) this fic is basically the epitome of D-I-L-F!

“I want you to understand,” he mutters against your skin, kissing the sensitive spot just below your ear, “that I’m not trying to take advantage of you.”

A hand creeps up the back of his neck. “What if I want you to?”

“I’m serious.”

“I am serious. I’m not the one hesitating.”

His hand glides slowly up your side, fingertips barely ghosting over your skin, and a soft, shaky breath escapes his lips. “I’m trying to be responsible."

“I think we’re past being responsible,” you counter as his fingers trace your waist. “What are you so worried about, anyway? You’re not forcing me into anything.”

“I want to make sure you don’t feel like—” his fingers twitch, lingering over your bare skin, “—like I’m taking advantage of the situation.”

“I’m literally naked under you,” you remind him. “If anyone’s taking advantage here, it’s me.”

His forehead drops to your shoulder, and you feel the slow rise and fall of his chest as he exhales. “You’re making this really hard, you know that?”

“That’s kind of the point.”

And it’s true, Spencer realizes with a rush of heat, because he’s incredibly hard, the heavy length of his cock pressed against your stomach while he braces his weight above you. His lungs tighten, squeezing around breaths that feel too thick to swallow as his teeth graze his lower lip. It takes everything in him to keep from losing himself when his mind is already slipping.

How could he have ever imagined it would go this far?

Spencer can’t quite make sense of how this quiet, unassuming crush that crept in the first time he saw you with his daughter has led to this. It wasn’t anything grand or sudden, just this slow bloom that unfurled every time he caught you reading to Violet or laughing with her over some little joke in the living room. There was just something about the way you slipped so easily into his life, fitting into the spaces he hadn’t realized were empty until you filled them.

He’d never let himself imagine it would go beyond that. He’d convinced himself those feelings for you were just something he’d have to live with quietly, a small ache that would fade with time. But somehow, despite his best efforts to keep it hidden, you’d found your way to him. And against all his expectations, you liked him back. You like him enough that you’re now wearing nothing but a smile.

Flushed skin kissed by the moonlight spilling through the window.

Innocent eyes touched with a hint temptation.

It all feels like some sort of surreal dream.

The moment that led to this replays in his mind, clear as daylight even if it happened well past midnight. He’d gotten home somewhere between too late and way too late, running on nothing but caffeine and sugar, and there you were, leaning casually against the kitchen counter like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You started talking about your day with Violet, recounting how you’d taken her to the park, read her favorite book before bed, and how she’d peppered you with endless questions about why the sky changes colors when the day changes into night. But something was different in your voice, a softness to the way you said his name, and your gaze lingered on him just a beat longer than usual. It wasn’t anything obvious, nothing he could point to and say that’s it, but he felt it. An almost imperceptible shift in the air.

Before he knew it, he had crossed the room and kissed you. He should’ve thought it through or paused to consider the consequences, but the way you responded made it clear you’d been waiting just as long for his attention.

His shoulders fall with a quiet exhale.

“This could get complicated,” he continues, as if reminding you (and maybe himself) that there’s a line between employee and employer that he’s about to cross. A line that could change everything between you both once it’s blurred. “We should think about what this means.”

“We’ve had plenty of time to think. If you wanted to stop, you would’ve done it already.”

“I don’t think you understand what I’m trying to say.”

“Then please enlighten me.”

Instead of answering right away, he leans in, his lips finding the curve of your neck. His breath is warm against your skin, and then he’s gently pulling the tender flesh between his lips that draws a sudden moan from your throat. The sound seems to fuel him, and before you can even register what’s happening, his fingers are already slipping lower, exploring the soft space between your thighs.

“What if I want more than this?” His fingers inch closer, teasingly brushing against your heat with a slowness that borders on torment. “What if I want everything?”

Your hips buck against his hand. “Everything?”

“Everything,” he confirms. “Not just tonight.”

The words send a ripple of electricity that blooms deep in your core. When his fingers finally slip between your folds, a sharp gasp escapes your lips before you can hold it back.

“You… you mean you want… more than this? More than just us… here?”

“Yes,” he replies, his voice catching like gravel in his throat as his fingers trace over the slickness he’s found. “Does that scare you?”

For a moment, words fail you. The slow, coaxing rhythm of his fingers pulls you deeper into a haze where coherent thoughts are hard to grasp. There’s a pause, a heartbeat where he stops. Waiting.

“No,” you confess, the truth slipping out more easily than you expected. “It doesn’t.”

He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. “It doesn’t?”

Your lungs expand, filling with a rush of oxygen and a nervous flutter that lands somewhere in the pit of your stomach. “I think this is the right time to tell you I’ve had a crush on you for a while.”

Spencer stays motionless for a beat. Then something shifts—his gaze softens, and a small, almost incredulous smile curves his lips. “You have a crush on me?”

“Yeah.”

“As in… you have feelings for me?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“So you’re not just… turned on right now?”

“Well, that too,” you admit with a grin, your fingers brushing the back of his neck. “But it’s more than that. I really like you.”

His smile widens, and his fingers begin to move again, circling your clit with just the right pressure to pull a sharp intake of breath from you. It’s as though your confession is a final green light he’d been waiting for. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Your teeth catch your lip, struggling to hold back fragments of breath. “I thought it was obvious,” you manage between heavy exhales. “Why do you think I always stay late?"

"To avoid traffic?"

You huff. "I tried to be around you as much as possible, Spencer."

His fingers toy at the edge of your entrance, tracing the slick, warm wetness that clings to his skin as a quiet hum rumbles in his chest. “You know I’m not always the best at picking up social cues.”

“You’re a profiler.” Your breath catches halfway between a gasp and a sigh when he slides a finger in. “You're supposed to notice everything."

He lets your words settle, eyes narrowing slightly as he turns them over in his mind.

“I guess I was too focused on trying not to cross any lines to see the ones you were trying to draw."

A soft moan escapes your lips as another finger slides in.

“I'm… glad you finally caught on."

"I'm catching on now.”

His eyes drop to the way your body greedily takes his fingers. The sight alone sends a rush of heat straight to his gut like a line of fire winding up through his chest and spreading into his limbs. You’re dripping, the slick sound of your arousal nearly derails him as he continues to watch the wetness coat his fingers with every slow thrust.

“Since when have you had this crush?” He asks curiously.

There’s a beat of silence, only punctuated by the soft, breathy noises escaping you. When he finally looks up, he catches the way your face scrunches in pleasure, brows furrowed and eyes barely open, and he can’t help but find it almost unbearably adorable. The corners of his lips twitch with a quiet laugh before he leans in, pressing the softest it’s okay, you can tell me kiss against your lips.

“Since when?”

You blink your eyes open at his question, and there’s a flush of embarrassment in your cheeks.

“Since—” you start, but your voice catches when he curls his fingers slightly, and you bite down on your lip to keep from moaning. He raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a barely-contained grin.

“Since?” he prompts again.

You swallow the lump tightening in your throat. “Since you interviewed me for the job."

He absorbs your words. "That’s… more than a while."

"It was innocent at the time," you confess, trying to regain some control over your thoughts. "Just a silly little crush."

His pace quickens, fingers plunging deeper, and whatever sense of composure you had left is slipping away piece by piece. “What changed?”

Desperation claws at you with every passing second, your hips moving against his hand as you scramble to gather your thoughts. But the way his fingers are mapping every sensitive spot makes it nearly impossible to articulate anything coherent. He doesn’t miss the way your breath stutters, or how your words break apart into fragmented attempts to answer.

“I-I—” you stammer, wincing as the words catch in your throat before you finally manage to continue, “I probably shouldn’t say…”

“Why not?”

“It’s embarrassing."

He lets out a soft laugh. “Tell me anyway,” he urges. “I want to hear it.”

You fall quiet again, and the only sounds that fill the space between you is the ragged pull of your breaths and the slick rhythm of his fingers pumping lazily inside you. The words sit heavy on your tongue, threatening to disappear if you don’t say them quickly enough.

"Remember when… you taught Violet how to… ride her bike?”

He tilts his head slightly. There’s a furrow in his brow as he searches your face. “You’re going to have to be more specific, there were a lot of lessons.”

“The very first time.”

“Ah,” he muses. “Around June, then.”

You nod. “When I… saw you with her that day, I-I… I got curious.”

His fingers falter, just slightly, the subtle pause enough to show that you’ve grabbed his attention. “Curious?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “You were so adorable with her… and I started thinking about what it would be like… to have your kids.”

If there was ever a moment to leave him utterly speechless, this was it. His brain seems to stall, the gears grinding to a halt as the reality of what you’ve said settles in. He’s spent so much time trying to be the one holding it all together, but now? Now all he could picture was you holding a baby—his baby—and the thought sent his mind reeling, knocking him off balance in a way he didn’t expect.

“You… thought about that?”

Your fingers trails his shoulder before slipping up into his hair, curling gently at the nape of his neck. “It crossed my mind more than once.”

“That’s—” wow. He leans his forehead against yours. “Not embarrassing. At all.”

“Really?”

“That’s probably the hottest thing I've ever heard in my life.”

You let out a soft chuckle, gently pulling on his curls before drawing his bottom lip into a gentle suck. “It’s never been innocent since then.”

Goosebumps rises along his skin, and the heat pooling low in his stomach tightens as he grows impossibly harder. “Yeah?”

“I’ve wanted you to fuck me for a long time.”

His jaw clenches.

He’s so close to completely losing it.

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” he mutters, pressing his fingers deeper inside you.

“Why.. why not?”

“Because I might give you exactly what you want.” When he feels you clench around him, he huffs in amusement. “Oh, you like that, don’t you?”

There’s a tender spot he finds deep inside, one that feels achingly sensitive, and your mouth falls open, a soundless gasp escaping before you can catch it.

“You really mean it,” he says, more a realization than a question, as he watches your body go pliant beneath his touch.

“I do,” you manage to say.

“You want me that way?”

You nod frantically. “Want your cum in me.”

The second those words leave your lips, his groan rumbles through his chest, and you swallow it down as his mouth crashes into yours. The kiss is messy, teeth clashing and tongues tangling in a chaotic rhythm that’s both desperate and needy. When he finally pulls away, you’re left panting, your lips swollen, his forehead resting against yours.

“Never would’ve guessed you had such a dirty mouth."

"There's a lot of thing you don't know about me."

His breath brushes against your lips as he whispers, “I’m starting to figure that out.”

When he slowly withdraws his fingers, you can’t help the soft whimper that escapes your throat. Your eyes follow his every move as he sits up and settles between your thighs. You’ve always thought Spencer was an attractive man, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t admired the way his shirts fit just snug enough to hint at what was underneath. But seeing him naked like this? That was a whole new level of breathtaking.

Your gaze trails down his frame, landing on the soft curve of his stomach, something you'd secretly adored every time it pressed against his dress shirts. It was even more captivating without anything hiding it now, especially with the trail of dark hair leading down. Soft, scattered strands, drawing your eyes right to the place where you can’t help but stare.

He gives himself a slow pump. Once. Twice. And then, finally, you feel the firm pressure of his tip pressing between your folds.

“Are you sure?” he asks, the head of his cock sliding over your sensitive skin. “There's a condom in my drawer."

Your body tenses at the thought of him pulling back, and without thinking, your hand reaches between the two of you, wrapping around his cock before he can pull away. “When was the last time you got tested?”

He exhales sharply. “A few months ago,” he mutters, hips twitching against your grip despite himself. “If there was any risk, I wouldn’t even consider this without telling you.”

“I got tested last month,” you assure him quickly. “We’re both safe.”

He nods absentmindedly. “We can… still grab the condom if you want…”

“Spencer,” you interrupt, gently brushing the bead of precum that had formed at his tip. “I thought I made it clear I want you to cum inside me.”

He can only stare as your delicate finger trails along the thick vein. It feels like all the oxygen he’s desperately clinging to has been sucked from his lungs.

“I know you said you don’t want to take advantage of me…” you continue, guiding him right to your entrance. “But I really want you to.”

He finally lets out a low, gruff sound, something between a growl and a sigh as he slowly pushes himself in. His eyes are locked on the sight of your walls stretching to accommodate his size, watching as your body struggles to take him.

"You should stop talking like that," he rasps through gritted teeth. "I’m barely holding it together."

"Here's another thing you should know about me.”

He ruts gently into you. A push. A pull.

A heartbeat in between.

“I really like it rough."

That’s all it takes.

He slams his hips into yours.

Intense doesn’t even begin to describe what he feels. It’s more like a surge, a rush of heat and desperation that floods every inch of him the same time you cry out. His throat tightens, constricting around breaths he can’t seem to catch as he resorts to inhaling sharply through his nose.

“Jesus… you feel so—” His words falter, his voice rough and breathless as his fingers figs into your skin. His chest rises and falls with each labored breaths, and his eyes squeezes shut for a moment.

Tight. Warm. Wet. That’s exactly how you feel.

"Perfect." His large hands grips your waist. “You’re perfect.”

You mewl at his words, the sound spilling from your lips before you can stop it, and the soft, needy noise is enough to make his eyes flicker open. He begins to pull back, just enough to make you whimper from the sudden loss of contact, but before you can catch your breath, he snaps his hips forward with a rough, powerful thrust.

Your hands fly to his arms, holding onto him tightly. "Spencer… Please…”

He lets out a sigh.

No man is immune to that tone of desperation, least of all Spencer. Not when you’re offering yourself to him like something out of a dream. Not when your eyes lock onto his with a look that belongs more to an angel—if angels could be so helpless and desperate. Because what angel pleads with every breath for more?

What angel cries out as he holds your hips firmly in place and thrusts with a force that drives you to the brink of sanity?

He’s mesmerized. His eyes track the way your breasts bounce with each snap of his hips. There’s something almost greedy in the way his gaze roams over you, but it’s when he locks onto where your bodies meet that he really loses himself. A glossy ring coats his cock each time he pulls out, and when he pushes back in, the friction between your bodies creates a lewd, wet sound that fills the room.

He laughs. Not out of mockery, but out of sheer delight.

You’re an angel wrapped in sin.

“I can’t—oh god, right there—” Your nails leave little crescents moon on his skin. “You’re so… so deep.”

You’re really testing his limits, and Spencer knows he’s very far from a violent man, but right now, the temptation to cover your mouth with his hand is becoming dangerously real. Although with the way you’re writhing beneath him, rolling your hips to meet his thrusts, he’s sure you’d probably enjoy it.

“Spencer…”

His balls slaps your ass as he slams into you.

“O-Oh—fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

He squeezes your waist tightly. “Already?”

“Ngh.”

Your grip loosens on his arm, and before he can fully process what’s happening, your fingers dance along your clit. It takes all his willpower not to spill into you right then and there when he feels you tighten around him in response. But he holds on, because he needs you to cum first. He needs to feel your velvety walls flutter along the rigid veins of his cock, needs to watch the way your body tenses with pleasure.

He needs to feel it more than once.

He lets you have your first orgasm. Although letting seems like the wrong word. There’s nothing passive about it. He’s making you cum, driving you to it with each calculated thrust. You’re toying with your clit, rubbing in frantic circles just like you do whenever you touch yourself with the thought of him, but this time, it’s even more intense. This time, he’s inside you. And this time, it takes only a few moments for the tension to snap.

You clamp down on him. Hard. So hard that his movement falters for a second, but he quickly recovers, thrusting into you with a relentless rhythm. Just as you start to catch your breath, he pulls out, and you’re left in that delicious, dizzy haze, but your mind is even more disoriented when his face suddenly lowers between your thighs.

“Oh, you’re gonna—” you moan as his shoulders nudge your legs apart, opening you wider for him. “Spencer, you don’t have to—”

Before you can finish, before you even take another breath, the tip of his tongue flicks out.

“I want to.”

And he means it. He dives in with a hunger that leaves no room for doubt. His tongue starts firm and flat, pressing against you before dragging slowly upward, gathering your slickness in one deliberate sweep. Then he changes rhythm, the broad strokes shifting into something more focused, alternating between gentle flicks and deep, hungry pulls, and it’s doing things to you that no amount of late-night fantasies could have prepared you for.

Your head is all over the place that you reach out blindly, trying to find something solid, but the air merely glides over your skin. You stretch for the edge of the bed, fingertips just skimming the surface before your arms flail helplessly in the empty space. He notices your struggle almost immediately, and without missing a beat, he pulls back, lifting your legs to rest on his shoulders.

“Here,” he says, reaching out his arms toward you. “Give me your hands.”

Gladly. The second your fingers lock with his, a sense of grounding floods you, though it does nothing to ease the intensity of what he’s doing. If anything, it sharpens. You can feel the muscles in his shoulders flex under your thighs as he positions himself. And sure, your legs somehow feel weightless, like they’re floating in the air, but the rest of you?

You’re a mess of nerve endings on fire.

It’s impossible to think clearly when every cell in your body is buzzing. Your thoughts scatter the second his mouth moves in that devastating way, driving you out of your mind. You try to hold on to some semblance of control, but who are you kidding? He has officially turned you into a puddle of desperate, needy nerves, and you don’t even care.

It doesn’t take long before that coil snaps, and when it does, your entire body trembles. It’s always the second orgasm. The first is a tease, a little warm-up. The second one is the worst—or the best, depending on how you look at it. It doesn’t just tug at your edges, it tears right through, leaving you gasping and shaking and completely undone like every part of you has been pulled apart and put back together very wrong.

His mouth is glazed with your slick when he finally pulls away. “Good?”

You can barely feel your legs.

“Speechless,” is your answer.

His nose twitches in amusement as his hand leaves yours only for them to slide down your body, gently coaxing your legs to wrap around his waist. “Continue?”

“Please.”

A palm slips down your thigh. “Did you mean what you said earlier?”

You swipe your tongue across your bottom lip as he hovers above you. “About what?”

“About taking advantage of you.”

You huff out a sigh. “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”

“Say it again,” he urges, guiding his cock smoothly along your folds before your whines travel into his ears. Ah, there it is. This is the sound that would greet him in heaven, if such a place existed for someone like him. Men who’ve taken lives to save others. Men who carry too many regrets to count. Spencer knows he’s not the kind of person heaven was built for, but if it were, he’s certain it would sound exactly like the breathy moan that escapes your lips.

And he’s tasted the afterlife, once, when he was younger—drifting somewhere between consciousness and oblivion with a ghost of a needle stuck in his arm. But nothing about that brush with death was like this. This feels like he’s been pulled back into something he didn’t believe he deserved.

“Say it again.”

He’s pleading now. It sounds awfully like a prayer.

“I want you to take advantage of me,” you say, the words spilling from your lips like a soft, sinful confession, music to his ears. An angel. “I want all of it.”

He takes your hands again. “So you won’t be mad if I get a little rough?”

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

That’s all he needs. He gently pushes your hands above your head, pinning them to the mattress, his fingers lacing through yours as his weight presses you into the bed. There’s a sudden rush—like a switch has flipped that it knocks the breath out of you. Your heart skips a beat, but not from nerves. No, this is anticipation, excitement.

You test his hold on you, just to see what happens, but his grip stays firm, almost daring you to resist.

“You asked for this,” he warns as he shifts his hips, aligning himself right to your entrance.

You shake your head. “I begged for this.”

He laughs, a flash of teeth in the dim light. “Yeah,” he breathes, his grip tightening as he presses deeper, “you did.”

A breathless whine escapes your lips as he fills you.

Angel, angel, angel.

He looks at you with a kind of reverence that borders on worship, though his movements are anything but saintly. There’s nothing gentle or innocent about the way he’s taking you, and there’s a quiet madness in the way you respond. Making love would be too tame, too soft for what this is. But fucking seems too crude, too disconnected for the way your eyes meet his, for the way you say his name like a prayer and a demand all at once.

The moment your voice breaks, breathless and needy, something inside him snaps. He feels the tightness coiling in his gut, and once it starts, there’s no stopping it. The pressure is mounting, and with every hard thrust it becomes harder to hold back. He knows he should slow down, give you a moment to catch your breath, but he can’t—his body won’t let him.

His fingers tighten around yours. He’s moving with a single-minded intensity now, pushing you flat against the mattress, your body pliant beneath him. The bed creaks every time he moves and your legs wrap tighter around his hips as you squeeze your eyes shut.

Spencer leans down, brushing his lips against yours, so close but never quite closing the distance, like even the simplest kiss would shatter him too soon. Instead, he rests his forehead on top of yours and whispers, “l’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over, like he’s stuck on some endless loop. It’s not a real apology, not for anything he’s done, but for how much he needs you and how he’s afraid of breaking you with how much he can’t hold back.

He’s so close and he knows he’s not going to last much longer.

“I’m—” He groans as he feels the tension in his body snap, the wave building up in his spine and crashing down with brutal intensity. “I—fuck—I can’t hold it—”

You’re barely coherent yourself, but your voice comes out strong. A little breathless.

“Inside,” you gasp, your legs tightening around his waist. “I want it inside.”

Your words push him over the edge. He shudders, hips stuttering as he buries himself as deep as he can the moment the last thread of his restraint snaps. He can feel it, the way he pulses inside you, filling you completely. Every thrust is accompanied by a harsh groan as his release paints your walls, and the sound of your soft, desperate whines only pushes him deeper into the overwhelming pleasure.

When it finally becomes too much, he carefully pulls out. But the intensity is still coursing through his veins, and he’s too addicted to the sound of your sound, too drawn to the way your body trembles beneath him.

His hand drifts from your wrist almost on instinct, tracing its way down between your legs. He doesn’t need to see the mess he’s made—he can feel it. There’s a fleeting moment where he pauses, almost in awe, before his fingers brush over your clit, and your hips jerk in response. He’s not even sure if he’s teasing you or himself at this point, but he’s too far gone to care.

He slides two fingers inside you.

Your back arches instantly, your nipples brushing against his chest, and you gasp, fully aware of what he’s trying to do. “Oh… I—I can’t…”

He shakes his head. “You can,” he reassures you, watching in fascination as he pushes the white liquid of his release deeper into you. His gaze snaps back to yours. “I think you can give me one more.”

Your body trembles, and you can’t hold back the soft, broken cry that escapes your lips.

“Spencer…”

He loosens his grip on your hand, guiding it gently to rest around his neck. “Please,” he begs, his lips brushing your skin, “for me?”

The way he says it makes it impossible for you to deny him. And he knows it. He feels it in the way your nails dig into the back of his neck, pulling him closer as the tension inside you builds again. His fingers work faster, more desperate now, curling inside you just the way you like.

He’s watching, waiting, and when you finally cum again, it’s like witnessing something so divine. Your body shakes beneath him, a violent, beautiful quake that feels like it’s pulling him into its orbit. He’s unable to tear his eyes away as your head tilts back, lips parting with a choked moan that’s as delicate as it is devastating like an angel’s breath caught on the edge of rapture.

If angels looked this breathtaking in heaven, no wonder people were willing to risk damnation.

Spencer smiles wryly to himself.

Since when did he become so religious?

Another strangled moan escapes your lips. When your orgasm finally subsides, your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, and with what little strength you have left, you reach up and yank weakly at his mop of brown curls.

“…no more.”

He smiles softly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your temple. “No more,” he agrees, pulling his fingers from you carefully.

Without saying a word, he slips off the bed and disappears from the room, only to come back with a damp towel in his hand. You expect him to hand it over to you, but you’re surprised when he kneels at the edge of the bed, gently spreading your legs apart.

Your skin tingles under his gaze as he stares at the mess between your thighs.

“That was…” he starts as he begins to wipe the towel over you. “…very reckless of us.”

With a small, tired smile, you mutter, “You don’t seem too bothered by it.”

He glances up at you. “I’m not,” he admits, finishing his cleanup and setting the towel aside. “But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t at least pretend to be responsible.”

You reach for him as he climbs back into bed. “Would it make you feel better if I told you I’m on birth control?”

He exhales a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding, his body visibly relaxing as he lets out a quiet laugh. “It definitely helps,” he says, tucking you under his chin, “but I’m still going to try to be more careful next time.”

Your grin is as wide as the warmth spreading through your chest. “Next time?”

He smiles softly. “I meant what I said earlier.”

“Which part? You said a lot of things.”

“You know what I mean,” he insists.

“I know. But I want to hear it again.”

The tip of his nose brushes yours. “I want everything.”

“Everything?”

“Every single part of you.”

You take a deep breath. A whiff of his sweat and the faintest trace of soap clings around your senses until you release a happy sigh. “Do you think Violet will be okay with this? With us?”

His hand slips to the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair as he tilts his head to look at you. “She already loves you,” he reassures you. “She’s more adaptable than you think. And she trusts you.”

“But... what if it changes things for her?”

“It will change things,” he admits. “But all the changes will be good ones."

You mull over his words. “You think so?”

“I know so, because you make her happy. You make both of us happy, an—”

He stops, his lips just barely parted as he catches himself.

He almost said it. He almost called you angel.

“What?”

He shakes his head slightly, a faint embarrassed smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"I’m just really happy,” he explains, his fingers absentmindedly brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face. There’s a curious look in your eyes, but instead of pressing him, you bury yourself into his neck, which he’s quietly grateful for because he’s not sure he could have explained himself without sounding like a total sap.

And maybe he is a sap, but even he’s aware that words like that shouldn’t be thrown around too soon, especially after just one night. Not before things settle in, before everything feels a little less like a dream and more like reality.

But he thinks about it. Oh, he thinks about it. The word stubbornly lingers at the edge of his mind he’s keeping for another time. He imagines letting it slip on some quiet morning, when you’re half-asleep and bundled in his shirt, golden sunlight filtering through the window to cast a warm glow across your skin. Or maybe when you meet him at the door after a long day, and Violet runs up, chattering away while you smile at him with that look that feels like coming home.

He can picture it falling easily from his lips someday, maybe even in a future where you’re holding the baby you had wondered about having with him and he’s standing there, watching you like someone who can’t quite believe his luck.

He’ll say it with a kind of certainty then. Not as a prayer, not as some lofty declaration of divine grace.

And when that moment comes, without hesitation, he’ll finally call you his angel.

[fromevertonow]

Suzanne Collins is one of the few contemporary writers who realizes the importance of names in her stories and the significance they bear. They add so many layers to the story, additional meanings that otherwise would not have existed.

The original trilogy:

Katniss: named after a plant of which you can eat the roots. Her father taught her where to find it and told her that “as long as you can find yourself, you’ll survive” (quote may be a little bit off, but it’s from one of the early chapters in THG). Additionally, the leaves are in the shape of an arrowhead, referencing her skills with the bow which her father also taught her how to use.

Peeta: literally bread lmao. But bread is one of the basic nutritions humans need, a little bit goes a long way to keep you alive. Peeta’s presence in Katniss’s life also kept her alive, literally and figuratively—the burned bread he threw her in the flashback and their complicated relationship.

Primrose: a plant with medicinal purposes, even more significant in light of her work as a medic in Mockingjay.

Gale: literally means “strong wind” and considering that in every encounter with Katniss he’s caused some reaction, he pulls her into directions she maybe initially doesn’t want to go in. Additionally, his name also represents his determination and steadfastness in his beliefs.

TBOSAS

Lucy Gray: named after William Wordsworth’s poem “Lucy Gray” which is about the titular character of the poem who got lost during a blizzard. She literally got lost in snow. Rachel Zegler sang this poem in two parts on the original soundtrack of the movie. When Snow asked who the girl in the song is, Lucy answers that she’s a mystery, just like her.

Snow: aside from the obvious snow references, I think his name is most significant in relation to Lucy and the poem. The only one who knows what caused her disappearance is Snow. He is the reason that Lucy is gone. But her traces in the snow are still visible. He will always remember her because the memory of Lucy has manifested itself in every part of his life.

Coriolanus: named after the Roman general (and also the titular character of Shakespeare’s play), Coriolanus wanted to attack Rome and become its ruler. He was scorned and celebrated by the people, only to be later exiled from the city by them. In TBOSAS, Coriolanus is the star pupil at the Capitol’s academy but sent into exile to the districts after he won the Games with Lucy through cheating.

Volumnia: Coriolanus mother who played a part in his ascent to power. In TBOSAS, she almost serves like a mentor to Coriolanus, teaching him how to think in terms of power.

(Edit) Sejanus: a roman soldier who was betrayed by the roman emperor Tiberius, just like the future president betrayed him.

(Edit) Plinth: got this info from here, but it was too good not to include here. A plinth is a base for a statue or vase to stand on. After Sejanus’s death, all of the Plinth fortune was given to Snow for being such a good to friend him. It was this money that skyrocketed the Snow family from poverty to filthy rich. The Plinth money was the foundation upon which Snow built his power.

There are so many other names that have historical (mostly Roman and Greek) connotations—Plutarch, Seneca, Cinna—but also regular names like Trinket and Beetee bear meanings that represent the character beautifully.

Names are important. For any lover of literature or (aspiring) writers, please look closely at them. They can shape your story into something unique.

Feel free to correct me if I’ve said something wrong. I know there are many names missing, but I can only add so many examples ✊🏻😔

[sooniebby]

hello, if you still take requests, please hear me out

reader is roommates with a guy. a rather hot guy, to be honest

reader is in denial whenever someone asks if he's attracted to his roommate, but it's obvious he is, he can't take his eyes off him... taking quick looks at his crotch...

anyways, unfortunately the room only has one bed, in which they sleep on together. normally, they sleep each on each side of the bed, but tonight, roommate hugs reader from behind, sleeping spooning

reader won't admit, but he's sooo horny. he just lowers his hand and starts jerking off right there and then, careful not to wake roommate up

little does he know his roommate was just pretending to be asleep and is well sure of what he's doing. now, roommate will show reader what he's made of

would you mind writing something like this?

ఌ 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄

W.C › 9.2k

Warnings › this is a random oc. Bottom male reader!!! Changed a few parts of the plot and added kinks since there wasn’t any. Get ready for me using song lyrics, just for a little bit. Anything not translated will be translated at the ending notes. if I have any Korean wrong correct me! I appreciate feedback, I’m not fluent!

Kinks › dubcon, lite somnophilia, dom/sub, manhandling, predator/prey, size difference, blood, possessiveness, dacryphilia

Words to know › 자기야 (jagiya/jagi) means “baby/sweetie”. 선배 (seonbae) title for someone older in school/work. 형 (hyung/hyeong) name for older male from a younger male. 아/야 (a/ya) showing closeness to someone. 동생 (Dongsaeng) little brother/sister, doesn’t have to be a biological sibling/can be a friend.

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

❝ 김진우 ❞

Those words were practically all that you heard these days. You know, when you originally came to this university, you had big plans. Plans to date as much as possible. Finally lose your virginity!

But they’re nothing important compared to who you unfortunately got paired to dorm with.

Kim Jinu.

A third year at your university. You felt bitter, to say the least. Of course you would have to unlucky chance of being paired with an upperclassman than another freshman. Gah, you wanted to cry.

Anyone that came up to you was always asking about Mister Kim Jinu! What about you?! You were handsome too!

Well, you were a potato next to Jinu.

The Korean beauty standards just had to pick favorites.

A slow soft sigh left your lips as you stared at your empty screen in front of you. Your fingers twiddled with your pen before you leaned over and pressed it against the screen, attempting to finish the outline of your sketch. You were an art major, dreaming of being an animator or even a comic book artist.

Much to your parents dismay. You haven’t had your mother’s signature kimchi in almost two months now due to your choice. But you tried not to dwell on it! You wanted to be happy.

And if being a starving artist is the only way, so be it!

Speaking of starving….

Your stomach growled as you whined and tossed the pen onto the desk, lying back in your chair as you swirled around. You’d have better luck being a Kpop idol at this point. Maybe it’s not too late. Who doesn’t like a filler member?

You glance in the small circle mirror resting on your desk and probe at your cheeks. Plastic surgery isn’t too much, right? Maybe a slimmer nose? Double eyelids?

“(Name) Oppa..? What are you doing?”

A shriek left your lips as you looked back at Cho Yoona, your classmate. A tight smile pulled on your lips as you took the iced coffee she had in her hands.

“Nothing, nothing. Oppa is just having a mental breakdown.” You said, quickly taking a sip of your coffee to gain some energy back.

Yoona grabbed a chair and pulled it close to your desk, sitting down next to you. “Hm. What are you doing now?”

“Ah? Well, the theme was something out of our comfort zone, so I was trying to create… uh… nude portraits..”

“Huh? Nude? Will Professor Lee Hyunki approve that?”

You shrugged, placing the coffee down onto the desk. “I have a backup plan. I haven’t been able to get in touch with him anyway.” A groan left your throat as you saved your draft before shutting off your computer. “Anyway, let’s go. It’s getting late.”

As you and Yoona packed up, she suddenly looked over to you with a big smirk.

“Oppa… are you… close to Kim Jinu Seonbae?” She asked, looking up at you with wide eyes.

“No.” You quickly said, rolling your eyes. “We’re just roommates. Not close at all.”

“Oh.” She muttered, pouting. “You’re lucky, Oppa. You get to be so close to Jinu Seonbae. Isn’t he handsome up close?” She squealed, clutching her notebook tight against her chest. “I’d die if I get to see him right after he takes a shower!!!”

“Get your mind out of the gutter.” You muttered, playfully flicking her forehead. The two of you left the classroom, turning off the lights and closing the door.

Once Yoona went her own separate way to her own dorms, you couldn’t help but think about what she said. Jinu… in just a towel..?

You heaved as you accidentally swallowed your coffee a bit too fast, pounding at your chest once you finally reached your dorm. Your hands fiddle with your keys while you fight off the harsh coughing burning at your chest. The door swings open as you struggle inside, slamming the door behind you.

Tossing your bag onto your side of the room, you make a beeline for the mini fridge and pull out a water bottle, downing it in seconds. As the cool refreshment calmed the coughing beast within you, you suddenly realized you weren’t holding your coffee anymore.

Your eyes trailed down to see it lying spilled on the floor not too far from your feet.

And unfortunately, it spilled right on a stake of papers near Jinu’s backpack. A shrill girlish scream right of a horror movie leaves your throat as you collapse to your knees and pick up the coffee cup, seeing the damage.

Your fingers felt numb as they slowly peeled the notebook open, seeing the pages stuck together like glue. The once white sheets dark in black, ice cubes coating it like sprinkles. Holy fuck.

Fuck fuck.

Jinu was going to kill you!

With the coffee coating the paper, you could hardly read what was written in it. But judging from the top cover, it looked to be a study guide or something.

Your eyes squinted as you tried to read what you could in hopes of gaging just how bad you fucked up. The words that you could only read were: “바보…토끼…자기…”

What the fuck?

Idiot, rabbit, babe?

What the hell was Jinu writing about?

Jinu was a business major. You couldn’t recall him taking any classes dealing with animals. Maybe it was a code word? Well, all that mattered was that it didn’t seem too important so you quickly grabbed the notebook. Drying it with a hair dryer seemed like your safest bet.

The room door opened, catching your attention as you shoved the notebook behind your back. There stood Jinu, obviously waving bye to someone before finally looking into the room. His eyes zoned in on you, face just frozen for a solid second.

You panicked, thinking that he could possibly see the notebook behind your back. Not the fact you were on your knees, staring up at him with wide cute eyes, and plump lips pulled into a slight pout. Especially with your sweater that was large and baggy, something you preferred, with one of the sleeves down—showing your bare shoulders.

Why would you wear tanks underneath the sweater? The buildings here aren’t that cold.

“Jinu Seonbae..!” You whisper, giggling nervously as you pressed the notebook tight against your back, taking a peek to make sure it didn’t stick out. “How.. was your day?”

Jinu blinked. Once, twice, before a large grin pulled onto his face and his eyes practically closed into those crescent moons girls swooned about. Whatever he was thinking about was long gone.

“I thought I told you to call me hyung, (Name). We’re going to be roommates for a while anyway.” Jinu said, closing the door behind him as he slipped off his shoes and put away his jacket.

You wanted him to stay as far as possible—you couldn’t have him seeing the mess you made! Your eyes trailed around the room, looking for something to distract him with. The floor was feeling sticky from the coffee, its spill coating the floor and now your knees. You didn’t even noticed you had accidentally knelt in the damn puddle.

“H..Hyung! Uhm, can you… get me some napkins?” You yelled, stopping Jinu just as he began to walk past the bathroom door. He balked at your raised voice but simply hummed, turning on his heels to grab some from the connected bathroom.

Your hands gripped the sticky notebook and shoved it underneath one of your old textbooks on your desk, standing up just as Jinu came back.

“Spilled something?”

“Mhm… just some coffee.” You muttered, thanking him for the napkins as you kneeled back down to wipe it up. “I don’t think it got on any of your things.”

Jinu let out a noncommittal hum, standing just inches from you as you bent over. You felt watched—to a strange and uncomfortable amount but you didn’t want to say anything. Once you finished, you glanced up at him, hoping he possibly didn’t notice his missing notebook.

But this position.

No.

No, it was his stare really. You felt yourself squirm, wondering how a guy could look so cute not too long ago and watch you like a hawk the next.

“Ah, (Name), did you eat the sandwich I bought you?” Jinu suddenly asked, his gaze shifting to his desk as he moved past you, sitting down on his chair. “I tried to remember what you liked.”

“Oh uhm. I gave it to my dongsaeng.”

The soft taps on the desk stopped, causing you to look over at Jinu. He was facing the window so you couldn’t get a read on his face. But the total silence made you feel as if what you said was the wrong answer.

“Dongsaeng? Biological?”

“Uhm. Yes. My little brother came to visit me.” You muttered, feeling a bit weirded out he asked that. “He skipped school to see me, but I didn’t have enough money to take him out so I just gave him my lunch. Sorry, Seonbae.”

Jinu’s light tapping on the desk began again as he let out a laugh. “It’s okay! I’ll just make sure to get you two next time.” He turned to face you, a large grin on his lips. Any tension in your body slipped away as you couldn’t help but smile back.

Kim Jinu wasn’t too bad of a roommate.

Just a shame he kept cockblocking you.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“Wa, Hyung, these lover letters are all for you?”

On your desk, covering your keyboard and almost the entire space area, was a small mountain of love letters. In your classroom for art major, you all had small little cubicles that was essentially your work station. Unlucky for you, many people found out exactly where yours was to leave gifts.

Oh but not for you.

Are you kidding?

They were all for Jinu.

Your classmate, Im Taeil, reached over and grabbed one of the food that were left, reading the sticky note attached to it. “Oh. This one is for Kim Jinu Seonbae.”

“They’re all for him.” You muttered bitterly, grabbing a heap of them and stomping over to the trash, dumping them with no remorse. Taeil watched you in awe as you cleaned your desk in seconds, leaving just the few snacks.

“Why do they give them to you instead of Jinu Seonbae?” Taeil asked, pulling at the rest of the sticky notes to read what was on them. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just confess to him? Wow, these notes leave nothing to the imagination. I think some of these are from guys too.”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing one of the chocolate bars and pulling it open, taking a big bite. “I don’t know! Maybe they can’t handle rejection. I hope they know I’m not his damn servant!” You plopped down onto your chair and sighed, wanting to just drown in your sorrows.

So much for getting laid or finding a partner.

All that anyone wanted was Kim Jinu!

Agh!! You just wanted to say, “꺼져!” But you knew saying “go to hell” to everyone was a bad idea and would practically send you into the shadow realm of no friends.

Though your only friends seemed to be Taeil and Yoona. But you didn’t really think they liked you as a person. You were just the easiest to talk to.

“Hyung, can I…?” Taeil suddenly whispered, catching your attention. His hands made a grabby motion as he inched close to one of the snacks on your desk. You mutely waved and allowed him to grab whatever he wanted. You’d probably just give the rest to Yoona or something. Ah, maybe your little brother…?

“Oh, Oppa! Taeil!” Yoona greeted, the door pushed open as she carried a bag filled with goods. She skipped over, a bright cheery grin on her lips as she stood right in front of you and Taeil. “Look what Jinu Seonbae gave me! Ah, he’s so cool!”

Taeil peaked into the bag and pulled out a bag of chips. “Wow. He really got these for you?” You couldn’t deny the slight twitch in your lips at his wording. Her? Just for Yoona? No way. No way…

Yoona shook her head. “Not just for me! It’s mainly for (Name) Oppa!” She took out another pair of chips and two sodas, handing one over to Taeil. “The rest is for you! There’s a note inside.”

The bag was practically thrusted onto your lap as Yoona walked over to her desk across from yours and plopped down, eagerly chowing down on her snacks.

Taeil looked curious on what the note said but seemed to know there was limits to his nosy behavior as he sat down at his desk two seats away from you. Huh. Mainly for you?

Weird.

You pulled open the plastic bag and pulled out a soda and chips, similar to what he gave Taeil and Yoona. But there was more: two turkey sandwiches. You pulled out the one that had a sticky note on it, tilting your head as you read his handwriting out to yourself.

❝ 여기, 샌드위치 두 개요. 오직 토끼만을 위한! 아니 동생! ❞

❝ Here, two sandwiches. For Bunny only! No Dongsaeng! ❞

“No dongsaeng?”

You shrieked, looking back to see Taeil suddenly standing behind you. He grinned sheepishly, taking a step back.

“Sorry, Hyung. You got so quiet… I was a bit worried.”

Yoona perked up from her desk, tilting her head. “What does it say?” She walked over and glanced down at the note. “Who’s bunny?”

You shrugged, “not sure. I’ve never been called a bunny before.” You let out another pathetic cry of shock when Yoona and Taeil were suddenly close to your face, eyes wide as if they were examining you like a piece of meat.

“Really? You look more like a deer to me.” Yoona muttered.

“No… I see the bunny. Ah, but maybe hamster too. You have chubby cheeks, Hyung!” Taeil chimed in.

You rolled your eyes, wanting to push them away but you kinda enjoyed the attention. You weren’t really into the whole animal representative thing that a lot of Kpop idols did. Just didn’t see the purpose, especially after you grew up. But you wouldn’t lie and say you didn’t like being referred to as such cute animals.

You could’ve gotten an insect!

The rest of the day was uneventful. You actually ended up eating both sandwiches Jinu gave you, slaving away at your project. It wasn’t going as great as you envisioned—nowhere near. You had no problem creating a nude body it was just difficult to make it… artistically pleasing and not full on horny.

❝ 잠깐만요 시간 있나요?…. ❞

Yoona’s Bluetooth speaker sang the melody of AOA - Excuse me as you stared at the rough draft in front of you. You wished you didn���t pick digital art for this project and stick to traditional but there was no use complaining now.

Your wrist tensed as you zoomed in on the face of your model—creating the soft brush strokes of his hair. Sharp eyes, black in color. The outline of lips that you would paint in pink. Maybe even red. Earrings? No, he doesn’t have any.

He’s gotten bigger. Definitely compared to the pictures you’ve seen of him last year from his friends. Weights..? Boxing? His knuckles looked bruised sometimes when you saw him.

Red, aching. Cuts of skin. Bright and glossy from the ointment he’d put on it. Tanned skin. Red against tanned skin—a perfect contrast.

Does it hurt to move? If you kissed it, would the blood coat your lips?

It was such an edgy thought but you wondered how it’d look to use his blood as lipstick.

His thumb pressed on your bottom lip, slowly smearing it. Would he call you pretty? Kissing you so you both can taste the metallic rush of blood. Maybe you can taste something else. White, maybe?

Your breathing shuddered as your grip on your pen tightened, legs pressing tightly together. Red and white. Would he like you in that? Pretty and pliant just for him to claim. Your free hand gently pulled at your pants, alleviating some pressure against your crotch.

Bunny. Were you his bunny?

Is that what he thought of you? Helpless and defenseless? His fingernails digging into your soft skin as blood spilled, your soft moans teetering on the verge of tears.

What did he remind you of?

A fox?

Don’t they eat bunnies?

You didn’t know why the thought made your whole body spasm. Your breathing getting heavy as the pen began to slip from your hand. He’d chase you. Yeah, that’s what a fox does to their prey. Chase you until couldn’t run anymore, huddled in a dead end as he got closer.

You’d cry and beg but he’d take you. Because he wants you—wants you so bad he can’t control himself. He’d always wanted you beneath him screaming his name for all to hear. As you became his prey.

❝ 벗어날 수 없는 걸 ❞

“Oh! I love this song! Taeil, do you like The Boyz?” Yoona said, turning up the volume. Taeil hummed, looking up from his screen. His eyes looked bloodshot at this point. How long have you guys been here?

“I prefer girl groups. Like Red Velvet!” Taeil said, proudly showing his phone that had a Lock Screen of Seulgi. Yoona cooed and showed her Lock Screen of Kevin. Wow, you’re stuck with Kpop fans. You rubbed your eyes, looking away from your screen to stop seeing the dark spots appearing in your vision.

Taeil and Yoona began talking about their favorite groups while you listened to the song. It felt oddly fitting for the mood you were in right now. You’d have to ask Yoona for the name later. Right now you need a drink, stat.

You grabbed your water bottle and took long gulps as you finally glanced back at your drawing. It took a moment for it to fully register before you let out a scream.

No it was certainly manly.

“Hyung?!”

“Oppa?!”

There—right in front of you—was Kim Jinu staring right back at you. You…

You fucking drew him?!

❝ 온통 너로 물들여질 테니… ❞

No way. No fucking way.

But there it was, staring back at you. His fluffy black hair slicked back as if he was drenched in water. Black eyes with his signature big nose. His lips weren’t pulled into his usual smiles. You had drawn him with all of his features except that damn smile.

Damn Kim Jinu… he was affecting you in ways you didn’t think was possible.

You quickly saved your draft on the tablet and turned it off, needing to just go to your dorm and sleep this daze off. “Yoona… Taeil… I need to sleep.” You muttered, Yoona and Taeil staring at you with worried looks. “You guys should go sleep too. It’s late.”

Yoona and Taeil didn’t fight it. It looked as if they were waiting for you to give them permission. You waved them off, stating you needed to clean up a bit before leaving. Your professor didn’t like crumbs. But you didn’t clean, you just stared at your tablet. The large tablet that the school provided that was now logged on into your account, holding a secret.

Your breathing slowed as you reached over and pressed the power button, waiting as it lit up. The soft taps filled the room as you logged back in and clicked your recent save. He appeared in front of you again.

That fox.

A shudder left you as you pulled down your pants, along with your boxers, as your cock plopped out against your tummy. It was small. Smaller than most. Around 4 inches. Possibly 3 really. But it didn’t matter to you really—you didn’t think you’d ever want to top anyway.

Your hand grasped your cock as you began to pump it slowly, staring straight at the drawing in front of you. His cock. You wondered what it looked like.

You respected his privacy so you never dared to stare at him whenever he came out of the shower.

But you wish you did. Wish you could have an accurate picture of how it would look. How it would be deep inside of you. Would it make a bulge in your stomach?

Is he thick? Long? Maybe both.

You arched your back against the chair as you took shallow breaths, your whimpers filling the empty room. Your toes curled as you whined and mewled, wishing someone else was jerking you off.

Oh who were you kidding?

You wished it was Jinu.

Even as you reached your orgasm, cum coating your tummy, you didn’t feel any relief.

What fun was it if he didn’t chase you?

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“Jagi….”

A hum left your throat as you buried your face into your arms, shivering slightly from the cool air that tickled your stomach.

“Jagiya.”

Puffs of air brushed against your cheek. It was warm, a nice contrast compared to the cool air that covered you. A finger gently touched your cheek. Poking and doing small circles around the outline of it. The hand trailed down your face to your back, rubbing circles as it started a slight rhythm.

❝ 날 놀리는 거야, 예쁜 자기야. ❞

Despite the taps jolting against your skin, it almost lulled you back into sleep. It was something you missed, the touch of someone special. Slowly, it inched further down, moving to the end of your sweater. Your body flinched at the hand now teasing your skin directly as it grazed it your stomach.

❝ 무방비 토끼. 내가 너를 먹어치울게 ❞

It felt sticky. A deep chuckle reverberated against your back. The touch on your skin was possessive, rubbing and massaging your stomach. Your body flinched as your breathing began to stutter. A hand slipped further down, easily squeezing its way into your pants. The sensual touch—it felt as if you belonged to them and only them.

❝ 도망기면 쫓이갈거야, 토끼야… ❞

A gasp left your lips as your eyes opened, looking around to notice that you were still in the classroom. Fuck. Your body tensed as you moved away from your desk, groaning at the awkward position you slept in. As you stretched, your gaze flickered to an ice coffee on your desk with a sticky note attached to it.

It had a badly drawn bunny on it with a heart next to it. The words: “fighting!” were scribbled beside the crude drawing. You couldn’t help but smile, placing the note on small bulletin board near your desk.

It must’ve been your hyung, Lee Minjae. Or who you affectionately called, Minnie Hyung. He was the one who pushed you to pursue your major instead of what your parents wanted. Such a great hyung.

The whole thing about Jinu felt like a distant memory. You’d have to change what you’re submitting for the project, immediately.

No way in hell were you going to submit a nude of your fucking roommate.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

There was a something wrong with your bed.

After you took your shower and changed into comfy pajamas, you noticed there was something wrong your bed. Well for one the fucking mattress was missing. You had called Jinu if he knew what happened but all he said was that he found a nest of spider eggs in it so the school confiscated it.

Unlucky for you the school were cheap stakes and it was gonna take a bit of time before you got a new mattress. Jinu had said you would be sharing with him but you didn’t necessarily think you could survive something like that.

Him pressed up against you.

Would it…

You pushed the thought away. Your eyes trailed off to your desk when you suddenly remembered the ruined notebook. You walked over and grabbed it from beneath one of your textbooks, seeing it in its fully ruined glory. There was no salvaging it at this point. You hoped Jinu didn’t care for this dumb thing.

But you were curious to see if you could read it fully now.

You slowly peeled it open and bristled at just how bad the damage was. Half of the pages were stuck together and when you tried to part it they tore. The pen he used to write it had smudged from the liquid so his handwriting was ineligible.

Right before you had given up to just toss it, you came across the last page, seeing a word you could understand. “Jagi.” Huh. Who was this babe of his? You tried to push away the slight bitterness in your throat the thought of that.

Of course he’d have a girlfriend. He was Kim fucking Jinu.

It’d be a shock if he didn’t.

You tossed the notebook into the trash can and made sure to put your food snacks on top of it just in case Jinu decided to accidentally look in there. If Jinu ever asked about his notebook, you’d pretend you never even seen him with a notebook before.

Now all you had to deal with was the problem of sleeping in the same bed with Jinu. You’d survive.

Hopefully.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

You haven’t survived. It’s been two weeks and it felt as if you hadn’t slept in years. Jinu keeps two pillows between the both you while you slept but somehow the two of you always end up close. It wasn’t even a day ago when you woke up to yourself resting right on Jinu, your cheek pressed against his chest while your hand palmed his neck.

He had a big chest—you wished you had a little bit of a degenerative attitude to feel him up.

But you’d rather not be known as the perverted roommate.

“(Name)-Ah? Something wrong?” A hand gently rests on your shoulder as you glanced up to see Lee Minjae staring down at you. A cute grin pulled on your lips as you placed your pen down to grip one of his hands. You just liked touching him.

“Minnie Hyung! What are you doing in the art department?”

Minjae smirked, leaning down as your noses touch. “Can’t check in on my dongsaeng? Your classmates have been telling me that you’ve been cooped up in here. It’s not good for you to stare at the screen for this long.” You giggled, watching as he pulled away.

“Mhm. I’m okay, promise!” You could feel yourself acting cuter in Minjae’s presence. It wasn’t shocking. He always made you feel safe to act how you do behind closed doors. You could wear whatever you wanted around him without being judged.

A perfect, perfect hyung.

“Ah, Hyung, thank you for the coffee last time! I enjoyed it.”

Minjae hummed. “Coffee? I didn’t bring you coffee.”

“What? You didn’t? Then…” You pulled your lips into a pout as you thought about who would do something like that for you. It couldn’t be Yoona and Taeil. You weren’t close to anyone else.

“Ah, did my pretty dongsaeng finally get a secret admirer?” Minjae grinned, playfully pulling at your cheeks while you whined. The two of you began to giggle like little boys as you stared up at Minjae with a look of pure content.

You hoped you had Minjae with you forever.

A soft knock on the door caught your attention as you and Minjae glanced to the right to see who it was. The position you were in was almost of that of a couple. Your hand grasping Minjae’s as they rest on your shoulders. The previous nose rubbing and even just you looking up at him like he hung up the moon.

Were you two a couple?

❝ 타오른 이 감정은… ❞

Jinu was having a terrible day. First he had to entertain a few random teachers with something he didn’t even care to remember. Second he was bothered by some fourth years about a project they needed help on. And now, he had to deal with Cho Yoona and Im Taeil’s yapping about their favorite song while he walked to your classroom.

That song Yoona was playing just made him angrier. Insanity was the name of the song, at least that’s what she said. Jinu felt the same and thought if he had to see something else that pissed him off he’d die a slow death.

So of course he had to see you, his bunny, making fucking whore eyes to some random seonbae.

What the fuck?!

Jinu forced a tight grin and held up a bag filled with food. Food that was just for you but of course he can’t say that. Despite himself, he tried to keep an easy going and fun attitude when speaking to other people. Though he was wondering if he should forgo that for punting Lee Minjae into the sun.

That stupid pig.

You wouldn’t even look at Jinu, you haven’t been looking at him often these days. He knew it was because you were embarrassed about the sleeping arrangements. But it was the only way he believed you could get closer to him.

So what if he deliberately put a spider and other insects in your mattress in hopes they laid eggs and ruin it so then it would force you to sleep on the same bed with him?

You don’t understand any of his other hints or flirting attempts.

He needed results fast!

You were hopping away to any other dick that wasn’t his and he couldn’t have that.

This chase he was having with you was starting to make him insane. If he didn't have you beneath him soon he wouldn't survive another night with you. His whole plan about having you sleep on his bed honestly felt as if it was back firing on him. You were so cuddly when you slept, always finding a way to move over the pillow barrier.

He always pretended he was asleep when you woke up in a panic, always pulling away before he could truly saver your touch—your warmth.

He was truly going insane. All he could remember was the first time he ever saw you. But he couldn't think about it further when he felt Lee Minjae's hand pat him on the back. Jinu fought every muscle in his face to not immediately grimace at the other's touch.

"(Name)-Ah, Yoona, Taeil, I'll take my leave now. I don't wanna bother you guys any longer." Minjae leaned down towards you and Jinu felt his upper lip twitched as he watched the older with his stupid dyed blonde hair that looked fried and crispy nuzzle his nose against yours.

If that wasn't enough, Minjae wrapped his arms around your neck and held you close as he pressed a wet kiss on your cheek. You shrieked and struggled against his hold, trying to avoid the kiss. But you hardly put up a fight, all giggly and smiley. You looked so small in Minjae's arms, so pliant and easy to hold.

Jinu pulled at his sweatpants, coughing slightly. That seemed to catch Minjae's attention as he stopped his childish assault and gave (Name) a cheeky smirk. Yoona began cooing at how cute you and Minjae looked together.

You didn't. No way. Jinu fought the urge to pull Minjae away from you.

Taeil tilted his head, "Jinu Seonbae, are you okay? Your eyebrows are so furrowed. You might pop a blood vessel."

The others looked over at Jinu, Yoona and Minjae questioning if he was alright, you especially with a look of concern in your doe eyes.

Good.

Worry about him and him alone.

Pay attention to only him.

"It's nothing," Jinu said, puling out his signature lady killer smile. "I think I just need to eat something, I haven't had a proper lunch in ages." Yoona immediately swooned while Taeil rolled his eyes. Minjae seemed in deep though as he stared at Jinu, the fourth year tilting his head as if he was digging deep into Jinu's soul. Figuring him out with a just a look.

Minjae grinned. "Let your seonbae take you out, yeah?" He suddenly said, catching everyone's attention. "I know a place not too far from here that sells great tteokbokki."

Like I'd want to be caught dead with you... Jinu thought to himself but he simply hummed. "Sure, Seonbae. Bye, Yoona, Taeil..."

Jinu stared right at you as Minjae pulled away from you. Your eyes flickered over to Jinu and you offered him a tight smile, waving slightly. "See you, Jinu Seonbae."

"See you, (Name)." He whispered, mostly just happy you even looked him in the eye.

But his happiness was short lived when you looked at Minjae and offered him a cute smile. A smile that you’ve never gave him. "Bye, Minnie Hyung!"

Minnie Hyung?!

Jinu followed Minjae out of the classroom, curses swirling in his mind as he stared at the man beside him. Minjae chuckled after a moment or so and looked over at Jinu with a smirk. "Y'know, you can't blow my head off with just your stare. I didn't know you were into my (Name)-Ah."

His? Jinu was fine with being expelled at this point but Minjae suddenly stopped in his tracks. "Jinu-Ya," he placed his hand on Jinu's shoulder while Jinu wondered what gave the man the audacity to use such a title with him. "If you want (Name)-Ah, you have to take him. There's so many wolves that want him." He smirked knowingly, his finger tapping Jinu's shoulder.

Just as Jinu was about to speak, Minjae pressed his finger on his lips. What the fuck? "Listen to your hyung, Jinu-Ya. With someone so naive like (Name)-Ah, you just take him like you own him. Chase after him, there is a dead end soon."

With that, he pulled away and smirked. "Tell me how the chase goes. I've been waiting for someone to snatch up my dongsaeng."

Jinu just stood there blank faced in the middle of the hallway as Minjae walked away. Just what the fuck was that? He didn't even think too hard about it when he realized he didn't have to worry about you and Minjae. Phew, that stress was short lived.

But what did he mean by dead end?

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

You were going insane.

It felt you were being watched these days. You had finally finished your project, having going with another idea and completely abandoning the whole nude thing. But it still sat in your drafts, practically calling you everyday. Sometimes you'd go back...

You'd finish certain parts of it. His body fully detailed expect that dreaded crotch. His dick. You wouldn't dare make what you believed his dick to look like. There was still some sense of self respect deep inside you.

Just not strong enough to not pay attention when you were drawing something for fun. You had a art account that you posted on like once every month of gay art you drew. So you were creating the piece, feeling in the mood to do something with oral fixation.

Only for you to notice instead of the usual two same characters you stuck to, it was Jinu as the top. Which, fair, it wouldn't be too different from what you had literally done weeks ago.

No, the problem was the partner.

You drew yourself.

You fucking drew yourself.

The drawing felt so real compared to the others you've made. Drawing Jinu between your legs, holding you up, bending you over on the bed. Your shoulders rest on the bed while your legs curled into yourself. His mouth biting the flesh of your ass, his eyes staring right at you, the real you.

Of course you had to angle it this way. Fucking pervert.

You tried to salvage the drawing but each stroke on that cursed tablet just made the partner look more and more like you. Okay, you were desperate for sex at this point. It was too much. You pressed the delete button on the sketch and powered off the tablet.

"I'm going, Taeil. Don't stay too late."

With lighting speed, you rushed to your dorm, trying to ignore the growing boner in your pants. Why did you have to like someone like Jinu? Out of all the people at this stupid university. Even Minjae would've been better than Kim Jinu of all people. But you couldn't complain any further because when you stormed into your dorm, fucking Kim Jinu was there, sitting at his desk.

Jinu glanced over at you and grinned, taking off his glasses as he shut off his laptop. "You're back earlier than normal. Did you end up finishing quick?"

You numbly nodded. "Yes... I just need to sleep. My eyes hurt." You couldn't even look at him. His gaze followed you as you grabbed your pajamas. Wherever you stepped, eyes were right on you, watching you like a predator does his next prey.

Bunny and fox.

That's what you imagined him as.

A fox.

It felt so hard to breathe with him near.

Why did it feel like there was no escape?

❝ 지금 너를 미치도록 ❞

The soft sputtering of the fan filled the room as you laid there right awake on Jinu's bed, wondering why you couldn't sleep despite your tired eyes. Jinu was fast asleep, his back pressed your own back. You didn't know why the usual barrier wasn't here tonight but you couldn't care too much about it right now. Not with your growing boner.

You haven't masturbated in two weeks. It's not a shock that the stupid art from earlier was still affecting you like this. You wondered if you could just sneak into the bathroom and quickly jerk one off. Would he notice? Just as you made the decision to get up, strong arms suddenly wrapped around your waist. Your body stiffened as you felt Jinu snuggled against your back.

His face buried in your neck, his nose and bangs softly tickling you.

What...the...fuck?!

Your legs subconsciously clamped shut at him so close. Okay, you were fucking screwed. The thought of moving seemed impossible now with him so close. His grip was so strong that you didn't understand how someone asleep could have such strong coordination.

Despite being cuddled by your crush, your cock was more alive than ever, leaking against your pajama pants. You let out a stifled whimper as you reached down and gently rub the bottom of your palm against your bulge. The relief was almost instant as a guttural groan escaped you before you could stop yourself.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Were you really going to do this?

Yeah.

Yeah you were.

Soon the fan wasn't the only one making noise. Your soft and breathy moans filled the room as you jerked off. Your body flinched from the pressure causing your butt to rub against Jinu's front.

Wait.

He was... hard...?

A wave of fear washed over you as you stilled your hand. No, no. He must be having a wet dream or something. Yeah, he can't be awake hearing you. No. No way. You needed to reach your damned orgasm and just go to sleep. You'd deal with the shame in the morning. You finally decided to pull down your pajama pants to grasp your cock and not just rub it anymore.

You pumped your cock, making sure to still your body so you don't accidentally rub your bare ass against Jinu's clothed crotch. He'd hate that. No, he'd hate to learn what you're doing. Fuck. The shame was already affecting you. Stray tears fell down your cheeks as you bit down at your pillow, still chasing your orgasm despite the shame filling your lungs.

Embarrassment. This was so fucking embarrassing.

It was close-- your orgasm. Inches away, dancing on the tip of your fingers as your moans began to reach a crescendo. So much for muffling yourself. Your edge to your orgasm was wrecking you—sending you to a mental space you couldn't imagine in any other circumstance.

Was this how sex with someone you liked felt?

Could Jinu make you feel this way?

Was... him being here making you this way?

It wasn't enough. You wanted more. Your legs shifted as you subtly pulled your pants down, kicking them off without a care. You didn't have any lube but you had no time. The tease of ecstasy was whispering your name—calling you to go further. So you did. You suckled two of your fingers, getting them as wet as possible before slipping down between your legs.

The two seconds of pain as you pushed them inside did not deter you. You could deal with a little pain. It was rough. Your fingers rubbed against your inner walls, searching for those bundle of nerves to drive you wild. But it was difficult in this position. You usually masturbated on your back or while sitting up.

You wondered if you should go as far as to shift positions. That'd be too much, right?

The shame was finally catching up to you. You couldn't do this. This disgusting and degrading action towards both you and Jinu. Your eyes closed as you sighed, eyes fluttering shut. It was too much.

"You're done already, (Name)-Ah?"

A chill crept up your spine as those three words were whispered right into your ear. Your eyes widen but you couldn't move. It was as if his words just took out any sort of life within you. His arms around your waist tightens as you feel him nuzzle himself further on your neck.

Your breathing feels erratic. You can't breathe. It feels as if you'd die right here, right now.

You looked down to see his hands. They looked recently bruised from his usual boxing. But now they felt different. As if it was a show at just how durable his body was. His arms slowly began to tighten around you only to you let out a sharp cry at the pain, earning a pleased grunt.

"You're awake, yeah? Are you ignoring hyung?" He whispered, his lips trailed your neck, stopping right at the tip of your air. "You can masturbate right beside me but can't even answer me?"

A pathetic whine left your throat as you tried to wiggle from his grip but it proved to be futile. You gasped, arching your back as you felt Jinu rub his crotch right against your butt. He began to hump you ignoring your shocked gasp.

Was he...?

"So selfish, bunny. Chasing your own release. Not even thinking about what your moans were doing to me." His right hand trailed down and pushed you to lay on your front, his body following to lay on top.

You cried out, gripping the bedsheets like a life line. "You.. were awake...?"

"I never went to sleep." He said honestly, spanking you right on your ass. You squeaked, back arching to get away from another spank. "I never knew you would do something like this. I was beginning to think you hated me."

"I never—”

"—but you never listen to me, do you? I tell you everyday to call me hyung but you never let it stick. What, do I have to force you to say it?"

"We aren't close!" You whined, whimpering at another spank. Your lower hips wiggled but you didn't make any effort to truly push Jinu off of you. You didn't understand yourself sometimes.

"What? But you call Lee Minjae hyung without any problem." Jinu grunted, his hand reaching over to grab something from the slim nightstand next to the bed. You couldn't tell what he grabbed until something cool and slimy was drizzled onto your ass. A whine left you from the coldness. "What'd he do? Fuck you? Chase you like you so desperately want?"

"Nooo," you whined, screaming when he shoved in two fingers inside your hole. Your hands dug into the bedsheets as he thrusted his fingers in and out, a constant rhythm with no sign of stopping despite your pleas for him to slow down.

Jinu chuckled, leaning down as he used his free hand to push your hair away from your face. "You act so innocent but you want this. I'll show you that I'm the only one for you. No other man can chase you like I can."

"What... ngh!!! are you talking... about..?" You manage to ask, wishing you could silence yourself. Your neighbors will certainly be having a long talk with you and Jinu tomorrow.

"Oh, bunny. My bunny, you really are so naive." Jinu whispered, pressing a kiss on your cheek. "You don't even know what you crave. It's okay, hyung will take care of you now. You won't ever have to think again."

Your body began to spasm as you felt a finger graze that bundle you tried to reach earlier. Jinu stilled for a moment, a look of slight worry in his eyes before he noticed what had just happened. A cruel smirk pulled on his eyes formed those crescent moons you once associated with his innocence.

But it didn't bring any sort of serenity to your body.

You were flipped onto your back with ease as Jinu grabbed your thighs and pushed them forward, effectively blocking your view from him. Desperate and pained moans left your lips as he continued to finger you, fingers gunning consistently at your prostate.

A loud scream left your throat as your back arched against the bed, your cock finally releasing the weeks long pent up lust you've stored for awhile now. Your stomach slowly rose and fall, coated in your sticky cum. All you could think about was your orgasm back in the classroom.

You were right.

Jinu made you cum harder than you could ever do by yourself.

You expected him to pull away but instead you felt a tug on your cock. A whine of overstimulation left your throat as you parted your legs and looked at him with wide doe eyes, confusion written all over your face.

A cruel smirk pulled on his lips as he tilted his head. "I've wanted you since I first saw you. You really think I'll let our first time be so lackluster?"

Lackluster?

He thought that was lackluster?

A pained cry left your lips as he began to thrust his fingers inside once more, leaving no sympathy as he immediately went for your prostate. You were going to die. You were going to die being fingered by your roommate. Kim Jinu was going to be the death of you.

It didn't take long for you to cum again and again, your fifth orgasm not even releasing anything. Your body twitched as your eyes watered, tears streaming down your face from the constant overstimulation. You weakly pulled your legs away from Jinu's grip after your fifth orgasm, muttering something about dying from his touch.

Jinu chuckled, allowing you to pull away. "Ah, Jagi," he whispered, causing you to blush at the title. To use such a term for you... You shamelessly felt your spent cock twitch. No, no, no! You absolutely couldn't do anymore. "You're so cute. I wanted to wait but I can't. You'll forgive me, right?"

You watched with wide eyes as he grabbed your waist and pulled you down towards him, earning a shriek from you. Your legs moved up to hide your aching and loosened hole but he was quick, spreading them wide. His eyes were like a predator, watching your every move as you tried pulling down your shirt to cover your weeping cock.

"Seon—Hyung... No more... No more, please." You whispered, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

Jinu's gaze narrowed in on your face. You could see him think. Your body was aching and praying Jinu did what you asked. But your heart....

Your heart wanted him to take you without a second thought.

"Hm. No." Jinu laughed cruelly, flipping you to rest on your knees. You cried out at the sudden movement but could only whimper as he pushed your back down, lifting up your hips. Your face pushed into the bed while your thoughts rushed at the position. It felt so humaliting to have sex without looking him the eye. You felt like an object. A prize he just won.

Your dick twitched.

So much for self respect.

"Hyung's gonna take good care of you." Jinu whispered, spreading your ass apart as he rubbed his cock between the cheeks. "You'll be good for hyung, mhm? No more seonbae."

You only whined, wiggling your hips, your ass rubbing Jinu's cock.

Jinu teasingly slapped your ass. "You complain about it being too much... But look at you now, begging for my cock. I should just stop listening to what you say and take what I want. Would you stop me, (Name)-Ah? Would you run away?"

Run away?

Run away from the man you've had wet dreams about since you came to this damn university?

"Mhm. I'll run..." You whispered, a strangled moan leaving you as he began to push his cock inside of you. The stretch was difficult and you briefly wondered if this was how you'd die.

Heart attack from a thick cock.

Despite your answer, Jinu hummed. "Good. I'll chase you until you're beneath me, shaking in fear as I take you." His hands gripped your waist as he slammed the rest of his cock inside, earning a gargled cry and scream from you.

Jinu was anything but sweet. Fucking you like a beast as you withered and cried from the constant pressure against your prostate. After this, you weren't sure you'd have sex again. This could be enough for a life time.

"Sorry, (Name)-Ah. I can't last long." Jinu suddenly grunted, pulling out. You whined at the lost but didn't have to mourn it for long as he pulled you onto his lap, making you face him. Your arms subconsiously wrapped around his neck as he easily slid back into your tight heat, gripping your thighs as he bounced you on his cock.

Jinu smirked, his eyes trained right on you. "You look so pretty when you cry." He said, pressing soft kisses on your neck. "Next time, you'll be crying from just my cock. I'll make you scream my name."

You whimpered, arching your back as you pulled him closer, another dry orgasm creeping on you. You'd be sleeping well for nights to come. Jinu grunted as he began to thrust upwards into you in tandem with bouncing you up and down, causing you to cry at the sudden pressure. You were close. So close.

A sharp feeling in your shoulder caused you to spasm as Jinu's thrusts became desperate. It took you a moment to even think about what just happened--so focused on Jinu's cock stretching you out. Until you noticed red dripping down your right shoulder.

He bit you.

The delayed reaction to the bite made you scream out, tears streaming down your face you reached your six orgasm of the night. You went limp in his arms, just letting him chase his own orgasm. Teeth sharp enough to break skin wasn't something you ever imagined Jinu could do. But there it was, a rare and sore bite on your right shoulder. Blood slowly trickling down to your chest.

Jinu finally reached his orgasm after a minute or so, holding you close as he cummed deep inside. You shuddered, feeling his cum coat your sore tight heat. He didn't wear a condom. If you weren't fucked dumb you would've yelled at him about it but all you could do was hum as he pressed soft kisses against your wet and sweaty skin.

You glanced down and noticed blood coating the bottom of Jinu's lip as he pulled away from you.

He did end up coating you in red and white.

But your blood was the lipstick. You couldn't help but laugh at your cringy thought, groaning as Jinu pulled his cock out.

"You did so good, (Name)-Ah." Jinu whispered, kissing you on the lips. You tried to return the kiss but could only purse your lips against his.

Your breathing was harsh and quick, your body battered from Jinu's claiming.

This wasn't normal. Wasn't conventional at all. You were sure that if you told Yoona and Taeil about this they'd be worried for your safety.

You were prey to Jinu

But you were okay with that.

❝ 숨을 쉴 수 없게 아프면서 황홀하잖아 ❞

"You're going to roommate with a first year? Wow, good luck!"

"I didn't know they could do that."

"No one would willingly room with a first year. They're the worst."

"Aw, c'mon, Oppa! They're usually just nervous."

"Well, our Kim Jinu will have no problem. Who doesn't love him?"

"Ah, true. Good luck, Jinu!"

Kim Jinu pulled out his keys, unlocking the door to his new home for the rest of the school year. He'd be the one to get unlucky for his previously planned roommate to drop out of school—leaving his room open for a late transfer freshman. He didn't want to deal with first years, they were annoying.

He opened the door, shocked to see the room already having someone by one of the beds. The first year was knelt beside the bed, looking through the suitcase that was filled to the brim with clothes. Clothing that looked more feminine than anything but Jinu didn't judge.

He forced his usual carefree smile, ready to greet his new roommate when you finally turned around. His breathing stopped—his smile dropping at the sight of you. You... You were different from anything he imagined.

Your look of innocence. Your body suddenly becoming fidegty the longer he stared at you without saying a word. Your sweater drooping on your shoulder, showing off your bare shoulder. Your skin looked so soft, so plain. It needed something on it.

It looked too bare.

"I'm... Kim Jinu. Who are you?"

"Park (Name)." You whispered, your eyes flickering up and down his body.

Love at first sight wasn't real to Jinu. He wouldn't lie and say he felt love towards you when he first saw you.

He felt lust.

An urge to completely ruin you.

And by the look in your eyes, the not so subtle glances at his lower half of his body. You looked to be such an easy catch.

"Stop looking at me like that." You suddenly said, your lips turning into a slight snarl but it hardly held any weight. Jinu couldn't help but tilt his head. He could tell you wanted him but you were holding back?

Actively pushing him away as if you didn't look at him with the same lust he felt. Running away?

Like a game of cat and mouse.

No...

Fox and Bunny.

He was going to devour you.

Even if he had to chase you.

❝ 네게 빠진 순간 더는 결백하지 않은 나 ❞

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

WOW!!! Gosh, this was way longer than it needed to be. I wanted to try something new lmao. Doubt i'd do it again, i was listening to kpop while writing this so it kinda just happened. Translations at the bottom! Yes, i did it for a reason, made it more fun if you didn't know what he was saying. Red is lyrics, pink are jinu’s words

I might make him an oc, i put too much effort into him for it to be a one time thing, smh... primal play is so fun.

tag list: @iwishtobeacrow @flurrina @chill-guy-but-cooler @mello-life25 @the-ultimate-librarian @kiiyoooo @ofclyde @love-kha1 @star-3214 @mooncarvers-world @smellwell @tehyunnie @remdayz @rhetorical-conscience @tomoeroi

Translations:

❝ 벗어날 수 없는 걸 ❞ — I can’t escape

❝ 온통 너로 물들여질 테니… ❞ — everything will be colored with you

❝ 날 놀리는 거야, 예쁜 자기야. ❞ — you’re teasing me, pretty baby

❝ 무방비 토끼. 내가 너를 먹어치울게 ❞ — defenseless bunny. I’ll eat you up

❝ 도망기면 쫓이갈거야, 토끼야… ❞ — if you run away, I’ll chase you , bunny

❝ 타오른 이 감정은… ❞ — this burning feeling

❝ 지금 너를 미치도록 ❞ — i'm driving you crazy right now

❝ 숨을 쉴 수 없게 아프면서 황홀하잖아 ❞ — it hurts so much that i can't breathe, but it's ecstatic

❝ 네게 빠진 순간 더는 결백하지 않은 나 ❞ — the moment i fell for you, i was no longer innocent

Songs used: Insanity - The Boyz & Criminal - Taemin

[shitpostingsapphic]

My favorite headcanons for caitvi are ones where they met as kids/teens, by far

Like it's so fucking cute, the idea that Caitlyn would be immediately drawn to Vi due to her curiosity, and Vi can't help but be smitten by Caitlyn's atypical behaviors and willingness to explore new concepts and experiences and ideas.

Just like when they meet as adults in the original universe, their backgrounds should make them incompatible, but there's that inexplicable draw that brings them together.

Imagine Caitlyn tags along with Jayce to his visits in the undercity without telling her parents and can't stop staring at the pink haired girl she sees there at the shop, just hanging around, and they meet eyes, and BOOM, instant connection. Vi also sneaks glances and realizes she's never seen a Piltie girl her age this close before. She wonders if they're all this pretty.

Imagine Vi is sneaking around topside to catch glimpses of Caitlyn, because she feels like she shouldn't be so drawn to a Piltie, but she is anyway.

Imagine one day Caitlyn actually catches sight of Vi across the street as she tries to remain inconspicuous, but Caitlyn would recognize that pink hair in a heartbeat. Imagine she sneaks away from her mother or whoever she's with in order to go talk to her.

"It's you," she says, shy yet bold.

Vi, of course, tries to play it off. "Dunno what you're talking about, topside." But the blush on her cheeks tells another story.

Caitlyn ignores the very obvious attempts at ignorance. "I've been wanting to come visit the shop again, but it's hard for me to find the chance to get away from my mother. She's kind of overprotective."

Vi decides it's best not to play dumb, but can't completely be honest about wanting to see her as well. "You're sure you wanna share about your life with me? Maybe your mom's got a point, shouldn't associate with undercity trash and all."

Caitlyn frowns. "I don't think you're trash. That's silly. Why would you call yourself that?"

Vi is caught a bit off guard. "Isn't that what all you Pilties think of us?"

"I certainly don't." Caitlyn cocks her head as this leaves Vi without a response. "Why are you here, anyway?"

Vi stumbles around in her head for an answer. Shoves her hands in her pockets. Kicks a rock aside. Shrugs. "W-why are YOU talking to me?"

This makes Caitlyn smirk. "I DID say I've been meaning to come back to the shop. What do you think?"

"Dunno. Could want a number of things there." Vi has been staring at the ground but peers up at Caitlyn here. "Give me a hint?" The barest of upturned lips.

This makes Caitlyn break out into a genuine smile that steals Vi's breath a bit. "You're kind of adorable, you know that?"

Vi sputters. "Am NOT."

"Are so." Caitlyn tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. Can't help but think the girl's freckles compliment her blush well.

Vi rolls her eyes, trying to pretend her brain isn't setting off fireworks. "I don't even know your name."

"Would you like to know it?" Caitlyn says, tilting her head.

"Since you insist on teasing me, I think it's fair."

"But you make it so easy," Caitlyn giggles. "Alright. I'm Caitlyn."

"Caitlyn," Vi breathes. Shakes her head. Clears her throat. Thrusts her hand out, scuffed up palms and knuckles and all. "I'm Vi."

"Vi. Pleasure to meet you." Caitlyn takes her hand without hesitation, notices how rough they feel compared to hers, incredibly intrigued.

"Caitlyn!" A voice calls. The girls both turn. It's her mother.

"Shit." Caitlyn breathes.

This makes Vi laugh, surprised. "Didn't know princesses could use words like that."

"Oh, hush." Caitlyn looks back at her, panicked. "I have to go. I'm sorry." Her eyes shift so they're alight with mischief. She jerks her head towards her mom. "You've got a talent for sneaking around, I assume?"

"And if I do?"

"Wait until we're out of sight. Maybe if you're good enough, you can stay under her radar." Caitlyn smirks. "Maybe you could teach me how to sneak about myself. Could come in handy."

Without giving Vi a chance to respond, she turns away, skirt swishing about.

And if Vi does exactly what Caitlyn says, following her home out of sight, and later taps at the same glass doors of the balcony she sees the girl disappear into after a while of spying, no one is the wiser. She figures she doesn't need to tell Vander what she's been up to just yet.