#and here's the last tangled reference for the week

[sgtgarricks]

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ your gentle hands are enough

simon riley x afab!reader cw: nsfw, angst kinda?, unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex, praise kink, creampie!!, reader referred as 'pet' like twice, smut with sadness, hurt/kinda comfort, mention of johnny's death, simon is scared of commitment :(, we still love him.

reblogs are immensely appreciated! <3

NEXT PART (HEA): i want your hands on me for all my life

notes: my first ever fic that i'm posting on this site !! feedback is appreciated ♡ dedicated to @rowarn for being lovely and entertaining my rambles!

You and Simon weren't exactly dating.

He visits you almost every night whenever he's in the city and he's always gone before you're out of bed. But you relish on the rare occasions that you're awake before him — the moments you get to brush your hand through the raised scars littered all across his face, the moments you get to tangle your fingers in his hair to hear his little grunts.

Simon Riley has rough hands, scarred and calloused from years in the battlefield. Yet when those hands are caressing your body softly, you know he's being unnecessarily gentle to not let you feel the roughness in his hands — as if he was trying to prevent all the hurt and pain he's inflicted with his fists from bleeding into you.

You pretend to have only just woken up, eyes blinking slowly trying to adjust to the sunlight filtering in through the blinds.

"Morning, Si."

"G'morning, sweetheart. Sleep well?" He places a warm palm on your hip, not fulling resting the weight of it.

"I always do when you're here." You raised your hand to his chest and feel his heart thumping steadily below you. His body always runs hot no matter the weather and it makes you nuzzle into him more during the bleak winter.

Silence engulfs the two of you, lulling you into a vulnerable state of bliss as you recall the events of last night.

You had barely opened the door for him last night before his hands were all over you, lips crashing onto yours as he kissed you with desperation. Strong hands working swiftly to remove your clothes gently as he pushed you towards the bedroom.

Simon was always gentle with you, but you've been with him long enough to know the difference between him missing you and him scared at the thought of missing you.

Instead of gently laying you down on the plush mattress, he pushed you with a little bit of force than usual.

"Simon!" You yelp. You must've been too distracted by him to fully notice that he was now fully naked below you.

He had a glint in his eye that let you know you were not going to be able to rest until he coaxed multiple orgasms from you.

His hand was constantly on your body, not wanting to go for a second without feeling your skin under his. Greedy kisses were peppered all across your collarbone that were now marked with the imprint of his teeth.

You knew Simon was trying to memorize every inch of your body, leave his marks on you because he was going to go back on deployment soon.

This realization is what snaps you out of your peaceful reverie. That your Simon is going to leave you soon.

The mere thought of having to see him leave your apartment in a few hours and not getting to see him for another week? Months?

It leaves a sour taste in your mouth that made you frown and turn your head away.

Simon, ever so vigilant, notices your downturned lips. He cups your chin and swivels it to face him. He nudges his nose with yours, placing a gentle kiss on your lips.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?"

You hate that he was playing dumb. Hates that he thinks you don't know his antics by now. Hates that he thinks you don't know him by now.

"You know why, Si." Pushing your hands on the plush bed, you rest your back on the headboard. You stare at Simon disapprovingly, upset that he's trying to pretend everything is fine.

He sighs heavily and run his hand through his hair, messing it up more than it already was.

"How do you know?" He finally lets out, still laying down on his side staring up at you.

You scoff at him. Maybe because you've seen him through his highs-and-lows. You've seen his little smirk at your antics. Listened to his stories intently as he fondly recalls memories with his squad mates.

But you've also seen him coming to you bloody, battered, bruised, and shaking as you stitched his back. You've seen him scare himself awake at night, dreaming about the last time he saw Johnny.

He chuckles when you stare at him pointedly and finally sits up. He waits for you to stop sulking for a few minutes, before sighing once more.

The bed creaks with his weight as he tries to stand up from it, turning towards the window. You know what's coming next and you are fully aware there's nothing you can do to stop him from going on deployment.

What you can do, is at least try to make him stay a little bit longer.

You crawl forward from your position, throwing both your arms around his wide torso — at least try to, he's way too wide for you to fully engulf him in your arms.

"Don't go."

Your lips are pressed against his back as you softly plead with him to not go. Simon takes both your arms in his hands and angles his upper body towards you. Slowly, you move up from your sprawled-out position and kneel in front of him.

"Please." You slowly pull away your arms from his grip. He reluctantly lets you go before you slowly wrap them behind his neck. You inch closer to him, slowly leaning down and kissing his neck.

Simon moans languidly, still groggy.

"You play dirty, love." He cups your behind, angling his neck upwards to give you more access.

"You love it."

"Being cheeky, are you?" You grin against his neck, biting down softly. Arching your neck subtly as Simon tugged on your hair.

These were truly the moments you truly enjoy the most. Not that you don't enjoy sleeping with him, you definitely do. But being able to love him freely in the daylight made it much more intimate.

You suspect it's why Simon always tried his best to leave before the sun came up.

You know Simon loves you, albeit in his own unique way. He's never been nothing but kind and gentle to you, always making sure you feel safe and taken care of with him. From locking your door with the spare key he has after he leaves, to making sure to take care of you after having sex — always gets up to clean any messes he had left on your body with gentle wipes and ending it with a soft kiss to your forehead.

Despite your numerous attempts to get him to open up about his past, he doesn't bite often. Though, you know some part of him wants nothing more than to tell you every single thing about himself when he speaks little snippets of his past.

He doesn't tell you anything overly upsetting, always keeping it minimal and with as little details of violence as possible.

Perhaps, his idea of a small mercy.

Maybe he thinks he's doing you a favor, giving you little bits of himself hoping you eventually realize how damaged he is. He doesn't understand how those flickers of vulnerability makes you hungrier for more of him. You wanted him, thorns and all.

Simon lets himself get roped back into your arms, all his muscles relaxed, no trace any tautness or rigidness lingering. He feels safe in your arms.

"How long Simon?" You finally ask, preparing for the worst.

Simon was mostly gone for around a month.

But on the rare times you couldn't see him for more than half a year, it was like hell. It hurt so deeply knowing even if he had been killed off somewhere, you might not even know. The only traces left of him would only be the few shirts he's let you take and the Simon-shaped hole he would have left in your heart.

It scared you that you could never be able to smell his earthy musk lingering in your sheets again, that it would fade one day and you wouldn't remember what it smelled like anymore.

"I dunno. More or less three months?"

You hated when he was vague. He was often trying to spare your feelings.

"So... more."

He nods with his face still hiding in your neck. You can feel him press his nose harder and inhale deeply.

Deep down, you feel crushed. You always do when he has to leave. You want to tell him how much you love him again, how much you need him, and you wanted him to say it back so badly.

You thought you had gotten so far with him, slowly breaking down his walls after getting him to start staying over instead of leaving. Something changed after he lost Johnny — he was more touchy, more clingy, but he never let you get any closer anymore. You could physically feel him wince if you told him you loved him during one of your vulnerable moments.

The first time you told him you loved him, he looked at you with a somber look. He didn't say anything, but he pulled you close and gave you a bone-crushing hug.

I'm sorry.

He gave different reactions every time. Some days he'd simply sigh and drag his fingers through your hair lovingly. On worse days, he'd shake his head and do nothing else.

It was like an impenetrable wall had suddenly appeared when it wasn't there before.

You take a deep breath. Simon has been nothing but gentle with fragile you. He's been trying his best to not taint the heart that you've freely ripped out of your chest for him.

Maybe this time, you can do something for him and let him go back without the weight of your love on his shoulder.

"Better make the most of it then, eh?" You pull back from him and hear a grunt of protest. You start pushing him until his back hit the headboard gently. Kissing your way down to his groin, you tug at his boxers impatiently.

"Sweetheart you don't have to-"

"I want to." You cut him off.

"Fuck. You're gonna be the death o' me, love." He lifts his hips and lets you drag his boxers down, revealing his semi-hardness.

God, his cock is so beautiful. It's so thick you could barely wrap both your hands around it even when he's not fully hard.

"I'll make sure to send you off gently with a kiss, Simon." Your mouth slowly engulfs the tip of his cock, licking all around it. Simon lets out a groan as he grabs your head gently.

"Oh, fuck. That's it, sweetheart. So sweet, being so good f' me." He encourages sweetly and it's enough to get you preening and moving your head excitedly down his length.

Just as you know his habits, Simon also knows what makes you tick. Getting praised by him almost always makes you putty in his hands and he makes sure to take advantage of this information to its full potential. He loves to praise you even for the smallest of things, such as cooking for him when he gets back.

Telling you how lovely you are and how he's thankful for you taking the time to cook for grumpy, old, Simon.

You continue taking more of his length in your mouth, gaggling slightly from the sheer size of him. You can taste the salty precum on your tongue and your eyes roll back from pleasure, taking him in more enthusiastically.

"Slow down, love. Don't want- ugh.. you t' hurt yourself." Simon tries to pull your head back to give you space, but you're not happy about it. You glare up at him best as you can before taking him down to the hilt.

Nose pressed deep, you can smell the slight tang of his musk, making you slightly delirious. You moan, sending vibrations up throughout his body.

Simon trembles with pleasure, groaning.

"Yeah, you like that sweetheart? Love choking on my cock? Hmm?"

At his words, you slowly take your mouth off of him, replacing it with your hands. Slick from your spit and his precum, your hand glides along his shaft easily as he bucks into your hand.

"Mhm.." You put your mouth on him once more, only pulling away to rub it all over your face. "Love it so much, Si. Love having your cock in my mouth. Can't live without it."

Simon admires you, cockdrunk on his leaking shaft. Even with his mess all over your face as you slobber on him, he thinks you look absolutely gorgeous.

Looking up at him, it's like you can see hearts in his eyes. You've been wet since the moment you woke up to him next to you, but him looking at you like you're the only person he wants to see on him makes you feel on top of the world.

Unable to take it anymore, you whine pathetically and start humping the bed.

Simon sees you writhing on the bed below him and chuckles as you continue kissing all over his cock.

"Look at you.. so needy, sweetheart. You don't need to hump the bed like a dog in heat. I'm right here, love." With that, he gently pulls you off his cock. You groan dismay, body going slightly limp from desperation.

"Need you so bad, Si." You beg him, tears starting to form in your eyes. You think you're going to crazy if he doesn't fuck you soon. He's about to leave soon for months and you're desperate for him to leave his mark on you.

Simon gently tuts and caresses your cheek. He's in awe of how he's got such a lovely, needy, pet wrapped around his finger. He hasn't had someone this devoted to him in a very long time — someone who's always excited to see him come home, someone who's never asked for him for more than what he can give.

Maybe it makes him a narcissist that he's happy of the fact that you're so desperately in love with him, you'd rather have parts of him than not at all.

But during early mornings where he'd find you sniffling into your pillow, he feels pain in his chest where his heart resides. He knows you cry over him.

He mourns the love that you two could have, but he'd rather mourn over the fantasy he's created in his head — the fantasy where he wasn't fucked up and is able to receive the kind of love you freely give, than have you be heartbroken when Simon inevitably doesn't come home one day.

"I got you, sweetheart. Let me make you feel good." He rumbles against your lips. In a split second, he'd managed to lay you out on the bed and now hovered above you.

He takes a moment to stare at your face. Wide-eyed, sweating, and panting heavily. He peppers kisses all over your face.

His little pet all worked up over sucking his cock.

He's staring at you for a few seconds, making you writhe around, but you never break his stare. It was as if the both of you were trying to commit each other's faces to memory right in this moment, not knowing when you were going to be able to see each other again.

You bring your hand up to his face, slightly wiping the sweat away from his eyes.

His eyes.

The moment he looked at you, you know you were done for. Those eyes never fail to send shivers through your whole body, as if your entire being was standing to attention when his eyes were on you.

"You're so pretty, Simon."

That seemed to break him out of his trance. He grunts slightly as if disagreeing with your statement. You sigh, knowing he's never going to see himself the way you see him.

That's okay. You'll spend as much time as he'll give you to convince him.

Simon kisses and caresses down your body as you moan from the feel of it. Teasing you with his lips and leaving small marks all over. When he gets to your thighs, he slowly raises both of them as he lightly rubs his scruffy chin on it.

"Lift those pretty legs f' me, hm?"

When you don't respond, he gently bites to get your attention and you huff. You grasp your bedsheets so tight your knuckles were going white when you feel his hot breath on you.

"Such a pretty pussy. Just for me, yeah?" He kisses your folds gently, the sensation of his scruff causing a prickly sensation, making you wail in pleasure.

"S-Simon!" You were so needy and sensitive — Simon loved that about you.

"So sensitive." He murmurs against your weeping pussy. He runs his finger across your folds, gathering the wetness. You look down at him as he tastes your wetness on his finger.

"Fuck, Simon."

"Mm, my favorite taste."

After a few moments of simply kissing all around your folds and your clit, Simon decides to stop teasing you. He presses his face in your folds and licks a stripe across it.

He repeats this action multiple times, sucking on your little bud in between. He rolls his finger around your clit as his mouth makes suckling noises. The sensation of his tongue and finger on you make you gasp loudly — your eyes rolling back.

You arch your back and don't stop chanting Simon's name like a prayer. Like he was going to disappear if you stopped calling his name.

"That's it. Let me hear what you want, pretty." He brings two of his fingers back inside your walls, lightly caressing them. He's teasing you, waiting for you to beg him to put his fingers inside of you. You break instantly, begging for him to use his thick fingers to please you.

"Please, Simon. Please, please, please. Need your fingers in me."

How could Simon deny you when you beg so sweetly?

Humming against you, he slowly sinks his fingers inside your aching walls. You sigh in contentment, unconsciously clenching on his fingers.

"Relax love, you're choking my fingers." You relax a bit at his words, trying to get your breathing back to normal. The death grip you

It seems that Simon had other ideas, because as soon as you loosened, his fingers started picking up. You start wailing again at his sudden shift in pace, grabbing his hand that was gripping your thigh.

His hand lets go of your thigh and entwines it with yours.

"Doing so good for me. You can take it, sweetheart. Be good and cum on my fingers, yeah?" At this point the both of you were panting heavily, his heavy cock still leaking precum onto the bedsheets. You didn't realize it before, but you're just now realizing how the bed is creaking from his hips.

Simon pants heavily, the room getting warmer by the second. His heavy groans makes your pussy throb around his fingers as you feel a pressure building in your lower belly.

"Si- please. So close."

Knowing you're close sends him over the edge, his tongue works faster and sloppier in tandem with his fingers. Simon moans and and your back starts to arch higher than before.

You're now making a mess on the bedsheets, wet noises can be heard loudly as it echoes throughout the entire room. You feel hot, sweaty, and suddenly everything's too much.

The lights are too bright, the noises too loud, and you feel so sensitive it burns.

"Simon, I-" You whine, legs starting to thrash as Simon pulled his fingers away to hold your legs. You feel your nerves lighting awake as you feel every single sensation as he sinks his tongue inside.

"Love you Si, love you so much. I'm—" Your body seizes and freezes for a moment and a little flick of his tongue against your bud makes you lose it. Your orgasm washes through you like a crashing wave, causing you to tremble in his hold and let out gasps as you struggle to breath normally and let your legs fall.

Simon lets you catch your breath as he lifts himself up, still hard. You rest your eyes on him and you see him lick his lips — his entire mouth and chin shiny with your slick.

He hovers above you once more, leaning down to give you a kiss. You reach up enthusiastically, pulling him down by his neck. He grunts at the sudden force as you slant your lips against his. It's messy, his lips slick with spit and yours with a small trace of drool. The kiss is desperate, teeth knocking into each other more than once.

It goes on for a while before Simon starts to pull back. Before he's successful, you wrap both your legs around his waist and Simon gasps at the sensation of his cock pressed against your slick.

"Need you inside, Simon. Want you in me." Murmuring against his lips, your hand desperately wanders down his sweaty body and grips his cock.

He lets out a grunt at the sudden warmth enveloping him and is unable to control as his hips involuntarily thrust forward.

"Yeah? You want my cock? Take it, sweetheart. It's all yours." He watches in a daze as you slowly align him with you. The moment he feels his tip rub on your slippery folds, he lets out a whimper.

"Please Si.." You whisper to him. "Wanna feel you inside me so bad." Simon coos at you, seeing you beg him to fuck you never fails to make his brain circuit for a few seconds.

He teases you a few seconds longer, just to hear you beg more for him. He begins to feel bad when you start humping the air in hopes of getting his head inside you.

You're babbling incoherently now, eyes closed, hands wandering all over Simon's body. He gives you mercy and starts to push inside your throbbing hole. It takes a bit of time, but when his head manages to push through, he's already able to feel your walls pulsate around him.

"Oh, sweetheart. So needy f' me." He's also barely coherent, his eyes focused on his cock deeper inside your tight hole. "What are you gonna do when I'm gone, hm? Who's gonna fuck you this good?" Simon barely realizes what he's saying until he's spoken them. The thought of someone else fucking you when he's gone lights a fire inside him.

"Oh, fuck." His cock is fully in you now and you can feel every vein pulsating inside of you. Your hands are gripping Simon harder, possibly leaving red marks all over his body — you relish in the thought of Simon looking in the mirror and seeing the marks you left on him. "No one, Si. No one's gonna fuck me as good as you. Don' want you to go. Want you here with me." Your mouth hangs open uselessly, overwhelmed with the pressure of Simon in you.

Hearing you admit so openly you weren't going to fuck anyone else drives Simon even crazier. You realize now how much of an impact your words have on Simon when he starts pounding your poor pussy that was still sensitive.

"Yeah? That's right, sweetheart. No one can fuck you like I can." It takes him a few seconds to get his words out, huffing above you. You can barely hear what he's saying, ears ringing from the blinding white, hot pleasure coursing through your entire body. Your hands try gripping him as long as you can but his thrusts are causing your body to jostle relentlessly, and now your arms flail helplessly before holding onto the headboard.

Simon is no longer on his forearm, his head resting in the crook of your neck as his hands grip your waist. You're sure his hands are going to leave prints in the morning from how hard he's gripping you.

You don't mind at all.

Your brain feels foggy, only speaking Simon's name over and over again. Simon's no better than you, grunting and groaning at every thrust that leads him deeper into your hole.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." He moans. "So good for me, so sweet for me." Your legs no longer have the energy to stay corded behind his back, limping helplessly beside you as Simon fucks you.

You feel another orgasm creeping up on you as your walls begin to clench around Simon's cock. Simon hisses at the feeling, leaning up to look at your cream gathering at the base of him. He looks up to the ceiling, gasping in pleasure.

"Si, I'm so close, I-" He brings his head down to give you a chaste kiss before pulling away, nose touching yours and staring into your eyes.

"Let go f' me, sweetheart. Gonna cum on my cock and be good?" He coaxes you, one of his hands going to your face. You don't even realize you're crying until Simon wipes your tears away.

You can't take it anymore, the loving look in his eyes and feeling him inside you breaks you.

"Love you so much, Si. I love you so fucking much." You cry out to him as you're finally sent over the edge. You wail loudly, back arching as Simon continues to thrust at a slower pace, going deeper than before.

"God, fuck. I love you, I love you. Fuck." He continues to mumble against your neck. Your jaw goes slack and another orgasm seizes your body as you clench and gush all over him.

His thighs are drenched from your slick and when he feels your walls pulsing repeatedly over him, he feels shivers all over his body and he cums.

The blinding pleasure takes him off guard, thighs shaking from the sheer force. He continues thrusting shallowly, dragging out his orgasm as his cum fills up your hole to the brim.

He gasps and bites down on your neck, not stopping until he's fully come down from his high.

You're shell shocked, one hand over your eyes as you thinking about what just transpired. This was nothing like before. He'd never said 'I love you', ever. You take a moment to regain your thoughts, heart thumping wildly.

By this point, your hopes had soared like never before, the small part of you that still believes you can have something with Simon begins crawling out of you — coming back alive.

"Si-" You start as you catch your breath and lift your head slightly to look at him.

"Sorry." He mumbles lifting himself from your body, plopping himself on the pillow beside you.

There's nothing but silence for a few minutes. A part of you wants nothing more than to confront him, get him to face his feelings. But you know Simon and that if you did that, he'd panic.

So, you wait. And wait. And wait.

Until he coughs.

"I have to go. Supposed to meet the boys in an hour." He grumbles, fumbling around to get himself off the bed and find his clothes.

Your heart breaks. Was he really going to go away for a few months without talking about what just happened? You had to make a choice. Either speak now or forever hold your peace.

"Simon." You speak with such a finality in your tone that it renders Simon frozen. He pauses putting his pants back on and stares up at you, terrified.

"I love you." You say, loud and clear. You've told him you loved him in the throes of passion and in the sleepy haze of early mornings, but never when both of you were wide awake. Like a secret that's only meant to be whispered so as to not let it get snuffed out.

You see his eyes widen for a fraction of a second. He seems to debate what he wants to say. You badly wish for him to just say something, anything at all.

He doesn't.

Simon continues to put on his pants and slip his shirt over his head. Once he finally gains the courage to look at you once more, he had to clear his throat. The forlorn look on your face would haunt him until the day he dies.

He knows you love him so deeply and honestly, that there was no questioning your devotion to him. He knows that you feel for him so deeply, you'd rather hurt yourself over and over than let him go.

But he's also once harbored care and affection to someone, fighting side-by-side with someone he thought was going to never stop speaking gibberish in his ear.

If Simon almost couldn't survive losing Johnny, there was no way you were going to survive losing him.

With his heart in his throat, Simon stares at you, fighting back tears that threaten to escape. God, he wants to kiss you. He wants to kiss you and tell you he loves you more than anything in this world. That he'd fight through any battlefield with broken limbs just to come home to you. But he knows he can't give you that promise. That promise that he's going to die of old age with you.

He expects you to cry or scream, but nothing in the world would be able to heal the way Simon's heart breaks when you only give him a sad smile.

"That's okay. I know you're not selfish enough to love me back."

He knows he should just leave, but he can't help himself from hurting you once more. Simon steps forward, cradles your head in his hands and lay a kiss atop your head.

And then, he leaves.

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Sail Away

Summary: Another nightmare leaves Javi wide awake, forced to wrestle with the consequences of his past as he looks towards his future

Pairing: Husband!Javier Peña x Wife!reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 2.6K

Warnings: Heavyyyyy on the angst, PTSD, references to violence/death (from Narcos), panic attack and descriptions of past panic attacks, insomnia, feelings of guilt/shame, mentions of pregnancy/parenthood, comfort, still a happy (enough) ending, post DEA Javi, poor Javi just really needs a hug :(

A/N: We're tryin new things here people!! Fair warning- I feel like this is DRASTICALLY different from the way I normally write (content and style wise) but big sad time, pre-period hormones said it's time to cry 🤷🏼‍♀️ I think a lot about how post-DEA Javi handles thinking about his time in Colombia, and how hard it is for him to talk about, even with the people he knows care about him the most ☹️ I hope this doesn't beat you to death with metaphors, imagery and lack of beta'ing (I can still hear my AP lit teacher screaming SYMBOLISM into the abyss) Trying to emulate a lil @jolapeno on this one (ily my descriptive queen 👑)

It happened again. 

You instantly knew from the stark cold of his side of the bed, the empty void where his broad frame should be, his sheets twisted and tangled from where he had fought another round with sleep and lost. 

3rd night in a row, the 5th time this week. At this point, it was hard not to keep track. 

The cyclical pattern of restless nights, haunted by ghosts of his past that taunted and teased him, cruelly lurking the back of his mind, no matter how hard he begged or pleaded for them to disappear. 

Forcing himself to wrestle with his demons in the darkness couldn’t help but feel like insult to injury- the harsh blacks and blues that flooded the sky, drowning out the last glimmer of sunlight as it dipped below the horizon, perfectly mirroring the way his mind so devilishly seemed to paint his thoughts in shades of ebony and cerulean with erratic, angry brushstrokes over the warm yellows and oranges of his new life he had finally learned to embrace. 

It only seemed fair that he went to battle with the darkest musings of his mind under the night sky that so cruelly reflected his mood. 

You weren’t surprised the first time you found him hunched on the back steps of your porch, head buried in his hands, fingers twitching for a cigarette- the vice he’d sworn to give up after his final return home, a vow that moments like these had made him distinctly regret. You always wondered how despite the stark silence that surrounded him as he stared off into the dark abyss, you could still hear his thoughts screaming at you- crying out for attention, acknowledgement, anything to get someone else to understand what he was hiding inside of his mind that he was too scared to say out loud. 

His midnight disappearances came in waves, fading and reappearing like an unpredictable ocean tide that left you wondering when the cool and salty water would crash around your ankles next as you stood at the edge of the shore. 

For a while, the seas had been calm, Javi’s body nestled next to yours, his warmth comforting and covering you along with the messy piles of blankets and bedsheets that filled your mattress, the nights being nothing more than drifting to sleep in each other’s arms, haunted dreams harbored at bay. 

For the last 5 nights, the tides had shifted. A storm was raging. 

The first few nights you let him go- you’d watched him weather this kind of storm before, always insisting it was a journey he was supposed to go on alone, the type of trip you need to make without risking hurting the innocent passengers that were supposed to ride with you. 

But as the days came and went, golden rays of vibrant sun shifting to dark and lonely blackness, it felt like you were leaving him out in the abyss without even so much as a life vest, praying for a return you knew would never come unless someone weathered the storm to save him. 

“You’re up again.” 

It’s a neutral statement, enough to disarm him from the implications you’ve sent yourself on a rescue mission to find him while you settle next to his stoic frame sinking into the porch step. 

“And you shouldn’t be.” 

Not quite resistance, but certainly not acceptance to you let you come aboard with him. Not yet. 

“I was already up anyway. Someone has been a big fan of punching me in my gut at 2 A.M. Hard not to notice when I wake up and your side of the bed is empty for the 5th time this week.” 

Both your eyes shift down to the subtle swell of your stomach, barley poking out from under the worn t-shirt you’d stolen from his dresser drawer. You’d never really had a knack for thievery until the past few weeks, claiming that everything was too tight for your growing belly. Despite all his years intertwined with the law, Javi had never had a problem with pardoning you for your violation, happy to let you, his household thief, and your new partner in crime indulge in the habit if it brought you any sort of comfort in your constant uncomfortability of growing a new life inside you. 

“Already picking up on her dad’s shit sleeping habit.” He scoffs under his breath, a bitterness in his tone that he thinks he’s somehow managing to inflict years worth of poor choices on his future child, still months away from even making her arrival into the world. 

It hurts, watching the pain well in his eyes as he stares off at the stars, glistening in the distance like some sort of unreachable sanctuary, the savior of a temporary distraction. Right now, you wish he’d look at you the same way, but he knows you won’t let him wallow in the all consuming waves of his own self pity like the stars will. 

A silent journey to outer space is the easy way out. You aren’t. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” You ask it like it’s a question, like he has a choice in the matter. He knows that you’ll be gentle with him- you have been since the moment you met him- but Christ, he also knows you’re nothing, if not persistent, too. 

He sighs, accepting his defeat as his gaze drops from the sky down to the ground, cautiously allowing you to climb aboard with him. 

It’s like trying to approach a wounded wild animal- move too fast and you’ll scare him away, leaving him to writhe in even more pain as he tries to flee from you. Move too slow and you leave him to bleed out, alone and afraid. 

“I’m fine.” It’s almost humorous how blatant of a lie it is, immediately putting himself on the defensive, like he has any ground to stand on with his claim. 

You say nothing, your silence enough to intrigue him as his eyes finally meet yours, the look on his face revealing the truth his words wouldn’t. You try your best to remain neutral, but Javi knows the sadness slowly slipping through your expression, the one you’re trying your best to hide because you’re not the one that’s hurting. Yet, there’s something about seeing you hurt because of him that’s enough to chip away at the wall he’s put up between you two, finally allowing you a crack just wide enough to let you see through to the other side. 

“I- I keep having the same dream. Every night, it’s the same.” He says “dream” like he’s letting himself drift off to sleep to all the pleasantries the world has to offer him, waking up to his midnight thoughts refreshed and renewed. Because his dreams aren’t just dreams, his dreams are the most terrifying nightmares the majority people wouldn’t even be capable of imagining, a violent parade of the worst memories his brain can muster.  

“What dream?” You ask, as carefully and cautiously as the way you shift yourself closer to him. 

“I- It’s- I just- Fuck-” 

It’s then you choose to gamble, wagering that he’s let you in enough, your next move won’t startle him, inching yourself closer as your right hand begins to intertwine with his left. He’s resistant at first, but as the familiar warmth of your body grazes across his skin, he begins to let you in, allowing your fingers to gently tangle, anchoring himself in your grasp. 

“It’s okay, Javi. I’m here. You can tell me.” 

It’s then the bets become less of a reckless gamble, squeezing him just a little tighter, stroking his skin with your thumb and feeling him squeeze back, taking your hand and finally letting you start to lift him out of the eye of the storm. 

He still needs the reassurance you won’t leave, that the man his nightmares make him won’t scare you away like they have so many others. An insecurity that distresses him enough to make him ache, despite your compassion. 

You’re not gonna scare me away, Javi.

The words still ring in the back of his head when he finds himself like this, remembering the first time you found him on the living room floor of your apartment at 3 A.M., skin tacky and covered in sweat, heart beating so fast he was convinced he was dying, terrified of his mind, and even more terrified you would leave him, letting you find him exposed, like some sort of disgusting, open wound. 

He’ll never understand why you showed him so much mercy. In no lifetime will he ever be able to thank you enough that you did. 

It still doesn’t make what comes next any easier. 

“I just stood there. I just let him- I just let him do it. He was just a fucking kid.” 

You can practically hear both your hearts break over the stark silence. Javi’s, because of all the things he’s done, this is the one he’ll never forgive himself for. Yours, for the same reason. 

“Javi…” 

“I didn’t even try to stop him. He was just a kid. We just- we just fucking left him there. What kind of person does that? I- I spent so long trying to convince myself, trying to- fuck- trying to justify it was okay. That casualties happen when you’re trying to catch a fuckin’ monster. But what if- what if none of it fucking mattered because I was the one who was really the monster.” 

It was flowing out of him now, a flash flood crashing through the rest of the brick wall he had built up to defend himself. You can feel him trying to pull his hand away, trying to keep you from getting swept away in the current with him, but it only makes you double down harder. 

“You’re not a monster, Javi. What happened back then, it- it did matter. I know it hurts, but it doesn't make you a monster.” 

It’s not his admittance of guilt that breaks him- it’s your forgiveness. 

He wonders how can stand him, let alone love him. How his past hasn’t left him tainted and useless, like some sort of lame animal with a limp that can’t be cured, its only options left to die or be sent out to pasture, too weak to venture back for help. That you were the only one who wanted to help fix the parts of himself that were the most broken and mangled. That you were the only one who gave him a chance to be healed instead of leaving him for dead. 

When his eyes meet your stomach is when the guilt begins to morph into terror. Because years ago, a mother, just like you, was nestled away in the haphazard rows of colorful buildings that lined the streets of Medellín, carrying her unborn son, dreaming about the life she would plan for him. 

Javi knows that nowhere in those plans did she account for the pain and heartbreak she would suffer as some asshole DEA agent watched her son’s body become one with the earth while he took a bullet to the brain.  

How was he supposed to live with himself when he got a chance to play God- that now, after letting a life disappear, he was allowed to have a hand in creating a new one? 

You watch the gears in his brain churn, yearning for an explanation to the unexplainable puzzle he’ll never be able to solve, even though he’s convinced he can. His brain works in logic and reasoning, only making the emotional torment of his past decisions more confusing for him. The same kind of logic that you’re not sure will ever allow him to forgive himself. 

“How am I supposed to be a dad? How are you ever gonna trust me? How am I supposed to keep her safe when I’ve done so many terrible fucking things?” Tears begin to flow down his cheeks, each word more ragged and shaky than the last until he can’t fight it any more. 

It feels like the entire weight of the world collapsing into your lap as he melts into you, so heavy that there’s nothing that you can do but wrap your arms around him at let him cry and soak the battered fabric of the his stolen t-shirt draped over your top, fisting at the frayed hems. 

He can’t pretend anymore, not after he’s shown you all the cards he’s had to lay out on the table. There’s no more facade, no more attempt at a stubborn masquerade to hide his hurt. He’s finally let you climb aboard his ship and take the wheel, trusting that you’ll guide him home to shore where he belongs. 

“I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” 

The way he repeats it, chanting it like a broken prayer, begging for your forgiveness makes you ache. You’ve forgiven him for the sins of his past long ago, yet he still feels the need to plead to you for redemption. You wish there was a way to take it from him, to let him unburden himself from the shame he’s carried for so long and carry it for him, even if just for a little while. To let him see what you see in him, to know that you love him for all of his past, and not just in spite of it. To let him know that the storm he has to weather is a storm you will never let him weather alone. But for now, three words are the best you can do. 

“I love you. I love you, Javi.” 

And you do. You mean it. With every bone in your body, with every fiber of your being, you mean it. And right now, he may not admit it, but he knows you do, too. Those three words are enough to let him see the shoreline approaching in the distance, to see the light of day beginning to peek its way through the cracks of the night sky, to carry him back home to you. 

He says it with his silence, the way his sobs start to slow, replaced with long inhales and exhales, his chest rising and falling against you. He says it with the way he holds you just a little tighter, hand splaying across the swell of your stomach, muttering a promise to himself just loud enough for you to hear. 

“I promise I’ll protect you. Both of you. If it’s the last thing I do.” 

“I know you will. I will, too. I promise.” 

The promise is the last gentle wave that pushes you back to the part of the beach where tides roll gently, forgetting the raging currents they once were in the middle of the ocean. A place where you can safely row your boat ashore without the fear of another dreadful thought creeping up on you and dragging you back out to face torment again. 

As you look out in front of you, the sky is no longer laden with heavy shades of black- a pastel sunrise is beginning to creep over the horizon, glistening like some sort of trophy for an underdog fistfight you’d managed to win, even if you’d come out the other side beaten and bruised. It was enough to nudge Javi’s head out of your lap, encouraging him to accept his prize at a game where winners came few and far between. 

Tonight, you'd never been more thankful the universe had let Javi come up a winner.

“It’s been a long time since we’ve been up early enough to watch the sunrise.” 

“Yeah. It is pretty, isn’t it? Sorry this is the reason you get to see it.” 

“As long as I get to be with you, that reason will always be good enough.”

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @raspberrybesitos

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @vee-bees-blog

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @itsokbbygrl @javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

[luvingarisu]

𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙥𝙞𝙘𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙖 𝙜𝙤𝙡𝙙𝙚𝙣 𝙡𝙤𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙩

early seasons!spencer reid x fem!reader

spencer gets emotional once he realises how much his girlfriend loves him <3

also spot the taylor swift and twilight reference girlies! and apologies for how cheesy this is, it’s very rushed bc exams so it isn’t proofread :(

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

His apartment felt different now that she was here. There was more colour, her pink slippers were next to his, she now kept tulips in a lovely patterned vase in the kitchen, and there was now a thrifted clothing rack in the corner of their shared bedroom for the clothes that refused to fit in the large oak wardrobe.

The atmosphere felt different too. The candles she burned smelled warm, he now couldn’t wait to come home, compared to how he used to feel. Knowing he would be coming home to an apartment that wasn’t empty and lonely filled him with a feeling that was almost indescribable. It was like having butterflies in his stomach, but all so much more than that. Something in his chest blossomed and happiness spread to every corner of his body when he saw her perched on the sofa with her fingers skimming the pages of one of his books, or when he saw her in one of his sweaters with the most adorable frilly apron around her waist when baking in the kitchen.

Though, today was an unusual day off. By some miracle, Hotch had managed to convince Strauss to get another team on-call for the coming week. After three back-to-back cases, all lasting a week long, Aaron knew his team needed to sleep in their own beds.

So there he was, in thick, odd socks many sizes too big for him, a green cable knit sweater, and grey plaid-pyjama trousers on his sofa watching re-runs and more re-runs, waiting for his girlfriend to come home. It felt strange to be the one at home for once, but it was pleasant.

“Spence, honey.” Manicured fingers carded through his long-ish hair, he jumped. She giggled.

“Sorry, you looked like you were about to doze off there,” She circled around from the back of the sofa and sat next to him, thighs touching and arms now tangled together, “guess you didn’t hear me come in, huh?”

“Guess not.” He bashfully winced, embarrassed by his skittishness.

“How was your day off then, genius?” As she asked about his day she pulled a multi-coloured blanket that Penelope had knit Spencer off from the back of the sofa and wrapped it around them.

“Good, it was good.” He leaned his head on her shoulder and cuddled closer. “It was going to read today but I just watched Doctor Who re-runs, I don’t get to do that often.”

“Sounds good, honey.” Y/n smiled softly and kissed his forehead, “you of all people need a lazy day every now and then.”

Spencer silently nodded and slide further down the sofa so he could rest his sofa against her chest. He felt something cold and metallic against his chest. A curious hum escaped his lips. “What’s wrong, honey?”

He sat up straight, now looking down at his sweet girlfriend. He brought his hand to her chest and fingered at the new metal handing from her neck.

It was a cute little golden locket. It looked to be vintage. It was oval in shape and had floral patterns and vines creating a lovely botanic boarder around the locket.

“This new?” He mumbled, still twirling the locket between nimble fingers.

“Oh this?” Y/n softly smiled down and wrapped a gentle hand around Spencer’s wrist while he played with the chain, “Yeah, it’s new. I saw it in a little vintage shop when I was out with Penny last week. It’s cute, right?”

“Yeah, sweetheart,” It did look adorable. It fell neatly just below her collarbones. It was a very her necklace. He imagined it would look well with all of her clothes, especially the sundresses and lacy tanks she loved so much. “It’s very pretty. You look very pretty.”

“You’re the sweetest, Spence.” She grinned widely. She ducked her head and laid chaste pecks along his neck before resuming their cuddling. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He pulled her close and ran his fingers down the side of her arm, his fingers touched her so gently it felt like he was barely there. It was a sweet, rare moment of uninterrupted peace for the couple.

Spencer though, his brain was still whirring. Why hadn’t he noticed the locket this past week? It was more than unusual for him to not notice something new about Y/n. Maybe he should ask.

“Have you been wearing this all week?” She shook her head.

“No, I didn’t want to wear it empty.” She laughed softly, she removed her head from it’s place on her boyfriend’s shoulder and fiddled with the locket’s opening.

“Did you put a picture of Taylor Swift or that other singer you like in there?” He chuckled.

“Lana Del Rey?” She corrected, “and honestly, I thought about it, but no.” She glanced up at him and smiled, he noticed a flustered expression on her face.

Once she got the locket open, he saw it. In a heart shapes frame inside the pretty locket, was an even prettier picture of the two of them. How she managed to get a photo small enough of the two of them to fit inside the locket, he was clueless.

“It’s us?” His voice became quiet, his pink lips formed a small pout.

The picture was simple, they had been out with friends in the summer. He was in casual attire, which was a very rare occurrence, ordinary black trousers and a beige sweater with his usual converse. Y/n was a sight to behold, however. Perched on his lap comfortably in adorable sandal-wedges and a sweet white sundress, she was planting a loving kiss on Spencer’s cheek while he grinned at the camera.

“Of course it’s us,” She looked down as if she had a reason to be embarrassed, “I know it’s cheesy but, I just… I don’t know. I love you. Like, a lot.”

He was for once, speechless.

He suddenly felt like the young, timid, and perpetually awkward twelve year old version of himself with too-long hair and glasses a little too big for the bridge of his nose. Never, and he could not stress the never enough, had he thought that would find someone who cared and loved for him in such a pure, wholesome, unabashed way.

“I love you.” He quickly said. He had never been more sure of anything.

She cooed, obviously enamoured with the man before her. “I know you do, Spence.”

“No, I mean,” He took a shaky breath, “I am unconditionally and irrevocably in love with you. Loving you and being loved by you has made me feel a form of happiness I never thought possible for a person like me. Before I experienced this, love, I thought it would be simple, black and white, but it’s so golden. You’re my golden.”

He’d lifted her hand to his mouth and gingerly placed a teary kiss on the back of her palm. He didn’t let go. He couldn’t let go.

He’d never let her go if she’d let him.

“Spence, honey,” She sniffled. Making her cry hadn’t been his intention, obviously, but he assumes that from her giddy smile and softened gaze that they were tears of happiness, of love, of all things good. “I’m golden?”

He only nodded, but that was all she needed.

“You’re my golden too, Spencer.”

[nczennie]

easier.

Pairing: Reader x NCT's Jeno AU: Established toxic relationship Genre: Smut (18+ only) ♫: Easier - 5sos Preview: He doesn't think he can live without you but he doesn't think he can stand to live with you either. Words: 2.5k *warnings under cut

Warnings: Smut scene (unprotected penetrative sex, oral f. receiving, some slight spanking)

Jeno has always heard there is a fine line between love and hate. And right now as he stares at you across from the apartment, laughing with your friends, he believes it's true.

It was only hours before you were both screaming at each other, arguing over something so miniscule he doesn't even remember. It had ended with you leaving your shared home claiming it was over; yet you came back an hour later and proceeded to get ready, neither of you acknowledging what happened.

This cycle has been going on for months now. A toxic circle of hatred and love all tangled together that neither of you could tell the difference anymore.

You and Jeno were high school sweethearts; innocent and sweet love. He was your first kiss, first relationship, first love, and you were his. The pair of you claimed to be so in love that you followed him to his dream university, even declining an offer to study abroad in the country you always dreamed of visiting. Maybe that's why you hate him so much, Jeno thinks as he fills his cup in the kitchen. Too distracted by his thoughts to even enjoy the party, even though it was to celebrate him. He continues to think back to high school, how much he loved you. And now you both were weeks away from graduating university and so much as changed.

Maybe we shouldn't have moved in together, he thinks trying his best to recall when this growing annoyance has started. It seemed like an amazing idea all those months ago to get an apartment together for your last semester of school. But now you're both stuck here living together until the lease is up. Maybe that's when you'll be over too, the relationship ending with the lease as if some sort of contract. Is that what you want? Jeno thinks to himself, yet just like all the other times he doesn't know. He doesn't think he can live without you but he doesn't think he can stand to live with you either. Maybe we can work it out.

Maybe, maybe, maybe. That's all that ever fills Jeno's mind when he thinks about you now. Trying to see what was wrong in the past, trying to see what will happen in the future. He isn't sure what to think anymore.

"What are you doing in here all alone?!" Jeno nearly jumps as the voice of his best friend booms in the kitchen. He merely lifts his cup up, as if showing Jaemin he was filling it. Jaemin throws his arm over his shoulder, "Dude, this party is for your birthday, why are you hiding in the kitchen?" He doesn't want to tell him he's hiding from you, from the growing hatred he feels in his chest when he sees you. From the softness that follows when he sees your smile, making him forget the feeling in the first place.

But Jaemin doesn't wait for an answer, only dragging him back into the living room where people linger and dance to the booming music. "Are you seeing what I'm seeing?" Jaemin whispers in his ear causing his eyebrows to furrow. He nods his head to the side and Jeno smirks when he realizes he's referring to Haechan's sister. Jaemin has been crushing on Haechan's sister for years now but has refrained from taking action in fear of how their friend will react. But now she's at the party dancing wearing a dress that causes Jaemin to blush.

Jeno chuckles, "Why don't you ask her to dance?" Jaemin scoffs. "With Haechan lingering around, no thanks." Jeno shrugs, "Someone else might just do it then, especially if she's looking as good as that." Jaemin only nods in agreement, both of the friends taking in how she looks.

After taking her in, his eye move across the room, looking at the guests who have arrived since he was in the kitchen. His gaze continues to move across the room until he meets yours.

You're stood in the corner with a couple of your close friends but as even as they talk your eyes are on him. Your jaw is clenched, your stare speaking more than words. Jeno knows right away you saw him looking at Haechan's sister, obviously not pleased with how he was appreciating her. He rolls his eyes, not even hiding the movement from you. Earlier you were claiming to leave him and now you were mad at him for looking at another girl.

He turns, eager to escape your gaze, making his way around the crowded room. The music is pounding and the lights are dimmed making his head start to ache. Jeno craves just a moment of silence so he moves to the hallway, moving past a couple making out to get into his room. Your shared room.

Chugging the rest of his drink, he puts the empty solo cup on the dresser before moving to sit on the edge of the bed letting out a frustrated sigh.

The door to the room opens and he looks on as you make your way into the room, shutting it behind you. You don't make an effort to move, merely standing in front of the entry staring at him and he leans back onto one arm on the bed, feet still planted firmly on the ground. Jeno glares back at you, taking in your figure which looks more like a shadow with the only light in the room being the glowing blue leds hanging around the ceiling. "I came in here to be alone, you know." he finally speaks out as you slowly move to make your way over to him. "Everyone is here to celebrate you, isn't it rude of you to be hiding away from them." You reply and Jeno bites his tongue, wanting to voice it's you he's hiding from not them.

"I just needed a moment." he murmurs instead which causes you to let out a scoff, "What? A moment away from enjoying Haechan's sister?"

His chest rumbles with annoyance, you've known as long as him that Jaemin has eyes for her not him, but lately both of you have been finding any reason to pick fights with each other. "Is that seriously why you came in here to bother me? Because you thought I was checking someone else out?" He listens as a humorless laugh leaves you, "Because my boyfriend is obviously eyeing some other girl in our own home? They noticed you know, my friends. They saw you, do you know how humiliating that is?" Your voice rises with every word.

Throwing his head back Jeno groans, "Do we really have to do this now? All our friends are here, let's just work it out in the morning."

You finally move the rest of the distance to stand in between his open thighs. Jeno lets his eyes to linger on your bare thighs, move upward to take in the tight dress your wearing; it's his favorite dress, he picked it out more than a year ago. He eyes move up to eventually meet your gaze and he can't help the jump of his heart, not matter what he feels he will never not think you are the most gorgeous person he has ever met.

"I'm sorry," you whisper and he swallows. "It's fine," he mumbles back because right now it's so hard to blame you because he finds you so beautiful.

Jeno sucks in a breath as you suddenly move to straddle his waist, the skirt of your dress moving to scrunch up on your upper thighs. He stays leaning back on his arms, merely watching as you study him. Reaching up, you run one of your hands through his dark har, "I just wanted you to have a nice birthday," you whisper to him and he would laugh in annoyance if he wasn't currently so captivated by you.

Instead he leans forward, lips almost brushing yours, "You can still make it nice for me," he mumbles causing you to smirk. Your eyes take in his face for a second before moving in to push your lips against his. The two of you kiss with fever, it's sloppy and filled with lust. Gone are the days where kisses meant something other than fucking. There is no love in your kisses anymore, just a toxic passion and lots of tongue.

You break from the kiss with a bite of his lip, pulling on it as you pull away from him. Jeno leans back on his forearms, attempting to catch his breath as he keeps his eyes on you. Your breath is just as unsteady as his and his eyes bounce along your face as a smirk grows on your lips. "Let me sit on your face." Speaking out to him, a scoff leaves him but doesn't match the smirk the joins his mouth as well. He leans back the rest of the way, laying flat on the bed, throwing his arms above his head, "C'mon well."

Taking a moment to stand, you shimmy out of your lace underwear, hiking the skirt of the dress over your stomach. You move back over Jeno, placing your knees on either side of your head before slowly dropping your cunt onto his mouth.

He accepts your eagerly, hands wrapping around your thighs to pull you closer to him, tongue reaching out to meet you. You let out a shaky breath, eyes rolling closed has he sucks hungrily on your clit before lapping his tongue over you like you're his favorite meal.

The wet slurping he makes can barely be heard over the loud music from the living area but it turns you on even further. Leaning forward, you place your hands on the bed in order to steady yourself. Grinding down with a moan, you move in order to perfectly rub your clit over the tip of his nose. He lets you move on top of him, his tongue licking messily over your juices, dripping over his chin.

His hands move from your thighs up to grasp the meat of your ass, pushing you to move faster against his face as your moans become louder.

Jeno swings his hand back slightly in order to leave a slap on your ass, the slight pain making your jerk but the whine leaving your mouths only makes him repeat his actions.

He can easily tell you're close to your finish as you become whinier, movements becoming uneven. Grabbing your thighs once more, his strong grip makes you hold still. He moves his mouth to your clit once more, sucking and tongue flicking over it in such a manner your legs start to shake.

Your hands grab the sheets till your knuckles are white. You cum hard, biting your lips still don't mask your cries of ecstasy. Despite this Jeno keeps his mouth on your making you whine out his name, thighs shaking to close around his head.

He finally releases you with a pop, allowing you to move off of him as he licks over his lips. Keeping his eyes on you as you move to be level with him once more. He thinks you look beautiful flushed and sweaty from the orgasm he just gave you.

There's no talking as you more towards him, tongue sticking out to lick over the mess you made on his chin. He groans, closing his eyes, letting you lick your juices off his mouth. Only opening his own when you lick into his lips.

He licks back into your own mouth, his hand reaching up to roughly hold onto your hair. He feels your hand move to unbutton his pants, and you pull away from his mouth as you take his cock out.

"Gunna ride you." you say simply, tugging his pants out just enough to give you access and pulling his shirt up just enough to show the lower half of his stomach as he leans back comfortably on his forearms.

He watches quietly as you adjust your dress once more before straddling his lap. You face the door, leaving him a view of your ass as your reach behind you to grab his cock.

Jeno thinks of a time where sex wasn't so quiet. Where he was constantly telling you how good you were for him, or how beautiful you looked. But nowadays there was little to no talking.

But before he could dwell on the fact any longer, he lets out a quiet groan to match yours as you sink slowly down onto him. His mouth falls open but he doesn't let himself tear his gaze away from where your wet cunt swallows him perfectly.

Once you're comfortable, you place your hands between his thighs, letting yourself bounce on his cock at your own pace. Jeno bites his lip, running his hand through his dark hair. The sound of your ass meeting his thighs taking up the dark room.

He balances his weight on one forearm, lifting the other to place a smack on your ass, enjoying the whine you let out. "Yeah," He groans deeply, as you ride him faster, placing a few more smacks, hypnotized by the way it jiggles around him.

Sinking down on his cock, you're flat against his pelvis, moving your hips in slow circles. He's so deep in you, your eyes flutter. Jeno feels it too, your walls squeezing him so tight he has to drop his upper half of his body down onto the mattress. His hands come up to squeeze your hips still so hard it nearly hurts and he finishes inside of you with a raspy groan.

Jeno can feel his face burning up with how hard he came but he comes to senses, keeping his grip on you but lifting you slightly. Once he regains his strength, he moves his hips off the bed in order to fuck into you.

Ignoring any sensitivity in favor of making you cum. You moan at his fast pace, feeling the wetness from you both leaking out of your hole and onto his cock.

It's not long before your head hangs with a silent cry, yet another orgasm ripping through your body. He slows his pace once he feels you finish, letting you move up and down on him slowly in order to ride it out.

There's a couple moments of stillness before reality sets in again. The music from outside of the door once again blaring louder than your breathing.

Carefully you get off of him and stand, pulling your dress down. He watches as you slowly walk to the bathroom, clearly wanting to freshen up and fix your makeup.

He takes a breath before following you, grabbing a towel and wetting it before moving to clean between your legs as your lean into the mirror. Using a q-tip to remove any running makeup, you mumble a thanks as he finishes wiping you down before moving to clean himself.

"We're never going to change, are we?" Jeno says.

"No," You say before gently pushing him out of the bathroom so you can finish, "And I wouldn't have it any other way."

Copyright © 2024 by nczennie. All rights reserved.

🌼 All feedback is appreciated and welcomed 🌼

[solitary-traveler]

One More Night

Hookups were supposedly a one- time thing. A way to have fun without getting attached.

So why the fuck does he keep coming back to you?

Scaramouche x Gn!Reader

A/n: A quick edit of a draft I've had in my notes for a while now.

Art credits: ike_0910

Warning: Slight nsfw, cursing

Scaramouche despises hookups.

To be tangled within the sheets with a complete stranger, the idea repulsed him to no end. Honestly, it was rather pathetic. It was nothing more than a desperate act of attention. A despondent call to those terrified of estrangement. But archons forbid, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't the least bit curious.

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to try at least once?

Besides, stress has been eating him up lately. He needed a way to clear his thoughts and forget. To let go and revel in the pleasure of losing himself in his inhibitions.

But there must be something wrong with his hookup. Weren't they supposedly a one- time thing? A way to have fun without getting attached?

So why the fuck does he keep coming back to you?

Why does he insist on keeping you on his bed, with a part of him wishing you'd stay there forever?

He hated this so much.

Words can’t express how much he loathes this thing referred to as attachment. He refuses to let his emotions run rampant again and undergo the heartbreak of treachery. He’s been betrayed three times. He’s not letting you be his fourth one.

Yet here he was, in bed with you for the 5th time this week, lips locked in a fiery fit of passion. Your wrists were pinned above your head, it was scary how he didn’t want to let you go. How despite his repugnance towards devotion, his hypocrisy ruled with the thoughts of keeping you in place.

"You taste so fucking good…", he mumbles as his breath brushes against your lips. Your skin was redolent of fresh lemon with the base of woody amber, the bed sheets stained with the scent of your perfume. The air was heavy, choking the last of his self-control. He eyes you, taking shallow breaths underneath him as you tried to catch your breath. He couldn’t help the twitch of his lips as you never fail to provide him with the dopamine of having control. He dives in for another kiss, this time devoid of passion and merely fueled by his hunger. Hunger for you. For the delightful moans that slip out your pretty, little mouth when he pounds relentlessly into you. For the way your body arches when he rakes his fingernails across your smooth skin, all the while his hips snap forward to hit that spot deep within you. A certain area only he knows that would drive you crazy.

He was obsessed with this feeling.

He knows that he should've let you go already, that this is something that shouldn't be happening. But dear archons forgive him because being wrong never felt so right. You were like a poison who seeped into his veins, rewiring his brain to be filled with thoughts regarding you and you alone. You collapsed the building of his very morals, turned everything he stood up for into non-existent debris.

"One more night…" He mutters, burying his face into the crook of your neck. It would be a comforting gesture, if not for the fact that he sinks his teeth into your skin and gnaws on it like a piece of meat. He’s sure that's going to leave a mark tomorrow yet it doesn’t stop the sinful moan that escapes your throat, an invitation for him to keep going. And he will most definitely keep going. His sense of judgement disintegrated when you hooked your arms around his neck, reciprocating his intense desire that tarnished both your bodies and short circuited your willpower. Nothing else mattered. Just you and his desire to have his way with you until he's satisfied.

A low chuckle escapes from the confines of his throat as he saw how much of a mess you became. A mess that belonged in his museum of you, framed, sculpted or whatever way its preserved. With a smirk that seemed to widen every passing minute, his fingers lightly trace the curve of your spine.

He just couldn't get enough of you.

[raayllum]

a/n: set after 6x06 and heavily references 6x03 bc they were blessings

Sometime after they stop kissing — alright, they don't really stop, but languid silences, soft giggling, and sweet nothings fill some of the space in between kisses as they curl up together on his bed in the Starscraper — Callum asks, "So, what were you crying about on the Ray of Illumination?"

The sun is rising above the sea of clouds outside their bedroom window, and for a moment he regrets bringing up anything potentially sad, both of them happier than they've been in years, honestly. They have everything they need for her parents, his connection to Aaravos has been severed, the light and truth of her love filling the cracks in his heart, instead, and finally, finally she knows that his heart has always belonged to her. That it always will.

But he's always been curious, and he's always wanted to sooth whatever's troubling her, fix whatever is breaking her heart, and she'd had a good deal to cry over just a couple weeks ago — maybe even something from the last two years apart — and... he wants to know. He wants to help.

And, slowly, he thinks she's getting to a place where she wants him to be able to, where she'll let him.

"Oh, um..." Rayla averts her eyes, fingers tangled with his, but her smile doesn't dim. She sticks her tongue in her cheek. "It's a bit silly, really."

"Still." He uses his free hand to brush his thumb over the curve of her cheek, the blue bend of her marking, where he knows the tears would've fallen.

"Just an old diary written by the captain. Esme something. Stella pushed it open." Rayla scoots a bit closer and Callum lets go of her hand to wrap his arm around her, more than happy to give into her desire to be held; he never feels more at peace than when he's holding her, now more than ever.

The bump of the tip of his nose against hers as a gentle prod. "And?"

Rayla turns her face down, his lips brushing her brow, but he can still tell she's worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. He wants to angle his face down and kiss that worry away, draw her lips to his, but refrains. They have plenty of time, after all. To kiss, and rest, and prepare for their journey. It's close to dawn now, and Callum knows they won't leave till the day after tomorrow at least — they need supplies for the journey to the Nexus, recover from their trials, and to say goodbye to their new friends here.

Finally, Rayla explains, "She was writing during the last days of her life, on that ship I guess. About a man she left behind. Her one true love, Conrad."

"Oh." Callum pulls her further into a hug on instinct, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"Just... resonated with me," she nearly sniffles, laughing weakly, but her smile is real and reaches her eyes when he glances down to check. "I'm sure you can imagine why."

"Lots of stuff about what she would've said if she saw him again?"

"Mmhm."

"Think I can relate to that too," he hums, giving her forehead another kiss. "I love you, Rayla," he repeats for what might be the millionth time that day, but he already knows he can never say it enough. He's always known that. "I'm so glad you came back."

She wraps her arms tighter around his torso, cuddling in closer, tension ebbing out of her and face half pressed to his scarf. "I'm so happy you're here, Callum," she sighs warmly.

"Always." He strokes her hair, wondering if she'll fall asleep like this—it always got her a little drowsy in the past—or if she'll let him weave her braid for her one of these days, musing, and then... "The Captain's name wasn't Esmerelda Skall, was it?"

Rayla lifts her head, brow furrowed adorably. "Er, yeah, it was. Why? How do you know that?"

"She was a famous explorer in the Human Kingdoms. Charted out a lot of our maps up north. My Dad—King Harrow—took me on a diplomatic mission once to Del Bar, where she's from, when I was eleven or twelve." There's a warm, content feeling blooming in his chest that he'll get to give her closure on this, too, somehow. "Conrad founded a town near the capitol and served as mayor. He named it after her. He loved her all his life—put a grave marker for her next to his when he died and everything."

Rayla's "Oh" comes out choked and small, but her smile is wide as she blinks back tears. "That's—that's beautiful. I guess he really—"

"—loved her?" Callum finishes, curling two fingers under her chin to lift her face for a moment. Then he brushes away the real tears trickling over, drawing her further into his snug embrace. Her breath is beautifully warm as it fans over his lips before he kisses her, soft and firm. "Yes. I really do."

[maybanksbabe]

𝐕𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐋 | 𝐑. 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐍

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you'd assumed for the last 6 months that he'd lived nextdoor that your neighbour was just a very popular man with no end of female admirers spending the night at his place. Until a late night mark of desperation leads you to finding a very familiar face on your favoured XXX site...

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬): pornstar!Rafe Cameron, language, mentions of and descriptions of sex and sexual content, *gasp* and they were neighbours!, Descriptions of masturbation (m + f), watching porn, oral (f) there's a lot going on lmao, if I missed anything lmk!

𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: sex; cheat codes - church; chase atlantic - go fuck yourself; two feet

𝟷𝟾+ 𝙼𝙳𝙽𝙸 - 𝙸 𝙳𝙾 𝙽𝙾𝚃 𝙿𝙴𝚁𝙼𝙸𝚃 𝚁𝙴𝙿𝙾𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙾𝚁 𝚃𝚁𝙰𝙽𝚂𝙻𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙾𝙵 𝙼𝚈 𝚆𝙾𝚁𝙺

It started on a weekend, about three weeks after Rafe Cameron had moved in next door in your apartment complex. The walls were just torturously thin enough that any time he had a... Lady friend over, you could hear every obnoxious, high-pitched moan he could get out of her. Whoever she was every other night. Sometimes in the morning, you'd see various sorry states leaving his apartment; smudged makeup, shoes in hands and a slight wobble in their step.

He seemed nice enough when you bumped into each other at the mail collection or laundry room. A stunning smile and a God-given body. With it being late July he found any excuse to walk around shirtless. Not that you really minded. There was no indication of what he did for work; you'd never seen him in any uniform or office attire and there was nothing else that pointed to any kind of obvious profession, keeping you guessing.

Then, on the hottest summer night so far, you found yourself unable to sleep, tossing and turning beneath tangled sheets that did nothing but make you more uncomfortable. And then you noticed the faint knocking next door and distinctly female moans.

Did he ever fucking stop?!

You could hear a backing of male moans too, but nothing more than faint grunts and moans that were almost drowned out by whichever woman he was pressing into the mattress. And yet, instead of being faced with disgust, there was a spark of something else. Jealousy? Perhaps. It made your stomach twist and between your thighs began to ache.

Instead of being vindictive and giving the wall above your head a few sharp pounds with your fist, you decided to be courteous. After all, you have no other reason not to get along with him. Disgruntled, you kicked your sheets off and grabbed your keys before moving out of your apartment to the corridor, taking five steps to the right and knocking on Rafe's door.

The moaning stopped and seconds later the door opened, revealing, much to your bewilderment, Rafe in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs. His chest, neck, cheeks and ears were flush with a rosy burnish and a delicate gold chain rested against his collarbones.

"Hi -"

"Is this about the noise?" He was slightly breathless as he tried to fill the space between the half-open door and the door frame.

"Yeah, sorry I'm just a really light sleeper and I've got a busy day tomorrow -"

"Don't worry about it, we're almost wrapped up here. Just give us ten more minutes and I promise you won't hear from us again tonight," he replied with a coy smile. Something about his demeanour made you melt a little inside. His eyes are heavy as they travel up and down your body, taking in your choice of sleepwear and your sleep-deprived state.

"Tom and Jerry, huh?" At a glance, you saw that he was referring to your pyjamas. Heat crawled up your neck and cheeks.

"Don't be an ass. Just - please keep the noise down, yeah?" He held a hand up in surrender, a boyish grin on his lips.

"Alright, alright. Promise. Enjoy the rest of your night, sweetheart."

Not as much as you will, it seems.

At that, you retreated to the stuffy air of your apartment, soon after the lurid sounds continued, accompanied by the percussion of the headboard against the wall. But true to his word, ten minutes later it fell silent and the distant sound of a door shutting set your mind at ease.

A week later, if that, a barrage of more late nights listening to Rafe's conquests drew you to a final, desperate measure. Opening an incognito window on your phone's browser you went straight to your favourite porn site. If he could have fun at all hours, so help you God you could too. The noise from next door made you wonder what they were doing; doggy, reverse cowgirl, some kind of bondage perhaps? He certainly seemed like the type.

Surfing the categories for a few minutes gave you a spark of inspiration to go looking for a specific type of video. And the first account to come up in the results had you intrigued from the jump. You selected the most recent video, put your headphones in and pushed your free hand into your sleep shorts. Though as your fingers began to dip and delve between your folds and around your clit, a familiar voice in your ear made you stop.

"- fuck yeah, so fuckin' tight -" Wide-eyed you turned your attention to your phone screen. You knew that voice. You'd spoken to that voice in the laundry room on multiple occasions. And as your eyes adjusted to the brightness of your screen in the dark you saw it. That chain. Those abs. That jawline.

"Oh, my god..." Solo fun forgot about, you sat up and began scouring the page. There were dozens of videos. Some by himself, some with co-stars (both female and male), and others with more than one co-star. Regardless of the content of the videos you selected and skipped through, he looked good. No, he looked hot.

The video you were currently on, you couldn't bare to skip through or speed up, too transfixed on what Rafe was doing. Lay on a pristinely made bed, beneath a beautiful brunette woman who was currently sat on his face. Then it all made sense. The constant noise, the late nights and the never-ending line of people leaving his apartment. And why you could never figure out what he did for a living.

Your neighbour was a pornstar.

Your insanely hot, surprisingly nice neighbour was a very popular pornstar based on the subscriber count under his profile name.

But now felt compelled to watch more. To see more and get to know him. It was wrong but you didn't have many other options given how he normally reduced to you a blushing mess anyway. So up you stayed for another few hours, scrolling through the countless videos that caught your interest.

Your favourite one so far had been a video from a month or two ago, Rafe was on the sofa, the camera set up on the coffee table and his legs spread just wide enough in the grey sweats that you could see most of him before he'd even stripped down. He used a vibrating cockring to get himself off. The string of delightfully sinful noises came from him as he fucked his hand and used the ring on the most intense pattern had you clenching your thighs and chewing on the inside of your cheek.

Another week rolled on and you delved deeper into Rafe's content, using it selfishly to get off to your burning needs when every morning you'd exchange a polite smile and greeting when you both happened to be collecting your mail at the same time. Perhaps you were doing it on purpose. Or he was. You hadn't been particularly reserved in your late-night self-indulgence and there's more than a chance that he's heard you on more than one occasion.

How you found yourself standing in front of his door on a Thursday evening you're not sure, but you had to say something. It had been quiet for a couple of days next door. So you knocked and waited patiently. Moments later the door swung open. Rafe greeted you with his signature coy smirk, a bowl of cereal balanced in one ring-clad hand, and the other resting on the door.

"Hey, what brings you here?"

"I - I need to talk to you..." you forced out whilst wringing your fingers together.

"Oh? Sure, come in." Rafe stepped aside and propped the door open with his foot to let you in. You found it incredibly difficult not to ogle him as you stepped around him, sweatpants slung low on his hips and a shirt nowhere to be seen. He'd definitely been soaking up the Summer sun too, now more tan than when he first moved in and there was a faint spray of freckles across his back and shoulders, obviously brought out by the extra sunshine.

"What's the problem?" He leaned up against the nearest counter as you both came to a stop in the kitchen.

"No... No problem. I don't think. Look, Rafe, you seem like a really nice guy -"

"Oh, God I don't like where this is going -"

"No! No, it's not bad but... I found you." Rafe set the now empty bowl into the sink and turned back to face you.

"Found me?"

"Don't make me say it," you pleaded, face already hot with embarrassment. That cocky demeanour started to take effect and with the way he looked, standing there half naked so casually had you struggling to find the words.

"Online. Okay? I happened upon your online profile and -" His laughter cut you off and the panic and embarrassment subsided momentarily.

"Don't be embarrassed, everyone watches porn," he stated with a shrug and stepped towards you, caging you in against the counter. It took all your willpower not to drop to your knees then and there.

"I just - just didn't want things to be awkward. Thought you might want to know... We're still just neighbours, okay?"

"Sure. Y'know I'm surprised it took you this long to figure it out..." Your breath caught in your throat as he leaned in. The scent of him was dizzying and you did the unthinkable. You kissed him. It transpired into a series of messy kisses, and obscene actions with tongues and teeth pressing and clashing.

A surprised gasp against Rafe's sinfully pink lips escaped you as he hoisted you onto the counter, large, hot hands on your waist, keeping you flush with him. Kissing Rafe was something you couldn't explain, it was a hungry, demanding exchange with languid tongues rendering you breathless.

"M' a big fan of your work," you confessed with a hot sigh against his parted lips, trying your hardest not to moan when he made contact with the column of your throat and his one hand made his way between your parted thighs.

"Yeah?" You made a noise of agreement but yelped when he tugged your soft cotton shorts down your legs, exposing your ass and the backs of your thighs to the cool surface beneath you.

"Don't - don't feel like you have to -" you panted, cut off by an unintentional moan as his fingers pressed against your underwear, adding a delicious kind of pressure against your aching clit. Your hand found his wrist, holding him there for a moment whilst his fingers teased you relentlessly.

"And what if I want to? Like I haven't spent the past couple of weeks listening to you play with yourself late at night when you think no one can hear you." His remark had you clenching around nothing,

"I -"

"You think I couldn't hear you? Watching my videos and moaning for me?" He kissed a line down your neck and bunched your t-shirt up so he could remove your panties, dropping them to one side. In your hazy state, you couldn't stop him from kneeling down in front of your bare cunt before he leaned in, making contact with an open mouth against your now-exposed clit.

"Fuck, Rafe -" you whimpered with a shaky breath as he used his mouth to get you off, suctioning around your clit with expert skill, his tongue adding just enough pressure and friction to have you dizzy already.

"Tell me all about it, sweets." You couldn't be sure if he was good at this because it was part of his job or if he was just that good, but in a matter of minutes, you were reduced to a whining, squirming mess on his kitchen counter, unable to form a coherent sentence. The pressure of a finger being added to your aching, wet cunt had you moaning even louder.

"Gonna cum for me? Hm? Wanna make a mess on my face?" All you could do in reply was moan. Unashamed and unhindered by the fact that any of the surrounding units might be able to hear you and that you were currently on your neighbour's kitchen counter being eaten out within an inch of your life by the aforementioned neighbour.

Practically grinding on his face, everything came to a dizzying peak. Eyes screwed shut, back arched off of the counter and your thighs trembling from their position over his shoulders, you came with a loud cry - a plea almost for the pleasure to last -

"That was hot," Rafe commented with a drawl as he eventually managed to free himself from between your previously tensed thighs. He made a point to stand up and offer the two fingers that had just been inside you. Some deep part of your subconscious didn't even hesitate to accept them in your mouth to clean them off.

"Good girl," he cooed with a wolfish grin.

-/-/-

@veescorneroftheworld @drewphyy @dreamingwithrafe @softcoremaybank @outerbankies

Just tagging a few who might be interested! Let me know if you want to be removed 🧡

[felassan]

Thoughts on DA: Vows & Vengeance -

[info compilation post link] [more info on the podcast]

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this post is rather unstructured : )

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I know what BW said about how there won't be official transcripts, but I hope that they decide to post official transcripts of each episode if it's possible, as it's rly important for accessibility & inclusivity.

I like the title - the alliteration is fun, and the concepts of vengeance and revenge are a DA thematic staple atp. it's neat that it's free and the spacing of one episode per week until mid/late October will help pass the time until launch (the last podcast episode releases 2 weeks before DA:TV Release Day). it's also cool to see DA expand into new forms of media, and I'm excited that we will hear lots more lines from each of the 7 Veilguard companions. 👁️

here is one of the podcast writers, Jeremy Novick, on Twitter.

I’m really looking forwards to Taash and Davrin’s episodes of the podcast in particular ◕‿◕ it feels like we don't know much about them or their backstories relative to the other DA:TV companions at this point in time.

Nadia Carcosa, Drayden and Elio are described as being "podcast-exclusive" characters, I guess this means they will not appear in the game itself (which helps the podcast storyline stay self-contained and the podcast to remain as optional listening). but it would be cool if in the game there is some references to them here and there, like in dialogue and/or codex entries/notes etc. 😊

in the background image of the teaser trailer and what looks like the thumbnail for the podcast[?] on podcasting sites, the two faction symbols shown are the Mourn Watch and the Shadow Dragons. is this a coincidence/just since their symbols look cool, or are these two factions the factions with the biggest roles in the podcast storyline relative to the others? the penultimate episodes are the ones that focus on Emmrich and Neve 🤔

"revenge, redemption, and love": these themes mixed together often produce regret. and there was a quote somewhere in DA:TV marketing materials that said “For DA:TV [the game itself], from the start one of the biggest themes has been regret; how regret shaped peoples’ lives, how people deal with their regrets, how people maybe move past their regrets.”

Mae Whitman previous credits include: Avatar: The Last Airbender, The Perks of Being a Wallflower, Scott Pilgrim vs. the World Brigette Lundy-Paine previous credits include: Bill & Ted Face the Music, Atypical, I Saw the TV Glow Armen Taylor previous credits include: Diablo IV, Octopath Traveler II, Vinland Saga

I wonder when the podcast is set? maybe in the weeks to months before Varric, Harding, Neve and Rook go to Solas' ritual site in the game's prologue? I also wonder what lineages Nadia, Drayden and Elio are? If Drayden has a mysterious connection to the Fade, they're most likely to be human or elven, right?

cat burglar, thief, scoring jobs like the one described in the podcast's plotblurbs - these kind of plot beats remind me of what we learned about an earlier concept of DA:TV when the game was more about stuff like heists and spies.

Nadia being a thief unknowingly employed by the Dread Wolf to track down a powerful ancient artifact before finding herself tangled up in everything: this reminds me sm of one of the 'here's what the DA4 PC's backstory could be and how they could end up caught up in the narrative of the game'-speculation ideas I used to wonder about hhh.

a retired cat burglar.. maybe Nadia has ties to the Lords of Fortune? some of them seem to be more thiefy. although, being wanted by Tevinter authorities for crimes of theft, high treason and murder maybe points towards Shadow Dragons instead.

two lovers going on a job to get an artifact reminds me of Irian Cestes and Vadis from TN. "burglar" also gives me Hobbit/LOTR vibes :D I imagine that over the many years since DA:I, the Dread Wolf has employed many such people [unknowingly to them] on jobs like this.

Elio being "seemingly" banished to the Fade is interesting wording.. so is "banished" actually. (Elio's Fade banishment also makes me think of foreshadowing Solas' subsequent entry to Fade Jail in DA:TV.) ((shoutout to left-in-the-Fade-Hawkes' LIs who I can also imagine desperately searching for answers on a rescue mission across all of Thedas after learning that Hawke was left in the Fade in DA:I...))

Carcosa

I'm reaaally curious about what Drayden's mysterious connection to the Fade is all about and entails.

"a few [answers] they wish they hadn’t" 👁️...

the question is, what the powerful ancient artifact is, and why does Solas want it? if he wants it it's probably ancient elven, right?

On the trailer itself

"This chamber, it feels different from the cave. I can sense something. The Veil is thin here." - I'd guess this speaker is Drayden. it isn't Nadia, as we hear her later on. the speaker can sense the thin/thickness of the Veil and Drayden is said to have a mysterious connection to the Fade. at this point they're in some kind of, well, chamber, as the speaker's voice echoes and you can hear water dripping down the damp walls.

The announcer's voice is so deep hh!

To be wanted by Tevinter authorities for crimes including high treason, maybe Nadia is from Tevinter? treason is "the crime of betraying one's country, especially by attempting to kill or overthrow the sovereign or government." so to commit treason in Tevinter context, you're probably from Tevinter.

"Who the hell is Nadia Carcosa?" - this sounds like Varric. :>

"So, what's the mark?" - I'd guess this speaker is Nadia. they sound scrappy/seasoned (Nadia is nearly retired), and the speaker is probably asking for more details on the job they've just acquired to do. does she sound like she could be a dwarf to anyone else or is this just me? :D maybe that's just my daydreams hhh

"The Eye of Kethisca" quote: presumably the middle man who Solas hired to hire someone, thereby keeping his own identity secret

The Eye of Kethisca itself: this must be the "powerful ancient artifact" from the text blurbs. there are no hits for "Kethisca" on the DA Wiki, so this is a new name/thing. it must be creepy-deepy, because when it's mentioned in the trailer you can hear creepy voices whispering ominously. :D "Kethisca" doesn't sound elven, but you could easily have an artifact that's e.g. ancient elven but acquired another name or been called something else by others in the centuries since.

"The Eye was made from a rare gem mined here in the caves beneath us. It was crafted centuries ago by a powerful Dreamer." - Solas speaking. I wonder how oblique/lies of omission/technically true (you know what I mean? that thing he does) Solas is being here.. like maybe the Dreamer was an ancient elvhen Dreamer not a human Tevinter one, like maybe the centuries ago were centuries and centuries and centuries ago dating back to Elvhenan rather than later on temporally at say, a more recent time in history like the height of the Imperium. "Eye" makes me think of spherical things, "gem" makes me think of how lyrium (Titans' blood) is a mineral. caves makes me think of dwarfy things and the Deep Roads. as for "mined":

"The runes say the Evanuris fought the Titans. They mined their bodies for lyrium and... something else. It's not clear."

what if the Eye is the heart of a Titan, a foci? Solas' Orb was spherical and the hearts of Titans look spherical here in the Death of a Titan mural. the way he frames it makes it sound like the mark is a rare jewel mined from caves by a Tevinter human dreamer long ago before being crafted into something, but I wonder if it was, more technically, the heart of a Titan mined from the body of a Titan even longer ago by, say, a member of the Evanuris, before being crafted into a foci. Solas needed his own foci in DA:I to carry out his plans, and then it was broken. there was more than one foci in ancient Elvhenan; after DA:I and Trespasser, I could see a world/storyline in which, during the long years between then and DA:TV, Solas at some point learns that another one of the foci artifacts survived into the modern day, and decided to try and get his hands on it so that he can carry out his plan using another foci instead. and since the foci can do Fadey/Veily stuff, that could be how Elio got yeeted in there. reminds me a bit of the scene when the Inquisitor yeets Cory at the end of DA:I. (here I'm just speculating wildly for fun hhh. Solas' Orb doesn't really look like a gem etc. and the Lyrium Knife tears the Veil, so maybe this storyline was set before he got that or sth)

also I wonder where these caves are? beneath Minrathous? Solas has a hideout beneath Minrathous, as we know, and the deeper you go the more elfy things get.

Magister Andante: I think this is our first time hearing about this character. their name reminds me of Andraste.

"Magister Andante? It's about Nadia. She's about to do something quite reckless." - this sounds to me like Neve speaking. it kind of sounds like she's meeting the magister clandestinely, at night. she seems to know Nadia.

"Listen to me, you've been tricked. This isn't a simple grab-and-go for the money. There are bigger forces at play. We have to put this back and leave." - I'd guess this speaker is Elio. it sounds like at this point he and Nadia have found the Eye and taken it, but he's trying to get her to see reason/warn her. it's a tense moment with the sound of battle all around them.

"I'm sorry, but I won't let you pay for my mistakes." - Nadia refusing to listen to Elio. the sounds of battle get louder and it sounds like there's an explosion or something? plus the dragon roar. maybe Mr dragon is breathing fire everywhere. :D I wonder as well if it's Elio grunting in pain at this point. I'd guess this is the moment where Elio is seemingly yeeted into the Fade perhaps?

"Nadia, I presume. I am Solas, and I am, I believe, the one that you seek." - Solas again obviously, only this time sounding way more godly and Fen'Harelly in persona (booming) than he did when he was talking more demurely/plainly about what the Eye is.

"The name I seek is the Dread Wolf" - Nadia again obviously :) so something in the job went wrong, she figures out who hired them, and goes to find the Dread Wolf presumably because she either blames him for Elio being stuck in the Fade and/or she thinks he might be able to get him out or tell her how.

"The Eye will destroy you" - and this sounds like Neve again maybe?

[santobambis]

ALCOHOL-FREE — G. Satoru

blurb — i'm alcohol free but you make me drunk. in which satoru just can't get enough of you, and it makes you both heady.

pairing — gojo satoru x afab!reader

warnings — gojo is sort of his own warning, oral (fem), making out, established relationship, pwp, reader doesn't drink alcohol for the sake of this story (look after your livers everyone!). reader is referred to as 'my girl'

word count — 1.5k!

note — because twice's comeback got announced. also this is my first smut piece, please be kind <3

The room was thick with the scent of sweet cedar, the low light casting a warm glow that danced over the two of you. Gojo's large hands cradled your face, thumbs brushing over your cheekbones as his lips pressed against yours, slow, intoxicating and so maddening. Each kiss of his deepened, such heat and urgency as he drew you closer until there was no space left between your bodies.

'God, you’re so tempting,' he murmured against your mouth, his skin hot against your hands. The way he looked at you — the jewel-tone of his eyes almost smouldering — made your heart race, igniting a fire deep within that had you shifting your legs uncomfortably.

You giggled softly, feeling bold and reckless, 'And you’re not helping, 'Toru.'

His lips curled into a smirk, and he captured your bottom lip between his teeth, tugging it gently before releasing it, and you taste sweet flecks on his tongue. 'Maybe I want to get you drunk on me,' he teased, his voice low, deeper as it would get when he was wanting.

You tried to snicker, in some attempt to pretend that his words had less of the effect he so desired, and were more humorous, but the dampness between your legs spoke volumes otherwise.

'Alcohol-free, remember? Some of us didn't stumble out of a bar, singing sea-shanties last week, entirely off our rockers,' you shot back, though your voice tremoured, such easy betrayal from your own body.

'And here I was thinking that Nanami was going to keep that part a secret,' Gojo grumbled, but he tangled his fingers over the nape of your neck, 'but I can still make you feel high,' Gojo challenged, his hands trailing down your sides, warm fingers skimming over your waist until they found the hem of your shirt.

With a swift motion, he lifted it, exposing your skin to the cool air, and you gasped as the chill autumn night hit your bare flesh.

You gasped, but he silenced you with another deep kiss, his tongue sliding against yours, coaxing you to open up. You melted into him, your hands tangling in his white hair, pulling him closer as you lost yourself in the taste of him — rich, sweet, and utterly addictive.

As the kiss deepened, his hands roamed further, fingers brushing against the creamy lace of your panties, teasingly close yet maddeningly far away. You could feel the heat building, desperation creeping in as he continued to explore, his touch igniting every nerve ending in your body.

'Let me,' he whispered, breaking the kiss to trail his lips down your neck. His breath was hot against your skin, and you felt your resolve melting away.

'Please, oh, Satoru!' you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper, as his teeth snuck into the soft skin over your collarbones.

With a primal growl, he swept you off your feet, carrying you to the plush couch, where he laid you down gently. Gojo knelt before you, his gaze locked onto yours, a wicked grin spreading across his face. 'You don’t know what you’re asking for.'

'Then show me,' you challenged, your heart racing with anticipation.

Gojo's slender fingers slid beneath the waistband of your panties, teasingly slow. 'You’re gonna regret this,' he said, but the rough heat in his voice told you he wanted it just as much.

As he pulled your panties down, he leaned in, his hot breath sending waves of pleasure coursing through you, even though he had barely touched you.

'You’re so beautiful, my love,' he murmured, his tongue flicking out to taste you before he dove in, his mouth enveloping you with an eagerness that made your entire body tremble.

You responded with a soft whimper, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer to the apex of your thighs.

'More,' you urged, your voice barely above a whisper. 'Please, 'Toru.' You could barely gasp out his name.

With a sly smirk, your lover pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, the cerulean of his gaze darkened. 'More, huh? You really think you can handle it? My girl's getting brave now?'

His fingers brushing against your slick folds. 'So wet for me already,' he murmured, his breath warm against your skin and it left you shaking.

With that, Gojo leaned in, his mouth finally connecting with you, once more. The warmth of his tongue sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, and you gasped, arching your back as he expertly licked and sucked, drawing soft moans from your lips.

'Just like that,' you encouraged, your fingers clawing at the fabric around you. Every flick of his tongue sent you higher, the world around you fading until it was just the two of you, lost in this intoxicating moment.

Gojo's hands gripped your thighs, holding you open as he devoured you, his eyes locked onto yours, watching the pleasure bloom on your face. 'You really do get me drunk,' he murmured between licks, and the way he said it made you smile through the haze of lust.

His mouth was a relentless wave, each flick of his tongue sending jolts of pleasure coursing through you. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the way his breath hitched every time he tasted you deeper, the way that your glittering slick coating the lower half of his face.

'Ah, Satoru!,' you gasped, your fingers tangling in his hair, urging him closer, and closer.

'Just like that,' he encouraged, his voice a low growl that vibrated against your sensitive skin, and puffy cunt. He pulled back just enough to catch your gaze, a wicked grin spreading across his face, 'Tell me how good it feels.”

Your response was a breathless whimper, the words lodged in your throat as his mouth resumed its delicious torment. Every stroke of his tongue felt like a shot of pure ecstasy, intoxicating and heady. 'I —oh my god, 'Toru!,' you managed, your back arching instinctively, desperate for more.

He chuckled into your dripping core, a dark, sultry sound that sent another wave of heat pooling in your abdomen, ready to snap and release. Gojo's hands tightened around your thighs, fingers digging into your soft skin as he feasted on you, showing no signs of slowing down.

You felt the familiar pressure building, coiling tight within you, and you instinctively lifted your hips to meet his mouth. 'I’m so close,' you breathed, your voice trembling with urgency.

'Good,' he lowly purred, his eyes glinting with mischief. 'I want to make you come apart for me.'

With that, he focused on your most sensitive spot, his tongue swirling around your swollen bud in a rhythm that drove you absolutely nuts.

The world around you faded, leaving only the sensations he was igniting within you. You were floating, lost in a whirlwind of pleasure, every lick and kiss pulling you deeper into bliss.

'Satoru, please,' you begged, the words spilling from your lips like a prayer, urging him on.

'Please what?' he teased, pulling back just enough to let you catch your breath, his lips glistening with your gloss.

'Don’t stop. I need…I need to feel you.'

He smirked, a devilish glint in his eye, before diving back in with renewed fervor. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the way he savored every moment, every taste. His determination only heightened your arousal, pushing you closer to the edge.

“C’mon, let go for me,” he murmured, the vibrations of his voice sending shockwaves straight to your core. You could barely form words, the pressure tightening with each flick of his tongue. “That’s it, just let it happen.”

With a final, exquisite stroke, the coil snapped, and pleasure surged through you, washing over you like a tidal wave. You gasped, your body trembling as you surrendered to the overwhelming bliss, your fingers clutching at him as the world exploded in colour, in shades of shimmering white snow and vibrant blues that painted the sky.

Gojo didn’t stop; he continued to lick and tease through your climax, drawing out every last shred of pleasure. You whimpered, caught between the ecstasy and the sensitivity, the sensation almost too much to bear.

As your lover finally drew back, his breath mingling with yours, you could see the satisfaction etched across his handsome features. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand, the remnants of your shared pleasure glistening on his skin, and you couldn't help but wrinkle your nose. 'You’re addictive, you know that?' he said, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, amused at your expression. You weakly chuckled, still riding the waves of bliss that washed over you, feeling both exhilarated and utterly spent.

You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, savouring the closeness. 'Maybe I should keep you around, then,' you teased, your fingertips tracing the contours of his jaw.

Gojo's eyes sparkled with mischief as he pulled you in closer, his warmth enveloping you like a soft blanket. 'Only if you promise to keep getting me drunk.'

[lowkeyhollland]

bed chem

peter parker x reader you & peter are roommates, but the absolute complete opposite of each other. or are you? chapter one <- chapter 2

It had been a week and a half since your encounter with New York’s friendly neighborhood hero. Spider-Man wasn’t really on your mind as much as classes had started and you already felt like there was so much to start on. You had also convinced yourself it was just a dream and decided not to tell the rest of your friends. 

Knowing you wouldn’t get anything done at home, you ended up at a coffee shop on campus to start on some assignments due this weekend. Though it was never like this before college, the idea of going out on the weekend is what made you stay on top of everything. It might not be the healthiest motivation, but hey, it was something. Music was blaring in your ears as you tuned out the sounds of the rest of the world, allowing the chaos of others around you to create pressure to stay on task, as anyone could see if you were off track. 

There was a shadow looming over you that made you pause your music, only to be met face-to-face with your roommate. 

“When did you get here?” It came out more rude than you intended, but you were locked in. 

“I said hi to you like ten minutes ago, got my drink, and came back. If you want to be alone that’s fine! Sorry, I tried to ask but—“Peter rambled on and on but you put a hand up to stop him. 

“No! No, it’s chill,” you reassured him. “Sorry, I get pretty passionate about color-coding my calendar.” Peter softly chuckled at the rainbow of pens scattered around the table as you gestured to your planner. 

“Surprised you’re already working so hard this early into the semester.”

“Appreciate it while it lasts. this is how I am for maybe the first month and then burnout happens before Thanksgiving break and then I lock back in by finals.” Peter couldn’t help himself but laugh again. You smiled, admiring the crinkles by his eyes when he laughed and how his brown eyes lit up— in a friendly manner, admiring him, that is. 

“So, you going home soon?” It was strange to hear Peter ask if you were going home, knowing he was referring to your shared apartment. You loved having him as a roommate, but it was still so fresh & sometimes he still felt like a stranger. 

“Yeah, probably. It’s Friday and knowing my friends, we’re gonna hit up the frats or something.” 

“Seems fun. Wanna walk back together?” You nodded and started to pack up your things before exiting the cafè. 

“You should come out with us one night,” you suggested. The brunette boy shook his head with a smile. 

“I don’t think the frats would like me showing up. Plus I’m not really the ‘going out’ type.” You didn’t respond, instead nodded along. 

Within the first few weeks of living with you, Peter had noticed you’re more of the quiet type. Despite having opposite lifestyles, the two of you were similar in other ways; very reserved when speaking about life or allowing the comfortability of silence to take over. It was never awkward between you two, well maybe the first week, but it was just how he liked it later on— comfortable. Though, that never stops him from questioning what your life was really like. 

-

You knew it was wrong but, hell, it felt so right. Your hands found their way up to the mop of curly blonde hair as you kissed him. The lights were flashing and music was blaring as your bodies moved together in sync, but it didn’t stop you from being in this moment with him. 

“Wanna take this upstairs?” He whispered into your ear sending chills down your spine. You nodded as he took your hand and led you through the crowd up to his room. 

This wasn’t the first time you’ve seen him, more like seven months with him, but not truly with him. It was almost like a routine between the two of you on nights like these; you show up at his frat, he saves the best drinks for you and your friends, and you always somehow end up tangled in him. It’s not your proudest moment every time his hands are roaming your body, making it seem like he wants you, but sometimes, it just feels so good. 

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” he groaned as he threw you onto his bed, not taking another minute to reconnect his lips with yours. All you did was hum in agreement. “Look so good in that skirt,” he mumbled against your collarbone. Just as his hand was inching up your inner thigh, a phone started ringing. 

“Shit— Nate, I’m so sorry. Just give me one sec,” you pulled away from him and he rolled onto the bed and laid down next to you as you answered the call. He left wet kisses on your inner thigh and you played with his hair while talking to your friend. After the call, you threw your phone onto the bed and laid back, allowing the pillows to engulf you. 

“Everything alright?” He asked, his voice tender. 

“I gotta go— Madi’s fucked up.” Nate pouted and tried to kiss you to stay, but you shook your head and pushed him away. “I’m so drunk that if you do that I might actually stay.”

“Maybe that’s the plan,” he nuzzled his head into your neck & wrapped his arms around your waist. It was moments like this that made you want to stay around, that made every memory between the two of you worth it despite the loneliness you felt around him. “Hey, take one more shot with me? Before you go?” He took out a bottle of soju. you playfully rolled your eyes before taking the bottle from him. 

“You know I can’t say no to this shit,” you giggled as you took a swig from it. 

“We still on for Monday?” Nate asked. butterflies erupted in your stomach as they always do when you get to see him outside of a party setting. 

“Yeah! Wait, what’s Monday again?” Your words slurred together as you stared into his green eyes. 

“I need help on a paper.” Those butterflies died in your stomach.

“Right… yeah. Just text me,” You gathered your things and tied your converse. He slipped off the bed and grabbed your face, kissing you one last time. 

“I’ll see ya.” That was all Nate said. 

Those three words haunted you on the way back to everyone’s apartments. There was no sympathy for your friends or concern if you would get home safe. You felt that last shot of soju really hit as you stumbled into your apartment. Mumbling a few curse words, you hoped & prayed you didn’t wake up Peter. 

Not having the energy, you kicked off your sneakers and fell onto your bed, telling yourself you’ll get ready to sleep soon. The world was still spinning even when you closed your eyes to let the darkness take over. You started to think about everything between you and Nate, if there would ever be you and him. 

Tap, tap, tap

Your eyebrows furrowed together, but you brushed off the sound, assuming it was just your drunken state of mind. The tapping got louder and it was starting to give you a headache. Giving in to the noises, you slowly got up and turned towards the window.

“Spider-man?!” You almost yelled in shock.

“Hey…”

chapter one <-

[stylesonfilms]

ink & innocence - 11

word count: 6.9k

heres the awaited update!! i got in at 2 am and have been working on it since, its 5:30 am now!! hope u enjoy!

When the semester started back up again, Aspen found herself buried under the weight of her new workload. Classes demanded more than she expected, and the long hours spent poring over textbooks and notes left little room for herself, let alone time to see Harry. She felt like her world had shifted entirely to the library or her desk at home, where assignments piled up faster than she could cross them off.

That also meant she saw less of Harry. Each day that passed without seeing him seemed to stretch longer, her thoughts lingering on him more than she wanted to admit. She hated how easily she could recall the feeling of his hands brushing her skin or the way his lips curved when he smiled—how that smile seemed reserved just for her. By now, Isobel was well in tune with what was happening between them. Though nothing had been made official, it was clear there was something brewing. Aspen occasionally found herself at Harry's place, sneaking in fleeting kisses that inevitably stretched into hours tangled on his couch, her cheeks flushed pink by the time she was dropped off at home.

On Harry's end, things weren’t much different. Niall and Zayn remained blissfully unaware—or at least pretended to be. They hadn’t pressed him about it, though Harry suspected they had their suspicions. Still, he wasn’t one to share personal details, and his feelings for Aspen were something he preferred to keep tucked away, both in his mind and on the pages of his journal. Each time he wrote about her, his handwriting grew messier, betraying the restless emotions he wasn’t used to feeling.

As more days passed, Harry found himself thinking about her more frequently. The texts they exchanged helped fill the void, but it wasn’t enough. They spoke throughout the day—small updates, silly jokes, and the occasional goodnight text—but nothing could compare to having her close. He missed the way she fit perfectly against him, the soft curve of her smile, and how her shy laughter sounded like a melody he never wanted to end.

Aspen wasn’t immune to her distractions either. During lectures, her mind wandered far too often. A professor could be explaining a complex derivative, and she’d find herself remembering the way Harry’s arms tightened around her waist as he kissed her. Even mundane tasks like shelving books became harder to focus on, as her thoughts drifted to the warmth of his green-eyed gaze or the way his rough fingers brushed against her softer skin.

Finally, the week ended, and Aspen was blessed with the rare gift of a completely free weekend. No homework loomed over her, no shifts were scheduled, and for once, no tests needed studying. During her last lecture of the day, she realized her upcoming freedom and quickly texted Harry:

Aspen: mmmhm! i’m free i’m freeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Harry’s lips quirked up into a soft smile when he read her text, his green eyes briefly glancing around the empty shop before he typed his reply:

Harry: Let me pick you up from the library today? I’ll be done here at five.

Aspen: yes! i promised marion that i would shelf some books before i take off for the weekend. can you wait a few mins?

Harry: Anything for you, sun.

Harry clicked his phone shut and slipped it into the back pocket of his black skinny jeans, the faintest smile still lingering on his face. He turned to the sink, scrubbing his hands clean, the soap foaming white under the running water. After drying them off, he snapped on a fresh pair of nitrile gloves and turned his attention back to the supplies on the metal tray in front of him. "Alright, Z. You ready?"

Zayn grinned, his excitement evident even as he settled into the chair. Harry’s eyes flicked to the reference papers Zayn had brought in—designs inspired by Isobel’s lipstick marks on scraps of paper. Zayn had teased Harry relentlessly while they worked on the design, but Harry had focused, sketching until they both agreed on a final concept: a kiss print nestled between a pair of delicately detailed angel wings.

The machine buzzed softly as Harry began the work, his gloved hand steady as he guided the needle. He paused frequently to clean the area, ensuring the lines stayed sharp and smooth. Zayn’s chatter filled the space as Harry worked, but his mind occasionally wandered to Aspen. Would she still be shelving books when he arrived? Would she smile shyly when she saw him, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear like she always did when she was nervous?

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

By the time Harry arrived at the library, the sun had set, casting long shadows across the building's entrance. He pushed the door open, the soft chime signaling his arrival. His eyes scanned the quiet room, landing almost immediately on Aspen. She was behind the library desk, her head bent over a stack of returns. A stray strand of hair fell across her face as she worked, and he watched as she tucked it behind her ear absentmindedly.

She didn’t notice him at first, too engrossed in her task. He leaned against the counter, his lips twitching into a faint smile. “Busy night?”

Her head shot up, her wide eyes softening as they locked onto his familiar figure, and a soft smile curved her lips. “Harry,” she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper, carrying just enough warmth to melt through the quiet buzz of the library. For a brief moment, she was struck by the urge to stretch across the counter, her arms aching to wrap around him, to pull him close and feel the comfort she missed in the weeks they’d been apart. But the soft murmur of voices and the rustling of pages around them made her pause, grounding her in the present. Instead, she offered him a shy smile, the kind that made her eyes dart to the side in nervousness before finding their way back to him.

"Hey, doll. Wha's that you're workin' on?" Harry nudged his head toward the stack of books, his voice smooth yet laced with curiosity. His keys spun lazily around his finger, the metallic jingling matching the calm cadence of his words. Though his eyes lingered on her, intent and focused, he allowed them to flick briefly to the stack of books as she explained her task—returns that needed scanning and shelving before she could call it a day.

“Would y'like some help?”

The question caught Aspen off guard. She blinked up at him, the thought of Harry offering to help with something so mundane leaving her a little flustered. She’d expected him to wait patiently in the car, maybe scrolling through his phone or listening to music until she was done. But instead, here he was, standing in front of her with an earnest expression that made her heart flutter unexpectedly. Her mind stuttered to process, and her response stumbled out, shy and small. “Y-yes, please. If you’d like to.”

Harry gave a small nod, slipping his keys into the pocket of his black skinny jeans. His footsteps were confident as he walked around the counter, his tall frame effortlessly commanding the space. “Alright,” he said with a crooked smile, “where d’you want me? What should I do?”

Kiss me, she thought instinctively, the boldness of her unspoken desire catching her off guard. Her cheeks flushed a deep pink as she scrambled to push the thought away, acutely aware of how it made her feel vulnerable and exposed. Aspen had always carried this strange belief that her thoughts could somehow be read by the people around her, and with Harry standing so close, she feared her reaction was written all over her face.

“J-just help me push around the cart? Is that okay?” Her voice wavered slightly as she gestured to the metal cart, hastily piling books onto it after scanning them into the system. From the corner of her eye, she noticed how his hands wrapped firmly around the cart’s handle, the muscles in his forearms flexing subtly under the grip. Her focus wavered again, and she moved with a newfound determination, trying her best to finish quickly so he wouldn’t have to wait too long.

After a few minutes, Aspen led the way down the aisles, her steps light but purposeful as Harry followed close behind, pushing the cart with ease. They stopped in the non-fiction section, where she reached for three thick Chemistry 10 textbooks. Balancing them in her arms, she stretched onto her tiptoes, her tongue peeking out at the corner of her lips as she tried to reach the top shelf.

Before she could place the books, she felt Harry’s hands gently settle on her hips, grounding her with a soft but steady pressure. “Here, let me,” he murmured, his voice low and close to her ear. Aspen froze, her heart thudding in her chest as he took the books from her hands, his fingers brushing against hers for the briefest moment. With an effortless reach, he slotted the books into their rightful place on the shelf, the motion fluid and precise.

“There we are,” Harry hummed, his voice warm with satisfaction as his hands returned to her hips. His touch lingered, his thumbs tracing faint circles against the fabric of her leggings. Aspen felt her breath catch as he shifted slightly closer, his presence wrapping around her like a comforting weight.

He scanned their surroundings quickly, his green eyes sweeping over the quiet aisles until he was sure they were alone. Satisfied, he ducked his head, his breath warm against the shell of her ear as he inhaled the soft, familiar scent that had stayed with him for days. “Can I kiss you?” he muttered, his voice barely audible, a husky whisper laced with a longing that sent a shiver down her spine. His thumbs pressed a little deeper into her hips, grounding her while his words made her head spin.

Aspen took a sharp breath, the heat rushing to her cheeks like a tidal wave. Her lips parted, but only a soft squeak escaped, her nervousness bubbling over. “H-Harry,” she stammered, her hands trembling slightly as they reached up to cover his, pulling them away gently so she could turn to face him. Her wide eyes met his, the emotions swirling in his gaze making her heart race even faster.

“Not here, okay?” she whispered, her voice steady despite the blush staining her cheeks. “Is that okay?”

Harry stared at her for a moment, the intensity in his gaze softening into something more tender. He nodded, his lips curving into a faint smile as he brought her hand to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles. “Of course, love. My apologies.”

Though he stepped back slightly, the weight of his words and the warmth of his touch lingered between them, leaving Aspen feeling a strange mix of relief and anticipation.

They continued about their day, Harry kissing over her knuckles or a kiss to the top of her head before he helped her reach the higher shelves. God, how he wanted to actually kiss her pained him. It only took another ten minutes, if that, before Aspen was slinging her totebag over her shoulders and bidding a good weekend to Marion. When she appeared out of the back room, Harry looked up from his phone, locking it and tucking it back into his pocket while he stood up. "Y'ready?" He asked, holding his hand out for her to take it. The familiar feeling that he missed of her fingers curling around his warmed up his hand, and he pulled her a bit closer as they walked out. 

Harry opened the passenger door with his usual care, stepping aside to let Aspen climb into the car. The cold night air bit at her skin as she slid into the seat, grateful to escape its grasp. The interior of the car was still chilly, but not nearly as bitter as outside. She shivered lightly, clutching the ends of her off-the-shoulder long sleeve, the thin material doing little to combat the weather. The fabric clung to her figure, and her flared leggings offered minimal warmth against the evening breeze.

As she clicked her seatbelt into place, the driver’s side door opened, and Harry climbed in, his presence immediately warming the space. The familiar sound of the engine hummed to life, quickly followed by a rush of heat from the vents. Aspen instinctively held her hands over them, sighing contently as the warm air washed over her chilled fingers and spread through her body.

Harry chuckled softly at her small gesture, the sound low and comforting, as he reached for his seatbelt. "Cold, huh?" he teased, his emerald eyes flicking over to her with a glimmer of amusement.

“Freezing,” Aspen replied, her voice muffled slightly as she kept her face near the vents, soaking in the much-needed warmth.

It had become their unspoken routine whenever Aspen rode in Harry’s car. As the warmth filled the space, his hand naturally found its place on her leg, just above her knee. His thumb began its familiar rhythm, tracing lazy, thoughtless shapes into the fabric of her leggings. The small motion sent a ripple of comfort through her. Occasionally, Aspen would place her hand over his, her fingers playing idly with the silver rings that adorned them, twisting each one gently as though committing them to memory.

She could feel his gaze lingering on her, and after a moment, her shy eyes flitted toward him. His intense stare caught her off guard, and she noticed the car hadn't moved despite the engine purring for the past few minutes. “Is something wrong?” she asked, her brows knitting together in curiosity. A small, playful pout tugged at her lips, an expression that made Harry’s heart stutter.

His eyes dropped briefly to her lips before rising to meet her wide, questioning gaze. “I jus’ really want t’kiss you. Can I?” His voice was soft but deliberate, holding a vulnerability that made Aspen’s cheeks flush instantly.

Her heart fluttered wildly at his words, and she turned instinctively toward the library entrance. A stream of people had begun flooding the parking lot, their chatter and footsteps filling the night air. She hesitated, her eyes darting back to Harry’s as the blush on her cheeks deepened.

Sensing her apprehension, Harry gave her knee a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay, Asp,” he murmured, his tone warm and grounding. “You can always tell me no, and I’ll listen. I want what you want.”

Her chest swelled at his words, the sincerity in his gaze making her stomach twist in that all-too-familiar way. Aspen hesitated for a beat longer before leaning forward slightly, her lips parting with a soft, almost timid, “Okay.”

Harry’s smile was slow and tender, his hand sliding slightly higher on her thigh as he leaned across the console. His lips met hers cheek gently, placing a lingering kiss that made her feel relaxed. It wasn’t rushed or demanding; it was patient and deliberate, as though he was savoring every second of it.

When he pulled away, Aspen blinked up at him, her cheeks glowing with a mix of cold and warmth. “I missed you,” she admitted softly, the confession slipping out before she could stop it.

Harry chuckled, his thumb brushing lightly over her cheek. “Missed you too, sun,” he murmured.

Before they could linger too long in the moment, Aspen’s phone buzzed in her bag. She fished it out, squinting at the screen. “It’s Isobel,” she said, reading the message. “She’s staying with Zayn tonight.”

Harry arched a brow, leaning back in his seat as he shifted the car into reverse. “Guess that means I’m takin’ you home,” he said, his tone laced with a teasing suggestion which made Aspen shy herself into her seat.

The ride to Harry’s apartment was quiet but comfortable, filled with soft music and the warmth of stolen glances. When they arrived, Harry parked and walked Aspen up to his door, his hand lightly resting on the small of her back. He unlocked the door and stepped aside, letting her enter first.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he said, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it onto a chair. “I’ll order us some takeout. Any requests?”

Aspen wandered into the living room, setting her bag down by the couch as she took in the familiar space. It smelled like him—clean and musky, with a hint of something spicy lingering in the air. “Anything’s fine,” she replied, her voice soft as she perched on the edge of the couch.

Harry nodded, pulling out his phone as he leaned against the counter. “Alright. We’ll get somethin’ good. Y'can pick a movie if y’want.”

Aspen smiled to herself, feeling the ease of their dynamic settle back into place as she began scrolling through his neatly organized stack of DVDs. The titles were meticulously arranged alphabetically, a detail she found both endearing and amusing given the casual chaos of the rest of his apartment. Her fingers lingered over the cases, occasionally pulling one halfway out to examine the cover before tucking it back in its spot. She eventually decided on The Aristocats, a classic that sparked a nostalgic warmth in her chest. After slipping the disc into the DVD player and clicking the TV on, she turned toward the couch, her eyes following Harry shyly as he emerged from the kitchen, balancing two steaming mugs in his hands.

He set the mugs down on the coffee table, his gaze catching hers briefly with a teasing smile before he took his seat. Jasper, his sleek black cat, wasted no time weaving between their legs, his silky fur brushing against their ankles as he meowed insistently. Aspen reached down to scoop the demanding feline into her lap, the soft weight of him grounding her as she dug her fingers into his fur, earning a satisfied purr.

Harry leaned back into the couch, his posture relaxed yet commanding as his arms draped across the backrest. His gaze flicked between Aspen and Jasper, his lips quirking in a way that made his dimples deepen. She didn’t notice at first, too focused on the rhythmic motion of her hand stroking the cat, but the growing smirk on his face was hard to miss.

"What’s so funny?" she huffed, her brows knitting together as she squinted up at him. Her hands didn’t pause in their ministrations, much to Jasper’s delight, his purrs growing louder.

Harry’s grin widened, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "You’re jus’... I guess you could say you’re playing with a pussy on my co—"

"Harry!" Aspen squealed, cutting him off as she lunged forward to slap her hand over his mouth. Her cheeks burned an intense red, the heat crawling up to the tips of her ears. Harry’s laugh vibrated against her palm, his amusement muffled but unmistakable.

He peeled her hand away gently, his dimples on full display as he tossed his hands up in mock surrender. "What? It was funny," he defended, his voice laced with unrepentant laughter.

Aspen glared half-heartedly at him, though the corners of her mouth twitched as if fighting off a smile. "You’re impossible," she grumbled, tucking her legs beneath her and pulling a throw pillow into her lap as if to shield herself from further embarrassment. She turned away, releasing Jasper from her lap with a huff, the cat hopping gracefully to the floor and padding away in search of a quieter corner. "Sorry, your dad ruined the moment," she muttered under her breath, her tone laced with mock indignation.

Harry chuckled again, the sound low and warm as he scooted closer. "C'mere, baby," he murmured, his voice softening as he reached out to tap her shoulder. His tone held a gentleness that made her heart skip, and before she could protest, he took her hand and helped her to her feet.

The movement was brief, just enough for him to guide her down onto the couch beside him, her body instinctively leaning into his as he tucked her against his side. His arm curled around her, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder as his fingers traced absentminded patterns against the fabric of her shirt.

Harry’s nose buried into her hair, and he inhaled softly, his lips brushing against her temple. The faint scent of her shampoo, a delicate mix of vanilla and something floral, lingered in the air between them. "You smell amazing," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, sending a shiver down her spine.

Aspen felt her cheeks heat again, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she let herself sink into the comfort of his embrace, her hands resting lightly against his chest. The movie played on in the background, the familiar animation and soft melodies creating a cocoon of warmth around them.

Harry nestled another kiss to her temple, lingering just long enough for her to feel the subtle press of his lips before he turned his attention back to the screen. His thumb continued its soothing motion against her arm, and Aspen let out a quiet sigh, her earlier embarrassment melting away into a quiet, contented calm.

The knock on the door pulled them both from their quiet comfort. Jasper darted off Aspen’s feet at the sound, his tail flicking in mild annoyance as he trotted toward the hallway. Harry gently untangled himself from her and stood, stretching briefly before heading to the door.

“Chinese is here,” he called over his shoulder, tossing her a quick grin as he grabbed his wallet from the counter. Aspen adjusted her position on the couch, her legs curling beneath her as she watched him exchange pleasantries with the delivery person.

When Harry returned, he carried the brown paper bag in one hand, the smell of sweet and savory spices wafting through the room. “Smells good, doesn’t it?” he said, setting the bag on the coffee table and pulling out the containers.

Aspen nodded eagerly, her stomach growling at the sight. “It smells amazing. What did you get?”

“Couple of m'favorites—orange chicken, beef lo mein, and dumplings. Thought we could share.” He shot her a wink as he grabbed two sets of chopsticks from the bag, handing one to her.

Aspen opened the container of orange chicken first, the steam rising as she took her first bite. “Mmm,” she hummed, covering her mouth with her hand. “This is so good. You’re officially in charge of ordering takeout from now on.”

Harry smirked, his eyes flickering toward her as he took a bite of lo mein. “That right? Guess I’ll have to keep impressin’ you, huh?”

Their banter continued as they ate, the movie playing softly in the background. Every so often, Harry reached over with his chopsticks to steal a bite from her container, earning a mock glare from Aspen. She retaliated by snatching one of his dumplings, popping it into her mouth with a triumphant smile.

“You’re trouble, you know that?” he teased, his voice warm and low.

Aspen shrugged innocently, wiping her mouth with a napkin. “You started it.”

As the movie played on, they settled further into the couch, their containers now abandoned on the coffee table, save for a few leftover bites. Harry stretched his arm along the back of the couch again, pulling Aspen closer until she was nestled against his side.

“Comfortable?” he murmured, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on her shoulder.

She nodded, her cheek pressing against his chest. “Very,” she whispered, her voice laced with contentment.

Time seemed to slow as they sank into the moment. The warmth of Harry’s body against hers, the quiet hum of the movie, and the faint aroma of takeout lingering in the air made everything feel soft and surreal.

As the movie neared its end, Harry’s gaze drifted from the screen to Aspen. Her focus remained on the animated cats dancing across the screen, her lips curved into a faint smile. He couldn’t help but marvel at her—the way her hair framed her face, the way her glasses slid slightly down her nose, and the way her fingers absently played with the hem of her sleeve.

“You’re beautiful, y’know that?” he murmured, his voice cutting through the quiet.

Aspen blinked, her head tilting up to look at him. The blush that colored her cheeks was immediate, her lips parting in surprise. “Harry...”

“I mean it,” he said, his green eyes locking onto hers. His hand cupped her cheek gently, his thumb brushing over her flushed skin. “You’re so beautiful, Aspen.”

She swallowed hard, her heart racing as she searched his face. The sincerity in his gaze made her chest tighten in the best possible way. “Thank you,” she whispered, leaning into his touch.

Harry’s lips curved into a soft smile, and he pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. “Anytime, love.”

Hearing words like that from Harry, her big, intimidating, scary Harry, made her stomach fill with butterflies she could never had imagined herself having.

They returned their attention to the movie, though the atmosphere between them had shifted slightly, the air tinged with something deeper. As the final few scenes played out, Harry’s arm tightened around her, and Aspen felt a warmth bloom in her chest that rivaled anything she’d ever felt before.

Harry ended up nudging Aspen slightly, his shoulder bumping her up. The girl looked up, tilting her head as if to ask him 'what?' He hummed, the arm not wrapped around her shoulders went to rest on her knee once again. He gave it a gentle squeeze. "I haven't kissed you all day t'day," He mumbled. Before she could open her mouth to speak, he sighed softly. "Can I please kiss you? Please?"

Aspen blinked up at him, her cheeks aflame as his words lingered in the air. "Y-you’re... you’re too much," she mumbled, ducking her head in an attempt to hide behind the curtain of her hair. Her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her sweater, twisting it nervously as she peeked at him from beneath her lashes.

Harry, however, wasn’t about to let her retreat. "Too much?" he repeated, his voice full of mock offense but underlined with a genuine softness. He leaned closer, dipping his head to catch her eyes. "No, love, you’ve got it all wrong," His thick voice muttered, "I’m just the right amount when it comes to you."

Aspen’s lips parted as though she wanted to reply, but her voice failed her, the words getting stuck in her throat. Instead, she shrank further into herself, her shy demeanor only making Harry’s heart ache in the best possible way.

"You don’t believe me, d'you?" Harry pressed, his thumb brushing her cheek gently. "Alright, I’ll prove it. You’re the one thing I can’t stop thinking about. I wake up wishing you were next to me. I go to sleep kicking myself for not being braver with you. You’re in m'sketchbook, my bloody head, everywhere, Aspen. And ’s torture. Possibly the best damn kind."

Aspen’s breath hitched, her wide eyes darting to meet his as her blush deepened. "I-I don’t know what to say," she whispered, her voice so quiet it barely reached him.

Harry gave a self-deprecating laugh, running his free hand through his hair before letting it rest over his heart. "You don’t have to say anything. Just—just let me show you, yeah? Give me a chance to kiss you again. I’ll even beg, if that’s what it takes." His lips curved into a small, pleading smile, his dimples making a faint feature as he dipped his head closer.

"Harry, I..." Aspen trailed off, her fingers trembling as she clutched at the edge of her sweater.

"Please, love," he whispered, the desperation in his voice both playful and painfully sincere. He brought her hand up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. "I’ve missed you too much. One more kiss. Just one. I swear I’ll behave after that."

Aspen’s gaze flickered between his earnest expression and the way his thumb traced over her hand. Her heart pounded as she struggled to form a coherent thought. Finally, she gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

His furrowed brows relaxed with a content sigh, his tongue poking out to wet his lips slightly as he moved impossibly closer. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he cradled her face in his hands. His lips brushed hers so softly, it was as though he was savoring every second, committing the moment to memory. 

Harry didn’t waste a second. His hand tilted her chin up as he closed the distance, his lips brushing against hers in a kiss that started tender but quickly grew more urgent. It wasn’t just a kiss; it was a pouring out of everything he’d been holding back—the longing, the adoration, the quiet ache he felt every time he looked at her and couldn’t have her close enough.

Aspen responded hesitantly at first, her hands finding their way to his chest, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. But as Harry’s lips moved against hers, slow yet deliberate, she melted into him completely.

This time, Aspen didn’t pull back in hesitation. Instead, she let herself fall into the kiss, her hands resting timidly on his chest as his warmth surrounded her. Harry groaned softly against her lips, his thumb caressing her cheek as he deepened the kiss just enough to make her knees feel weak, even while seated. His tongue swiped over her bottom lip carefully, but before she could let him in, he pulled back.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against hers, his voice was a breathless whisper. "You have no idea how much I needed that. You’re gonna ruin me, doll. Completely ruin me."

Aspen’s shy giggle broke the moment, her cheeks still rosy as she looked down at her lap. 

 "C'mere," he pulled his arm from over her and helped pull her to sit straddled on his lap. "We won't go anywhere you aren't ready to go, okay? I jus' want t'kiss you some more. Can I do that? Can you sit on m'lap and be my good girl?"

Aspen's breath hitched in her throat at his last question. Nervously, she nodded while her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt that fell above his shoulders. Pleased with her answer, Harry flashed a small smile while one of his hands snaked to cup her jaw, tilting her head down. 

Their lips connected at a slow pace first, Harry being careful and letting her adjust to their new seating arrangement. After a couple of slow kisses, their heads tilted to deepen their shared kiss. Harry wasted no time in swiping his tongue along her bottom lip and taking advantage of the warm invitation. Once their flow was found, his hands went back to their place on the curve of her hips. He loved when she wore leggings, it was the closest he could get to feeling her-- the thinnest material aside from her jeans and sweats that she occasionally wore. 

Aspens tongue shyly twisted around Harrys. His lead was easy to follow, the messy movements still clean and sent chills down her spine. Her hands rested on his strong shoulders, feeling the occasional flex in his neck when he leaned in further to kiss her or when he tilted his head to deepen their kiss. 

Soon, his lips made their way from her lips to her cheek. He was slow, careful with the areas he planted his kisses. "Can I..." Harry’s voice was low, rough with desire as his hand moved to rest at the curve of her shoulder and neck, his thumb tracing gentle circles on her skin. "Can I kiss you here?"

Her heart raced at the question, her mind spinning as she weighed the request. Harry had always been so respectful, so careful, never pushing her beyond her comfort zone. The warmth in his gaze made her feel safe, like she could trust him with every vulnerable part of herself.

"Y-yes," she squeaked, the word barely audible as her teeth caught her bottom lip nervously.

Harry’s eyes darkened at the sight, a deep sigh escaping him as his thumb gently pulled her lip free. "God..." His voice was little more than a murmur before he leaned in to capture her lips in another kiss, slow and deliberate.

Harry took her chin between the bent of his index finger and thumb, his finger slowly pulling her bottom lip from her teeth so he could capture it in a softer kiss. He let her get warmed up once again, the hand on her hip slowly inching up to the hem of her shirt. Harrys hand was half under the thin material when his lips began to trail from her lips to her jaw.

His kisses were slow and lingered for specks of a moment. He carried his wet and warm kisses towards her pulse point. His plump red lips dragged lazily yet intentionally along her warm skin. Aspen tilted her head to the side for him to allow more access. 

His lips moved from hers to her jaw, then down the column of her neck, each kiss lingering just long enough to make her skin tingle. Aspen’s hands gripped his shoulders tighter, her breath hitching as his kisses grew more deliberate. When his lips brushed a particularly sensitive spot near her pulse point, a soft sound escaped her lips before she could stop it.

Harry smirked against her skin, his hands tightening slightly on her hips in response. "There we go," he murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction as he pressed another kiss to the spot that had drawn her reaction.

Harry trailed his lingering kisses back up to her lips to capture them in another deep kiss. His hand was now fully tucked under her shirt, his ring clad hand flush against her bare waist. He gave a firm yet gentle squeeze and pulled her closer, his other hand dropping to do the same. When he pulled away, he pecked her lips and then nose with a small smile breaking through his lips. She would never get tired of seeing it on him.

His hands slipped beneath the hem of her shirt, the cool metal of his rings brushing against her warm skin as his palms splayed against her waist. He pulled her closer, his fingers flexing slightly as if trying to memorize the feel of her.

Harry pulled back just enough to press a quick kiss to the tip of her nose, a soft smile spreading across his lips. "How was that, baby?" His pupils had been blown and his lips carried a red tint as well as the same wet sheen she was sure to have on her lips as well. She nodded carefully and swallowed lightly. "I-It was good." Harry gave a content hum, asking her again. "Did you like it? Did y'like what I did?" 

"I.. I did." With another inhale, Aspen felt a rush of bravery. Maybe it was because it was just Harry and her now, but she pushed the words out before she succummed to her shyness again. "Is it okay if I.. if I try?" Her eyes pleaded with his to understand what she meant without having to say it.

Harry was quick to catch on, his furrowed brows easing into another look. One that made Aspens stomach curl. He nodded and exhaled deeply through his nose, his thumbs brushing against her bare skin under her shirt. "Yeah? You want to do that f'me?" Harry sat up a bit more, adjusting the girl on his lap so she could be more comfortable. 

It wasn't long until their lips were locked again. She truly would never get over kissing Harry, the girl thought. Something about him was so addictive. She didn't have anything or anyone to compare it to but she knew whatever he made her feel was a hundred times better compared to whatever else was out in the world, and that she never needed to find out what came close to his competition because all she needed was him.

Her hands gently brushed up his neck and towards the back to thread through the curls at the base of his neck. She tried her best to follow Harrys actions from her hazy memory. She let a soft giggle slip past her lips when Harrys hands brushed up against her sides in a ticklish manner before he planted them back onto her body. She dragged her lips like Harry did to her along his jaw and down the side of his neck. She kissed at his skin nice and slow with open kisses, allowing the warmth to close against his skin before she made her way down and around with more. 

Aspens hands slid down to his shoulders and he let out a soft groan of approval. His head was now leaned back to allow Aspen more space. She had to be heaven sent with the way these things came so naturally to her. His tongue wet his lips again, brushing along the metal lip ring.

Aspen hesitated for only a moment before leaning in, her lips finding his in a kiss that was hesitant but full of intent. Her fingers brushed against his neck before sliding up into the soft curls at the nape, earning a soft groan from Harry as he let her take the lead.

"Tha’s it, baby," he murmured against her lips, his hands guiding her hips gently. "You’re doing s'good. Feels so good." Harry's last words came out in a content sigh, gulping around the air to ease his dry mouth. There was no way she was this good. Or maybe it was just something about Aspen. Or both.

Aspen’s kisses grew braver as she followed his earlier movements, trailing soft, open-mouthed kisses along his jaw and down the side of his neck. Her heart pounded as she felt his breath hitch, his hands gripping her waist more firmly in encouragement.

"Swear you’re gonna be the end of me, Asp," Harry groaned, his head tilting back as her lips worked against his skin. His voice was rough, his words laced with a mixture of awe and disbelief. The cool air brushed along his damp neck while he pressed their lips together once again, a new need present. His hands squeezed her bare waist in approval before one of his hands slipped out to cup her chin and pull her away from his neck to tangle their tongues once more. 

Something about her bravery to do something like that back to him caused a shift in his hips. What he didn't expect was to Aspen shift her hips as well. He knew it was so she could adjust and get closer, but that didn't matter at all when he felt himself twitch in his jeans. He pulled away with a small gasp of air, his thumb back on her wet bottom lip. Harry's hand stilled her hips, swallowing slowly.

"Jesus, Asp. What the fuck."

Aspen tilted her head as she looked into his eyes through her lashes once more, her doe eyes taking form as if to question him. "Did.. did I mess up?"

Harry only groaned. "Fuck no." His green eyes, filled with need for the girl, scanned over her face once more. Her red cheeks were replaced with a more flustered look and her eyes had softened. Her lips became slick with spit over the red they wore from all the kissing they had done. 

"You jus' have no idea what you do t'me."

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Aspen's soft eyes blinked to fight away the blazing sun through the crack in the curtain. Her arms reached out to stretch her small frame, her body going limp and falling further into the mattress once her body relaxed. Her eyes remained closed until she heard soft footsteps making their way closer. A small knock came on the door before it clicked open. Aspen rubbed the sleep from her eyes, sitting up slightly. When she fluttered her eyes back to normal, she saw Harry. 

A small smile fit on her face. "Hi," she muttered, sleep still heavy on her voice. She didn't even remember falling asleep. The last thing she really remembered was tucking herself back into Harry's warm side after her stomach filled with butterflies from his praises on how good she did for him.

"Good morning, sun," Harry leaned down to press a small kiss to her head. He sat down in front of her on his bed, admiring her sleepy state. He took note of her furrowed brows, which usually meant she was a little confused. Harry never minded explaining things to her.

"You fell asleep during Lady and the Tramp. So I took you up here to sleep. I took the couch," He told her, his fingers coming to adjust the metal ring looped through his lip. "You just looked so peaceful, so I didn't want to wake you to take you home. If you want me to next time, I--."

Aspen cut him off with a little giggle and a shake of her head. "No, no this was great. Thank you. Your bed is sooo comfy," Aspen sighed contently and fell back into it which drew a small chuckle from Harry. 

He looked not like he had just woken up, but he didn't look ready for anything either. He was in a simple pair of black sweats and a loose white tee, his curls brushed back and a new coat of black nail polish on his hands.

He had woken up around eight, whereas Aspen woke up closer to nine thirty. So, while he waited and gave her space, he decided to busy himself with a shower and redid his nails. He eventually got bored and wandered his way back to Aspen, who he checked on about five times since he woke up, and to his luck, she had been awake this time. 

"Alright, sugar. C'mon and get up. Let's get you home before Isobel calls."

And just on cue, Aspen's phone rang to life with Isobel's contact name and photo flashing across her screen on Harry's bedside table.

Gosh dang it, Aspen thought to herself. Could Zayn really not have tired her out some more so she could sleep in? Aspen was in for a loooong day with Isobel. 

Harry only snickered, tossing his hands up in innocence. She only shot a playful glare before answering the dreaded call.

[runa-falls]

the love bite - steven

pairing: steven grant x reader (what's new)

warnings: biting (lol), physical hurt/comfort, FLUFF, unhinged!reader, sub-ish!steven [I CAN'T HELP IT OK], small reference to the boys' past/their job, a bit suggestive but not explicit!

a/n: blaming @whatthefishh for this thot after the comment on the flowers fic about wanting to bite him i had to write. and @leoluved for encouraging me to write this instead of my wips -- hehe :3

prompt (by me): i wonder how steven would react to the reader just biting him out of love...

w/c: ~800

masterlist

---

With Steven, the initial chomp would happen during a normal hangout with each other. 

Like you'd both just be chilling, sprawled out on the couch, with the tv droning in the background:

You love these moments with Steven. The unspoken acknowledgment that you are both pretending to watch what's on when really you're just sinking into each other's touch, enjoying each other's company.

Soft, lazy days like this have become increasingly rare as Konshu has Marc sent out on missions in the States every few weeks. You don't blame them. You could never blame them. You just miss them.

Steven is snuggled right behind you, a sweater-clad arm securely wrapped over your shoulder to keep you close to his body. He sighs softly into your hair, wishing to just lay here, legs tangled with yours forever.

He doesn't notice or care that his oversized sleeve bunches at his elbow as he repositions himself behind you, but your eyes instantly catch onto his revealed forearm, tan and strong, but relaxed, resting right above your chest.

Sometimes you forget how strong your boyfriends are, how they can handle you with such care, touches as light as a feather when all they've known in their life is pain.

Steven settles closer to you, face nuzzled against your shoulder, subtly breathing you in with a soft sigh. His warmth soaks into your back, surrounding you with undeniable comfort. You look down at his arm with interest in your eyes, teeth gnawing at your bottom lip.

Suddenly you have this urge, this impulsive thought to just --

Steven chokes out a high-pitched yelp.

"HEY!" He’s barely able to process what happened as he swipes his arm away from your mouth. "W-what was that for?" He stares at you with furrowed brows while his other arm slips out from under you to rub at the fresh bite mark on his arm.

You sit up a little, eyes trained on the indents as his fingers gently swipe over them. Pretty. You didn't bite hard so they're quite faint, but you can still make out your bite pattern. 

You bite the inside of your cheek, "I dunno." 

It sounded dumb coming out of your mouth, but you really can't explain why you did it. You just needed to. Something about his softness and the pure affection you hold for him compelled you to bite him…and you kind of want to do it again.

Your hand darts out and you try to tug his arm closer, but he struggles against you, no longer trusting his limbs anywhere close to your mouth. He whimpers softly when you tug harder, trying to resist your eager grip.

“What d’you mean ‘I don’t know’?!” His arm is immovable, but you keep pulling at him. “You bit me!” 

When he pulls away from your body, attempting to push himself up to a seated position, you huff in frustration and yank him back. He falls back with a squeak and you hold him close, leaning in instead of pulling him in this time.

You brush your lips against his warm skin, hovering right over the last bite and he relaxes a bit, believing you’d soothe the bite with a kiss as an apology. But you don’t. 

It’s less aggressive this time around. Less of a bite and more of a nibble. 

He tenses at first, instinctively wanting to draw away from you, but as you gently suckle and lick at him, he starts to settle against you, seeing as you mean him no harm. 

“I-I still don’t get it.” He peers down at you as you leave soft marks along his arm, “What – Why are you doing this?” 

You sigh, “Steven…just let it happen.” 

“Um, ok.” 

—

Since that initial bite, your lips have made their way around his body, taking time to show every inch of him some love and affection. He’s littered with love bites and phantom kisses, but he still yearns for more. 

He shudders as you drag the edge of your teeth against the crook of his neck and eagerly leans into your touch, hungry for physical contact.

No matter how much he mewls and begs for you, you’ve taken it slow, drinking in each bated breath and soft cry. 

You breathe a whisper against his skin, “You like this, Steven?”

He doesn’t answer your question.

You place a gentle kiss on his sweet spot, but pull away when he starts to whine for more. 

“Please, darling.” 

He wants you to bite, but you stay put and watch him writhe for your touch. 

Your thumb swipes over a blotch of purple on his shoulder and he shivers at the sensation of pleasurable pain, “Why do you like it so much, sweetheart, hm?”

“I dunno,” He’s delirious, only able to think about you and your touch, “I just – please.”

“Ok, baby…”

[chiscribbs]

So here's something a little off the beaten path from my normal uploads -

Last week was my best friend @koilada's birthday and I held a private art stream for her, during which I sketched some of her (our) favorite ships! Because fwenship💕 Ships and the works that they're from listed below, in order of appearance:

Elena and Mateo (Elena of Avalor)

Koen and Ludwika (OCs from one of our collaborative works)

Cass and Varian (Tangled the Series)*

*The Cassarian sketch is specifically in reference to a post-series spin-off that she and I have been writing together for some time now, which I might post more about in the future, we'll see.

It's been so long since I've attempted to draw most of these characters... My favorite thing in this entire set ended up being that Mateo, because I have not drawn him very much and I was fully anticipating him to come out looking so much worse than he did, LOL. (Side note: please forgive the missing hands, these were not meant to be finished pieces, just some relatively "quick" sketches)

[psithurista]

approach shift - epilogue

pairing: Peter Parker x f!reader (TASM/Andrew Garfield version) length: 2.3k rating: explicit 18+ warnings: PIV (protected), sneaky little non-descriptive pegging reference, disGUSting fluff

Peter Parker is a weirdo. A hot, distracting, irritating weirdo. And you can’t afford distractions right now. So there’s only one thing to do.

a/n: I'll keep it quick: I'm so sorry this took so long, but I just wasn't quite ready to finish it off haha. It's been two years almost to the day since I started writing this (and they've been fucking crazy years) so it feels very strange saying goodbye to these adorable losers. I once again can't even start to express how happy it's made me seeing your reactions to this fic, and I'm endlessly grateful to everyone who took the time to leave a comment or reach out to say hi. I hope you like this last sweet little snippet! x

series masterlist

SIX MONTHS LATER

“We need to get up,” you say, making no move to do so.

He turns his face from where it’s smushed into the pillow to speak, his eyes still closed. “You first.”

You groan. 

You have no idea what time it is, and your phone is out of reach, but the light through the curtains is blinding like near-noon and Bear’s supposed to be here at 10 to pick you up, so you’re almost definitely cutting it fine.

“Peter.” Your legs are tangled with his, his thigh between yours. He huffs morning breath sleepily into your face in response, reaching a hand out to pat your cheek. 

“Shh.” He shifts, pressing his thigh harder between your legs, skin sticky on skin. You know he’s doing it on purpose; he knows exactly where he’s pressing you. You make a quiet, satisfied noise, then pull away regretfully. 

“Bear’s gonna be here soon and you need to be dressed. She’ll freak if she has to see your ass again.” 

“Mmm. Yeah. I’m up.”

You sit up, and the slow weight of his arm slides off your waist. The bedroom door is open to the living room where you can see the debris left over from your at-home date the night before: the bowl still on the couch with a handful of unpopped kernels still rattling in the bottom, the fairy lights web-stuck across the ceiling still glowing gently and the blown-out candles stuck in pastel wax puddles to the coffee table you’d rescued from the curb a few weeks after moving in together. It’d been unbearably funny watching Peter’s elaborate performance of pretending to struggle under the weight of it on the way back home.

He drags himself out of bed, and you hear the coffee machine gurgling while you start pulling out clothes.

It’s hot and stuffy; the air’s stopped working again sometime in the night, so you screech the window open and prop the broom handle under the frame to keep it there. It’s a precarious solution—more than once, the window’s fallen shut while you’ve been at work, forcing Peter to awkwardly perform a frantic outfit change behind the dumpster in the alley so he doesn’t run the risk of running into one of your neighbours in the elevator. But the rent’s affordable for a pair of research scientists with a dash of supplementary freelance photography cash on the side, and the occasional bags of free food from a grateful shop owner after a thwarted hold-up.

“Should we call about the air?” you wonder out loud through the open door.

 “Don’t worry about it, it’ll be quicker if I just get up on the roof and fix it again myself,” Peter says, his voice stretching out into a yawn halfway through. He appears in the bathroom doorway, still naked, two mugs in his hands. 

You gasp in appreciation as he passes one to you. “God, I love you,” you murmur, taking a sip.

He grins dazedly at you in the mirror, his cheeks flushed. “Is that all it takes, huh? A crappy cup of coffee?”

You turn and slide the mug onto the counter so you can wrap your arms around his waist. “No. You’re cute, too. That helps.”

He kisses you, his thumb and index finger framing your chin. “M’not cute,” he says against your lips, leaning his too-warm body along yours. “M’intimidating as hell. Ask anybody.”

You’d only gotten as far as underwear before he’d interrupted you dressing, and it already feels like there’s far too much in the way between you. “You’re gonna make me late,” you say, reaching down to dig your fingers into the taut swell of his ass. “Gotta get ready.”

“Okay, so keep getting ready,” he says, mouthing at your neck. “You’re the one groping me.”

He’s right; now you’ve started, you can’t seem to stop. You press your hands to the small of his back, drawing him closer. You can feel his cock beginning to harden where his body is pressed against yours, and his tongue comes out to touch at your pulse. He makes a tiny noise in his throat as you slip one hand down between your bodies to wrap loosely around his rapidly-growing erection.

You stroke him once, gently, and he huffs. “I don’t see how this is helping,” he says. 

You hum your response, your resolve melting away as he strokes the back of his knuckles down your spine, making you shiver. “Maybe…” you say.

He ducks his head to kiss first one breast, then the other, your nipples standing hard and sensitive. “Maybe?” he prompts. His fingers brush your hip, coming around to rest just below your navel.

“Maybe, if we’re quick…” you say, biting your lip, pushing your hips upward to try to encourage his hand lower.


“Babe, I can be so quick,” he says, half-groan, half-laughter. He thumbs your labia, spreading you open just a little, so he can touch your clit. “Too quick, even, if you want. Some would say it’s a talent.”

You grin at him, letting go of his cock. “Bed. Now.”

He swings you up into his arms so fast your head spins, practically flinging you onto the bed. 

You sprawl out in front of him, your arms thrown back as he peels your underwear off. “Holy shit,” he says, running his hands down your sides, staring at the expanse of your body. His jaw is slack with longing, and the sight of his adoration never fails to make fresh heat flood your face, even after seeing him staring at you like this so many times.

He kneels down over you, sucking two fingers into his mouth as he does. You hitch your knees up to give him a better angle, and he gently presses a firm thigh between your legs. “How do you wanna…?”

“Condom,” you tell him, running your fingers through his hair, making his eyes roll closed with pleasure. “No mess.”

He holds your lower lip gently between his teeth, and slowly pushes his two slick fingers inside you. You shift your hips up, and he withdraws them both again, using the slip of your arousal to work against your clit. He kneels up a little, so he can palm your breast with his other hand as he bends down to lick the inside of your thighs.

“Oh,” you breathe. His fingers stop circling to push back inside you, just as his tongue works a hot, messy kiss over your clit. You grab handfuls of his hair to try to keep up with the pace he’s setting, but the feeling of your fingers against his scalp only makes him work faster, a weak groan vibrating down through his tongue.

He bends his head lower, so he can lick around where your wetness has started to gather on his knuckles as he keeps pumping leisurely, in and out. It’s so wet you can both hear it, and he works faster, angling his fingers higher, until you’re writhing.

“Peter…come on, please,” you beg, yanking hard at his hair. 

It works to break his concentration, and he scrambles up, leaning down sideways so he can dig around in the bottom drawer of the nightstand. It’s filled with an assorted mix of toys and, stashed further back, Peter’s wrist canisters. The logic had been that anybody who broke into your apartment would be too freaked out by the toys to keep looking in the drawer, but it also meant Peter had to dig through a dizzying array of plugs and lube every time he went out.

You turn your head to the side and see the wistful way he glances at your strap-on, and you click your tongue. “We’re in a hurry, remember? Later.”

“Mmm. I’ll hold you to that,” he says, kissing you again as he rolls the condom smoothly over his cock.

He leans back, propping a pillow under your hips to give himself more leverage. As he sinks inside you, you hold your breath, letting it out slowly.

He groans above you, easing just a millimeter out and then back in, like he can’t help himself. It feels devastatingly good; he’s thick and beautifully hard right against where you need him, and thanks to his mouth, you’re wet enough that you’re ready for him to start moving immediately.  

You hook your ankles together behind his back to pull him in deeper, and he sinks home, fully seated balls-deep inside. You clench your muscles, just to feel as much of him as you can, and he grinds his hips against yours. 

You can feel the tension in his limbs as he draws back and starts to move. You’ll never, ever get sick of how he feels inside you, you think, your mouth open. He’s fucking you so good; his strokes long and firm and perfect.

He cups your ass with his hand to lift your hips even further, shifting the angle once again, and your breath stutters sharply in your throat as the head of his cock catches your g-spot.

“That’s it, right?” he murmurs, his voice wrecked. “Right there? That’s it, babe, c’mon, show me, I wanna see…”

You can’t even respond, your fingers gripping his biceps like his body is your only lifeline. It’s so good, and you’re getting so close, you just need…

“Fuck,” you gasp, high-pitched and panicked as you come, hard and blinding. 

He doesn’t slow down. If anything, he fucks you harder, chasing down his own release as you clench and melt around him. It only takes a few more moments before his cock jerks inside you and he curses, collapsing the hot weight of his body on yours.

You pant together, sweaty and spent. His cheek is crushed to yours, and he turns his face just enough to kiss any part of you he can reach—the top of your shoulder, your forehead, the tip of your ear.

When you manage to drag your eyes open, you find his huge doe-brown eyes already looking at you. “Good?” he whispers, kissing your shoulder again.

You smile at him, feeling drunk and dizzy. “So good,” you tell him.

You’re still wrapped up in each other like idiots when he jolts hard as though startled. You’re confused for about half a second, before the buzzer from downstairs goes off. 

“Oh, shit,” you hiss, scrambling out of bed.

“You get ready,” Peter says, somehow already dragging on a pair of sweatpants. The speed and dexterity with which he’s able to dress never ceases to amaze you. “I’ll stall.”

You’re stepping out of the fastest shower of your life when you hear the squeaky door to your apartment opening.

“Hey, Bear,” Peter’s voice says.

“Hey, Parker. Your shirt’s inside-out,” she says. 

You lean the naked top half of your body around the bathroom door to wave at her. “Hey, sorry, I just got out of the shower. I need like, three minutes to get dressed.”

She clicks her tongue, but doesn’t look overly annoyed as she flops onto the couch. “It’s hot as shit in here,” she says cheerfully, swinging her feet up onto your coffee table. 

You can hear her and Peter chatting as you hurriedly get ready; he asks her about Krista, she asks him about his aunt. Unsurprisingly, Bear and May had hit it off in a huge way at your birthday after May had excitedly demanded to know everything about the play Bear was auditioning for.

You give yourself a quick once-over to make sure you look presentable before you duck out into the living room. Peter and Bear have moved onto once again arguing about music; Peter’s on Blur’s side, Bear’s on Oasis’. 

You give them both a sideways look. “I’m not getting involved in this,” you say, checking to make sure your keys are in your bag. “But I’m just saying, in a real fight, Liam Gallagher would kick Damon Albarn’s ass any day of the week.” Peter grins at you from behind the counter, where he’s attempting to clean the disaster left in the kitchen from dinner last night.

“Oh, my God,” Bear says, looking you up and down. “Why do you look so worked up? Were you guys just fucking? Like right now?”

 Peter can’t turn away fast enough to conceal his snort, and you make a face at her. “It’s called caffeine. Come on, we’ll be late.”

Peter waves at her. “Say hi to Krista.”

“You should come with us, next time you get a night off work,” Bear says, helping herself to a stick of gum from the packet on the bench.

“Bye,” you say, leaning in to wrap your arms around Peter’s waist. “Be careful,” you add quietly, leaning up to kiss him.

He grins. “Always am.” He kisses you back, slow and gentle, before letting you go.

Bear shakes her head. “You guys are so gross. Later, Parker.”

Peter trails you to the door so he can close it behind you. Bear’s a few feet ahead of you, and you don’t mean to linger, but you can’t help but look back one last time as you go.

Peter’s leaning in the door, a dish rag over his shoulder. His hair’s chaotic from where you’d run your fingers through it, and his cheeks are still a little pink with warmth. 

As you watch, his eyes crease at the corners. “Love you,” he mouths, too quiet for Bear to hear. He still has the cutlery in his hands he’d been drying before you walked out; two knives, two forks. 

You can feel your face splitting into a smile you’re sure must be even goofier than his. You hold his gaze, and as Bear drags you away, you’re missing him already.

[jooniperbonsai]

Thanks for the Sub (ksj) | Chapter Four

Pairing: Camboy!Seokjin x Gamer!Reader (afab)

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 19.5k

Release date: June 11, 2024

Genre: Smut, fluff, angst, camboy au, gamer au, comedy, crack, slow burn, coworkers/boss/friends to lovers, an exploration of adults in their late 20s/early 30s

Summary: As you spend more time with Seokjin, the threads seem to be even more tangled than before. Memories of the past threaten to ruin everything that the two of you have. Are you sure this is what you really want anyway?

Chapter Warnings (Oh god bear with me in this): angst, miscommunication (sorry sorry sorry we need it for the plot), cursing, alcohol, insecurity and self doubt, sexual harassment online and offline, pet names, fat!reader (we love to see it), sexual fantasies in the form of oral sex/face riding, Seokjin gets hard like 3 times (pretend to be shocked), masturbation, references to menstruation and first time sexual fantasies/masturbation, lingerie, sex toys, boundaries & lack of boundaries, references to poorly written novels (derogatory), verbal abuse from family members, gaslighting

a/n: Hi. I know it's been a while. Thank you for your patience. This week especially has been rough as my family lost one of our pet cats unexpectedly, but I wanted to put my best foot forward and share this chapter with y'all to enjoy our Seokjin's return! I hope you enjoy this chapter and that its length will tide you over. I have a special festa treat planned with another chapter for y'all this week, and I promise it'll have been worth the wait. Enjoy! -h

SpringDay: He didn’t leave a note

Wonu15: Was he supposed to?

SpringDay: No, but…idk

Wonu15: Then why are you upset if that wasn’t in your agreement

SpringDay: IDK!!!!!! Because we talked about things? At least, a little bit? And he saw me cry and he held me. 

Wonu15: But did you ask him to stay the night? Did you ask him to leave you a note? 

SpringDay: No

Wonu15: Well

SpringDay: I know!!!! I get it!!!

Wonu15: Maybe you should tell him

Wonu15: That you’re in love with him

SpringDay: Fuck you

“Ugh!” You exit your chat app and toss your phone across the covers as you roll over in your bed, inhaling the pillow that now smells of Seokjin. 

He was here. Last night. He held you in his lap on your bed. He moved your furniture around for you. He stayed until you fell asleep. And even after that for a bit longer. You’d felt a chill, possibly as he left the bed, and it was enough to wake you. 

It was still dark, but the sun was creeping in slowly. Enough that you could see his slightly mussed hair sticking up in the back, a yawn escaping him with a sigh as he idled in the doorway, almost like he was hesitating before he left. 

If you didn’t know any better, you would think you dreamed it all up, but as soon as you heard the door click shut behind him, you found yourself curling around that warm spot in your sheets and falling back asleep. 

And that’s where you’ve been for most of the day, savoring the feeling of him in your bed or standing in the kitchen slightly hungover as you finished off the rest of last night’s pizza. You’ve apologized to your followers for skipping last night’s stream, promising that you’ll make up for it tonight. 

Your stomach clenches a bit at the idea of an encore performance from the last time you were live. Maybe Seokjin could come over and hang around while you get started? At least for a little bit?

He probably has better things to do than hang around your place. 

True. You had monopolized so much of his time last night, and it didn’t even amount to an actual stream. It’s selfish to assume he has nothing better to do than to sit around and monitor you to make sure you don’t succumb to peer pressure. 

You need to be an adult and do this on your own. 

With a sigh, you hoist yourself up out of bed and over to your computer. Everything you went over yesterday feels like a blur. At this point, you’re not entirely sure what you’re supposed to do. You remember he mentioned something about utilizing wishlists as a monetary solution to some of the more unhinged followers. 

If they have money to spend, let them spend it. But don’t compromise your morals to do so. 

Is that something he encounters often? It has to be. You wonder what streaming was like for Seokjin at first, all the ways he compromised himself for his followers. Is the dominant persona he exudes even authentic? What if he’s more submissive or even plain vanilla and just doing all this for the money? 

You can’t say you’d blame him. That last stream had you feeling as though you were sitting on the blade of a knife as you debated what the extra cut of money could bring you. Your heartbeat pounds more heavily in your chest, a few beats feeling like they’re piercing into your throat. 

It feels awful to know the way money has made you so powerless. And now here you are, about to force yourself onto a stream for some extra bucks in this month’s payout. 

How does Seokjin do it, really? You don’t want to pressure him into talking about it. Not when you two aren’t intimate like that. But you can’t help but wonder why and how streaming, much less streaming sex, doesn’t tear him apart each time. 

You wish you could ask him.  

Your reminder on your phone alerts you and you groan, forcing yourself away from the desktop and into the bathroom to shower. In your hamper, you spot Seokjin’s pink button down that he’d lent you last night. 

It felt like a piece of armor then, shrouding you from the chill of anxiety. Even now, as you lift it up to your nose, that comforting and fresh smell of his detergent begins to settle the sourness of your gut. 

Maybe you could do this alone, after all. Just, with a little encouragement from a friend. 

“You’re a fucking idiot,” someone said.

“I am not!” Another voice. A deeper one.

“You asked her if she wanted to fuck!”

“I did not! I asked if she wanted to come over and eat ramyeon! That’s all that it means!”

“No, no hyung, he’s right. That’s not at all what it means.” 

Words. Seokjin was hearing them flurry around him, picking up the tail end of whatever story Namjoon was telling the group. But he wasn’t really listening. He was too tired. He had napped for about an hour in his office earlier, though it was unintentional. He was sitting at his desk, placing a produce order when he felt one of his eyelids shut. Then the other. The next thing he knew, someone was banging on the door saying the register was jammed and they needed the key. 

He had left your apartment late. Right when the sun was beginning to rise. And he probably wouldn’t have even left then if it wasn’t for the fact that you finally had rolled off of him after about an hour of you sleeping heavily on his chest. 

You talk in your sleep, he learned. Not a lot, but in little murmurs, usually yes or no spilling out of your mouth with ease. He was grateful for them, because otherwise he would have fallen asleep with your body slotted against him perfectly, the weight of your head and arm on him just enough to tumble him into a state of safety. 

Both too late and too soon, you moved, rolled onto your other side. And then Seokjin left. 

He debated leaving a note so you would know he wasn’t bailing, going so far as to find a pen and notepad from the kitchen fridge to write on, but then he knocked sense into himself. Notes were for people who left after hookups when unsure whether or not they were welcome to stay the whole night. You’d invited him over, sure, but as friends. You would have of course expected him to leave after you fell asleep, as that was the agreement. Right? 

Seokjin had danced around your living room for ten minutes, pacing back and forth, looking like a crazy detective searching for clues. What would he even say in it? If he left one would you think that he’d expected you guys to have sex? 

So he didn’t, he tossed the notepad on the side table as he grabbed his things, aware now that his button down had gone missing since you changed into your pajamas, but he didn’t have time to look for it, and didn’t want to further snoop through your stuff to reclaim it. 

By the time he left, the sun was up, and he had just enough time to rush the few blocks to work. Besides that nap, he hadn’t slept at all last night. 

And now he was on Jungkook and Taehyung’s couch, a beer magically in his hand that he didn’t remember getting while his friends apparently talked about…ramyeon? 

“–clearly your fault you choose to pretend you’re so old and stay out of touch. Seokjin-hyung knows what that means, don’t you hyung?” 

Who was talking to him? He grunted, hoping whoever it was would let that be enough of an answer. 

“Hyung?” Jungkook. That’s who was talking to him. 

Seokjin blinked. His contacts felt like sandpaper in his eyes. 

“Don’t bother with him. He hasn’t had a single sip of that beer since he got here and has been zoned out staring at that wall for about thirty minutes,” Yoongi said, moving from Seokjin’s periphery into full view. 

“Are you okay?” Namjoon asked gently, clearly concerned but also possibly using this moment to help redirect whatever teasing he was facing. 

“Just tired,” Seokjin responded. 

“Oh yeah, you had to work today. And you were at Y/N’s to help her with her stream last night, right? How did that go by the way?” Jimin asked. 

“What stream?” Seokjin asked, confused. And then he remembered. That was the whole point he had gone over there in the first place. 

“Um, you know, the one that you went to her place for?” Jimin’s eyebrows knit together. The rest of the group craned their heads in Seokjin’s direction, curious.

“She, um, she didn’t end up streaming.”

“Then, what time did you leave?” A broken, awkward silence fell over his friends as Seokjin shifted in his seat. 

It suddenly felt oppressively warm in here, and heat creeped up his neck as he tried to string words together. 

“I think like…7?” 

“So you got there, only to turn around and leave? So why didn’t you sleep last night? You look like shit,” Taehyung added unhelpfully. 

Yoongi rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. “Is everyone really this clueless today or are you all fucking with me?”

He pushed himself up from the beat-up leather armchair, his usual space during their hangouts and sauntered over to the small bar Taehyung and Jungkook had right off the dining area. He took his time, uncapping the bottle of whiskey Seokjin presumed they kept mostly for Yoongi’s benefit, and filled one of the highball glasses left out for him. 

Once Yoongi started drinking whiskey, everyone knew to prepare themselves for an evening of his contemplative and sometimes unfiltered ranting. This was when his self-proclaimed ADHD seemed to shine best. 

“Honestly, you guys still don’t see it do you.” 

“See what exactly?” Seokjin asked, finally awake enough to formulate sentences. 

Yoongi studied his glass for a moment and in a final decision plucked the entire bottle from the bar and brought it back to his group of friends. He groaned as he sat back in the chair, like it was painful to do so on his bones, like he was the age of Seokjin's father and not merely thirty. 

Yoongi knocked back his first glass of the whiskey, smacking his lips afterward. 

In the corner of his eye, Seokjin saw Jimin roll his in annoyance. 

“Can we get to the point?” He asked. 

Yoongi shot him a look, and then placed the glass down on the coffee table. 

“First of all, Taehyung-ah, he didn’t leave early. Hyung here left late. As in this morning. He was obviously out all night.”

Namjoon snorted. “Hyung, this isn’t a detective drama. We all kind of figured.” 

“I didn’t,” Taehyung objected.

“We know,” Namjoon chuckled and turned his attention back to Yoongi. “Ok, oh wise one, what is it that we all seem to be missing?”

Yoongi pouted, but he recovered his dramatic flair. It was something everyone knew to give him the space to perform, the odd pause in his quiet nature usually a sign that he needed attention and didn’t know how to ask. 

“Well, when you put it that way, maybe I won’t say.” A slight smirk cracked through Yoongi’s façade. 

“Did you guys sleep together or something?” Hoseok blurted, which had an immediate rush of blood to Seokjin’s head as he flooded with embarrassment. 

“No! God, no we didn’t!” He didn’t want to mention that yes, technically you slept with him, just not in that way. 

“Pfft, relax. Of course he didn’t. You think this guy will be looking all mopey after he finally gets laid again? No, he’s going to have that stupid dopey grin he always had with…you know,” Yoongi recovered the attention of the room, Soon Yi’s name unsaid but stirring a bit of unease among his friends. Yoongi and her had been particularly close during the period of Seokjin and her dating, having been his roommate for quite some time. He’d learned to weave his life around Soon Yi’s presence, over time warming up to her during the days he returned from class to find her studying on Seokjin’s bed and waiting for him to come home. Since the breakup, he’s always refused to say her name. 

“Ah, the dopey grin, I almost forgot about that.” Jimin’s warm voice filled in the gaps where Yoongi’s sudden coldness cast, sitting himself on the edge of the leather armchair as he plucked the glass of whiskey Yoongi had just poured from his hands and gulped it down. 

Yoongi glared at Jimin, but it faded quickly as Jimin winked back at him. He was clearly trying to lighten the mood, and Yoongi took the bait, softening back into Jimin’s outreached arm that began rubbing circles down his back. 

“I’m right here,” Seokjin said lamely, but his friends ignored him. He put the beer up to his lips and let it flood into his mouth. It was warm. Gross. 

“Do you think he’s going to start doing that thing again where he’s late for everything because he’s too busy having sex with Y/N all the time to manage his time better? Because that was annoying,” Jungkook complained. 

Seokjin spluttered, choking on the beer. “Wh-what?!”

Everyone laughed, including Namjoon, who gave Seokjin a sympathetic look. “I think now that he streams all the time, his time management skills have improved.”

“Besides, it seemed more like it was Soon Yi who was causing that issue. She was chronically late for everything. Is Y/N late for things?” Hoseok added. 

Seokjin blinked. How did this conversation even get to this point? 

“What the fuck is going on?” He asked, exasperated. 

Yoongi chuckled, stepping back into his guiding elder persona with ease. “You’re down bad for Y/N, obviously. We are just trying to be supportive.” 

“I am not!” He argued, the heat of embarrassment now turning into anger. 

“You are too,” Taehyung argued. “I’ve seen you at work with her a few times. You are always staring at her like she’s the most delicious thing you’d ever eat. You want her so bad, hyung.” 

Seokjin glared at Taehyung. “Just because I look at her sometimes doesn’t mean I am in love with her.” 

“Okay Namjoon, I take it back. You’re not a fucking idiot. Or maybe you still are, but Jin-hyung takes the cake as the biggest fucking idiot here.” Hoseok said, a humorless laugh flying from his chest. “Wow. No one said you’re in love with her.”

Seokjin’s face flushed. 

“Aww, don’t be embarrassed hyung!” 

“Yeah, you don’t have to tell us all your secrets.”

“Did you have sex though?”

“Taehyung-ah!”

“What? You’re the one who asked in the first place!” 

“So?”

“So, I know you’re curious too. I want to know which one of his porn star moves he pulled out of hiding. Did he Full Nelson her or was it purely missionary? Nah, nah, he’s too dirty for that. Hyung, did you Full Nelson her?”

“Wait, what’s a Full Nelson?”

“It’s a wrestling move,” Namjoon said.

“It’s a sex thing!”

“No. You’re making that up!”

“Hyung, is that a sex thing?”

“Yah! Shut up!” Yoongi said, and four pairs of eyebrows shot up as Namjoon, Hoseok, Taehyung, and Jungkook broke away from their conversation to come back down to Earth. 

Seokjin’s hands were sweaty and he jostled his leg anxiously as his friends composed themselves. 

“Sorry,” Taehyung mumbled. 

Jimin sighed, finally pulling his hand away from Yoongi’s back. 

“Maybe we should let Seokjin-hyung speak,” he suggested, gesturing to his anxious friend. 

Everyone nodded sheepishly. 

Seokjin took a deep breath, not even sure where to begin. 

“Well, I…First of all, Y/N and I really didn’t have sex. She had a panic attack over the possibility of me being gay for some reason. Er, well not me being gay but asking the question. And that seemed to be something for her that opened the floodgates to an entire larger panic attack. So, after I cooked us jeon, we just kinda hung out and ditched the idea of the stream. And then, she did fall asleep on me for a bit.” 

The memory of you this morning flooded his thoughts, how your hair skimming across his arms as you shifted your head gave him goosebumps. Or that your scent had invaded his clothes, his nose, so much so that he could just picture you and the soft, sweet smell would manifest around him. 

“Oh, oh hyung.” 

“Don’t look at me like that!” Seokjin shrieked as Jimin frowned. 

His friends all sat quietly, sipping their drinks. Taehyung awkwardly stood up, stating he needed to use the bathroom before he exited the room. 

“When did it start getting this serious for you?” Namjoon asked. 

Seokjin’s eyebrows knit together. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We aren’t serious. We aren’t even together.” 

“He means when did you start having feelings for her hyung? I know we said that none of us were accusing you of being in love with her, but are you sure that it’s just about sex, or friendship, or whatever it is you keep saying it is?”

Love. That word felt like fire in his brain. He couldn’t possibly love you. Not when he barely knew you. Not when he only just stood in your apartment for the first time, saw you asleep on him. What Seokjin knew about love was something faded and dusty, shoved under his bed in an old shoebox and hard to name. It had been so long since he felt the early feelings of life with Soon Yi.

Soon Yi. That was love, wasn’t it? The hot poker of constant chaos, being whisked away from one thing to another with pleasure and delight. Wasn’t that supposed to be what love was? He remembered ripping apart magazines with her in her dorm room to make a large collage that she created from top to bottom. All the colors swirling around them as they shredded page after page and refit together. Things clashed, patterns divided themselves into a kaleidoscope around her room. That was how Soon Yi was. A kaleidoscope of every color Seokjin had ever thought imaginable. 

And she was like that for him too, when she laid underneath him that night, her body wrapped around his in every way imaginable, thrown from the bed to the floor as they christened every surface of that space imaginable. 

With you, things weren’t able to be defined by colors. Instead, all Seokjin knew was that the heaviness and the intensity of first love wasn’t at all how he experienced you. No, you were like a fire that ignited in him, and he knew it. Scorched away every faded bit of that box under the bed and licked your flame along every part of him. 

The way he so easily complied with you last night, despite the fact that he knew it would be bad for you both to be so close. Letting you lie on him while he sat there hard just by breathing in your sweetness. How his body responded like this was some first love despite the fact that it wasn’t, and he found himself changing the rules of his life every single time a sigh left your lips. That couldn’t be love, only fascination, only primal, sexual curiosity. 

He’d admit his crush, but love? There was no way this could be it. 

“No,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’m…I’m not in love with her.”

“But–” Jungkook began, but Jimin silenced him with a look. 

“No,” he repeated. “I’m not in love with her. I have a crush. And we’re friends. And yeah, I am really really ‘down bad’ for her like Yoongi said. But it’s not like that.” 

Jungkook rubbed his eyes with the back of his fists, sighing in clear frustration. 

“Alright, hyung,” Jimin said gently. “Alright.” 

Just then, Seokjin’s phone pinged, and his heart plunged right into his stomach. 

You were live? Now? Without him there? 

That wasn’t in your agreement anyway. You agreed to help her stream. You helped her. Now she doesn’t need you. 

That little bit of knowledge felt like a twisted knife, but he ignored it anyway, rapidly tapping the alert on his phone that led him to the app. 

“What’s that about?” Hoseok asked. 

His other friends repeated the question, filling the room with a hum of curiosity. 

“Shut up!” he snapped, clicking the side button to turn up the volume. 

“–and yeah sorry about not streaming last night. Time kind of slipped away from me. But I plan on making it up to you guys, I promise.” Your voice echoed throughout the living room, hushing Seokjin’s friends as they hunched forward to see what was the cause of his sudden irritation. 

“Is that…?” Yoongi began. 

“Yes,” Taehyung said as he waltzed back into the room, patting his damp hands on the back of his pants. “That’s her.” 

“Oh, oh okay I get it now,” Namjoon said. “Leave it to hyung to be down bad for someone who dresses just like him.” 

What? Seokjin squinted at the screen, taking in your appearance: your hair was loosely curled around your face, some juicy pink lip gloss that he knew tasted like strawberries (he’d smelled it on you before) glazing your mouth, and a black lace bustier that was barely being covered by a pink linen button down was peeking out. One that looked exactly like the one he was wearing last night.

“Because that is my shirt,” he replied, dazed. 

“What?” Jimin said, hurling himself across the coffee table and yanking the phone from Seokjin’s hands. 

Jungkook followed behind Jimin, resting his chin on his friend’s shoulder as he squinted at you on the screen. “Can we make it any bigger? I can’t see shit from here.” 

“No!” Seokjin protested, but it was clear he wouldn’t win this argument. 

“Wait, why does she have your shirt?” Yoongi asked as Jimin and Jungkook fumbled with the television setup to cast the stream. 

Seokjin glared at his friend. Hoseok laughed, sliding into the spot next to him and offering him some shrimp chips. 

“Who cares? The better question is why is she wearing it on her live stream over her lingerie?” 

“Ah, true.” 

Yoongi turned to Seokjin expectantly, like he would somehow know the reason. Honestly, he wondered the same. 

You weren’t ready for this. You two had barely covered the basics yesterday. Why were you streaming when the arrangement was between the two of you to do this together? Did you just not want his help anymore? Or did all the talking and your panic attack yesterday make you rethink things?

What if you had really wanted him to leave last night or your emotions got the best of you and you regretted everything? Seokjin could feel the spiral of his thoughts starting to unwind as he tried to figure out what the explanation for this stream was. 

“A-ha! Ok, we got it,” Jimin said as he clicked through the series of menu permissions to cast a larger version of you onto the screen. 

You were reading your comments, lightly gnawing on your lip. Nerves, he realized. 

“Oh, uh, yeah, we can play the same game as last time. We didn’t quite finish, did we?” You said, rolling your neck and flexing your shoulders. As you did, your breasts thrust further toward the camera, plush skin Seokjin dreamt of shoving his face into so many times now fully on display for all his friends. 

“Oh, fuck,” Jungkook said from somewhere in the room. Seokjin had no clue. He couldn’t break his gaze as you giggled at something in your comments. He felt heat head south from his face. 

“Jesus hyung.” Hoseok said. “I don’t know how you get through a workday with her without getting hard.” 

“He doesn’t,” Taehyung added unhelpfully. 

He heard the air behind him shift, before a soft thwack and Taehyung’s responding groan informed him that someone had thrown a pillow at him. 

“Okay, so new rules,” you said.“From now on, if any of you say something super perverted, you’ll be unable to comment until the next stream. I’ll have my mods ban you from commenting. The only way you can get on my good side again and get yourself unbanned during a stream is if you fulfill something off of my wish list I added. You can type #springwishes and see all I’ve put on there. Sound good?” You smirked at your camera, a little bite of confidence spreading through you. 

Seokjin’s chest clenched, a tiny bit of relief washing over him as he saw you get your bearings, the comments spamming that hashtag for the link to your wishlist, which he’d advised you to make as a form of incentive and distraction during moments when you felt overwhelmed. If people were getting into deep waters with a topic, you could always redirect to the wishlist, making it more of a prize for your viewers to partake in versus punishment. 

“Alright, so let’s do this,” you said. “Game on.”

Maybe he was overreacting. In the last hour he and his friends spent intently watching your stream, you seemed to navigate your chat a little more with ease, or at least with redirection. 

Yoongi had nodded off in his chair despite the earth-shattering moans your game was crying out as you tripped different combos. You were getting better at the game, and as you finished another level that gave you the prize of some more very not safe for work photos by your “girls”, a heavy yawn escaped through your lips. 

Maybe you didn’t need his help after all. For what it’s worth, you seemed to be settling in comfortably to your performance aspect of the role, sometimes twirling bits of hair in your fingers, earning yourself half a dozen new subs and a few new things from your wishlist. 

“Wow, we’re making good progress,” you said, reaching for your water bottle and pouting at your screen as you sipped from the straw. 

The comments had become more mild during the game when you were fully immersed. Seokjin had been monitoring them closely, seeing your mod Wonwoo diligently screening spam out of the comments. 

But now that your attention had shifted, they were being flooded once more with people vying for your attention. 

Str3amballzak: Wanna fuk those tits

(Str3amballzak has been banned from the chat room)

Lickemup: sit on my face

(Lickemup has been banned from the chat room)

“And so it begins,” you said sarcastically, sipping more water from your straw as you switched your camera view to just you instead of the game. 

(Str3amballzak has fulfilled wish list item number 7: new streaming headphones)

Str3amballzak: worth it

“You guys are working hard at getting yourself permanently banned,” you said, rolling your eyes. “But thanks I guess.” 

Str3amballzak: ur welcome baby

Str3amballzak: ever do private streams?

“No, I don’t do private streams Mr. Ball Sack. Or Ball Zak? Anyway, do you want to go in time out again?” 

Str3amballzak: fine ill behave. 

Str3amballzak: daddy just wants to spoil u

Str3amballzak: u should put some other toys on that wish list ;) 

Heat flooded Seokjin’s face as he read the chat messages fluttering by. This was going south quickly. 

“Not your baby,” you said with a scoff. “And no thanks daddy. I’m good.”

“God, these dudes are gross. Is this the same kind of comments you get, Seokjin-hyung?” Jungkook asked. 

“At first, kind of. But not much anymore. On occasion someone will try to dom me from the chat, but there’s a tip feature for that,’ he responded, eyebrows furrowed as he studied your face for any discomfort. Annoyance, sure, but you could handle that. His hands still hovered over his phone, ready to intervene in a moment’s notice.  

(Lickemup has fulfilled wishlist item number 3: electric kettle)

Lickemup: something to keep you warm if it’s not my tongue in your pussy 

(Lickemup has been banned from the chat room)

(Lickemup has fulfilled wishlist item number 0: mystery gift)

Lickemup: loophole? 

“Oh,” you said, eyes going wide. “I��I didn’t know that was an option.” 

Seokjin didn’t either. And he certainly didn’t know what a “mystery gift” was. What he did know was that this wishlist would mail you anything without giving away your address. But that meant it could be anything. 

Uh oh. 

User27271: wanna cum on your face 

(User27271 has been banned from the chatroom)

(User27271 has fulfilled wish list item number 0: mystery gift)

User27271: hope you like pet play 

(User27271 has been banned from the chat room)

User8008s: stroking my dick to your pretty face rn

(User8008s has been banned from the chatroom)

(User8008s has fulfilled wish list item number 0: mystery gift)

User8008s: 💦

“Jesus Christ, guys,” you said weakly as the chaos of the loophole began to take over your chat, dozens more accounts flooding the comments to do the work around, plunging into the raunchiest of comments before being banned, then fulfilling some mystery gift before being banned again, this time for good. Seokjin looked at the view counter in the corner. It was rising exponentially. 

He could see how quickly your control was leaving you, the glassiness of your eyes and shakiness of your voice as you fought to reel in your chat leading you toward the verge of a breakdown. 

“Is there any way to turn that feature off?” Jungkook asked helplessly, his eyes wide as another onslaught of cyber attacks began.

“I don’t know, I didn’t even know it had this option,” Seokjin said, his voice tight as he helplessly watched you begin to shrink away from the spotlight he had spent hours with you yesterday practicing to do the exact opposite in. 

You pulled the shirt tighter across your body, and that seemed to spring him into action: you there in his shirt, this chaotic chat undoing the work you’d done in a matter of minutes. Fuck those people. 

“There has to be something we can do,” Jimin said, and Namjoon whipped out his phone, searching up the parameters of the wish list site you had used. 

“Tell her to just have her mods turn the entire feature off in the meantime,” Hoseok said, tapping his foot anxiously. 

Seokjin nodded, typing the message into the chat box. 

JokeJinSeokjin: Turn off your the gifting feature

But his comment was lost in the slew of the chat. He knew there was no way you would see it. 

“She definitely isn’t going to see that!” Taehyung groaned. 

“Call her, hyung. You have her number,” Yoongi said, his voice gravelly from just waking up. 

Right, a phone call. He could do that. 

Seokjin opened his contact list and dialed your number. He knew you kept your phone on silent during your stream, but in a moment of luck, you looked down, where he assumed your phone was at and hastily pressed the accept call button. 

“Hello?” Your voice sounded like a wild echo through the TV; the sound delay was just enough to warp you. 

Seokjin stood and walked into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He didn’t even bother turning on the light, something about the isolation away from his friends and the darkness feeling like a comfort, like you two were in your own little world and not being put on blast in front of thousands. 

“Turn off your chat commands. Now,” he ordered. 

“Oh, uh, I don’t know how,” you said, then groaned. “Guys please I don’t want any of this. Get it the fuck together.” You paused. “What do you mean who am I talking to on the phone? It’s none of your goddamn business.” 

“Y/N,” Seokjin warned. You needed to stop engaging. 

“I know! I know, okay?” you snapped, and Seokjin nodded, even though you couldn’t see him. You took a shaky breath after a moment. “Are you watching?”

“I was but I needed my phone to call you so I’m not right now. Why? Is something happening?”

“No it’s just–never mind. I have set myself on away and muted so I can unlink this option. Wonwoo is turning off the chat completely for me.” 

“Good,” he responded and opened a browser window, typing in his query. “Okay I looked it up and you need to click the right toggle in your stream settings and scroll down until you see ‘outside links’ and then–”

“Slower, please!” You said exasperated. 

“You can always turn the whole stream off,” he said gently and you huffed in response. 

You paused for a beat. “I don’t want to. I was fine before this whole thing started. I want to do this.” You sounded like you were on the verge of crying. He knew this meant a lot to you. So much of the first few stream’s success determines your future. He knew this. Saw it happen in his own online presence. If you lost a lot of followers tonight, you’d probably not regain them. And then your payout at the end of the month would be a fraction of what you were receiving. 

“Okay. Yes. Then let’s take a deep breath,” he said, taking a deep breath of his own for you to follow. He heard the soft inhale through the receiver, and smirked. 

“Now let’s get you all set up. See that toggle on the right?” 

You hummed a response. “I think so.” 

“Okay, now go down. You see the external link options?” 

A pause. “Can’t you just do it for me?” You whined and Seokjin laughed. 

“I could but I’m across town at a friend’s house. It would be easy if you do it yourself.” 

He wanted to kick himself for saying that. Because he would be out the door in a heartbeat, would Uber or sprint toward you. But by the time he got there, it would be too late. Too much chaos was happening at once, and this needed to stop now.  

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to keep you—“ 

Seokjin clicked his tongue. “None of that, now. Focus.” 

If he did show up at your house to help, he also knows what would happen next. After the momentary panic was over, you would be pissed that you didn’t handle things on your own. At work, however big the mess, you were always insistent on doing it yourself. Here was no exception. 

After a few clicks he heard a gasp. “Got it!” 

“Good job, princess. You did well.” 

“Oh…thank you. Not without your help though,” you said meekly.

He knew you were running out of time. In a few minutes, you’d be back to kick ass in your stream, and life would go on. So he chose his next few words carefully. 

“I thought you wanted me to be there for your first stream.”

“I..well…I did, but I felt guilty and like I had to stream tonight. I didn’t want to bother you, but it looks like I did that anyway, huh?” 

“You’re not bothering me, ever. You asked for my help with this.” 

“And you did! You helped so much.”

An awkward silence fell between you two as Seokjin thought. He exhaled roughly.  

“So, what now? Are you just trying to get rid of me or something? Did I do something wrong?” His voice shook, the hurt he tried to conceal penetrated through the evenness of his tone. 

“No! No it’s not like that,” you said quickly. “I just, I feel like I had to.”

“Had to what?”

“Stream. I felt bad and like I owed it to them today.”

“Why?”

“I…I don’t know really,” you said softly. “Because I’m desperate for the cash. And that sounds awful I know. But I want to make sure that when summer term comes around, I am ready for it financially. And my parents have been calling me a lot and I just…I’m sorry. Are you mad at me?”

He could hear the edge of your voice as you got more worked up, your last word cracking slightly like you were trying not to cry. 

“No, no I’m not mad, Y/N.” 

“Are you sure? Because I know you are helping and you already are spending time with me and it’s not like you don’t have other things to take care of! Like you had to work this morning and I got a text from Mino saying he caught you asleep in your office snoring. I didn’t tell him it was because of me, but god, if I could get this shit together, your services wouldn’t be necessary.”

“I’m not mad. Really, I think you’re trying to find reasons for me to be mad at you but I’m not. And don’t worry about my sleep schedule. It was one night out. I’m not that old for one night not sleeping in my bed to ruin my entire life.”

You hummed in response. 

“Listen, Y/N, I chose to stay out all night knowing I had to open today. You might be persuasive but you aren’t that good to manipulate me into anything. I was there because I wanted to be there. Okay?”

You hummed again. 

“I need some kind of verbal acknowledgement other than ‘hmm’.”

“Sorry. Okay.” 

“Okay what?”

“I was listening!”

“I know you were, that’s not why I’m asking.”

You sighed. “Fine, okay I am not manipulating you. You wanted to be here.” You paused. “Seokjin?”

“Yes?”

“I don’t know if I can go back.. Like, what do I do? I’ve already been gone for ten minutes and Wonwoo is blowing up my texts and…” Your voice broke, and he could hear the quiet sound of you crying. 

“Hey, breathe, princess. It’s okay. You can always just turn your computer off. The people watching were assholes.”

“Not all of them,” you muttered back. “God what is wrong with me?”

Seokjin turned on the light to the bathroom. His clothes were crumpled, heavy circles under his puffy eyes and disheveled hair making him look like some washed up finance guy. Honestly, he looked a lot like how he used to back when he did work in finance. 

“Nothing is wrong with you, and you know it. You’re perfect. A mess, and really bad at remembering to put the pickled radishes back in the fridge when you’re done with them, but that’s still pretty great all things considered.”

He heard a chuckle on the other end. “Yeah, I’m such a winner. Ugh, I’m sorry. I just don’t know what to do.” 

“Let me help, then,” he offered.

You took a deep breath. “Okay, what do I do?”

He chuckled. “I’m not going to decide that for you. That’s something you need to figure out. But, I’ll give you a few options. First, you can just shut your computer down completely and not apologize, not explain yourself. Your chat and any good subscribers that you actually want to have around will understand. You’re forgetting that there were thousands of people watching, and the loudest ones were the trolls, but they weren’t the only ones there.

“The other option,” Seokjin cleared his throat. “Is that you can go back out there, finish the stream, leave your comments off, and do what you want to do. I can’t guarantee it’ll be as lucrative but you will at least won’t be engaging with those idiots anyway.”

He let you mull it over, opening the medicine cabinet and rifling through his friends’ things. Eyedrops, god, his eyes were on fire from these contact lenses. He had a pair of glasses in his work bag, but they were a little old and frankly kind of stupid looking. 

“Okay, I think…I think I want to try again. And like you said, I’ll keep the comments off this time.”

“That’s my girl,” Seokjin sighed as he squirted some solution into his burning eyes. Then he paused. “I mean, uh, you know. Good job.” 

You chuckled on the other end. God he really needed to monitor himself better. Something about his conversations with you were becoming less careful by the hour. 

“Thanks, I know what you meant. And thank you again.”

You paused again. “Is there something wrong, Y/N?” Seokjin asked. 

“Well, it’s just. I want to do this, I do. But I’m not. God I don’t know, it's like I’m frozen in place. I just feel like there’s so many things I need you to show me before I get good at this.”

“Like what?” 

“I don’t know. How to be sexy without ruining my career, how to just dust everything off and get back out there. That’s what you do all the time! With uh, with work and everything.”

Seokjin chuckled a little. Dusting things off was hardly something he was good at, but he did know how important it was to get back out there. He wasn’t quite sure what you’d meant in relation to work since that wasn’t really a space for it, but that wasn’t his focus. Instead it was on something else. 

“You…think I’m sexy?”

“Oh, uh…yeah duh. Don’t let it go to your head though, everyone thinks that.”

Seokjin could think of quite a few people who didn’t think that, actually. 

“Fine, fine, I’ll let it slide. And you’re right, it is important to just dust things off and move on. But that’s just one thing that I want to show you. There’s so many other things for you to learn.”

So many things. He felt proud knowing that you were doing this on your own, even after this hiccup; it meant that you were doing exactly what he’d tried to teach you yesterday. Even if you faltered once. It was impressive. And he couldn’t help but think of how much you were going to grow from this experience, how many doors it opened up for you, for both of you to forge a stronger connection. He wanted to show you all sorts of things, not just with streaming, but with him. How after seeing your apartment and couch with a dent in it, he wanted you to create a dent in his couch as you read books from your collection. Or that even in his large chef’s kitchen he had in his luxury apartment, he could stand side-by-side next to you prepping more carrots for other foods. 

Maybe cake this time. And when you inevitably spilled ingredients all over the place like you did at work, globs of cream cheese frosting on your cheeks, he’d laugh and find it endearing as you always were, and try not to think about your tongue doing more naughty things to him as you lick it off of your fingers. How you clearly had a little stubborn bratty streak in you that liked to tease and tempt him, and without a doubt you would spend an extra long and thorough job making sure he had a front row seat to you sucking your fingers into your mouth. Just like how you knew you were sitting in that apartment of yours right now, his pink shirt wrapping around your large perfect tits. What were you wearing on the bottom of that ensemble, even? That bustier that was so goddamn tantalizing. Did it have matching panties? Were you wearing those too? He knew you well enough to know you were probably wearing some kind of jogger bottom since people didn’t get to see your fantastic ass in the camera view. 

Good. That was something Seokjin didn’t have to feel jealous of. They could get their fill of your breasts on this stream, but he knew what that soft tummy looked like, how those strong, thick thighs looked in leggings and joggers and most recently, tiny pajama shorts. Thinking back to last night, the way those hiked up your thighs to your little panty line, how soft the skin looked. Would your thighs be just as soft if they were straddling his head? He could only imagine how delicious they would look after he left little nip-marks on them, suckling the flesh just enough to hear your breathing increase, to get you shifting all needy and antsy as you got more needy and impatient. Just as he would want you so that you would rub that wet pussy right on his face and–

“Are you still there?” you said, and Seokjin’s breath caught in his chest, causing him to cough. 

“Yes, I’m sorry,” he rasped. He heard you chuckle low in response, and fuck. Something about how sexy your voice sounded had his cock throbbing. “I got, uh, distracted. What did you say?”

“Oh….uh, never mind.” You paused. He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong but your voice flooded through the receiver again. “I don’t want to take you away from your friends any longer. I think I’ve got things for now, but thank you again.”

His heart sank with disappointment that absolutely should not have been there. “Ah, right. Of course. Well, then I’ll let you get back to it.”

“Um, on second thought,” you said suddenly, and his ears pricked up. “Do you…do you think you could come by just in case things get out of hand again? Do you want to? If not it’s okay but––”

“I’ll be over in thirty minutes,” he said eagerly.

Seokjin was already throwing open the bathroom door and barreling down the hall, his friends all shifting from the TV where your away message was cast and onto him. Jimin’s eyebrows raised in question. Taehyung grinned at his friend devilishly, winking and nudging Jungkook. 

“Okay,” you breathed, relieved. “Good.” 

“Good?”

 “Mhmm. See you soon.” Your voice sounded lower, huskier. If there was any ability to think anymore, he would think you were trying to sound sexy and flirty. 

“Yes, okay. See you.” As he hung up, Seokjin felt himself smiling at his phone, his heart feeling a bit fuller, more awake. 

“I’m uh, I’m going to go over there. There’s some stuff she wants me to keep an eye on,” he announced. 

He looked over at his friends. Namjoon attempted some form of polite nodding and understanding, but it quickly broke as everyone else erupted into laughter. 

“Yah! What is it now? Were you guys eavesdropping or something?” 

“We were,” Yoongi said between breaths, “but it wasn’t like you were having a particularly interesting conversation.” He dabbed tears from his eyes. 

“Except the part where you called her princess. Phew you’re whipped.” Hoseok added. 

Seokjin rolled his eyes, reaching down into the couch to find his keys that had been eaten by the cushion upon his arrival. “It just slipped out.”

“Yeah, well, you might want to take a breather before you head out, hyung.” Jungkook avoided eye contact with Seokjin, a blush rushing to his cheeks. 

“And why is that?” Seokjin asked. 

“Oh, I don’t know. Because your Big Dick Daddy boner is so incredibly obvious right now that I’m not sure it’ll be you keeping an eye on Y/N when it’s more likely she’ll be keeping an eye on you.”

Seokjin looked down and as if on cue, his dick twitched. He tried to adjust himself. His friends roared around him, even Jimin trading his careful composure in for hilarity as he threw himself to the floor. 

“Fuck you guys.” Seokjin said as he headed toward the door. 

“Not us, but maybe you tonight!” Taehyung called. “I’m sure Y/N will be singing ‘Hey Daddy’ when you walk in!” 

Seokjin was already out the door, but he could hear the first few bars of the Usher song playing, and despite himself, he smiled. 

When Seokjin arrives, you have already explained to your chat that if they want to have any privileges at all, they’ll stop being asshats. That is a boundary you can more easily create, something less wavering than the control needed to essentially domme your chat. 

You’re not a domme. Not even close. 

“Be right back,” you say to your screen, kicking on the away message. You glance at your phone. Only about twenty minutes left until you’re ready to end things. Hopefully not too long to make Seokjin wait. 

“Hey,” you say, opening the door. His dark hair is disheveled, bags under his eyes. He looks like hell. You fight the urge to immediately turn him around and send him back home. 

He’s tired but his smile is still adorable and wide as he steps into the door of your apartment, discarding his shoes. 

“Hi,” he says softly. 

“Thanks for coming. I’m going to wrap my stream up soon, but I was thinking maybe we could debrief after?” 

He nods and plops himself down on your couch like he’s been here dozens of times before, not just once. 

“Yeah, of course. I’ll just be in here if you need me.”

“Are you going to watch the stream?” You ask, suddenly feeling self conscious. It’s one thing if Seokjin watches your stream when you’re not there, but the idea of him seeing you in lingerie and playing some sexy game is kind of intimate. 

You in lingerie and his fucking shirt, that is. 

“Well, I thought about it. It’s probably the only way I can really understand what’s going on in case you need me. I’ve brought my earbuds so you don’t get feedback from the other room or have to hear your own voice delayed. So we should be good.”

The idea of earbuds does sound a little bit more practical and distancing. 

“Okay, yeah. Oh, and um, about your shirt…” Seokjin looks down from your face, scanning your body with his eyes. You feel heat lick over the places his gaze follows, down your collar bone and the curve of your hips and back up to the swell of your breasts that spill over your bustier. This is where his stare hovers for a moment, and it’s almost maddening, like he’s undressing you with his eyes. It stirs something deep in your core, pricking your nipples a bit to start becoming hard. The lace of the bustier is too thick and it’s lined to avoid exposing anything, but it doesn’t matter. 

Seokjin is looking at you like he wants to eat you, and it’s turning you on impossibly fast. 

“Keep it,” he offers after a moment, his eyes flitting away from your chest. His ears are turning slightly red. “It looks good on you.” 

“Thank you.” It’s all you can offer in response. You clasp your hands together in front of you, the soft linen of his shirt skirting around your naked thighs. The shorts you wore to bed last night were all you could find to throw on with this getup that were clean and comfortable enough for a few hours of streaming. They’re a bit too short, but you figured no one on stream would see them. 

You didn’t really consider that Seokjin would see them again, or really ever, and now you’re realizing how much skin you are showing. 

“I’ll uh, get back to it I guess,” you say and Seokjin nods, now appearing more engrossed in setting up his phone with the stream than talking to you about it or paying attention to what you’re wearing, or the lack of it. 

You scoot off to your room, shutting the door quietly behind you and sinking down into your chair. 

You hit the settings for the away message to turn off and unmute. 

“Alright, we are winding down for the night. Thanks to everyone who stayed with me to the end, I appreciate it.” 

Your comment section responds in kind, with thanks for you continuing to stream through the chaos. 

“Before I leave, though. I figured we can play a few more levels of the game. We have to make sure Candy has enough magic wands to unlock the special bonus game. Although, can I just say that picking wands was a weird choice? Don’t you normally just need one to get the job done? Why not something else, like different shaped dildos or something. Honestly, a little more variety in size and shape can’t hurt.” 

After a few seconds of delay, you hear a boom of laughter in the living room. His laughter is infectious, and it blooms a large grin on your face. 

“So here’s the plan. I’m going to unlock this bonus level tonight and then we’ll see what the hype is about during the next stream, okay?” 

The chat has calmed itself, and you’re glad you tested having it turned back on instead of totally following Seokjin’s advice earlier. Maybe his streams still function if he doesn’t have his comments on, but you know most of your royalties are given from moments of engagement; your parasocial relationship with your subscribers is based on more conversation than the actual thing you’re doing. It’s how you’ve gotten this far without being good at video games. No one seems to care when you get stuck on the same level each time if you at least have engaging conversation. 

JokeJinSeokjin: I’m hungry. Do you want me to order jjajangmyeon?   

You smirk at your screen and nod, then answer a few questions your chat has initiated. 

“Why did I decide to do a Late Night stream? I needed to change things up. You guys all started to follow me after Wonwoo’s stream and I feel like there’s only so many games I can play with the same kind of commentary before we all get sick of it.”

JokeJinSeokjin: What about mandu? The delivery minimum is way too high so we need to get something else. 

A chuckle leaves your lips and you nod again, redirecting yourself to the chat once more. Someone asks how you’re feeling about continuing streaming in this way. 

“Uhh, I would say that most of the streams so far have been a little crazy, right? It’s…doing this is hard. I’m hoping the more I do it the more things will start to chill out. I’m sorry to anyone who was offended by the comment section earlier. I didn’t mean for things to get so out of hand.”

JokeJinSeokjin: Food is ordered. Will be here in 30. 😋

Springin2Luv: @ JokeJinSeokjin who are you? I thought you didn’t have a boyfriend S.D.?

Your face heats as you prepare for the onslaught of drama this will cause, but then you’re shockingly surprised at Seokjin’s response. 

JokeJinSeokjin: Just a good friend to make sure S.D. is fed and for another stream. 

JokeJinSeokjin: Anyway 28 minutes until food time so hurry up and finish this level!

You laugh. “Well, you heard the man, let’s get back to the game.” 

Twenty eight minutes later exactly, Seokjin knocks on your door. “The food is here! I’m starving. Are you done yet?” 

You put the game on pause. “If you were watching the stream like you said you were, you would know that I’m not done with this level and am in fact stuck.” 

“Well excuse me for not staring intently and absorbing every detail when I’m this hungry. I’m going to open everything and eat it all before you!” 

“Go right ahead! You’re the one who wanted it so badly,” you call back, teasing. Though the second you finish the sentence, the warm smell of the crispy dumplings wafts into your room, Seokjin lightly creaking the door open and fanning the delivery bowl in your direction. 

He raises an eyebrow, challenging you as he takes one bite into one, mocking before his face contorts into pain. 

“Aish!!! It’s fucking HOT,” he yelps, and he drops the remaining dumpling back into the bowl, some of the green stuffing spilling throughout. 

“Well yeah, what did you expect!?”

“Not for it to be so goddamn burning hot!” He fans his tongue for good measure, and you can see even from your desk the slight red tinge some of his taste buds have taken. 

“There’s ice in the freezer. I’ll wrap this up now,” you sigh and shoo him away before turning back to your screen. “Well, you all probably heard that exchange, so I’m going to pause here. Sorry we didn’t get to beat it, but I’ll try again next time.”

You read over some of your farewell comments from your chat. But one really sticks with you. 

Babybibi: I feel like I know that voice from somewhere. 

Your stomach drops, but you remain composed, pretending you don’t recognize the comment. It never dawned on you that Seokjin’s fans could really be anywhere. Does he realize that? Is that why he safely stayed out of the camera’s reach? You’re not sure. 

By the time you have signed off, Seokjin has managed to plate both of your meals and get you drinks from the fridge. He’s plopped a throw pillow onto the floor to sit on at the beat up coffee table so you can sit in your regular couch spot. 

“I learned my lesson with that couch yesterday. It eats people.” 

“Oh yeah yeah, I know. Thank you, this looks great.” You blow on one of the mandu before popping into your mouth. Even after arriving ten minutes ago, it’s still crisp and hot. Meaning however hot it was for Seokjin must have been volcanic. “How’s your tongue?”

He pouts, sloshing some ice water around in his mouth before opening it to stick out his pink tongue. “It hawtsth,” he says with his tongue still lolled out. 

You chuckle. “Oh poor baby, do I need to kiss it and make it all better?” 

Seokjin shifts a little at the question, and you realize immediately the error in what you’ve just suggested. An image of the two of you drums up in your mind, you sucking each other’s tongues, an ice cube swapping from one mouth to the other as it melts. Nothing about this is even intimate; it’s just pure filth. And based on the matching redness in Seokjin’s ears, it’s clear his brain has gone somewhere similar. 

He finally rolls his tongue back between his plush lips and you sit awkwardly, suddenly unable to remember how to function. 

Seokjin makes the move to end the awkward pause, taking his chopsticks into his grasp and pulling out a large glob of noodles, shoveling it into his mouth. 

Right, food. Your stomach gurgles at the prospect and Seokjin raises an eyebrow at you as he chews, his eyes flashing down to your stomach. 

“Eat,” he instructs, so you do, following his commands to finish your dumpling and move on to your generous pile of noodles. 

How is he able to just push past the awkward and not have it freeze him in place the way it does with you? As you slurp your food down, you can’t help but study him, so effortlessly comfortable to sit in silence in your apartment after playing games about sex workers. 

You shouldn’t be surprised, you guess. Because Seokjin is a sex worker. He’s incredibly nonchalant about all of what you’re doing, no judgment to smudge this dynamic. 

If your old friends, or even your parents knew about you doing this, what would they think? 

Nothing good, you assume. 

It’s not that you were raised in an environment that was all helplessly ignorant about sex and bodies. You’d had sex. Your parents sat you down when you had your first period and explained every single detail about the human body and reproduction to you. It was painful and scientific, so divorced from the intimacy of what sex really is that it didn’t present itself to be much of an interest or issue until, well, you felt the first licks of desire. 

Those started as dreams. Ones where you would be heavily kissing and exploring the body of whoever you were crushing on at the time. The first one started with Wonwoo, after having spent all summer at the library memorizing the thin curve of his upper lips as he squinted to read the books in front of him. You would feel the heat of your core shifting you in your chair as you grew more intrigued, more curious about how his lips would feel on yours, what he would taste like. How his soft hands would feel if he actually held yours, not just the accidental brush when you would walk side-by-side back toward your neighborhood, where you would drop him off at the shop before slugging your way back through that sticky, angry heat that only added more to your discomfort. 

That was the first summer you started masturbating. And it was so awkward in some ways, trying to learn what you liked and how you liked it but also wondering why you liked it, why you liked Wonwoo in a way that was no longer so innocent and picturesque but scarier, more real. 

Your parents caught you, probably as every parent does at some point and just pretends they didn’t notice. Yours, however, made it clear that they knew. And while they never said anything beyond mentioning it once or twice, it felt humiliating. As if you were supposed to be above attraction and sex and pleasure. It was more in how your parents acted after this point that has given you enough insight to imagine how they would react if they knew what you did now. 

No direct words spoken, just blank, glaring looks and sneers. Just them ogling you like you had told them you murdered someone. Shame, in all the nooks and crannies of what it is. 

As for your friends, besides Wonwoo, they’ve all moved on. You had been so curious as a teenager, and wanted to know so much more. Yet, no one ever talked about sex. Some of them had dated through teen years. All of them dated someone in college except you. Sex was happening all around you and yet it was some forbidden topic. Even with Wonwoo after a while. You have a feeling you would have a next to near impossible time explaining what you are doing to those friends, and if Wonwoo wasn’t a streamer, you’re sure he wouldn’t fully get it either. 

But Seokjin understands. This is his life, this is so natural to him that he can sit in front of you after a long day and lazily smile with the knowledge that you are wearing lingerie underneath his shirt. 

“What are you thinking about?” He asks thoughtfully, and you blink, realizing that for the last few minutes you’ve been watching his gorgeous full lips, studying how his tongue peeks out to wipe away some of the sauce. 

“Lips,” you answer in your haze. 

“Ah,” he chides, and you blink away the memory. 

“What?” You ask. 

“Well, my lips are some of the best of them.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Given how long you were staring at me, I would bet that you were thinking they are. Don’t worry Y/N, go right ahead and get a good look.” He winks. 

“You’re so full of yourself.” 

“Well, at least I’m full of something. I haven’t seen you take more than a few bites of food. Quit stalling and eat your damn dinner.”

“You know, you’re pretty bossy.”

“I guess that’s why I’m the boss.” 

“Time and place. This isn’t the restaurant. Maybe it’s my house and I call the shots.”

He gestures around. “Well then, by all means. What are your commands.”

“For you to stop being a tool.”

Seokjin cackles. “Oh, that’s an insult I haven’t heard since middle school.”

“Well, is it any less efficient? I think it serves its purpose.” 

“I think you’re still stalling.” 

“Fine!” 

You twirl a large pile of noodles around your chopsticks and shovel them into your mouth. “Thewere. Hawppy?”

“Immensely so,” Seokjin says, his eyes twinkling. 

You don’t have the fight in you to argue anymore. The warm, savory noodles are so chewy and delicious, and the salt on your tongue is reminding you how deplenished you are from the energy of the stream. 

You eat in silence, until the heaviness of your limbs has scattered to mostly just the heaviness of your full stomach. 

You lean back against the sofa on your final chew, groaning when you’ve finished. 

“Ugh, that was so good.”

“I told you. I’m a genius for suggesting it.”

“You got lucky and picked the best place in this neighborhood.”

Seokjin scoffs. “Excuse you. Might I remind you of a humble restaurant that is also technically in this neighborhood?”

“And does this place serve jajjangmyeon at one a.m. on a weekday?”

“No.”

“Then my point still stands,” you say. 

Seokjin sighs and then follows up with a yawn that you can’t help but catch. 

“So, debrief time. Before either of us fall asleep.”

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. You can go home and rest. I can’t imagine you got much sleep today.”

“Hardly any at all, but you can’t get rid of me so easily.” Seokjin smirks. “Let’s talk about the stream.” 

“Well, you caught most of it.” 

“Yes, and I think it’s worth talking about.” 

You mull it over for a minute, how you felt as the onslaught of gifted sex toys seemed to flood the chat, the overwhelm not really of the thing itself but the assertion over a boundary you were trying to place. Why was this so hard for you to do? 

“I think I still feel so much like an imposter. I don’t know a lot about gaming, but I’m gaming. I’m not at all sexy enough to have a stream that does sexy stuff, so I feel like I’m just…” You shrug. 

He opens his mouth, but then stops himself, nodding for you to finish. 

“I don’t know, I just don’t want to fall for the pressure of being what everyone wants me to be. Which is, this role of the fat funny streamer. Like, every single trope in fiction has the side friend be fat and funny as some comedic relief. And because people wanted me to stream because I was so ‘funny’. Or they just see me as something to fuck because if I’m not completely sexless I have to be basically a pocket pussy for someone. All so I can make money. It’s so fucked.”

“But…you aren’t just a character in fiction, Y/N.” Seokjin reaches across the table, grazing his thumb over the back of your pinky knuckle. “You’re real. You feel things. You feel this, don’t you?”

You nod. 

“So if this is the choice, to keep streaming for some financial goal, then who is it you want to be? You’re sure of what you don’t want, which is a good place to start. But what next? You have a choice.”

You pause. You have a choice. 

In all of this, has it ever really felt that way? From the start, streaming was so rooted in financial stability. And because of that, it’s been so much heavier when you are forced into a performer role that you don’t want to partake in. It never occurred to you that you could actually control any of it.

But you suppose that’s what Seokjin does when he streams. He gives his audience some version of himself that he has a say in, control over. 

“I…I guess I don’t know. I have never really thought about this being a choice.”

He nods, then stands, stretching his arms over his head. “Maybe that’s where you start. Trying to figure out who it is you want to be. And owning her. Whoever she is. Whether she wants to be funny or sexy or a combination of the two. If she wants to give up streaming and find another thing, or go full steam ahead and become the top streamer on the internet. You get to decide.” 

After dinner–and trying not to stare at your breasts– Seokjin helped you wash the dishes, talked a bit more about your plans for the next stream, and then he left. He knew he was risking another impromptu sleepover and after your debrief, he wanted to make sure you had the space you needed to sit with the idea of choosing this for yourself. 

He knew all too well how important that was. Two years ago, in the same position, it was something he also had to decide: which parts of him stayed with him when he streamed and which parts he hid so he could keep them for himself. It wasn’t an easy choice. He still felt it creep up sometimes when he streamed, constantly vigilant of the words leaving his mouth so he didn’t ever give too much away.

Even when his friends were in the chat, he tried to not call attention to them by name. Similar to how you were on your stream. He wished he could be honest with you and tell you that this part never gets easier. Regardless of how much you wanted to share with others, there was the unfortunate reality that in order to maintain any sense of discretion and honor on the worldwide web, regardless of the type of streaming, the boundary between you and your audience would always lead to disconnection and loneliness. Conversely, you also were not ever going to be totally private and anonymous again. At some point, there was a tipping point where you would never again just be you. The digital footprint was permanent. 

And in this limbo, as time moved on and winter finally melted into Spring, the pressure was on for Seokjin. He considered telling you that he was a sex cam streamer. He had felt it on the tip of his tongue that night, but in the many nights that have since followed, fighting against the decision to just tell you so you could move through it and potentially build a more realistic and relatable plan based on his own experiences and the potential betrayal you might have felt when you learned of the ways he wasn’t at all morally superior for doing things for money. Would you judge him for wanting better for you? 

Moreover, would you be able to live with knowing that your friend–your boss– did gay sex streams? It just felt too delicate at this point to bring up, so Seokjin shoved it down inside of him, just like he did with his audience every time he hit the countdown to go live. 

And unfortunately, in the last few months he’d only streamed a handful of times, which resulted in a significant decrease in engagement and therefore, income. 

But between working at the restaurant and then coming over to sit in the other room as you streamed, his time was limited. 

He was tired. You streamed late into the early hours of the morning, and unlike him, you didn’t work full time. On the days you did have the early shift in the morning, you somehow seemed rested, clearly used to the chaotic structure of your regular gaming streams that might have occurred the night before. You’d decided to do a brief pause on late night themed streams until you had a better game plan. And to the surprise of both you and Seokjin, your followers were supportive. So you would stream regular games in the late night slots on occasion, and Seokjin would sit on as an honorary mod despite the exhaustion. Granted, those nights you often fell asleep before Seokjin had even left your apartment, and he would gently nudge you awake as you drifted off on the couch, prodding you to go take off your makeup and looking on fondly as you thanked him sleepily before crashing on your bed. 

One day in early May, though, everything that was delicately woven into the balance of things began fraying at the edges. 

Seokjin had woken up to a grateful text from you thanking him for coming over the night before, and had sent a follow up invitation. 

You 7:59AM: You can say no, but do you maybe want to go get dinner tonight when you’re done with work? 

Seokjin 8:00AM: Of course I’m going to say yes. Any suggestions where?

You 8:15AM: What about that restaurant that you told me about?

Seokjin 8:17AM: The Mediterranean one? With a month-long waitlist? 

You 8:18AM: Shit. I forgot about that. 😓

Seokjin 8:19AM: Wait a second. BRB

Seokjin 8:32AM: Ok I got a reservation for 10:30. I know that’s pretty late but that’s all I could get. Kitchen closes at midnight though so we should be fine.

You 8:32AM: HOW???

Seokjin 8:32AM: Head chef went to school with my brother. 

Seokjin 8:33AM: They weren’t that close. If they were, we would probably have an earlier time.

You 8:33AM: I don’t care! I’ll just eat before I go. It’ll be a fourth meal type of situation

Seokjin 8:35AM: We can also go somewhere else

You 8:36AM: NO. 😡 Do not take this away from me. I already decided what I want from the menu. We are going. 

Seokjin 8:37AM: LOL. Ok. I’ll come get you before? 10?

You 8:38AM: 👍

Seokjin smiled to himself, finally getting himself out of bed and ready for the day. He had a lot of work to do. When he opened his emails to get started, he saw an email from Worldwide Handsome. He opened it, his stomach sinking as he processed the words. 

Dear User Jin,  We at Worldwide Handsome appreciate the streams you have trusted us to host for the last two years. In this last financial quarter, we have successfully increased our outreach to new targeted consumers, both from members of the LGBTQ community and their allies. In part, we have you to thank for this success. Your continued participation in WWH’s Partnership program has taken us to new heights for pleasurable camming and stimulation experiences. Among our competitors, we have maintained our position as one of the top pornographic live cam websites, with your stream being one of the most engaged with to-date.  However, in the last two months, the algorithmic engagement of WWH’s live shows has significantly plummeted. In conducting market research, we found that in this quarter, we have had a staggering 11% decrease in consistent viewership, subscription renewal, and ad revenue. While there are many contributing factors, it has come to our attention that one overlapping factor might be one of the major contributing factors to this financial loss. In most of our data, it was User Jin’s channel that demonstrated the largest risk among our partners, primarily due to your lack of consistent streaming over the last few months.  While we are grateful for your continued dedication to Worldwide Handsome, we regret to inform you that should your channel continue to trend downward in market data over the next 30 days, we will terminate your contract with us as Partner. If this should happen, we still welcome you to continue utilizing the basic features of Worldwide Handsome. You will still retain a generous commission rate, the ability to publish past livestreams to your channel, stream clipping functions, gifting, and more. If you would like to learn more details about the basic features provided with Worldwide Handsome, please visit the FAQ page on our website.  Once again, we are grateful for your ongoing support over the years. We at WWH are grateful to you and the many other streamers who continue to make sex a global artform that we can proudly stand behind. If you have any questions or concerns, please do not hesitate to reach out.   Sincerely,  Worldwide Handsome Partners

Dropped from the partner program? His partnership with the website was what provided the groundwork for any sort of financial stability while streaming. It not only provided consistent scheduled payouts, but the commission retention was one of the highest in the industry. People were desperate to be part of the partner program, even if it belonged within the confines of gay sex streaming. And until this quarter, Seokjin had been leading the trend, securing his place within the company. But now, because of his neglect, it was being threatened out from under him. 

On top of it, the money pit of the restaurant was at it again; a sewer line bursting a few blocks away had caused flooding and an electrical malfunction a month ago, which resulted in a transformer blowing and frying his computer with all the records. His parents had been tech savvy enough to digitize everything, but clearly not enough to have learned to back up things onto the cloud instead of leaving them on the harddrive. 

For the last few weeks, he’d been shuffling documents back and forth between his laptop and the new system, begging his father to learn how to sign a PDF through some YouTube tutorial that only resulted in his father taking a fuzzy picture of the document in a poorly lit hallway of the cruise ship and sending it back over this morning with a text: 

Here you go! Hope this is okay. Probably won’t have a connection for a while. Talk next week. 

It was not in fact okay, and Seokjin was now considering just forging his father’s signature to get the new insurance forms authorized as soon as possible. The financial burden of what the restaurant was doing was starting to feel more like damnation and less of an investment. With each week drawing nearer to his parents' return, he began worrying that they wouldn’t be able to handle all the things that had become urgent needs.

He had a month to get it together. Otherwise, he could kiss both of his careers goodbye. With his father just adding to the slew of problems, today he was at his wit’s end. He was beyond stressed and in desperate need of release. 

Which is why when he logged onto Worldwide Handsome after a particularly frustrating call with the electrical company, he found himself falling naturally into his old persona easily. 

“I needed this,” he said to his audience, watching the bottom of the screen as the numbers slowly trickled in. It wasn’t nearly as many people as he had gotten accustomed to seeing you entertaining during your stream nights, and for some reason that felt intimidating to Seokjin. How you were able to secure an audience without needing to get naked, one that was flexible with you in ways that his audience could never be. He felt a tinge of jealousy at the thought. 

BGood4Daddy: Missed u pretty boy

He watched the comments flit by, many of them taking on the same sub-dom dynamic he usually played as. Some asked where he’d been, but most of them were just horny messages begging for him to act out their fantasies. 

His stomach twisted. Somehow he’d forgotten this was how things went. 

“Missed you too. Missed all of you. It’s been crazy lately,” he said. He palmed himself casually through his slacks, trying to convince himself to get into the mood. 

The tips started to slowly trickle in, starting to meet the bare minimum goals for Seokjin to begin stripping. 

That’s one thing about his audience he’d always be able to count on. They would always ensure that he had enough of a payout to take his cock out. 

He chuckled at the comments, starting to wind up as he removed his shirt, and then unzipped his slacks. 

XMasterX: you’ve been a bad boy. Sir needs to punish you for leaving us for so long. 

“Is that right?” Seokjin challenged. “Well, then if I’m just going to be punished, maybe it’ll be better if I leave.” 

The threat had the desired effect; Seokjin’s tip jar began to fill up faster, the view count starting to increase back to a somewhat decent viewership. 

Good. This was good. Soon he could get all of this over with and secure himself back into good standing with the website and his subscribers. 

Within a few minutes, the tip jar announced that the first two milestones have been unlocked: take off shirt and take off pants. 

“Eager are we?” he teased, slowly slipping his shirt over his head. He’d managed to get back to the gym in his apartment complex this week, but even if he hadn’t, it’s not like he wasn’t still toned from all the heavy lifting at the restaurant. With all the electrical issues, he’d been helping pull industrial heavy equipment away from the walls for the electrician to prepare to install a new grounding wire, and those weren’t particularly light. 

The comments lit up with the praise, usernames old and new beginning to flash across his screen. He smirked.

“I know you’ve waited a while, but maybe you should sweat it out a bit. Show me how much you missed me.” 

It felt so natural to say this, something he knew you hadn’t felt comfortable doing in your streams, but you’d tried a few times. He’d found it cute when you’d done it, almost like it was a gentle request. But for him now, this was about anticipation and tension, letting his viewers fall back into the world of fantasy he used to cook up every few days. This was a place of escape, where Seokjin was left behind and Jin took control. 

The tip jar shook, the animated coins piling in. 

He popped the button of his pants. Slowly. He smirked at the camera, reaching down and squeezing himself. He wasn’t hard, but he wasn’t small, and that was still part of the fantasy: the grand reveal that people had to work for. He often chose to work under the assumption that everyone was new in the chat, that this was a new experience for voyeuristic eyes. While he knew that wasn’t necessarily true, for all he knew someone could be stumbling into the chat room, unknowing to his body and the pleasure he was so willing to give. 

Someone like you. 

His cock twitched at that. He’d expected this fantasy to get a bit old for him: the idea that you would come across his stream and stay for the whole thing. It had been the fuel for his fire a few months ago, but so much had changed now that you were friends. 

But now that he knew more about you, all the little details, fuck. That just made it seem even more real. He could see you in your small room, his shirt draped over you safely while you strutted around in those tiny pajama shorts. 

He unzipped his pants, kicking them off at the ankles and sitting back down in the chair. 

You’d be doing the same thing, he thought. Those shorts riding up those thick thighs he now knew exactly the weight of as they’d rubbed against his. They were so soft, all of you so soft. And he knew you’d shove them down quickly, annoyed that they got in your way, pouting a little bit that he wasn’t there to tug them off of you. 

“Fuck,” Seokjin said. “I don’t know if I can really take it much longer.” It was true, his cock was hardening quickly, and the need to touch himself was growing heavier with urgency. 

His chat sounded off, various commands to wait or to go for it. It really didn’t matter. He wasn’t there for them tonight. Even though maybe he should have been, maybe the risk was that if he didn’t comply, there would be no great reward. 

mapl3stor33 tipped $3000: Welcome back. Give us a good one. You can always pay us back for it 😉

Seokjin smiled, his most loyal subscriber popping up with a generous tip. Yes, this was where he thrived, wasn’t it? Isn’t this what he was good for? 

2 milestones unlocked from another viewer, this time selecting from some of the few dozens of options programmed into the menu to help guide the stream: cock ring and edging, no cumming. 

God, why did he allow for there to be guided sessions? Why didn’t he lead the stream this time like the one he did a few months ago? That was the one where he’d cum all over himself after pretending to blindfold you. 

Now, he knew even more about you, how the curve of your ass felt shifting against him. How soft your hair was when it tickled his arms while you slept, little whimpers escaping your mouth that he knew he could easily draw from you again when he got the chance. You’d look so pretty with a blindfold on, shivering in the warm light of your bedroom, mouth open and desperate as he lightly touched around your collarbone, down your sternum and between the valley of your tits. You’d been so bad about teasing him in those sexy little bustiers and corsets lately, and it would be nice if he got to tease you for once. 

His cock ached through his briefs, asking him to end the torture, to free himself into the open air and stroke until he came thinking about all the ways he wanted to torture you with pleasure. 

But with another tip coming in, this time adding the detail of a vibrating cock ring, Seokjin knew his fantasies would not be leading him to be satisfied tonight. At least not in the way he wanted. 

Twenty minutes later, after playing into the game of begging and whining and falsely pretending he was going to cum to ensure he was edging, he came. A pathetic, unsatisfying dribble that wept out of him and hardly amounted to the sensation he felt earlier. He’d tried to think of you, but there was a block. Too many people watching, too many people demanding things from him. Instead of just cumming, it became aware to Seokjin how much of a performance these streams always were; the ring light setup ensured people could see every angle. He knew how to make attractive faces when he orgasmed that would leave everyone with plenty of imagery for their own personal fantasies later. He knew how to pretend to be more turned on than he was, and to force vibrators and dildos into proper angles to ensure he came. It was all part of the show. 

One that he hadn’t taken part in for quite some time. When he masturbated last night in the shower, he caught his reflection in the vanity mirror. He saw how his face contorted, how his body would buck and writhe without his control as he came against the shower wall, how in some ways, there was something objectively unsexy about how he came, no glossy angles to make sure his chin didn’t pull into different skin pockets, no ambient lighting to capture the ridges of his body. Just the pure experience of orgasming as a human being and nothing more. 

As he wiped up his mess, he decided to do a little chat with his subscribers. 

At least he didn’t moan that one person’s name like last time. 

Oh yeah. Jin what was that about? You have some girlfriend we don’t know about?

I thought he was gay. This is a gay site! 

You must be new here. He’s straight. 

Oh :( 

Maybe he’s been too busy fucking her to come play with us. 

I bet it’s boring sex. Who needs to do streams when they’re getting laid. You better tell her to satisfy you, or one of us will have to come show her how she could do better. 

“Yah, enough of that,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I don’t have a girlfriend. And I don’t want to talk about what happened that one time. It was a mistake. It won’t happen again. Anyway, I’m tired. Time for bed. I won’t make you wait as long for next time. Bye!” 

Ugh. What an awful stream. If it was going to be like this all the time, maybe he should have actually considered letting the website shut him down and take the cut. 

But then how would you get everything taken care of with the restaurant. 

He sighed. Is this how you experienced streaming too? He figured as much. His stomach tugged, disappointed he couldn’t talk to you about it. You always debriefed your streams with him, especially if you felt a little shitty during one. Now, because he was keeping this life of his separate from his life with you, he had no one who would understand to talk to about this. All he could ever do is provide support to you, but not you to him. It was still just as lonely doing this as it always had been. Only this time, Seokjin knew that it didn’t have to be this way. That some people could reveal other parts of themselves to get kernels of support when needed. 

But that wasn’t going to be him. He was alone in this. And as he dragged himself to bed, feeling sorry for himself, he didn’t notice that he left his phone on silent.

“Detective? Are you there?” The svelte redhead approached my desk. I could see through the cameras that she helped herself to snooping around. Whatever she was gathering from my notebooks, it was a trap. 

Any good detective knows not to leave his mess around. Any clues she was trying to gather from this dark, dark world, they would be nothing compared to reality. 

Reality is darker. Betrayal, people thinking they know me because they know my past. 

I light a cigarette, inhaling deeply. The smoke swirls around my head like a cloud. It’s cloudy here in Seattle, and that promise of heavy rain reassures me. He’s going to try to move the kitty tonight, and I’m not about to let him use her as a distraction. 

She leans her large, milky tits over my desk. She’d look good there, spread out across it. I’m sure she knows too. Any dame like her would know what she’s worth. A tempting distraction, but I am too good to fall for it. 

“God what the fuck even is this?” You exit out of the screen on your tablet, the cover mocking you for even considering it. Whatever the hell you were expecting from Clues to My Heart’s raving 5-star reviews, this wasn’t it. This was a pile of absolute garbage. 

And it isn’t serving its purpose of distraction. You are still imagining the main character as Seokjin, only Seokjin in some twisted, fake machismo, desk set smutty nightmare of a book that is so full of plot holes and clichés that you know you can’t stomach it further. Reading an awful romance novel is clearly not the answer to escaping the awful feeling in your stomach. 

You delete it from your library and sigh, staring at the shelves of your apartment, debating if you really want to read something or just go to bed and let yourself cry. 

He stood you up. He stood you up and you looked the hottest you ever looked. This was going to be your attempt at connection, at knowing for sure that you were on the path toward something more intimate than friendship. 

But now, it was clear: whatever expectation you had for the two of you, it might as well be dead and buried with whatever body this stupid book is trying to solve the murder of. 

You tried calling him multiple times. His phone just rang on and on as the clock shifted from 10:15 to 10:30 to 12:00. For a moment, you thought maybe you got the date or time wrong. Maybe instead of tonight as in today he thought you meant tomorrow? 

Or maybe he lost track of time by finding a dog outside of your apartment, and then he had to go find its owner so he never had the chance to tell you he’d be late. 

But more realistically, maybe he just doesn’t want to see you and this silence is meant to be interpreted as a boundary. Seokjin is definitely the type who would feel bad rejecting you when you come onto him, and would apologize to you despite the fact that he’s not guilty. It’s happened before, in the kitchen incident. 

Even if it’s not that, it’s the fact that you carefully selected an outfit for tonight, a silky black slip dress that you are terrified to wear because there’s no part of you that you can hide. The slippery material will highlight every curve, every line (especially panty lines), and every droplet of moisture that you might dribble or sweat out. 

But in the last few months, you’ve been trying to do one thing every day that scares you. Today, it would appear you were going to go for two. And now, you are dealing with one terrifying thing that might just be worse than the first two: rejection. 

It’s humiliating. You know you’re going to go to work tomorrow and will have to see him knowing that there will be some awkward confrontation or avoidance game. You’ll have to speak to him. He’ll probably call you into the back office and let you down gently. Will reinforce the fact that he’s your boss and that things have gone too far or some bullshit. 

And then, just like how you’ve been cut out of the lives of people who meant something to you, it’ll happen again, as it always does. 

1 Year Ago

It’s raining so hard that you can’t see the road, but you’re trying to drive through it anyway, trying to make it home in time so you won’t miss it. You got out of work late; you thought being a substitute teacher wouldn’t come with all the extra grading, but you were wrong. 

A year ago, the elementary school nearby shut down, and with it came the layoff of all its teachers. A stupid idea, really, because that meant an already over-enrolled school was forced to shuttle its students across town to the other elementary school, doubling its student body without doubling its teachers. Somewhere in the thick of it, you were looking for a job, living in your parents’ house trying to float from one career to the other. 

Your friends around you were moving; Wonwoo was already in a new time zone, making an upward move in every area. His former girlfriend-turned-fianceé worked in HR for a tech start-up and easily navigated getting him in as a coder. They had just secured a penthouse with a gorgeous view. His life was locked together. Your other friends, it seemed, had moved on in their lives as well. Two of them already had children and were married. Two more were engaged. Everyone else was jetting across the world on expeditions to places with sandy beaches and bottomless drinks. And there you were: mid twenties, desperate for change.

So when you saw the banner across the elementary school advertising a need for substitute teachers, you decided you were desperate enough to try. And as it turned out, you loved it. There was something magic about working with young children, seeing how they developed new ideas you would never in your adult dreams try to fathom. But to them, to fly across the world on a magical escalator or hippo was a true possibility and you wanted part of you to have that same freedom to dream of the impossible. Their creativity inspired you to push the boundaries of life and dream of more. 

Not to mention, it also landed you a boyfriend. One day while you were substituting for the gym teacher, nervously handing out kickballs to a bunch of fourth graders for class and praying they didn’t knock each other’s teeth out, someone stepped into the gymnasium and padded his way over to you, looking for his youngest sister to take her to a dentist appointment. And not too soon after, you and Do Woon had your first day date, which turned into a night date, and then a breakfast date. It was more like a 3-day date where the two of you spent the entire weekend rolling around in his sheets. You only managed to escape that awkward conversation with your parents because they were out of town for the weekend. If they had known any different, you would probably have died from embarrassment. 

Teaching has given you a lot of great things. But with that care comes a cost. You are now late for your father’s surprise birthday party and trapped in an insane rainstorm. 

You weave around fallen tree branches, trying not to obsess over the clock as the minutes roll smoothly into each other, knowing that by now, the surprise portion of the party is over. They’re probably eating cake now and reminiscing on his milestones. Your mother is probably chatting to your aunts and uncles about the renovations they’ve made to the main bathroom. Do Woon is supposed to be there, and if your instincts are right, you’ll be getting engaged tonight. 

It would be the perfect opportunity. All your family is there ready to celebrate, and your father who hates being the center of attention will have all the pleasure of dumping the focus onto you. 

Do Woon has been acting odd the last few weeks. You’ve been pretending not to notice, especially when recent conversations have been skirting around topics you two used to discuss regularly. You have a trip to Bali planned for the fall, which he once said is where he would want to honeymoon. He’s given very few details about this trip since he booked the flight almost three months ago, and you suspect that’s because he doesn’t want to give any spoilers about the honeymoon suites or couple packages you both looked over when you decided this was where you wanted to vacation. You’re not sure you have enough time to plan a wedding in six months, but if this is what Do Woon wants, who are you to say no? 

Since the start of your dating, he’s been thoroughly engrossed in a very specific timeline, and had no issues telling you so: he wanted to date for about a year, get engaged, get married (wherever you wanted, he insisted), have a honeymoon on some beachy shores and get started with making babies. He is the eldest of six. He wants a big family. 

You’ve talked him down from that number over the last few months, having him promise instead you will see how things go and will take it as it comes. While he wasn’t entirely pleased with that compromise, you think his agreement is a good enough answer. But that’s how Do Woon is. He plans his life down to every meticulous detail. Which is why even if you don’t think you can pull off planning a wedding in such a short window of time, you know he can. 

So tonight, you think it’ll happen. And unfortunately for you, you’re going to look like absolute rain-soaked garbage, the perfect accompaniment to your shitty day.

The once neatly wrapped gift next to you is now soggy from the downpour. You didn’t check the weather before heading into work today and left your umbrella in the car. It rolls around on the floor in front of the passenger seat, completely dry and mocking. 

At work, you found out that they’re continuing to make staffing cuts despite the shortage, as many families have chosen not to enroll in the school next year, instead moving their children to private schools closer to their homes or homeschooling. As desperate as they were to hire you, the work you put into the year you’ve been here is now about to just melt away. 

You don’t know how much longer you’ll have a job.

You anticipated this, of course, spent most of the fall applying for graduate programs. Of the ten applications you submitted, you’ve been waitlisted in two places: the local university here and the more modern (and urban) program not even remotely close to this place. You’d hoped when you sent those applications that things would be getting more serious with Do Woon, but it had only been a handful of months. You weren’t sure where the two of you were going. And now, you are hoping for the local program, not wanting to give up on your dream of teaching if it means you don’t have to.

Your phone lights up in the darkness of your car. One more missed call from your mother. But you’re so close, almost to your neighborhood. You know how poorly this is going to go. 

As you take a final turn, making your way down the street, you see the street has started flooding, barring you from your block. It’s no use, either. You can see on the block after yours that those crossroads are also flooded. The only way to get home is to do so on foot. So that’s what you do, park your car on the non-flooded side street, prop the sodden gift under your arm, grab your umbrella and head into the rain. 

The thing about thresholds is that they are a place where you exist in transition. From the street, you can hear a hum of music but don’t know the exact tune. You see faces lit by the warm lamps of your dining room, and can make out your uncle and your father’s boss. But you can also hear the rain thrumming on the roof, smell the Earth as the rain hits the soil. There’s the chill of the wind cutting through your damp clothing. The moment you step into the house, you’ll be someone else. A daughter still, but also someone else’s future wife. 

The warmth of the house touches your face when you step in, the loud voices you’d heard from the other side of the door now having owners: your aunt yelling at your young cousin not to touch something, the sharp guffaw of your dad’s best friend. 

You take off your soaked shoes and walk into the dining room. The cake has been cut, neat squares leaving only globs of frosting leaves behind on the golden tray. The neapolitan ice cream is abandoned and melting into an unappetizing brown sludge. Empty beer cans stack up on the table’s other end. 

Your stomach gurgles. You’ve barely eaten all day. But you know that will all happen soon. There’s time for cake and celebration after you see the birthday boy.

You find him in his favorite lounge chair, foot rest out as he relaxes and listens to some story one of his co-workers is telling about a client. 

“I’m telling ya, she had this massive tits that would knock over everything and everyone. So I says to her one day, you know what I says? ‘Ma’am, now pardon me for sayin’ so, I’m a respectable fella, but I think you might need to get a car blinker.’ And she asks me why and I says to her, ‘Because when you’re turnin’ around, we then’ll know to duck!’”

A roar of laughter bellows through the room, your father smirking at the story as he sips his beer. Ugh. You saunter over to him, fanning a smile across your face. 

“Hi Dad,” you say, and face the rest of the guests. “Hi everyone.” 

“Y/N! What the hell happened to ya, kid. Rainstorm getcha?” Your father’s boss asks.

You give an apologetic nod. “Yes, I was caught in it. Left work late. The road is flooded so be careful when you leave.”

“I drove over in the truck, so I’m fine,” he responds, sucking down the rest of his beer. “Ah, all out. Can I get you another Birthday Boy?” He nudges you with his elbow roughly. “What about you, hon?” 

“I’m, I’m all good. Thanks,” you say awkwardly, trying to ignore the way he’s looking at you up and down salaciously. This man is older than your father, is standing next to your father and behaving this way. It makes you want to strip your entire skin from your body and wash it in the washing machine. 

“Suit yourself. I’m gonna get some more of that cake anyways. You coming, Bill?” Bill, the apparent co-worker who was bragging about his evident sexual harassment, sighs. 

“Yeah, yeah. Well, if I don’t see ya, happy birthday again. Thank your wife for the dinner. It was great. And it was good to see you too,” Bill waggles his eyebrows and walks behind you through the foyer and into the dining room. For a brief moment, you swear you feel him cup your ass in passing. 

“Where have you been?!” Your mother’s voice carries across the room. You whip your head to search, finding her walking into the room from the back entrance to the kitchen. She must’ve been cleaning up because the front of her blouse is wet. 

“I was working and I had to stay late. And then the storm happened and I had to park down the street. I’m sorry.” 

“Well because of you, we awkwardly stood around for well over an hour waiting for you to show up and get everything set up so when your father walked in the door it would actually be a surprise. Which it wasn’t, by the way. He recognized Carl’s truck out front and I guess that was the big giveaway. You were supposed to help me with this, Y/N!”

Your father looks at your mother and sighs. “It was really no big deal. I hate surprises anyway.” 

“For a milestone birthday like this, you could use the surprise,” she asserts.

“Well, I got one anyway didn’t I?” He says sharply, standing up and walking out of the room. The gift in your hands feels like dead weight. You set it down onto his chair. 

“What happened?” You ask. 

Your mother walks closer, looking around the room to ensure no one else is listening. “Your father is being laid off. He found out today. And then when Carl and Bill and all them showed up, they kept talking about it. Turns out no one else in his department is being laid off. Just him.”

Your stomach sinks. Your father supplies most of the income that your family needs to stay afloat. He’s not expected to retire for a few more years. Which means if he gets laid off, he’ll lose a few years’ worth of extra employer contributions to his retirement fund. And his boss and co-workers being such assholes to rub it in? Fuck them. 

This wasn’t how you expected any of this to go. 

“Oh god. Poor dad.” Your mother nods. 

“Yeah, what a birthday. And you weren’t even there to share it with him because you were too busy to be here when it was the only time we needed you to show up. So thanks for that.” 

Her words are like knives. You feel yourself being sliced open from all the guilt. She’s not wrong. You’d been the one to organize most of this party, to convince her to follow through with it. And you missed it. People around you have begun departing, shouting happy wishes to your father. All his unwrapped gifts sit on the coffee table next to you, colorful paper pulled open. You missed the entire thing. 

“I didn’t mean to,” you try, but you know it's useless. Your mother waves goodbye to one of the neighbors. It’s stopped raining enough to not be a constant heavy click against the windowpane. 

“Well you did anyway. It is what it is. Now are you going to disappear on me during clean up or are you going to help me?” She begins to weave the discarded wrapping paper out from under the gifts, setting them into a neat pile on the coffee table. 

“I’ll get a trash bag,” you offer, and make your way through the house into the kitchen. Every surface is riddled with stacks of paper plates with balloons on them and plastic forks and spoons. A large yellow tupperware bowl idles by the sink, some vinegary salad now mixed with remnants of every other food from watermelon to potato chips. It’s the first thing you dump into the trash bag. 

You follow the garbage, in and out of the half bathroom and dining room, back to the living room when you notice someone is missing. 

“Mom,” you say. “Where’s Do Woon?” 

“Was he supposed to be here? Because I didn’t see him.” 

“He didn’t come?” 

“No, Y/N. Unless he is hiding upstairs in your room for some reason, I have not seen him at all tonight.” She dumps a pile of plates into the trash bag. “Think you can handle the rest? My feet hurt and your father and I need to discuss some things.” 

“Sure, I am just surprised he didn’t come. I thought–”

“God, honestly. For two seconds can you not think about yourself? It’s not your birthday.”

You fall silent, nodding your head as she steps out of the room and goes to find your father.

Something must be wrong, you think. You reach into your pocket and grab your phone, checking it for messages from Do Woon. 

There are many missed calls from your mother, but none from him. Strange. The last time you talked was today. You had reminded him what time the party started. He didn’t respond, but he read the message, and you were satisfied with that. 

You select his contact info and hit the call button. After a few seconds of ringing, it goes to voicemail. 

“Hey, it’s me. Not sure what happened tonight, maybe you got stuck in the storm. I know I did, it was crazy and I missed the entire party. Today’s been awful. But uh yeah, call me back when you get this. Love you.” 

Maybe he is stuck in a work meeting? He does work late, sometimes unexpectedly, putting in extra hours at his office until you are getting ready for bed. 

You shoot him a text. 

You 9:02PM: Hey, missed you at the party. Are you working late?Read 9:02PM

Immediately you can see he has opened it. But after ten minutes, there is no response. 

You 9:12PM: Everything okay? Read 9:12PM

You clean up the rest of the trash in the living room, tying off the bag and stepping outside. It has stopped raining. The world looks glassy as droplets fall from the tree limbs and refract the streetlights. You walk over to the trash bin, the glaze of cold water running down your hands as you deposit the bag in. You grab the mail. 

No acceptance letters. For some reason that feels like the cherry on top of the shittiness that is today. Your mother’s bitter words, your father’s exhaustion, the weather’s chaos weaving into your insecurity. It all feels like some horrible dream. 

You need Do Woon. He’s not much of a talker, but he is a good listener, and after a good ranting session, he’ll usually fuck the sadness out of you so you don’t have to think and afterward you’re usually too tired to do anything but sleep. That’s what you need right now. 

Where is he? It’s been a half hour and no response. Maybe you’re being paranoid and soon he’ll call and poke fun at how worried you seemed. Maybe he’ll be mad that you are interrupting a work meeting. But today has been awful. And all you want is to hear his voice. 

So you call him again, and this time it goes immediately to voicemail. 

You 9:38PM: What is going on? Read 9:38PM

You 9:39PM: Please answer me. I’m getting worried. Read 9:39PM

You 9:39PM: Babe!

Message failed to deliver. 

A glow falls onto the damp earth around you. You look around for the source and then up. As the rain clouds break apart above you, you realize you’re standing in the light of the moon. 

He never called back. That was the end. When you think about it now, there were some vague signs of distancing, but it never amounted to anything that made sense. There, then gone, Do Woon cut you off one day and never looked back. 

Much to your embarrassment, you didn’t handle the situation well. That night, you tried calling him three more times, only to receive a message that the number you tried to reach was unavailable. You’d considered driving to his apartment, but as the night wore on, you started to put the pieces together. He didn’t want to talk to you. He’d blocked you, and you didn’t know why. 

For the first month after the ghosting-turned-break-up, you tried to get intel to figure out what happened, how you had so royally fucked up your relationship that he didn’t even want to tell you to your face. Unfortunately, most of your friends you’d made that year were through him, and with him cutting you off, so did most of your friends. 

Your parents were sympathetic, to a degree. You were given approximately two days to mope. And then you were told to start looking for better jobs in case you, like your father, would be laid off. 

“It’ll be a good distraction, I think!” Your mother had said. “Nothing says get over a relationship better than starting a new job.” 

You and your father passed job postings back and forth for the next week. You were less than thrilled with the job market. Sure, jobs existed, but none with your skillset or interests or desired pay. To gain anything you would have to make a choice to lose something else, and it twisted your gut at the prospect. 

But, in the midst of the heartache, came your rejection from the local university. It was for the best, really. You knew you only wanted to study there because of Do Woon, and without him being part of your life it didn’t matter anyway. 

And just as you were at the end of your optimism, ready to let hope die and surrender to the dreamless haze, an email came in with an acceptance into the final university. A big city laid before you to explore. 

Things snapped into place. You finished up the school year and told your parents you were moving out. 

And now you’re here, in an apartment all to yourself, attending your dream program (or at least trying to) and learning how to cook a halfway decent meal. An apartment that has you rotting on a couch as you try to remind yourself that what happened with Do Woon was a fluke, and not anything you did wrong. And it certainly isn’t some sign that you’re doomed to repeat the same fate again.  

You’ve learned in the last few weeks that he’s engaged to someone he met through a matchmaking service. In his profile picture, his future bride is holding an ultrasound photo and he has his hands on her very large belly. “Coming this summer: our own ray of sunshine” the caption reads. 

You can’t imagine him ever saying that. He always hated cheesy things. But that’s the surprising thing about all of this: you also never expected him to ghost you and immediately start seeing someone else. 

He was a fluke in the timeline. Not a rule, right? You know this. You know not everything happening once means you’re doomed to repeat it forever. 

But why is that all you can think about with Seokjin? 

You went to work this morning, and he said nothing. No, he probably won’t disappear into the abyss because he manages this place. But when his parents return, will he then? Is he just biding his time before he vanishes? 

You hope not. God, you really hope not. 

The day rolls on without a word between either of you. Maybe this is how it should be, you think. Two people. Uncomplicated. Not tied to each other by strands of anything. 

Fate. This is how it works. It brings people together and then it pulls them apart. 

©2024 by jooniperbonsai

[soap-ify]

(SORRY BUT THIS ASK HAS MENTIONS OF SH)

HEY RURU!! I rlly adore reading your makes, it truly helps me identify what kind of a slut and whore that I am, but. Can I request some fluff? Like my best friend, (13 years of friendship since middle school) got with my boyfriend and I'm so like confused and mad, and like sad. I just don't know what to do at this point, I literally almost committed last night with ov3rd0$e. Unfortunately, I was unsuccessful, but if I could read one last thing before I don't want to live, it would be your writings :))

-❄️🍷

hi anon! i know it's been like two weeks and i hope you have been doing well. i am terribly sorry that happened to you, i understand how horrific that must have felt. moments like these makes one believe that the whole world is against you but please, do know that i'm always here for you if you need someone to vent. you deserve to be happy, and i'm here to listen. i genuinely hope you are doing alright now.

some morning simon fluff just for you. (no cws except reference to ghost's past)

there is nothing simon adores more than waking up next to you, your legs tangled with his, your head cozily buried into his chest — it most certainly looked like a mess from a distance. a mess he’d do anything to live over and over again.

it was a sweet reminder of your existence, and somewhat, his too. a reminder that he had survived it all somehow, all those gruesome missions and fights, all the torture he had too endure once, he had survived it. his life had just begun when had crawled out of that damn grave, his destination being you even if unbeknownst to him at that time.

“mmh, si…” your soft drowsy mumble snapped him out of his thoughts, causing him to look down at your stirring form, your head pulling away from the comfort of his chest to look over at him. oh, how he loved this sight of yours — forehead damp from the heat radiating off him, your eyes slightly puffy and hair a mess. it was as if you had made it your personal mission to attack his heart in the best way possible.

“g’mornin’, love.” his voice was hoarse from slumber, one hand reaching out to gently caress the back of your head, adoring the way you nuzzled into him. your calm breathing was his favourite sort of melody — the tranquility he had fought so hard to achieve, now finally nuzzled within his arms. his treasure.

“slept well, hm?” he pressed a chaste kiss on your forehead, ignoring your muffled protests of your forehead being ‘sweaty’ and all the shite he couldn’t care any less about.

“i did…” you huffed reluctantly, feeling the familiar fuzzy feeling storming within your stomach at the sight of him, his cheeks visibly flushed from sleep, hair disheveled. you wondered how he’d respond from being called adorable, maybe you’ll have to try some other day.

“you were snoring all night.” your words caused him to lazily grin and lean in as close as your bodies allowed, burying his face into your neck, your warmth wrapping around him like a blanket. a home that he finally had.

“can’t help it. you make me sleep like a baby, love.”