#handsome girl - chapter 11

[pink-yuri]

♡ Handsome Girl and Sheltered Girl ♡

[notiddygothgf]

1/2

★ pairings: choso kamo x f!reader

★ synopsis: Yuuji Itadori truly was the best friend a girl like you could ask for, but he wasn't the only reason you came to visit. (His older brother, the devilishly handsome Choso Kamo, had always been the apple of your eye).

★ c.w.: slow burn, friends to lovers, eventual smut, childhood sweethearts, kinda, mutual pining, choso with a tongue piercing, rough sex, cunnilingus, backshots, unprotected sex, regular people au, two year age gap, PWP.

★ a/n: hi pookie dookies!! ive been wanting to write choso for a while!! this is a one shot I split into two chapters bc its like, 11k words.... but! if u guys request it, I might add more chapters!!! thank u for ur support as always, muah muah!! (btw if u like tokyo rev go check out my other shit teehee).

★ w.c.; 4.5k

best friend's brother ; chapter index

YUUJI ITADORI WAS truly the best friend a girl like you could ask for. The two of you were kind of like childhood friends, though you hadn’t been close for a good portion of it. You didn’t remember the exact day Itadori had invited you into his home – though you knew it was some time in elementary school. The two of you had been practically inseparable ever since. 

There was one thing about the pinkette’s home life in particular that seemed to catch your young eye. 

His older brother, Choso.

He was two years your senior – dark hair, dark eyes, he looked nothing like his brother. He had this scar over the bridge of his nose from an accident that had happened when he was younger. He was an elusive figure, something of a mystery to your young mind – he was always there, but never there.  

He was content to dwell in the background like some sort of side character. 

The first time you’d ever met him had been at one of Itadori’s baseball games. He’d invited you to show up – and at this point you had to have been no older than 8 or 9 – and show out for him. And show out you sure did. 

You had your mother do your hair up real nice in those cute little pigtails you used to love wearing. You had scribbled his jersey number onto a plain white tee the night before, donning some hot pink leggings beneath.

And you screamed for Itadori, cheered as loud as your little lungs would allow you to. He won, of course, but that’s not the point here. You’d gone up to him after the game, wrapping your short arms around his frame – and at the time he was no larger than you were – and telling him he’d done great. Itadori grinned at you, faint blush dusting his cheeks, and thanked you. His smile was a thousand suns in one.

A hand on his shoulder had shaken the two of you out of the moment. A bigger hand.

It was his 11-year-old adoptive brother, Choso Kamo. An angel of the darkness, as corny as that sounds, but in that moment you swore the gates of heaven resided in those dark eyes of his. He stood out against the bright backdrop of the September afternoon. The sunlight filtered through his short black hair, reflected off of his pale skin, shooting rays right into your stomach and sending a horde of butterflies fluttering.

“This your girlfriend, Yuuji?” He commented with a half-grin.

You remember turning red at his comment, waving your arms around wildly. You remember the way his eyes creased as he laughed at you, one of the few times you recall seeing him laugh.

So what if you had heart eyes for your best friend’s older brother? It was harmless, just a little crush you had formed on the guy you felt had stolen your heart away. Harmless. 

At least, it was until the two of you grew older. You started junior high, you started puberty , and as your body changed, so did his. So did your feelings, morphing from a butterfly crush to something more akin to desire as you began to see him in a different light.

He lost the baby fat around his face. His eyes had darkened, shoulders broadening. His hair got longer, falling into his boyish, scarred face in a way that rendered you entirely breathless. 

He was becoming a man.

You were 13 and 15 now, stealing sneaky glances at him whenever he would pass by his brother’s room. Yuji, who had just been boasting about how he was starting to get taller than you, would pay it no mind.

It was just a crush. He was two years your senior, after all. You had no chance.

You were 13 when he would poke fun at you and his brother. He was 15 when he would laugh at the way your face would go red. He didn’t know that it wasn’t his brother you wanted.

14 and 16 when you first began to notice the subtle slope of his shoulders become more pronounced, more defined. When you began to notice the way his muscles would strain against the sleeves of his tee shirt. 

He had always been a large guy, having hit quite a few growth spurts along the way. He had to have been about 5’10 at that point, practically towering over you. But lately, you thought he must have been hitting the gym. He would walk past Yuji’s open door – and in their house it was a family policy to leave the door open when you came over, even if Yuji was only a brother to you – with gym gear on. He would come back with sweat-slicked hair plastered to his forehead, chest rising and falling steadily.

Something about that made your hormones go wild for him. Inappropriate thoughts began to chew away at you from the inside, images of what he could do to you with such strength, even if you weren’t too certain what ‘doing’ even entailed at that time. The scent of his pheromones, something like that – or maybe it was the way his gym clothes hugged his body while he marched towards the bathroom to take a shower – it made you feral for him.

He was so much bigger than you now. It made your head spin with feelings you didn’t quite understand. It was just a crush… so why did you stay awake at night imagining him panting over you, sweat trickling down his bare chest? The way his muscles might ripple under your hesitant, inexperienced touch? The warmth that would bloom over your face when you imagined his lips on yours – this man who you had never gotten close to.

A man who you remembered having a late night conversation with in the kitchen while Yuuji slept right down the hall one night.

He was ransacking the cabinet for snacks when you found him. He relaxed once he’d noticed it was you, the two of you eventually falling into sugar-fueled conversation after he cracked open a pack of double-stuff oreos. A conversation about the taboo , about the things you had been told to keep quiet.

“You don’t have to be all flustered ‘round me, y’know,” He had told you rather softly. The two of you were separated by the kitchen island, but it felt like he was way to close to you. “You can ask me anything you’re curious about.”

“I’m not curious!” You had whisper-shouted back with a roll of your eyes. “I don’t want to know about your sex life, you whore.”

“You just asked me what it felt like, liar,” He noted, quirking a brow at your outward reaction. He loved to get under your skin. Lived for it. “And for the record, I’m not a whore. Most of the times I’ve been touched have been with my own hand.”

“I’ve never tried… that, ” You mused quietly, head low. Your face burned with the heat of your admission. 

He popped an oreo into his mouth, dusting his hands off carelessly. “What, masturbating?”

Your heart did a weak somersault. “Quiet!” You hissed at him. “Now what if Yuuji heard you talking to me like that?”

“Calm your shit,” he told you. “You’re too young f’me. Relax.”

He only chuckled at your words, shaking his head quietly while he resealed the oreos. Still, if he was thinking anything about your reaction, he didn’t voice it. You were glad.

But it hurt. It hurt, hearing him talk about you like you didn’t have a chance. Like none of the effort you put into your appearance around him had any effect on him because you were too young to steal his attention away. None of it mattered – the push up bras, the low cut tanks, the cherry lip balm. 

In his eyes, you were only a kid.

“I’m a virgin,” you had blurted out, for some odd reason you still didn’t quite understand.

The pause that befell the two of you was one that you remembered years later. 

“I can tell,” He had said, slim waist swinging side to side as he walked around the kitchen island, towards the exit behind you. He sauntered over to you with a smirk on his face and a plate in his hand, dark hair pulled back into a bun while his layers fell around his face. He was breathtaking, handsome, tantalizing build towering over you.

16, A man whose voice had dropped again in the last few months whispered those words, the ones you would never forget, “‘S fun. You should try it.”

You didn’t know what he had wanted you to try – having sex or performing it on yourself.

Either way, that night when you went home was the first time you ever tried to touch yourself. Fantasized about him whispering in your ear, holding you down, talking you through – while your pink-manicured fingers worked you up to your first orgasm.

Two years had never felt so far apart.

Choso had a girlfriend at one point. It was only for, like, four months – he was 17, you were 15. You only found this out when he’d come home after a pretty rough night with her. He looked pissed, lips pressed into a thin line, arms crossed over his broad chest.

You knew he was too old for you, that you weren’t old enough for him, more specifically – but, still, you batted those lashes of yours up at him while you asked him what was wrong.

You didn’t tell him about the way butterflies erupted in your stomach like a hundred angry guisers when he told you his girlfriend had cheated, left him for another man. 

You hugged him instead, telling him that it would be alright, telling him that she never deserved him anyway. You were the one for him, and one day he would see that.

Instead of turning to you – who had been right there all along, he had just been too blind to notice – he took his anger out on everyone else. He became cold, emotionally closed off. He became a serial heartbreaker. 

For a while, whenever you came over to Yuuji’s, his bedroom would be vacant. Open, dark, just as he had left it. For a while, he would spend his nights with faceless hookups and meaningless dates. Itadori would call you to complain about it, about how “we’re home alone for dinner tonight and Choso just walked out”.

Your heart broke, too. He just didn’t know it.

He didn’t know you were waiting for him to come to his senses, for him to see you as a woman .

You were seated in the kitchen across from Itadori enjoying another late-night snack, sharing some hearty laughter. You had always adored your conversations with him, the ‘After-Hours’ talks, as you would often refer to them. 

Your night had taken an unexpected turn when Itadori’s brother burst through the kitchen door with a giggling girl in tow. The late hour suggested that this was no ordinary visit.

Still, even though you couldn’t pry your eyes away from her, you didn’t say anything. You stayed quiet while your heart shattered into one hundred million pieces inside of your tight chest.

Itadori’s laughter had died down, giving way to an awkward silence. He greeted his brother with a smile, “Hey, bro. Who’s she?”

Choso shrugged, dark hair shifting over his eyes that seemed to glint beneath the dim lighting as he replied, “Company.”

His mischievous tone and the girl at his side left little to the imagination. Your cheeks flushed as you exchanged another quick glance with Itadori.

You felt frozen in place. You couldn’t move. No, all you could do was sit there like a dumbass and stare at him, watch the man you loved liked guide her by her hand up the stairs. 

Of course. You had been naive to think that he would wait for you. He would be 18 next year. 

He was out of your league.

Feeling the need for a momentary escape, you had excused yourself, muttering something about needing to use the bathroom. You had stood up, heart racing, and made your way up the stairs and towards the bathroom.

Conveniently, of course, it was located just down the hall from Choso’s room.

You crept down the hall slowly. As you passed by his door, you caught a sound. Something unmistakable – two people in hushed conversation uttering words in between kisses. 

“Choso, baby.” 

Another quiet kiss. Their lips separated.

“I’m ready.” 

“You brought protection?” 

Your embarrassment grew as you realized the intimate nature of the encounter happening on the other side of the door. Quickly, you averted your gaze, face burning, and ran off to the bathroom.

It took you a moment to catch your breath. You couldn’t believe the awkwardness of the whole situation. Shit, you didn’t even know how to approach him after this.

Worst of all, you didn’t even know why you were still only able to imagine it was your voice behind that door instead of hers. That it was him pressing butterfly kisses to your lips. Him asking you if you were ready for him.

With your cheeks tinged a rosey hue, you resolved to keep yourself locked away in the bathroom until the thoughts subsided.

It seemed like it was a new girl every time you came to visit. A blonde, a brunette – he didn’t seem to have a preference. Every time you would watch him walk another girl to the front door, bidding her safe travels on her way home, your hope would wither away.

But the feelings never subsided. No, even when you would spend a little more time walking past his room on your way to the bathroom to eavesdrop. Not even when you would hear hushed whispers and quiet moans from the other side and imagine what kind of lover Choso would be. Would he leave marks? Talk dirty to you? Was he a giver or a taker? 

Not even when the two of you would cross paths in the kitchen after his plans for the evening went home. He would turn to you with a knowing smirk, hair down and messy even though it did nothing to hide the red and purple love bites that littered the valley of his neck. 

And he looked so good that you often found yourself wishing it was you who had left those marks. 

It was as if he knew you were dying inside. Like something was beginning to change inside of him after all of these years. Like he took some strangely cruel pleasure in showing off to you.

No, you would have to remind yourself in vain. I’m too young for him. 

You were just a girl in his eyes. That’s what you maintained.

So you went out and retaliated by losing your V-card to some kid from your class. Well, in your head it was retaliation. He was none the wiser about it, but it gave you a sense of satisfaction knowing you were able to fuck people who weren’t him. 

Take that, Choso. 

Yuji groaned, laying spread eagle over his carpeted floor, arms spread out on either side of him. He had grown so much – you could hardly contain the way your eyes wandered from his pretty face to his new physique. Like his brother, Itadori was a well-defined man.

God picked favorites, and it wasn’t you.

There was an open notebook splayed over his face. He gripped the spine, tossing it to the side. 

“I’m over this chemistry shit,” He sighed.

You couldn’t possibly have agreed more. Still, you continued to sketch the rough outline of a circle onto the sheet of construction paper in your hand. You would need to make it perfect, just right, so that you would be able to incorporate it into your group project.

You turned the pencil over between your fingertips. “We’re gonna need more supplies.”

"Like what?" Yuuji asked, his frustration still evident. "I’m pretty sure we’ve purchased, like… every craft supply on the market."

You quirked a brow at the thought. "Scissors…?"

Yuuji pursed his lips, his brow furrowing. "I don’t have those."

"Of course you don’t," you sighed, shaking your head. "Who the hell doesn’t have scissors?"

"I lent them to Choso," he retorted with a hint of annoyance.

Your heart dropped at the mention of Choso. You couldn't help but picture his face, his body, and wondered if he was asleep. You didn't want to disturb him.

Yuuji sat up, nudging you with his foot playfully. "Hey, why don't you go over there and get them? Make some goo-goo eyes, bat your lashes. I’m sure he wouldn’t say no to you."

You hesitated for a moment, considering your options. "I'm sure I can find some in my backpack," you said instead, trying to avoid the suggestion.

"Come onnnn, you know you wanna go over there," Yuuji teased with a sly grin. He leaned in closer, cupping his hand around his mouth, and whispered, " He just got back from the gym. "

Another nudge from Yuuji finally made you relent. "Fine," you said with a playful roll of your eyes. "I’ll be back."

Only moments later, you found yourself standing in front of Choso's door, a mix of anticipation and nervousness coursing through you as you raised your hand up to knock. You rapped twice against the wooden surface. There was a shuffling sound on the other side of the world, one that made your heartrate pick up, and then the door cracked open.

He had one earbud in his ear, the other dangling over his chest. He wore a black wife pleaser and some grey sweats that hung loose over his hips – leaving little to the imagination. He looked so strong, muscular arm braced against the doorframe while the other held it open. His waist was thin, toned, so much so that you could see it through the fabric of his shirt.

He smelled like he had just hopped out of the shower – like cherry and musk. His wet hair was done back into a messy bun. His eyes raked over your trembling form.

With a gentle, familiar grin, he said, “What’s up?”

Your throat felt dry. You swallowed anyway, with a great deal of discomfort, averting your wide-eyed gaze. Ignoring the way your eyes lingered over the pale skin of his toned navel revealed where his tank had ridden up, over the v line that dipped down into his waistband, over the neatly trimmed trail that led down south . 

“Do… Do you have scissors?” You asked him. You didn’t like how timid you sounded, or the way your stomach churned at the sight of him.

He paused for a moment, and somehow you knew he was looking at you. You were suddenly very glad you had worn a fitted v-neck tee shirt today, one that would have provided him with a bird’s eye view of your cleavage.

He’s looking at me. 

“Yeah,” he muttered quietly, stepping away from the door and into his room. You had only wandered into Choso’s quarters a few times with Yuuji, usually to steal something from him while he wasn’t home. You had never really taken the time to notice the band posters taped up over his walls, the black sheets on his bed, the clothes scattered over his floor in typical teenage boy fashion.

You poked your head in, taking a quick look around while his muscular back was turned. Ultimately, it was him you wound up gawking at, hungry eyes following the well-defined curve of his back into his slim waist, the curve of his bubble butt.

You looked away just as he had turned around. If he noticed you staring, he didn’t say anything. A red pair of scissors dangled from his curled finger. 

“Here,” was all he said, offering the tool to you. 

You didn’t know when conversations between the two of you had gotten to be so tense, so strained. It used to come effortlessly. These days, however, it seemed as if you were always trying to run away from conversation with him.

You took it from him gently, dying a bit more inside when his large fingers brushed against yours, offering a slight nod in return. “Thanks.”

16 and 18, now.

You had texted Choso asking for his help on a particularly difficult math assignment. He was older, after all, you didn’t doubt that he was better equipped to complete the homework than you were.

That was the first time you had ever hung out alone with him. Without Itadori. 

You would never forget the way the atmosphere changed when he sat close to you at the kitchen table. The way your skin prickled with electricity beneath his hesitant touch. He poked fun at you and your incompetence. You didn’t even care, not when he was sitting so close to you.

Alone.

The possibilities that filled your mind were less than holy.

Tensions were at an all time high. He had leaned over to help you, breath ghosting over the shell of your ear, when it finally snapped.

When you met his gaze with uncertainty in your eyes, making no real effort to put any distance between you and the man you had been pining after for so many years. In that moment, you saw it – saw him, saw that he finally looked at you as something more than just a girl.

Saw the way his gaze softened as he leaned into you. You let him get closer, close enough that his nose brushed against the tip of yours. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” You remarked, even though you ached to be trapped in this moment with him a while longer.

He licked his lips, murmuring, “You’re probably right.”

Nothing compared to the delicate brush of his lips against yours as the two of you finally met in the middle, The way fireworks blew up in your gut. The way he cradled your cheek gently in the palm of his hand, crossing that unspoken boundary that the two of you had been toeing for so long.

Though you had made out with a few guys before, in your eyes, you had shared your first kiss with Choso in the kitchen that night. The first of many to come .

The summer between 16 and 17 was spent sharing secret moments with him behind doors, between appearances. 

You sat on the couch next to Itadori, trapped in the second installment of a film series the two of you had been watching yesterday. You were wearing a zip-up hoodie over your school uniform. 

You had come over to do homework. Just like yesterday, though, you wound up fucking around. 

Itadori was far too engrossed in whatever was happening on screen to notice his brother leaving the kitchen just a few feet off to the side. He looked you up and down, dark eyes reaching into your soul and picking you apart at the seams. With a barely noticeable motion, he nodded towards the stairs.

You nodded back, heart thrumming wildly in your chest.

Choso gripped the meat of your ass in his hands, throwing your legs around his waist while his mouth danced against yours. You tossed your arms around his shoulders, head reeling from how effortlessly he had picked you up. He walked the two of you backwards until your back hit the door. 

He continued to ravage you against that surface, too, tongue slipping in between your lips and exploring your mouth. You trembled against him, trying your best to keep up with him.

It felt so good – being pressed up against him, being given his attention. You wished it was more than secret kisses here and there, of course, but you would take what you could get.

“Missed you,” he hummed against your lips. 

You didn’t even care if that was the line he used on all of the other girls. In that moment, all that mattered was his lips against yours, his hands on you, his attention.

You snaked your hands up the back of his neck and into his hair, twisting some of the dark strands between your fingertips. “I should really get back soon,” You gasped, relishing in the way his kisses felt up and down your neck.

He relented, letting you down. You pressed one more chaste kiss to his lips.

“Didn’t mean to keep ‘ya,” he chuckled lowly, breaths still heavy from the makeout session you had been having only seconds before. He nodded towards the door behind you. “Get back out there.”

You nodded wordlessly, opening the door. With one final smile, you slipped behind it. You felt like you were floating as your legs carried you down the stairs and into the living room. You didn’t even care how disheveled you looked.

Thankfully, Yuuji didn’t notice the way you were wiping your mouth on the back of your hand as you plopped onto the couch beside him. He also didn’t notice when his brother wandered down the stairs a few minutes later, or the way he smiled knowingly at you before disappearing into the kitchen.

You were 17 when Choso left for college. He was 19 when his brother had thrown him a going-away party.

There were 10 of you in the living room, a few of Yuuji and his childhood friends all gathered around the coffee table. A movie was on. Some of them were engrossed in a card game in the corner of the room. 

You and Choso lingered behind the group, situated comfortably on the couch behind all of the action. He was sitting so close that your thighs brushed against his, so close that it felt like he, too, wanted to savor the moment before interacting with you became a rarity. Before he moved out and started a new life somewhere hours away.

He didn’t voice any of these feelings, keeping his dark eyes unreadable and steady on the movie that Yuji had put on in the background. Selena Gomez was playing from a speaker somewhere behind the couch.

You almost wanted to lean your head on his shoulder. Almost. Never mind the fact that everyone would see it.

You distinctly remember the way he shifted closer to you when you pulled out a blanket. You let him make the bold move, seemingly unfazed by the potential audience only feet away from the two of you. 

He tossed the plush blanket over his legs. The lights were dim. Dim enough that they wouldn’t see the way your face flushed at the proximity.

Sixteen minutes passed. You felt like you were going to explode.

Somewhere along the way, though it’s all a bit fuzzy now, you remember feeling his hand creep down beneath the blanket to rest on your thigh. You fought to remain composed, even though the darkness undoubtedly shrouded whatever it was that Choso was planning to do.

He lingered over the skin on your thighs left bare by the shorts you had chosen to wear. His finger traced over you, igniting fire in your nerves. Again, you said nothing, letting him go about tracing shapes on your thigh while his face remained stoic and composed.

You glanced between him and the blanket. You couldn’t see the imprint of his hand moving, somehow, but you could practically feel the heat radiating from beneath it when his index finger slipped between your thighs. 

19 years old. Two years had never seemed so far apart. When he was the age you were now, you recalled his voice being quite a few pitches higher. The same voice that had dropped even lower over the last year, now drawing you closer to him as he murmured into your ear, “Can I touch you?”

Parting your legs infinitesimally, you wordlessly granted him entrance. His fingers dipped down, ghosting over your cotton panties in a way that had you wondering how well of a disguise the dim lighting really was.

“What if they see us?” You had whispered back, even quieter. None of them had bothered to turn back. Even still, you wondered if one of them had X-Ray vision.

His voice seemed even deeper as it vibrated against your side. “You’ll be quiet for me, won’t you?”

The moment his fingers dipped beneath the waistband of your panties, you knew you were in no position to disagree.

Yuuji and his friends were none the more wiser. Yuji didn’t notice when you whined quietly, letting him slip two fingers into your aching cunt, or when his brother worked you open on his fingers. 

He didn’t notice when the two of you had left to make out heatedly in the pantry, right against the box of assorted chips, right where anyone could walk in, turn on the light, and see you there pressed up against him disappeared to the pantry for ten minutes. 

Though the moment you returned to see him glancing at you with a curious brow raised, you knew he had finally caught on. Even if he didn’t say anything about it.

It would be another three months before you would see Choso again.

I obviously do not own jjk or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

taglist: @missphanosaur18 ,

wanna join the ' choso kamo ' taglist?| bfb; chapter index

[madamechrissy]

Take Me Home Tonight

♡ ♡ Pairings ♡ ♡ Law Professor Satoru Gojo x Student Fem Reader

♡ ♡ Warnings ♡ ♡ MDNI- Gojo is like 29 here, reader is like 22 or 23. Nothing too crazy. But is Professor/teacher forbidden type love. In this chap- anal sex, p in v sex, smacking, 69, they just freaks fr lol

♡ ♡ Word Count ♡ ♡ this chap- 9.2k

♡ ♡ Summary ♡ ♡ After passing your LSATs, your friends take you out to unwind. You never go out, so you are awkwardly agree, and you end up in the arms of a super hot man named Satoru. You end up screaming Satoru's name as he drops down on his knees before you, only to lose him in the club. All you have is his first name. Two months later, in your Criminal Law class, your heart stops. Your teacher? Professor Gojo. Or as you soon call him, Professor Dickhead. You can't fuck up your law school, and he won't fuck up his career, not just because he makes you wet in class, no, he's a dick. Right? That pout and blue eyes don't wreck you, right? - Lawyer AU

Chapter 11 ♡ ♡ Masterlist ♡ ♡ Playlist

Chapter 12

“Hey baby!” You blink a bit as you feel toned, slender arms, not the beefy ones you’re so used to around you. You gasp, looking up, and seeing Maki’s pretty face grinning at you.

“Maki!” You hug her tightly to you, as you see Satoru and Professor Nanami smiling at you two. “Oh! Mr. Nanami, hello!”

“Hello there. Good morning.” His handsome face has a smirk, as he wears some fancy green sunglasses, in contrast to Satoru’s dark blue Gucci shades. They look like a million bucks while you’re in your damn skull Pjs, making you blush.

“What are you all doing here? I’m so excited to see you, but I’m… I’m in my pajamas.”

“You look cute!” Maki teases as you sit up, flushed.

“You do look cute.” Gojo winks then, planting a kiss on your forehead, your eyes flutter shut. “Ya sore, huh Miss Brat?” His breath tickles your ear, as vivid images of last night fill your mind.

“Shush!” You hiss, hoping no one heard his lewd whisper, and he just chuckles, standing you up and hugging you to him tightly. “I am sore, though.”

“Knew it!” You snort a bit, as he pulls back, tilting your chin up then. “Maki is here to help you pick out a wedding dress. Doesn’t have to be anything crazy, but I want you to still dress up for me, beautiful.” You melt then, looking down shyly.

“Oh she’s gonna look so good, gonna max that credit card, Professor.” Maki teases, grinning as she bounces up. You giggle then, feeling your heart swell as you look up at your fiance’s beautiful face.

“You brought her here for me?”

“Course I did, you’re my baby girl. I knew it would make you happy.” You blink back emotions then, sucking in a breath.

“Thank you, so so much! Let me get dressed!” Nanami and Maki step out, but Gojo lingers with a wide grin. “Out.”

“Oh fine, no fun!” He sticks his tongue out, earning your own tongue, before he lets you get yourself together. You quickly brush your teeth, wash your face and put on a little sundress you have brought over. You step back out into Satoru’s living room and see they’re all sipping on coffee.

Nanami starts to make you a cup as Maki and Satoru are shoving at each other and laughing, making your tummy flutter with how fucking happy you are, despite everything so overwhelming. “How do you take your coffee?”

You look at  Mr.Nanami then, who is smiling softly, illuminating his strong features. “Just cream and a little sugar. You don’t have to!”

“Nonsense. Here you go.” You take it gratefully from him, smiling softly back, looking down at his rather interesting cheetah tie.

“Thank you, Mr. Nanami.”

“I told you, call me Nanami.” You blush a bit, Mr. Nanami always seems so serious and teacher-like, unlike the more casual Suguru and the… Well, your crazy Satoru Gojo.

“Nanami. Thank you for coming. I was worried you’d be so mad at me.” You take a sip nervously, leaning on the counter as Nanami frowns.

“Not at all.”

“But you said be careful, and I fucked that way up!”

“You’re in love, clearly. Both of you.” He looks over at Gojo now, who’s expressively talking, waving his long arms, earning a smile from both you and Nanami as you watch.

“I’m so glad you understand. I know you and Toru are close.”

“Toru, huh.” You just blush again, and Nanami laughs softly, brushing back his sandy blonde hair. “We have known each other forever. He’s an idiot, but he’s a very good person. He’d do anything for you.”

“I know that, and it’s worrying. He’ll ruin his life-”

“No, what would ruin his life is you not in it. Trust me, I’ve had to hear endlessly about you since you met him.”

“What!?”

“Mmm, since that night. I’ve heard in vivid detail.” Now he’s blushing, clearing his throat, and you grimace, covering your face.

“Oh god. I’m sorry, he has such a big mouth.”

“You’re telling me, legs.”

“Hey!” You shove at him playfully, fuck if he wasn’t more buff that Satoru or Suguru, what were these men doing!? He just raises his brows.

“Well they are rather nice.”

“Oh god!” You’re choking on your coffee, earning another soft laugh from Mr. Nanami now. Satoru and Maki come bouncing back over.

“You’re flirting with another professor, Jesus Miss Brat!”

“Fuck off, Toru.” You flip him off, earning him putting down your coffee and snatching you up against him, gripping your chin. “He called me legs!” You whisper, and Gojo raises his brows.

“Told ya.” He winks, so goddamn handsome, you just roll your eyes and laugh softly, as he kisses you, and you taste the sweet cream and sugar on his lips. You sigh and cling to him, pressing against him, his big hand so warm on your back, pulling back to look up at him.

“You’re so sweet to bring Maki, thank you Toru.”

“Of course, anything for you, baby girl.” He kisses you again, brushing your hair back softly. “Now… you pick something beautiful. Shoes and accessories too. And Maki, pick yourself out something pretty to wear.”

“Oh, it’ll be so expensive.” She wiggles a black credit card of Satoru’s, and he snorts at that.

“Anything you want, just make sure she has something as pretty as her, if it’s possible.”

“Oh fuck, I’m gonna puke.” Maki gags, and Nanami chuckles.

“It’s sickening.” He agrees, earning Gojo’s glare.

“Oh pipe down, we’re stinking adorable you know.” Satoru winks as he hugs you tightly. “Anyway, get whatever you girls want. Just because it’s gonna be something small doesn’t mean we shouldn’t look good.”

“Are you and Nanami getting suits?” You ask, and he shakes his head.

“No, I already have a room full, and so does he. We have to deal with some legal boring shit.” You frown at that, and Satoru notices, his full lips pouting, swirling cerulean depths of his eyes, emotional then. “Baby girl, it's fine.”

“I am going to visit some options, that's all.” Nanami assures you. “And… help him pick out wedding rings for you.”

“Oh! Oh my…” Your heart is racing at the thought, as Satoru kisses your ring finger, like he’s thinking it too. “Nothing crazy, please.”

He snorts. “It’ll be huge!”

“It’ll be classy.” Nanami corrects, and you exhale.

“Thank you Nanami.”

“Thank you Nanami. Stop flirting with my friends, brat.”

“Fuck you, Professor Dickhead, am not!” You shove at him, only for him to pull you closer.

“Don’t want a big rock?”

“Not that big…”

“Ha that’s what NO ONE has ever said!” He’s snickering, and you all three roll your eyes.

“Gojo, you’re such an idiot.” Nanami grumbles, earning Gojo’s pout.

“You’re so mean to me, both of you. Maki, defend me here.”

“Well you’re paying for me so… go for it, Professor.”

“Maki!” She laughs at your expression, brushing back her emerald hair.

“I think a big rock sounds good.” She says with a wink behind her black framed glasses, but then she sighs. “But, it’s not really her style. She’s a little more… simple and elegant.”

“Noted.” Nanami says, winking at you with hazel eyes, hands in the pockets of his khaki slacks. Satoru sighs, pulling your back against him, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Oh fine, I’ll let Nanami help me choose something classy. You get to pick out my wedding band too.” Your tummy clenches at the thought, as you hold his hand and kiss on his fingers.

“Fuck, it’s insane but I’m so excited!?” You admit, earning his soft smile against your neck.

“I’m excited too. Very.” He pulls your ass back against him, and you feel just how excited Satoru is on your back. You’re a blushing mess, all damn morning you have been, as desire hits hard. Would this insane need ever die out the tiniest bit? You don’t think so, and you’d never want it to. “So… we’ll meet up for lunch after we all get what we need done. Sound good?”

You peek up at your fiance, smiling at his pretty face. “Sounds good to me, Fiance.”

He damn near purrs, kissing you and cupping your chin. “Mmm, I like that. But… it’ll be wife soon, won’t it.”

“Gotta use fiance for the few days we can.” He grins, those stark white teeth glinting in the wide open room, the sun pouring in the windows, illuminating all of Satoru’s perfect features. “So we think we could get Satoru back into law?” You ask Nanami then, he sighs, sipping on his coffee carefully.

“We sure will try, Suguru and I have told the school we will quit if they let Satoru and you go. So hopefully, some leverage.” Your mouth drops at that, your heart sinking to your stomach, Satoru holds you gently, brushing his hands down your upper arms up and down.

“You shouldn’t have to do that! You shouldn’t, not for me.” You feel tears threatening to fall, and Nanami puts his cup down then, walking over, patting your head gently like you’re a kid.

“Darling, it’s fine, we can’t stand for this corruption to keep happening, it’s not just in any way, shape or form. It is the right thing to do.” Nanami says, and you can’t stop the little tears that fall, and watch Nanami’s lips part, a sigh escaping his lips. “Don’t cry, please…”

“Please don’t! You make me wanna cry.” Maki says then, snuggling to you, as you sniffle, and Satoru cups your face, swiping your tears.

“It’ll be okay, Nanami and Sugu are well respected, if this school isn’t it, they have a million opportunities.” He says, but you shake your head, as you feel your blood pressure rising, making your hands numb, you shake them, feeling so hot now.

“I can’t live with myself hurting so many people. You and your friends.” He swipes at the tears that keep falling, bending low and kissing your head.

“You haven’t hurt anyone. My shit parents, with their money in everyone’s fucking pockets are hurting you. Nanami and Sugu give us leverage, it will all work out. Don’t worry so much.” You sigh, nodding a bit, trying to compose yourself. “We will all be fine, promise. Let us work on our end, you two have a fun day and pick pretty outfits, mmkay?”

“Okay. We will. Promise.” Satoru hugs you tightly, pulling back and tilting your chin up.

“Lemme see a smile, pretty girl.” You manage a small one, and he exhales, kissing your lips gently, pressing them upon yours, over and over, little smacks and pops, and a ‘mwah’ sound, until you’re giggling. “There it is! Pretty smile.”

“Thank you, thanks all of you.” You say, as Satoru pops kisses on your cheeks, all sticky from your tears.

“Now, my driver will take you all to wherever you need to go. I’ll text you when we’re done. Go have some fun, please…” His voice is serious, his jaw clenched just a bit as he speaks. “For me. Have some fun, lord knows you’ve had enough going on to make you…”

“Marrying you makes me stupidly happy. It makes me forget everything bad that’s happened.” He exhales then, and you could tell it’s worrying him, you put two hands on his pretty face, tiptoeing and kissing his chin. “Promise.”

“Well who wouldn’t be happy? I’m Satoru Gojo.” He’s shameless, wiggling his brows with a grin.

“Oh god.” Nanami grumbles, along with Maki, making you giggle. “Let’s head out, we have a lot to do.”

“Bye Shnookums, see you soon.” Satoru whispers, helping you into the back of a sleek black car. “Maki take care of my girl.”

“Our girl, Professor.” Satoru snorts, rolling his eyes, and then Maki scooches to you, big grin on her face now. “You got the richest husband, he said a 10k limit A DAY, bitch!!!”

“Maki, you’re so crazy.” You roll your eyes with a laugh. “I am so glad you’re here, where’s Yuta?”

“Sulking he can’t go wedding dress shopping with us. That boy! Sometimes he can’t let us have girl time.”

“He just loves us, is all.”

“I know. But I wanted time with you before… fuck, you were really trying to leave me, huh?” She tears up a bit, so rare for her, looking away, and you feel horrible, guilt gnawing at you.

“He told you?” You ask softly, and she looks back, more composed, nodding. “Fuck I’m sorry, Maki. I didn’t know what to do.”

“You can’t leave me, okay? We promised, we’d always be friends.” She holds out her pinky, and you enwrap yours with hers, feeling those tears again.

“We always will be. I was scared, for Toru, for everyone, fuck his parents are horrible Maki… like I’d take another foster home.”

“I heard. Shit, that man loves you, you know that? He’s obsessed with you, like it’s intense.”

“I know. I am too, I think Satoru shows it more.” You pull her in for a hug then, squeezing her body tight. “Maki, I will never leave. I’ll face the shit dead on.”

“That’s my girl. Now, let’s stop this sappy shit, and spend your man’s money.” You both giggle as you head on what feels like such an adventure, and for once there is so much hope in your heart, despite all the challenges. Being with your best friend planning a wedding to the man you adore.

You and Maki are sipping mimosas in this stupidly fancy bridal boutique about an hour later, as you’re trying on different dresses, they’re all so beautiful, but some seem so extravagant for the little wedding you all are having. Fuck this insane, right, that you’re getting married!? You figured engagement would be enough to scare his parents, but Satoru wanted this.

He wants to marry you.

And fuck, you want to marry him. So badly, even if it’s way too fast, even if you both have lost your minds, even if the world is falling apart all around you both, it’s as if nothing matters when you’re in his arms. Shit, if you say it out loud it’s so wild, like some movie you’d make fun of with Maki and Yuta, of that deep love that surpasses everything, but it is your life.

Satoru Gojo has surely become the very air you breathe.

You’re in one of the more simple gowns now, after Maki and the ladies there had given you so many insane gowns, glittering and so beautiful, with flouncing skirts, ones that made you look like a queen. Some were bright white, some cream, Maki had even had a black dress that made you look like some Victorian goth dream. You loved all of them but…

This one? It’s a gorgeous white silk at the top, with intricate little beading at the bodice that glitters under the dressing room lights, and it’s cinched at the waist, but flows softly down to your toes, with soft tulle, lacy little silver roses peppering it like little stars in the sky. The sleeves are off shoulder, and it makes your breasts press up high, makes your waist so teeny, the perfect silhouette.

It’s so beautiful, as you turn this way and that in the mirror, feeling it all start to hit you then, that you’re doing this, that you’re marrying this amazing, crazy man, that you love him so much it’s like your heart is going to burst out of your chest, it’s so full. You step out of the changing room, and Maki’s eyes light up, and she gasps.

“Oh my god, you look so fucking stunning!” She runs to you, hugging you tight, her eyes wide with happiness, before stepping back and looking you up and down. “You look like a fucking angel.”

You sniffle a bit, smiling, looking down at the dress, your heart racing, your palms sweaty. “Really, you think so?”

“Yes, really! Gojo is gonna lose his shit when he sees this, gonna be like one of those looney toons with the heart eyes.” You laugh at the images in your head, of some cartoon Gojo with his tongue hanging out, as Maki holds your arms out. “Damn, this body looks fire!”

“I love you, Maki, I swear to god I do.” You do a little spin then, as the attendants come up.

“You look so beautiful!” One says.

“The prettiest bride, so elegant!” The other says,

“Oh thank you, ladies. I think I have to take this one.”

“We will need some shoes, a veil, all that though.” Maki says, and you hum a bit thinking of a veil. “Or a tiara? Like a whole princess.”

“Maybe a small tiara?” You now have the dress in its clothing bag, along with glittery white low heels and a delicate little tiara. “Now, you Maki!”

You both decide on a gorgeous blue dress for her, that makes the toned curves of her body look so beautiful, hugging them. You gasp, bouncing up and down, as the attendants smile at you two.” What do you think!?”

 “Maki, you’re so fucking hot!”

“Thank you baby, gotta look good for you.” You kiss each other’s cheeks, hugging tightly, slightly buzzed and silly from the drinks and the excitement.

“You look so beautiful, oh god I better be the maid of honor at your wedding!” You are hugging her tightly, both of you swirling as if you’re dancing now.

“Too soon to think of that, babe, I’ll leave you and Gojo to the epic love, Yuta and I have all the time.” She says, and you sigh, biting your lip, brows together. “Shit, was that…”

“No, Maki, it’s true. We’re crazy for this. Wedding as protection or a tactic, I know it’s… not how I thought it would go.”

“But you’d marry him anyway, any time. Yeah?”

“I would. Fuck probably that night at the club.” You whisper, so flushed, and she grins at that.

“He’s that good with that tongue huh?”

“Maki!”

Having secured dresses and shoes, it’s now time to get jewelry for you both, and you all run right into Satoru and Nanami. You giddily run up to Satoru, who hugs you tightly, kissing you so sweet, as you inhale that expensive cologne you love so much. “Toru! You’re here!”

“I am, I just got done picking the ring out. Oooh, and I got you something for this bracelet.” He takes your wrist, and as always you’re just a little shaky when he takes it off, making him smile a bit, snowy white lashes lowering over his blue eyes. “You’ll get it right back, Miss Brat.”

“I know. I get weird about it.” He chuckles a bit, as Nanami and Maki are talking, and she’s looking for accessories for you both with him.

“I hope you’ll keep that ring on just as much.”

“Of course, I’ll never take it off Satoru.” He blinks a bit, lips parting, as he unclasps your bracelet carefully, then he grabs a little white box.

“Better not. I’ll have to reprimand you.” You snort at that, rolling your eyes, he’s trying to lighten the mood, ease the tension as he always does, but you know he truly wants to make sure you want this. He pops out another bead and a charm, and you melt when you see it.

“Toru… it’s a little wedding ring charm!” He slides it on your bracelet, which is slowly filling up as you are with him, like little mementos of your relationship so far. It’s a pretty gold miniature ring with a diamond at the top, dangling off the bracelet, as he slides a pretty blue bead next to it, clipping it back on your wrist. “I love it so much, it’s so perfect.”

“You get so excited about beads, just wait how much I’ll give you, now that you’re mine.” His husky words, his intense stare, makes you weak, your tummy doing insane flips as your hands meet each other at the palms, pressing together, his fingers more than twice of yours and your little hand, making you feel so safe as they entwine.

“You gonna spoil me, hmm Daddy Toru?” You tease, whispering against his lips, eliciting a soft moan, his eyes shutting for a moment, his free hand slipping down your hip.

“Don’t do that here, I swear I’ll find somewhere to fuck you right now.” You just giggle and he glares. “Teasing me, huh brat? Let’s see how well that will work.”

“I can’t wait for the punishment.” You stick out your tongue through your teeth, and he rolls his eyes, but he’s laughing too. “Satoru, even though it’s insane, I can’t help but be so happy, like…”

“Me too.” You both kiss softly again. “Now, you have a ring to pick out for me, selfish brat.”

“Hey!”

Soon the four of you have all sorts of goodies, Nanami has bought himself a new gold watch, Maki has a pretty blue necklace, and you have delicate accessories for your pretty dress. You now also have picked the perfect ring for Satoru, which you make sure he does not see, a white gold band decked with five brilliant sapphires, which sits on your little finger.

You picture it on his hand, on those long fingers, those big knuckles of his, then you picture… lewd things. Of your pussy dripping down onto his ring, and you hurriedly put it in a box for purchase, hating that just something so simple makes you lose your mind. You can’t stop thinking of this sexy ass, conceited little shit, who grins over at Nanami and Maki as he’s making some dumb joke.

He’s running a hand through his snowy white hair, that dark blue suit looking like a million bucks on him, and you can’t help but be enthralled for a moment. He looks to you, a hand in his pocket, grinning now, such affection and love in his gaze it makes your heart ache, as you think, you could have lost him. And how could you ever live without him now?

“You got it picked out, Shnookums?” He asks, and you snap out of it, nodding and thanking the salesperson for it.

“When do we give them to each other?” You ask then, so excited to see what Satoru thinks, as you snuggle to his side, and he is swiping his card now.

“You’ll get the engagement ring tonight, I want it prominent on your finger for meeting with… them… tomorrow, ugh. But, the bands, not till the ceremony. Thank you guys!” He waves at the team he’d just given so much money and commission too, and you can’t help but smile as he takes your hand in his now. “Let’s eat, brats.”

“Don’t call me a brat, Satoru Gojo. I swear.” Nanami says with a grumble, and Satoru wraps an arm around the man, making him give a disgusted look.

“Aw you love me, buddy don’t lie.” Satoru kisses his cheek, making Nanami shove him off and wipe his cheek.

“Disgusting. Don’t you two laugh, you’ll encourage this behavior.”

“Holy fuck, today was insane.” You and Satoru are now home, and as you speak he cuts you off, picking you up in his arms, and you cling to him.

“You’re almost my bride. Gotta carry you in right.” He walks into his house now, and carries you right in, bridal style, you pull his head down for a kiss, and he moans into your mouth as he shuts the door behind you both. “Mmm, you always taste so yummy.”

“You taste yummy.” He’s easing you down, but he’s pressing your back against the door now, hands on either side of you, head low so that your foreheads are pressed together.

“Fuck, I love you. Have I said it today?”

“No, you mean man.” You pout, batting your lashes, and he pouts now too, thin white brows drawing together, as your hands slide up the hard planes of his strong chest. “You make me so sad when you don’t.”

“Oh no, baby girl… I’ll make this up to you.” He kisses down the side of your face, his big hands taking over your waist, pulling you against his hard body, and you feel yourself react. Your nipples tighten under the thin layer of your dress, which he’s pulling up, bunching it around your thighs.

“Toru!” You cry out then, and he hums, kissing your neck now, biting it with those sharp teeth, sending pain and pleasure in equal amounts through your body. “T-Toru… mmm…”

“How do you want me to make it up, pretty girl?” He whispers against the shell of your ear, tickling and intriguing you like crazy, you cling to that expensive baby blue dress shirt tightly, hands in fists.

“Mmm, I don’t know… maybe on your knees?” He chuckles then, as he kisses you once more, cupping your face now.

“You’re so slutty, you know, just for me.” You giggle, nipping on his lip, earning his moan then. “But… what about one knee for now?”

“One knee… however you wanna lick, I won’t complain.” He’s on one knee then, and you’re smiling down as he looks up at you, but then you falter when you guess his meaning, and you can’t breathe. “Oh! Oh… Oh!”

“You’re thinking slutty, I am thinking romantic. Tsk Tsk.” You’re a blushing mess now, as he takes your hand, kissing it now, and your chest is heaving, when he’s pulling out the little velvet box from his pocket.

“Toru, you don’t have to! I know this isn’t… traditional, and it’s last minute, we don’t have to-”

“Will you shush, brat?” You bite your lip hard, nodding then, and he’s laughing, shaking his head. “Let a man have his moment. Now…” He says your name softly, and you can barely hold it together, Satoru Gojo on one knee was nothing you thought would happen, and he looks too perfect, better than any Disney Prince could. No, this was Satoru Gojo.

“Y-yes!” He snorts now, and you cover your face.

“You suck at this, I didn’t ask yet.”

“I can’t take it, it’s killing me. Oh my god. I’m freaking, Toru.” He kisses your hand again as you struggle to stay still, thighs shifting.

“Take a breath, my knee hurts. I’m old.” You laugh once more, though tears are already burning the back of your eyes. He says your name once more, and you’re damn close to hyperventilating from that alone. “Would you… make me the happiest man, the luckiest man, in this whole fucking world? And be my wife? Be my forever?”

“Satoru oh my god.” You are on your knees now, and he’s blinking back his own emotions.

“You get back up there, fuck you suck at this.” You kiss him though, and he moans, pulling you against him, until you’ve knocked him over, and you’re on top of him on the floor. “You haven’t even seen the ring!”

“I don’t need to. Just need my Toru.” He moans softly, as you kiss each other, and soon you’re straddling him right on the floor of his entry way, and he hisses, pressing his length against you, as he holds your hips up.

“Lemme show you this ring, before you jump on this dick, hmm?”

“I’m so wet…”

“Fuck me.” He sits up now, pulling you against him, grinding on your already soaked little panties, as you kiss him again, tongues and teeth and lips, noses bumping, as you both devour each other, pressing against one another.

“You look so hot on one knee, Professor.” You tease then, and his hands are gripping you even tighter, the box still in one of them. “Okay, let me calm down…”

“Please do, about to get railed before you get a ring, how scandalous.” You just hand him your fingers, shaky as you lean back, and he sits up fully, you’re still straddling him, and his tie is askew, you’re both trembling messes. Satoru then opens the box with a little click, and words are stuck in your throat. “Will you marry me, all officially, my pretty, slutty little brat?” He asks with a laugh, but his hands shake like yours.

The ring…

Fuck it’s beautiful.

It’s a delicate white gold band, with the prettiest marquis diamond in the center, it’s a good size but nowhere near gaudy, elegant and timeless. There are pave stones above and below it, tiny little sparkly diamonds that enhance the marquis, that glitters so prismatically, as pretty as Satoru’s eyes do, well… almost. Nothing really glittered like those.

“Satoru… oh my god, it’s breathtaking. Oh god.” He takes your hand, sliding the ring up there, and it fits perfectly, just a little snug almost.

“I want it snug so you don’t lose it, so I went a little small.” He admits, eyes drinking you in as he looks up at you, your hand in his.

“It’s perfect. It’s so perfect, my goodness. I fucking love it.” You smash your lips on his again, wrapping your arms around his neck, hands enwrapping in his silky hair, as the box drops with a click, and he’s running his hands up your back. “It’s perfect, it’s so perfect. Oh, Toru.”

“I’m so happy you like it, I’d have gone so much bigger, but Nanami talked me down some.” You look at it, as it sparkles under the ceiling lights of Satoru’s home, your home, tear drops pooling on your lashes. “Nanami was singing your praises, I’m jealous all my friends want my girl.”

“Oh stop, they do not! Silly.” You are pulled even further against him, now he’s looking up at you, and you see his smirk. “Well, I only want you if so, even if your friends are really hot.”

“That’s it.” He picks you up again, and throws you over his shoulder, you squeak, smacking and kicking at him, but he just laughs, smacking your ass hard. “I need to teach you a lesson, fiance.”

“Put me down! I hate it up here!” He’s taking you straight to his room, and plops you down on his bed, you bounce just a bit before he’s flipped you around.

“Hands and knees, brat.” His husky tone sends shivers down your spine, as his deft hands untie the little straps of your dress.

“Fuck… I thought you were in a romantic mood?” You murmur, looking back as he slips the dress up off your body, leaving you just in lacy panties. He sucks in a breath then, gripping the fat of your ass with his big hands.

“I can romantically do this.” He smacks you firmly with his palm, not too hard, just enough to have your pussy dripping. “My fiance is so bad today, after all I got her, and she’s still acting up?” He smacks you again.

“I love it all, promise. Mmm!” Satoru smacks you even harder, pulling your hair with his other hand, right at the base of your neck, shooting pleasure to your core, making you soak your panties even more. “I will be good, swear.”

“Mmm, you say that… but I don’t believe you.” He smacks your pussy then, and you jerk, sucking in a breath at the sting.

“Fuck!”

“You need to be a good little wife for me. Maybe I’ll just put babies in you, keep you in line, huh?”

“Misogynistic- ah!”

“What’s that? Can’t hear you.” He smacks you twice more, and fuck it feels so good, your legs shake violently as you’re soaked through, dripping past the sticky fabric to your inner thighs.

“That sounds… good, it sounds good.” You whisper instead, as vivid images fill both of your minds.

“Does it, having all my babies? You can dust the house you know.”

“Dust the house!”

“Mmm, I’ll still have cleaners, but I wanna watch you with a feather duster, some slutty maid outfit. Fuck.” You giggle, but it turns into a yelp as he smacks you on the backs of your thighs.

“Something funny, brat?”

“N-no, no Sir. It sounds… it sounds good. I’ll clean for you.”

“Will you? Hmm.” Satoru slides your panties down your already sore backside, and the cool air hits your throbbing cunt, and you flip then, on your knees, yanking him by his tie, throwing him off.

“Fuck me, please, please. Need you Toru.” You whisper, so pleadingly, and he moans then, as you shakily unbutton his shirt, sliding it down his shoulders, drinking in his beautiful, toned body. You run your fingers down his abdomen, watching him tremble under your touch. “Beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful, you, baby.” Satoru says, as you’re unbuckling his belt, and you slide down his boxers eagerly, moaning softly as you see him, so hard. You flick your tongue on his weeping pink tip, swollen, pearls of precum oozing out of the little hole, tasting him as he groans.

“Yummy.” You whisper, looking up at him now, hand wrapped around the base of his cock, your ring glinting as you stroke him. “Look how pretty it looks, with my hand wrapped-ah!” Satoru has you on top of him again, and you’re straddling his chest, whiplash with how quickly he’s spun you. “Toru!”

“Sit on my face, please… fuck, please.” He begs now, and you’re blushing, so nervous, as he’s pulling at your thighs.

“I wanna suck you!”

“You can do that too. Here.” He flips you around, dragging you by your hips, so that your mouth is aligned to his cock, your hair falling like a soft curtain down the side of your face, and you kiss his tip again, as you feel his breath on you. “Mmmn, want you to drip down my face.”

“But what if you… can’t breathe!? If I sit on you!” You whine, but he just pulls you down further, flicking a tongue up your slit.

“Oh baby if I gotta go, this is how I wanna die.” You brace yourself on the bed, your breasts against his abdomen, as his laugh makes you twitch, while he’s spreading your lips, tongue sliding deeper.

“Toru! Oh my God…” You’re dripping down Satoru’s face, bracing yourself up with one arm, as the other strokes his cock, and you flick your tongue on the underside of the ridge of his cock.

“I want my fiance to cum all over my face. Can you, baby?” He asks, and you nod then, earning his deep chuckle. “Then c’mere.”

He shoves your ass down, so you’re flush on him, and your mouth wraps around his cock, tongue swirling, as you moan. He’s so fucking thick and long, it’s always such a challenge, but you manage to get most of him in, his hands gripping the back of your thighs, and he’s bucking up, hips moving up and down, fucking your face as you whine around him.

Your saliva and drool slip down his length, down his balls, as you scream out your pleasure, and his tongue is working you over, so good, so fast, you can feel the pressure building up in your stomach. Satoru’s flicking the underside of your clit with quick strokes, as your eyes roll back, and you’re stroking him harder, faster, with your little hand.

“Fuck… y’feel so good, your throat baby.” He whispers, as he’s licking up all of your arousal that’s drooling out of your cunt, swirling around your clit, making you see stars.

“Oh god, Toru, oh god!” You’re close now, and he’s smirking against your pussy, you can feel it, as his fingers dig into the plush of your thighs.

“Want you to cum on me, lemme feel you pretty.” He smacks a kiss on there again, and you’re sucking harder now, you can feel his precum coating your mouth, and your tongue slathers over it, earning the softest whimper from Satoru Gojo’s pretty pink lips.

Now Satoru is groaning loudly, his tongue pushing into your hole, his chin pressing into your clit, and you’re just a puddle on his face, as your orgasm hits you like a truck. You scream around his cock, body spasming, as your cum leaks out, down his chin, and his eyes are closed, a smug expression on his face.

“Toru! Fuck!” You helplessly bury your head right next to his cock, as you cum so hard you can’t function, rocking through you in waves, as you’re soaking his face, and he’s lapping it up so hungry, making you feel so good it’s blinding.

“Good girl, you got so wet for me.” He says softly, and you whine out, nails digging into his strong thighs, your ass jerking as he smacks it, nipping it with his teeth playfully. “Niagra.”

“Hush!” You laugh, breathy now, as you try to suck him again, your arms are so weak and wobbly you can barely hold on to him to support yourself.

“Wetter than anyone, sweeter than anyone.” His words against your sensitive clit drive you insane. “Wanna ride me like this?”

“Um… yes? Yes.” He chuckles, and soon you’re straddling him your slick heat pressed against his length, and he’s pulling your by your hips, grinding your twitchy clit and your slit, making him groan, his grip so tight.

“Get up on your knees and put him in, baby.” You nervously do as he commands, as your fiance, professor (former!?), your Toru says. You take him by the base, and sink down on him, head thrown back at the stretch, feeling his thick tip gently press into your hole. “Oh fuck…”

“Toru! M’so weak…” He takes your hips in his hands again, pressing up and pushing you down, and he feels so fucking good, cock dragging your walls, that flutter around him, soaking him down to his thighs. “Ah! Ah… ah!”

“That’s it, good girl. S’good for me…” He urges you on, and you’re rolling your hips tentatively, raising up then sinking down, as one of his hands pulls on your hair, making your back arch. “There, baby, there. Just like that, you’re so good… s’good… mmm…”

His words are turned into breathy cries, as are yours, as you begin to ride him now, and fuck that view is killing him, as he watches your ass bouncing, your eager pussy taking his cock, making it dissappear. You’re pulsing around his cock then, as he presses in that cervix, you’re so tight he has to struggle not to cum, to bust right then and there.

You make him so sensitive it’s embarrassing, you feel so good he always has to mentally stop himself from busting. Sure, he can get hard again, but he wants to watch you cum as much as he can. His hands slide up your little jut of your waist, thumbs pressing into those dimples of your back, as he guides you up and down. And soon you’re doing it all on your own.

And fuck you’re doing good.

“Like this, Toru?” You whisper, rolling your hips then, grinding his tip on that cervix, and Satoru moans, biting his lips, cheeks flushing as you course pleasure through his veins.

“Just like that, baby, perfect.” At his praise you rock again, as you brace one hand on his thigh, bouncing up and down again, screaming out, as he pushes you forward, bringing you in the reverse cowgirl, he’s been fucking dreaming of with you. “Take what you want from me. Cum as much as you want.”

You whimper, fuck those sounds are so sexy, he can’t believe he’s lucky enough to hear them from your pretty lips forever. You balance yourself on the bed, raising your hips as he grips that perfect little ass, and he watches you pump up and down, soaking him so much, it’s dripping wet all over his stomach. You’re burying your head against one of his thighs, screaming out, shaking.

Satoru watches a creamy ring form on the base of his cock now, as you’re snapping your hips up and down, and he feels it, those walls tightening, and he knows you’re close. He slips a thumb in his mouth, pressing it right in that puckered little hole, and you cum right then, twitching thighs squeezing his hips as you do, as you make a mess of you both.

“Mmm, that’s it, cum all over my cock.”

“It’s s’good.. Toru… fuck!” You’re shaking with those aftershocks, as he presses deeper into your tight hole, and you’re so weak, limp. “I suck… c-can’t move.”

He laughs softly, you’re so cute. “Want me to take over?”

“Please, please.”

Satoru will do anything for you, especially pound your perfect little cunt, or any hole you want him in. He taps your ass gently, and you move a bit, as he gets to his knees, and puts a pillow under your pelvis, bringing you up to him better. You look back, your gorgeous eyes glazed over, dilated and cock drunk, fuck Satoru loves you like this, with drool down the side of your face.

He shoves his cock back in your entrance, watching your knuckles go white as you cling to his blankets, and fuck your ass looks so good like this, like some cute little heart he thinks. Got what isn’t adorable about you, from your sweet little whimpers, to your pretty face when it gets so fucked out, when those eyes roll back and your mouth goes slack.

When his cum pours out of your hole, and he thinks how cute you’ll be when you’re pregnant. Fuck no matter the day he had, which was a stressful morning, the love he has eclipses it all. He can be himself with you, he never has to pretend, he can love you so desperate and you match his energy, you are everything.

His hand slips down your spine, slowly brushing, he knows your skin gets so sensitive after sex and he loves to tease you. He gently smacks each ass cheek, covered in his red handprints, before pumping his cock hard in you, tip dragging along those little gummy walls, with clutch so tightly. You’re cumming again, head falling back, hair spreading down your back.

He pulls you by your hair just how you like, fuck he loves knowing your body, what makes you tick, what makes you lose it, he brings you up to your knees, cupping your chin delicately, and your glazed over eyes meet his. Your lips part, as your little hands cling to his wrist, as his hand cups you around your pretty little throat, his thumb feeling your pulse flutter.

“You’re mine, only mine, forever… aren’t you baby?” He asks, and yes, he’s desperate to hear it, to feel it, to know you’ll never leave him. You nod eagerly, tears in your glittery eyes.

Fuck you’re gorgeous crying.

“I’m yours, Toru, only yours.” You whisper, your voice hoarse from screaming out, from taking him down that tight throat. The muscles in your thighs tighten and contract as he presses up deep in your cunt, and your eyes threaten to roll back again. “Love you, love you, love you.”

Fuck.

Those words kill him, he feels his own emotion threaten, slamming his lips down on yours, so you wouldn’t see his tears, but you feel them, as your hips rock, and he wraps an arm around your waist. He finds your little pearl, twitching under his touch, as you soak his fingers now. He watches your ring glitter on your finger as you cling to him, as your head falls back against his chest.

“Toru! Toru!” You’re whining as he squeezes your throat, as he plays your clit, as you’re drenching every goddamn part of him, and fuck he loves it, fuck he loves you.

“Love you, baby, fuck I love you.” You’re crying more, tears running down the apples of your cheeks, all flushed from your exertions, and Satoru gets to do his favorite thing, watch his pretty, smart little law student fall apart.

Fuck this man has your every button pressed, it’s like he is a musician and knows every string, every pressure, every note, as he makes you cum blindingly, while squeezing your throat. You can’t see, it’s all fuzzy like you’re floating, as you silently cry out, losing oxygen and inhaling Satoru, as he becomes anything and everything, the air, the energy, consuming your body.

Exhausted from this orgasm, you weakly fall back, greedily sucking in several breaths when his long fingers let you go. You try to rock your hips again, and he slips out, making you cry out at the emptiness. He kisses down your neck, slipping his cock up and down your folds again, pressing your ass and slipping the tip in, and you moan at the stretch.

“Toru… that’s my…”

“Oh, I know. Fuck. You wanna try, baby?” You tremble, nodding shyly, and he smiles against your neck. “You’re the cutest.”

“Will it hurt?” You ask, and he shakes his head, spreading your ass cheeks further apart now.

“You’ll love it, I can tell. Here, suck on these for me.” He pops two fingers in your mouth now, and you spit all over them, swirling your tongue, as you feel his breath hot on your cheek. “You’re such a good girl.”

“Mmm.” You just whine out again, and then gasp when he’s pressing them inside your little hole, burning and stretching so good.

“Play with your clit for me, mmm, just like that. You know, like when you used to think of me.” He whispers, blowing the hair by your ear, as he pumps his fingers inside you, then his cock is back there, pressing, as you’re both on your knees. He wraps an arm around your waist as he presses inside, and he’s stretching you so much you can hardly take it.

Your hand slips off your clit, only for him to replace it, sliding deeper, kissing down your neck and biting. “Oh my… fuck… you’re too big!”

“Nah, you got this baby. Don’t you?” You are shivering in his grip as he presses in deeper, so deep, as he sinks two fingers in your cunt, and you can’t take it then, you’re a mess, because fuck it’s different but it’s good. “Feel so fucking good, god you’re so tight…”

“You’re… in? All the way?” He snorts, and it’s not reassuring, but he’s sliding out then back in, as he pumps his fingers in your pussy, filling both your holes so good you can barely take it, all the pressure in your tummy about to burst.

“I won’t go all the way this time. I’m half. You’re too tiny there.” You exhale, and feel him tense. “You feel so, so good.”

“Y-you too. I can’t move though.”

“You don’t have to. Just feel it.” Your eyes shut, as you feel the ridges of his cock sliding deeper into your ass, just a bit, making it burn, it feels so intense inside of you as he fingers your pussy, that you’re close, but it feels so different. You’re clinging to his arms that hold you, as he lifts and drags you down his length, and you’re clenching around him.

“Mmm!”

“That’s it, take what you can.” He orders, so husky, and you’re taking more of his thick length in your little hole while his fingers are drenched with how much arousal is pouring out all over his hand. “You doing okay?”

“Mmmhmm!” He exhales in relief, being so gentle with you it touches you.

“Cum for me, lemme feel you tighten down.” he orders then, and you do, cum so hard it’s blinding, as he’s shoved in just a little deeper, moving in shallow thrusts in your ass as you pulse around his fingers.

“Satoru!”

“Mmm… that’s it, fuck! Fuck… baby…” He’s moaning then, holding your hips with both hands after you’ve cum, then he bends you forward, spitting down your ass again, pulling out and swirling his tip in. “Can you take more?”

“No!” He chuckles, as you giggle into the blankets, and he’s slipping back in, stretching your tight ass hole so much, but it brings you close again.

“Can you take it quicker though I’m losing it.” You nod, earning his exhale, as he pumps quicker, still shallow, and he’s tensing behind you.

“Sensitive?” You tease, earning his soft laugh, as you feel his tip thickening in that tight entrance.

“Fuck yes I am, I’ve been all night with you. Every hole feels so good…. Mouth… pussy… ass…”

“Mmm…”

“Play that clit again. I want you to cum.”

“Already came too much.”

“Nah, don’t tap out.” He spreads your cheeks again, fucking deeper, making you grip the messy sheets, back arching, as you press back for more. “Like it there?”

“Yes, yes!” You slink a hand back down, so wet your hand can barely stay, finding a puffy clit so sensitive you cum again, and he pauses, shoving deeper, then sliding almost out, shoving in again, as you adjust, as you crave more of this insane feeling, as you’re shaking, trying to take him. “Toru!”

“Where… can I…”

“You wanna… cum in there!?”

“Fuck yes I do. But i can pull out.” You bite your lip then, peering back, at his pretty face, his brows together, his cheeks pink. He’s a mess just like you. His eyes lock on yours, and he leans forward over you, hovering, pulling your hair hard and earning a moan as you arch your ass up for more. “Tell me where, m’close baby.”

“You can… cum in there.” You’re blushing furiously, and he laughs a bit, before whimpering, fucking faster, and you’re screaming at how amazing he feels, how he’s tearing you apart.

“Fuck, cum again, please, please, baby…” He begs, and you let go, as he’s pressing your tummy in the mattress, and he finds your clit with long fingers, moaning his release in your ear as he brings you with him.

“Satoru!” You scream weakly, as he’s pumping his hot cum inside your hole, something you’ve never felt, coating it entirely, and his cock twitches and pulses as you pour so much cum down his hand, down his bed.

“Oh… my, fuck… baby girl…” He’s slowed now, gently pumping, and it starts to be too much, you’re wincing as the pain hits a bit more. He eases out, and then it really hits, and you’re hissing.

“Ow, ow, ow.” You feel tears prick your eyes, Satoru immediately pulls you to him, kissing you deeply, tongues dripping saliva as he hungrily devours your mouth.

“You okay? Too much?” He asks softly, caressing you and looking carefully into your eyes.

“Way too much. Good but…”

“We don’t have to again, I love your pussy so much. Promise. I thought…”

“No, I liked it. Um… but maybe not unless I get buzzed first. Ow.” He chuckles, easing out from behind you, kissing you again and again, pulling your body to him. “Mmm, I did like it, clearly.”

“I did too, but I don’t want you hurting.”

“No, you were gentle. It’s okay, Toru, just… ow.” He sighs, then stands up, picking you up in his arms.

“Let me run you a bath, yeah Fiance?”

“Yes, Fiance.”

Soon you are in Satoru Gojo’s big tub, he’d run a fragrant bubble bath for you, and he’s caressing your breasts, brushing thumbs down your sensitive nipples and making you cry out. You’re right between his thighs, letting the hot water run over both of you, as you look up at him, sleepily smiling at his perfect face, his white lashes dripping with the water, droplets on his pale skin.

“I can’t believe we’re getting married. It’s so insane. Satoru we’re both so fucking crazy.” He smirks, thumb brushing across your damp cheek.

“You knew I was crazy when you met me, brat. How ya feeling?”

“Much better. It’s throbbing though.” You wiggle a bit, earning the tightening of his hands around your breasts, feeling too good. “My pussy is sore too, no funny business, Sir.”

He snorts. “Pfft, yeah right, you’re the hornball.”

“Me!? You!”

“Mmm, you match my freak.”

“Do I now?” He nods, pecking kisses against your cheek, your temple, as he slides a hand to your tummy.

“Should show up and tell my parents I knocked you up.”

“Satoru!”

“What!? It would be fun.” You lift your hand, with the pretty ring glinting through the suds that fall down your hand. “You nervous?”

“Terrified of them. Like they seemed like… they’d really hurt me.”

He squeezes you tightly, resting his head on your shoulder, shaking his head. “I won’t ever let anyone hurt you, parents included. You’re everything to me, baby, fucking everything.”

“Oh, Satoru…” You turn in his arms then, clinging to him and kissing him so deeply, as you straddle him, sore pussy pressing on his hard length, as he looks up at you with emotions in those azure depths, his mouth in a tight line. “I know you will protect me. You’re my everything.”

“Don’t ever leave me, please baby.” You feel sobs wracking your body then, you shake your head, cupping his face, thumbs brushing over high cheekbones.

“I will never, ever leave you. I swear it. I am sorry I got so afraid, but I will be here no matter what. Because, Satoru, I love you more than anything in the world. In the universe, in any universe. You alone.”

He has tears falling now, and he pulls you down to him, moaning in your mouth, and he’s sliding his cock in you, making you gasp, as you’re so full. “Sorry baby I need you again, please, please.” He begs, whimpering softly, and you nod then, wrapping arms around his neck, sliding down and hissing at the stretch.

“Take me again, Toru. I’m yours.” He smashes his lips on yours, and he’s fucking you slow, hands running down your skin, nails softly raking your flesh as he’s sucking on the peaks of your breasts, shoving up so deep, and you’re cumming around him, as he starts thrusting harder into your sore little pussy.

“Never leave me. Please.” He’s so desperate, and so are you, to reassure him, to be one with him, as he fucks every worry out of your brain, as he fucks you so stupid in that tub, as you fall into those beautiful eyes.

“Never, Toru, never.”

You stand with Satoru Gojo the next day, in front of the insanely huge mansion his parents resided in, holding hands, as his thumb brushes over your knuckles so gently. You are so afraid, so terrified, and even Satoru is tense, but he’s right there, smiling down at you, that sexy lawyer, that sexy professor, that sexy fiance that he is, bright and brilliant.

“We got this, Shnookums. Ya ready?” You smile tremulously at the name, that silly name that makes you feel so loved, so full.

“I’m ready, Satoru. We do this together.” You squeeze his hand, and your eyes widen when the doors open.

Fuck, can you all get through this?

Chapter 13

[madridfangirl]

Star crossed lovers (Jude Bellingham fic)

Chapter 11

(Series Link)

Jude * female reader. Mature Language in parts.

Synopsis: A chance encounter in a tiny Madrid cafe with the newest superstar of her fav club. The two couldn't be more different, yet both feel the pull toward the other. Would this girl be the one he finally falls for? Or would life come in the way of these star-crossed lovers?

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When she stepped out after a few mins, in just his jersey, she looked like a vision. A wet-dream inducing vision.

Covered only till her upper thighs. Bare legs on full display. Bare feet. Toenails painted bright-red. Light gloss enhancing the natural pink texture of her lips. Open, bouncy hair falling over her slender shoulders. 

All dolled up for him. Exactly as he liked. 

So tempting, extra fuckable. All for him.

And to think some leech tried to snatch her away? Nah, over his dead body!

He’d show her who she belonged to. He’d fuck it right into her bones tonight.

Ananya fidgeted under his intense gaze, hands playing with the hem of the jersey. His jersey. She knew what it meant to him. What it would do to him. To see her in his colours. A form of submission by his girlfriend. A form of adulation by a Madridista. 

But somehow, she was now finding it hard to meet his lust-filled eyes. Jude circled around her, slowly. Taking her in from every angle. He moved her hair to her front, and she instantly knew he was staring at his name on her back. 

After completing his inspection, he stood in front of her, looking down at her jumpy form.

‘Are you nervous?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good.’

She looked up then, & instantly regretted it when her eyes locked into his predatory ones. Jude was in a mood tonight. It was going to be a long night. 

What had she gotten herself into?

‘Strip me.’

Soft, tentative hands removed his leather jacket. Then slowly unbuttoned his shirt. Revealing his chiseled torso. Jude rarely wore a vest underneath, something she had learnt lately.

She hesitated once his top-half was bare.

‘Go on.’

His deep, raspy voice commanded from above her. Watching her every move like a hawk.

She gulped while unclasping his belt, the rustling sound almost lewd in the quiet room. Her fingers accidentally brushed against his crotch, feeling the building excitement there.

Jude grabbed her hand, making her cup him over his pants. She gasped loudly. It felt so….heavy?  How was she supposed to…what was she supposed to….

His sinful voice cut through the maze.

‘See what you do to me?

Ananya whimpered & threw her arms around his neck. Getting on her tiptoes to pull him close. Seeking some comfort in his familiar scent & warmth. Waiting for him to reciprocate with one of his crushing hugs.

But Jude just grabbed her butt, lifting her briefly to throw her on the bed. She fell with a thud, blinking up at him, as he stood near the edge. 

That handsome man seemed hell-bent on toying with her. And she could tell he was not himself yet, still reeling from the emotional roller-coaster from earlier. If only he’d let her hold him & soothe him…

But then, he took off his pants, revealing those tree-trunk like thighs, standing there in just his boxers, hungry eyes scanning her body. Ready to devour her like his favourite cheat meal. Her throat went dry & she gripped the sheets in anticipation. Bracing for him to have his way with her.

To Jude, she looked so inviting - just laying there obediently, half-naked, waiting to be fucked. 

Like a Christmas present he had gotten in advance, with his name on it. But he wasn’t allowed to unwrap or play with it yet. Those had been the rules. Until now.

Tonight, he would be rewarded for his patience. Tonight, he’d play non-stop. Repeatedly.  Whichever way he wanted. Till his desire is sated. Tonight, he’d take what had been his all along.

He crawled up the bed, spread her legs open, settling between them. Before she could extend her arms to reach him, to kiss his face, Jude flipped her on her stomach. Taking away her view of him. Just his touch remained, and the sounds of their heavy breathing.

A large hand spread across the jersey on her back, pausing where his name was, then moved down to squeeze her bare ass. The other hand joined in, kneading rhythmically with force. She whimpered into the pillow when his mouth came to the party, digging into both cheeks.

He was enthralled with her firm, round behind. The meaty mounds felt delicious, & tasted even better. The soft, breathy sounds escaping her lips added to his mood. He couldn’t resist. Rather, he didn’t want to.

Jude spanked her. Decently hard. Her resulting moan a music to his ears. She squirmed & flailed her arms, trying to turn around, to see him, but a strong hand on her back kept her in place. He wasn’t done, far from it.

He pulled her up by her ass, spreading her thighs to find her core, covered with purple lace panties. He ran a finger down the length of her core, over the flimsy fabric. Her whole body jerked as she moaned helplessly, face buried into the pillow. Both realising how wet she already was & the impact he was having on her. 

He found her clit, rubbing circles with pressure, as she gasped through it. Her arm reached behind, trying to find him, hold on to him, but he stayed just outside of her reach.

‘Ju..de….baby…..too much…’

‘Haven’t even gotten started yet.’

His fingers hooked under the side of her panties, tugging with such force that the flimsy fabric ripped open. He brought the garment to his face, sniffing her scent. Finding himself positively addicted to it.

She saw it all with the corner of her eyes, shocked by the lewdness of it. But he broke her out of that mode when his index finger started to push inside her wet heat.

She screamed his name at the intrusion, hands fisting into the sheets below. His finger was insistent, probing, thick & ridiculously long. Digging all the way in till his knuckles. Her walls stretched around him, accommodating him eagerly. 

Jude played with her insides, curling & angling his finger to find different angles, eventually pumping in & out, drawing her moans in tandem with his moves.

He bent forward, leaning over her back, & pulled up the jersey to grab her breasts. Finding them covered in matching purple lace bra, which he unhooked & removed swiftly.

His spare hand fondled them, feeling their shape & weight, squeezing & rolling with abandon. While his finger continued thrusting inside. Reducing her to a mewling mess underneath him.

It wasn’t enough. Jude wanted more. He wanted to taste her boobs. To wreck those sexy curves which had been the cause of his many restless nights.

He flipped her again, finger still buried inside, & bent down to latch on to her nipples.

She held his cheeks, desperately trying to bring him up to her lips. But Jude used his height & strength advantage to pin her hands over her head with one of his palms. And cage her legs under the weight of his heavy ones. While his mouth went to town on her boobs, painting them with his marks. And his finger kept pumping her.

Her body was responding to him. Voraciously so. She could already feel the pressure starting to build in the pit of her stomach, accentuated by his rapid stimulation of her chest.

But she was filled with a sense of emptiness. Craving more of him. More than just the sexual pleasures he was giving her right now. This is not how she had imagined their first time to be. The intimacy she had felt with him before was missing tonight.

This was not her Jude. No. Her Jude would have drowned her in compliments, calling her beautiful, yapping in her ear throughout. Her Jude would have kissed her, held her close, looked into her eyes. Her Jude would have made love to her. Not just fucked her like she was a conquest.

But what if he’s like this only in bed? Aloof & distant? Just wanting a release?

No, she couldn’t have read him wrong all this while. This had to be an aberration.

And he wasn’t just denying her. He was denying himself too. 

‘W-wait…pls wait…’

Jude tore himself away from her chest long enough to look into her eyes, for the first time.

That was added affirmation. His expressive eyes were too transparent to those who knew how to read them. She saw the agitation loud & clear in those honeyed orbs. 

And a screaming question - why was he being so rudely interrupted?

‘It’s hurting, Jude.’

That hit him like a bucket of cold water splashed over his naked body in Birmingham winters.

He immediately paused, checking her all over. Unable to decipher how & where he had hurt her. 

‘What’s hurting?’

His voice was urgent, guilty. 

‘I can’t feel you, baby.’

It was ironic. He was all over her, inside her, but still he was somewhere far away. Hiding from her.

Realisation dawned on his face. She held his gaze through it, stroking his cheeks slowly as he panted over her.

‘It’s ME. It’s US. Not like this, Jude.’

He pulled out, untangled himself from her and plopped on his back next to her. Covering his eyes with the back of his arm. Chest rising & falling in slow, laboured breaths. Feeling like absolute shit.

It was time to address the root cause.

Ananya turned to her side, gently stroked his arm, drawing it away from his face, spreading it on the pillow & resting her face on his bicep. She snuggled into him, running her fingers up & down his chest. Her lips grazing his cheek. His eyes still firmly shut.

‘I didn’t consider him, Jude. Not for a second. That’s not why I didn’t tell you.’

He turned his face away, not wanting to let his vulnerability show, but she pulled it back. He had never been this quiet & subdued in all the time she had known him. It was breaking her heart.

‘How I wished you were here that day. I wanted to run straight to you when it happened.’

His brows furrowed, typical sign of his annoyance. She gently massaged them with her fingers.

‘When we spoke the next morning, you were so focused on the match. And then you scored & won & you were so happy after. I didn’t have the heart to mess with that, to take that away from you. I swear, that was the only reason.’

His face contorted in discomfort, and she just wanted to wipe that expression off.

‘Look at me once? Please, baby?’

Jude tried to resist, but she pressed her naked body into him, making her case a lot more convincing. He gave in & met her eyes, finding sincerity & genuine regret in them.

‘I can see I hurt you and I’m sorry. It’ll never happen again, I promise.’

‘I can’t….I can’t stop picturing you with..…It makes me wanna…’

She pulled him closer, moulding her body to his. They were side to side now, as she clung to him in a koala hug, stroking his back and shoulders.

‘Shhh. I know, I know baby. ‘

She hugged him & rocked their bodies together, swaying them back & forth, like one would do to soothe a fussing infant. 

Jude had always kept her on a morally superior pedestal. He was trying to change for her. She was supposed to be different. He couldn’t shake the hurt & resulting doubts that seeped in. It wasn’t meant to be like that, not with her. 

What else did she not tell him? Did she secretly want that guy to fall for her? Would she have slept with him sooner, and not made him wait like she did here? 

He thought powering through sex would solve this mess & settle them. That’s why he had come back tonight. There’s no way he’d lose her to that dickhead. There’s no way he’d lose, period!

But clearly she wasn’t game for that. Why did everything have to be a conversation with her, other than the most important thing that should have been discussed?

Jude knew he was spiralling. Taking everything on a tangent. But he just couldn’t help himself. His fingers dug into her soft skin in agitation, making her look into his turbulent eyes.

She kissed him deeply. His lips moved out of instinct, but nothing like how he would have usually responded to a kiss like that.

‘I have wanted you too, you know. Been waiting for…this.’

Jude scoffed. She had been the singular reason for the distance between them. Literally kept him at bay. Whatever the hell did she mean by that?

Ananya saw through his guileless eyes again.

‘Both can happen together. I could have my baggage & still want you. Because I did. I do. I have desperately wanted you, Jude.’

That got his attention, but not his belief. Not yet.

She climbed on top of him, her curves pressing deliciously into his body in all the right areas. Jude bit back a sigh. But couldn’t stop his arms from coming around her, holding her loosely. His boxers became tighter, having a response of their own. A weird mix of arousal & frustration took over his body.

Ananya peppered soft kisses all over his face & lips, then moved down his long neck, burying her face in the hard muscles there. Her open tresses spread over their bodies & the pillow. Her weight on top serving as a reassurance to his troubled soul.

‘Last few weeks…every time you kissed me, touched me, I…wanted more. I hoped you would just…just…’

‘Just what?’

What was she saying? He couldn’t push her. Was he supposed to? Is that what she wanted?

Her teeth connected with his neck, messing with his ability to think or process.

‘Seduce me.’

She whispered in a sultry tone, and Jude wondered what other shades of her he hadn’t discovered yet.

‘Yeah? Like what you’re doing right now?’

She sat up on him, settling on his waist, just ahead of his crotch. Messy open hair, hooded eyes, plump lips curving into a naughty smile, butt naked. Looking so fucking fuckable. Or, just recently fucked. That did him in even more.

‘Am I?’

All he could do was nod in response.

‘So, if I tell you that watching you play turns me on, that sometimes I touch myself seeing you on screen, when you are all feisty & aggressive, shoving down others, celebrating in their faces, strutting around in that tight gorgeous kit, all hot & sweaty, would that be seducing too?’

His throat went dry. Images hitting his head in waves. Of her sprawled on the bed, watching him, tending to her need. Did she moan his name too?

She was still talking, that vixen.

‘….Pumping with adrenaline, in that conquering dominating mood, I have wondered if you would come to me straight after, without even taking a shower? Or better still, if you could take me right there, in the middle of the pitch?’

‘Yeah? Not worried about people seeing us?’

He somehow found his voice. But she just slowly shook her head at him. 

‘Nah. You won’t let that happen.’

Damn right he won’t. No one else was allowed to see her or even hear her like that. Not on his watch. That show was only for him.

She read him again.

‘Only for you.’

‘You’re not playing fair.’

She smiled that delicious smile again, lifted his hands from her waist, placing them on her boobs, making him squeeze her. She threw her head back, and Jude could feel her wetness slipping through her folds, on his stomach.

‘Then make me.’

This woman had blown Jude’s mind tonight. Set his body on fire. And he hadn’t even fucked her yet? Enough was enough. It was time to show her who the boss was.

‘Gonna make you regret those words.’

Jude grabbed her delicate waist, flipping her on her back, getting on top. Without any warning or preparation, he shoved two fingers inside her, burying himself in with two quick strokes. She was wet enough, he had felt that already.

Ananya screamed at the sudden invasion, yet her walls spread of their accord for him, inviting him in. But he stayed still inside, not moving an inch. 

‘Don’t…don’t tease.’

She groaned in frustration, kicking her legs. He held her down, smirking at her.

‘Look who’s talking. For all the times you have blue-balled me, I should return the favour, right? Keep you like this? That’s playing fair, yeah?’

His thumb grazed her clit, just enough to send a jolt of electricity through her body. She thrashed under him, trying to bring him close but Jude didn’t budge an inch. Too strong for her.

‘Just….please…just take me. I’ll do anything.’

‘Anything?’

His face was downright perverted now. Predatory.

‘Almost…almost anything.’

Given his escapades, she couldn’t give him a blanket go ahead. God knows what all he would have done, what all he would make her do.

‘Almost anything?’

He whispered in that silky, husky voice. Sending shivers down her back.

His thumb pressed on her clit again, but he quickly removed the friction that she desperately needed. She wanted to cry. She was ready to beg if that’s what it took.

‘W-what..what do you want?’

‘Say you’re mine.’

‘I AM YOURS. How thick are you to not get that still?’

‘Say you want me.’

‘I want you. I NEED you. Oh god, Jude.’

‘Say you’ll make it up to me all weekend?’

She blinked at him in confusion.

‘Oh has someone already forgotten what she did? Rather what she didn’t do? I haven’t. And I’m gonna lock you up in my house till Monday morning. Just you & me. You’ll make it up to me ALL WEEKEND, day & night. Clear?’

‘Y-yes.’

‘Can’t hear you.’

‘YES.’

‘You’ll be a good girl for me?’

‘YES.’

He smiled a mischievous, victorious smile while settling between her legs again, spreading them wide. She shuddered when he kissed up her thighs, leaving a wet trail. His hot breath on her core. When his tongue touched her folds, she screamed out.

‘Easy….pls easy there….I haven’t…’

He was next to her face immediately.

‘Haven’t done this bit before?’

She shook her head. Jude was amazed. And extremely glad. At least he’ll get to take some virginity of hers. There will be many more firsts she’ll do with him, so much to show her.

‘I’ll make it good. Trust me, yeah?’

She nodded eagerly. He kissed her lips, then quickly moved down to kiss the other set of lips. He took it slow, opening her up with his tongue, tracing her slit then diving in eventually, while his lips caressed her folds.

Ananya felt like she had died & gone to heaven. The pleasure built slowly, deliciously in the pit of her stomach. 

But he quickly withdrew, and she nearly sobbed. 

‘Want you to come on my dick.’

He was rock hard, painfully so. Having ignored his own need for so long.

When he tossed his boxers aside, Ananya was mesmerised. And anxious. So anxious. 

He swiftly got into position and lined his already leaking tip against her opening.

She squirmed & reached for him, trying to pull him close.

‘Shhh I am here, I am here. Just one second, dove.’

He pressed half-way in with a few fluid strokes. Then bent over her, balancing his weight on his arms. She grabbed his biceps & held him close, as he started to plunge further in.

But it wasn’t as easy as earlier. Or as smooth. She whimpered under him again.

‘Jude….Jude I don’t think I….’

‘Yes you can. And you will. Eyes on me, c’monn.’

Because how could she not? It was him. She was meant to take him.

Jude locked eyes with her, willing her to relax for him. To open up for him. Kissing her lips & boobs feverishly to distract her from the initial discomfort, rather the borderline pain of stretching for his full thick length.

And slowly, persistently, he seated himself inside. Pausing to let her get used to him.

She panted underneath, her forehead & cleavage glistening with sweat. Jude kissed it all away, peppering open-mouthed kisses all over her upper body.

‘You’re gorgeous babe, so fucking gorgeous.’

Her fingers dug into his back.

‘You have no idea what you do to me. Can’t stop thinking about you.’

Her mouth open & closed weakly, as her body still felt speared by his size.

‘Let me have you, babe. Let me take you places.’

After a few moments, she eventually gave him a nod to move. And Jude felt like he had just been given a ticket to heaven.

His strokes were slow, testing waters. Trying to find a rhythm that worked for both of them. He studied her face & body closely, learning from what she seemed to like. Where she seemed to like him. Coz his sweet dove was in no condition to say it out loud. 

He caught on quickly, then moved like a pro. Measured, practiced strokes. Drawing helpless moans & shivers from her. And a few satisfied grunts from him.

Jude wanted to move her around, but tonight they were too far gone to try anything. 

He captured her lips in a deep kiss when he increased his pace, swallowing her helpless moans. Her hands wrapped around his neck, trying to find an anchor as she quickly started losing grip of herself.

Jude felt her legs starting to shake behind his back, and her walls starting to clench.

‘Will you hold on for me? A little longer? Would you do that for me, dove?’

He was close too, and he could kill right now to feel them come apart at the same time.

She wanted to. She would give him anything he asked for right now, but how? How was she supposed to hold?

Jude saw the query on her face & pushed one of her legs over his shoulder, changing the angle & rhythm. It bought him some time, but she was still writhing under him, her toes curling.

‘Baby….please….let me…I can’t.’

‘Thirty seconds. Give me thirty seconds.’

She tried, she really gave her all, but a sudden wave ripped through her insides after one of his frenzied thrusts, & her walls spasmed around him, squeezing him tightly. 

Jude threw his head back & groaned, fucking her non-stop through her orgasm, as she moaned his name. Stimulating her further, making her clench continuously around him, eventually leading to his own peak too.

Their eyes met, and he wiped the tears pooled at the edge of her eyes, bending down to kiss her open mouth, as they came down from their highs together.

Very carefully, he pulled out, minding any cramps in her legs. He cleaned her slowly with a warm washcloth, after disposing off his condom. They laid side by side, arms entangled. Her lower body was sore so he let her have some space there. But her tired face was showered with kisses. 

Eventually, when the cramps eased, she nuzzled into his side & he opened his arms immediately to let her settle half over his chest. 

‘Feeling okay, dove?’

She turned her face to press a kiss to his chest.

‘More than okay.’

He responded with a kiss to the top of her head.

‘Why’d you take that tablet now? We used a condom.’

She shrugged in his arms.

‘Just to be sure, I guess. I..I was thinking, maybe, of getting on a pill now.’

Now that the floodgates had opened, she knew that sex would be a very frequent part of their lives. And she didn’t want to feel anxious or scramble for a pill afterwards every time. Getting on a regular one was far more practical. Despite it having some minor side-effects.

‘Okay. Whatever you are comfortable with.’

Jude didn’t know anything about the hormonal side of it at all. Frankly, he had never taken any interest in it with any girl before. Never really tried to find out. Always using a condom.

But for the first time, he was jolted by a desire he hadn’t felt before. 

‘So, if you are on the pill, we don’t need to use a condom?’

She looked up at him, as he tried to mask his excitement.

‘I mean….only if you are comfortable with….with letting me…not use it.’

It shocked her how much this proposition excited her too, even in her spent state. 

‘Yeah…maybe.’

Jude grinned widely at her, and she smacked his chest lightly in mock admonishment.

‘So then…tomorrow can we….’

‘Listen mister….it takes a couple of days for the pill to take proper effect, as a precaution. So no, none of that this weekend.’

‘Fine, I’ll wait. Kinda used to it with you now.’

She smiled into his chest, as her eyelids started to get heavy.

‘Sleep, dove. Tomorrow morning, I am taking you home. Sleep, you’re gonna need the rest.’

………………………………………..

There you go. Angsty smut was promised and I hope it was delivered :)

I can't seem to write chapters less than 4k words anymore. Phew!

Next chapter - she meets with a family member :)

As always, would love to hear your thoughts / comments / feedback. They keep me going :)

[p-erse-phone]

Losing Focus - Nishimura Riki

Pairing fckboy!riki x good girl fem!reader

✶Genre: smau & written(sometimes), university au, angst, slight slow burn ✶Synopsis: Decelis University of the Arts is a very exclusive university mostly saved for the talented kids of influential, rich, and/or famous families, OR young adults with a good amount of influence themselves. Needless to say it’s an unobtainable dream for most, without the money or means it’s almost impossible. Except for the lucky few gifted people who are offered scholarships to be able to try to fight for the chance without the backing of family or fame.  Choi Y/N is one of the fortunate few scholarship students. Known for her big heart, Y/N has always poured her all into everything she’s ever done, especially piano. Considered a prodigy she always thought this was only a dream that she could have while asleep, but now it's real. Nishimura Riki comes from the well-known Nishimura family influential in the dance world, talented, and handsome he seems as he has it all. Graduating early from highschool and accepted into Decelis with barely an application process he’s loved by most, and the pillar of envy for many. Focusing mostly almost all his attention to dancing he doesn’t have the time for an established relationship, but that doesn’t stop him from messing around with whoever he feels like. No-strings-attached. …But when he needs to collab with one of the performing arts students in the instrument department, he finds that Y/N might be just enough to sway his mind. As they become closer and her soft demeanor begins to infiltrate most of his thoughts will he be able to make enough room to let her in, or can he not let go of his current life.  ✶Featuring: ENHYPEN, Some TXT, Le Sserafim(Kazuha), Katseye (Sophia), New Jeans(Minji), tba… ✶Warnings: swearing, sexual jokes and implied themes, situationship, playing with emotions, love triangle(?), angst, making fun of socioeconomic status, more tba…

Taglist: Open

Start: 11/05/2024 

End: Tba

Profiles : Thot Pocket | Losers | Group b | Group G

Chapters !

01 : baby ass boy

02 : gatekeep

03 : contemporary

04 : busy (+written)

05 : who?

06 : commit

07 : lore

08 : agreed (written)

09 : RIP

many more tba...

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 10 - Lead Me To The Ark

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: Silly fact: Our 100,000th word is "fucking". Quite apt, in my humble opinion. Enjoy! Chapter Title is from Ghost in the Machine by SZA (ft. Phoebe Bridgers)

Word Count: 19.6k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: Nine Days. Usual warnings

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, fluff, much angst, light smut, pining

Read on A03!

Chapter 9 - Chapter 11

Ben’s life had never lacked in beauty. Starting in a childhood marked by well-kept gardens and polished floors that held shiny, uptight parties, before moving to pretty girls in his youth, falling for the tricks and charms he’d learned to wield like weapons to keep their beauty near him. Eventually pretty girls changed to beautiful women, women who knew his tricks but didn’t care as long as they got what they wanted. Soldier Boy. After that, charisma, wit, and flirtation became secondary, for Soldier Boy was the weapon and there was no longer need for clever formalities to keep beauty in his life. Every beautiful thing was his, all he had to do was be Soldier Boy. Ben himself was secondary, because nobody gave a shit about Ben. It was Soldier Boy that was given beauty, and so Soldier Boy draped his life in flowers, art, women, and everything else that dared to glitter like gold.

All that beauty, from crystal to silk to marble, seemed to be pale and faded in comparison to Her. It was fucking frightening, how it suddenly became so clear that everything, every fucking thing, wasn’t even competing. Ben had climbed down the stairs as she’d snarked about his long showers, responded with his own mocking words, and then completely fucking forgotten how to breathe. She’d turn around—giving Ben a taunt he didn’t hear—and suddenly everything was just Her. Perfect, still perfect, always perfect, in a way that felt solid. Permanent and beautiful in a way that shouldn’t be earned, couldn’t be earned. That knowing didn’t stop the Thing, though. From needing to earn it. It had become impossible to keep The Things restrained, because Ben had no will to restrain it. It had told him to touch Her and hold her, so he had and refused to let go. Even when he’d gotten drugs—an opportunity that had become far too fucking rare to turn down—he’d kept some part of him against Her. When Starlight had asked Her to dance, Ben had told her to go, half because he was pretty sure Starlight might’ve started crying like a damn baby if She hadn’t, and half because fuck the Thing wanted to see Her dance. See Her with that loose happiness he’d imagined she had before Homelander.

He hadn’t been disappointed. She’d vanished into the smoke and light with Starlight for just long enough that Ben had almost stood to follow them—the Thing itching to know where She was, if she was safe—only to reappear just before he’d been about to rise from the booth. Dancing, with stupid, joyful fucking smiles and moving with the music in a way that made the Thing feral.

Ben didn’t notice the sickeningly sweet woman who’d given him the boob-drugs slide into the booth until she was right at his side.

“Where’d your pretty little bitch go, handsome?” Boob-drugs’ voice had been a low, seductive whisper in Ben’s ear, and the Thing had felt bloody at the honey-like venom of her words, the way they drawled and choked the air around him.

Ben should have given Boob-drugs want she wanted. It had been far too long since Ben had gotten his dick wet, since he’d properly fucked something that wasn’t his hand or those stupid fucking “fleshlights” She’d gotten him. She’d joked once about him destroying them in a matter of minutes, and Ben had decided only a few weeks later that She never needed to know how correct She’d been. Ben should’ve leaned into Boob-drugs, touched her like the fucking man he was, flirted with her until he was deep in her cunt on a bathroom counter. But when Boob-drugs had traced fingers up his arm and offered him sultry words, the only feeling he got was something cold crawling across his skin. The Thing not only didn’t feel satiated, but had curled up in revolt. It felt disgusting, and Ben couldn’t even fully focus on the coke as the woman had tried to pull his strings.

At some point he’d lost Her on the dance floor, and any stupid semblance of goddamn manners or entertaining Boob-drugs had been thrown out the window. He’d stood and walked away as Boob-Drugs was mid-sentence, and didn’t bother to look back. Ben had searched for Her for long, painful minutes, and finally spotted her as she moved through the crowd, a lost look on her face.

They needed to leave, Ben had decided, because the happiness had drained from Her face and the fatigued emptiness was beginning to creep back in. The moment he’d pulled Her into the night air—wind moving her hair and streetlights making her glow—exhaustion had begun to cloud her eyes quickly, and Ben had smiled to himself as She passed out at his side. She had held herself to him tightly in her sleep, from the car, to the house, and well into the night. At one point She’d started thrashing in the bed and Ben had almost woken her up—unsure if it was a nightmare or simply restlessness—but no fire had leaked from Her body, and no sounds of pain had left her mouth, so he’d pulled Her into him and fallen asleep with Her curled at his side.

When She’d left the bed in the morning, he’d found it impossible to fall asleep again. The Thing had grown cold, and Ben could hear Her heartbeat down the stairs, hear it stutter before it began to push to rapid pace. He’d followed it down to living room, almost thankful for the fucking excuse. He’d watched the smoke rising from Her body, heard the fucking hollowness in her voice as she spoke, and seen red. Then She’d broken in front of him one more goddamn time, fallen asleep with her head to his chest, and—though it was hardly afternoon—laid them down on Her bed and slept at her side.

She was awake when his eyes opened. Watching him in silence, lying on her side, heartbeat even and soft.

“Hi.” She whispered, and a small smile played on her mouth.

“Hi.” Ben’s voice was a rough croak, and Her smile grew. “What fucking-“

“5pm.”

He frowned. “We slept the whole goddamn day?”

She tensed, looking away from him. “Most of it, yeah.” The gnawing of her lip began. “I’m-“

“If you say ‘I’m sorry’, I’ll fucking kill you.”

 “I wasn’t going to.” She mumbled, and Ben rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t.”

“Sure, and I’m the fucking President.”

 She glared at him. “I was going to say that I’m hungry.”

“Then go eat,” Ben shrugged, even as the Thing began to protest at the thought of Her leaving. “You don’t need to fucking wait for me to do that.” 

“It’s my turn to heat dinner.” She rolled onto her back, facing the ceiling with a huff. “I need to know what you want.”

Ben laughed. “I don’t give a shit, Sunshine. Food is food.”

 “You say that now,” She turned her head to look at him, a incredibly fucking dramatic look on Her face. “But I would’ve made the one thing you didn’t want and you’d have thrown a hissy fit.” 

“I don’t throw ‘hissy fits’.”

“Fine, temper tantrum.”

“Shut the fuck up,” he grunted, hauling himself to a sitting position. “I don’t throw hissy fits or temper tantrums or any other pussy shit.”

She laughed. “You’re literally doing it right now.”

When Ben only grunted, she giggled again, a smug and weightless sound that made the Thing so fucking pleased. He looked down at Her in fake anger, and found that she was still flat on her back, watching him with a teasing smile and pretty eyes. The Thing wanted to pull Her into his side, to make sure that she stayed light and amused and thoughtlessly relaxed forever.

“Someone’s grumpy.” Her smile was toothy and wide, and the Thing wanted to touch Her lips. “Was nap time too short?”

He rolled his eyes, forcing himself to stand from the bed. “Go fucking eat, brat.”

“What do you want?” She called as he moved to Her bathroom. “I’ll make you oatmeal, Ben, I swear to God-“

Ben turned right before the door. “Fucking hell, bagels. Make bagels.”

“You had a bagel two days ago.”

“It’s a free country, Sunshine, I’m allowed to eat a bagel for multiple fucking days.” Ben glared at Her. “And you ate that bagel.”

“You left it out.”

“It was my fucking bagel.”

“Jesus, fine, we’ll have bagels.” She rolled her eyes, sitting up on the bed and muttering under her breath. “Fucking man baby.”

“You know I fucking heard that.” Ben snapped, she stuck her tongue out at him, and the Thing pushed at his stomach.

He closed the door before She could retaliate, listening to her shuffle around the room for several minutes—doing what he had no fucking clue—before her heartbeat faded down the stairs.

Ben had never actually used Her bathroom before. He’d always walked down the hall to his, never needing to piss or shit so bad he couldn’t just fucking hold it. Any time he did leave Her room for his own, it was to fuck his hand behind a locked door, to indulge fantasies of Her in the very room he’d just left. Ben hadn’t even fully thought about what he was doing when he’d walked into Her bathroom, it had felt like the most goddamn normal thing in the world. Now, flushing the toilet and looking around, Ben hated how fucking satiated the Thing felt. Surrounded by Her in tiny and stupid ways, seeing little damn pieces of her everywhere. The shampoo that he always smelled on Her, the discarded towel on the floor, the half-empty hand soap placed beside her toothbrush, drying on the counter. A toothbrush he was fucking jealous of for being in her mouth, like a fucking creeping pussy who’d never touched a woman.

When Ben exited the bathroom—fully intending to follow Her to the kitchen—he did quick sweep of the room, saw Her outfit from the night before hanging out of the hamper, and realized she’d been fucking changing. With him only a door away. The Thing rumbled with images of Her peeling off her clothes, moving smoothly through the room in nothing but her underwear, maybe even pulling those off too—

Ben made a detour to his room, finding relief in a fantasy of Her at his side, laying on her back with that perfect smile, and him climbing on top of her and fucking her until she was numb with pleasure. Or pulling Her onto his lap and letting her grind on him until she orgasmed with her head against his chest. Or Her rolling down, taking him in her mouth and him shooting down her throat-

He came, with a jerk of his hips, a low grunt, and imagined sounds of Her moaning in his ear.

Once he’d cleaned up—he had to find a less fucking time consuming way to do this—Ben descended the stairs and found Her at the bookshelf, pushing through its contents with a focus, narrowed intent.

“What the fuck are you-“

“There’s no fucking cookbooks in the goddamn house!” Her voice was frustrated, glaring at the books with a scowl Ben had only seen directed at himself or Butcher. “Fucking CIA didn’t think we might want just one, one cookbook? They gave us a printed copy of the constitution, but not one fucking cookbook?”

“Why the hell would you want a cookbook?” He watched her pull another two books from the shelves, making an annoyed huff before throwing them onto the floor. “You can’t cook.”

“I know that!” She snapped. “You think I don’t fucking know that?”

“Then why are you being so goddamn dramatic-“

 Ben was cut off by a copy of Shakespeare’s Complete Works flying at his face.

Her attention had already returned to the bookshelf by the time Ben was rubbing the fading red mark, her movements frantic. “I want to learn, ok? I need to learn to cook just one, shitty ass meal.”

“Fucking why?” He watched Her with vague amusement. “Did you hit your head last night?”

A pout formed on Her lips, and the Thing wanted to suck on them.

“I thought you’d be fucking pleased, Benjamin, that I’m finally conforming to what’s expected of my gender.” She grumbled, and Ben snorted.

“You are not a hallmark of your gender, Sunshine.” This time, Ben managed to dodge The Great American Song Book, but not Atlas Shrugged.

“Fuck you,” She snapped. “Go fucking eat your bagel, you cunt.”

He raised his brows at Her. “You made the bagel?”

“Of course I did, dumbass,” She grumbled, not sparing Ben a glance. “It’s in the kitchen, you can eat it or just shove it up your ass for all I care.”

Ben snorted, but wandered into the kitchen to find that She had indeed left a bagel on the counter, even fucking spread it with that damn strawberry cream cheese and placed a handful of napkins beneath the plate.

“I didn’t ask you to use that pink shit.” Ben mumbled, mouth full as he returned to the living room, standing in the doorway. “And five napkins is fucking overkill.”

Though Her back was turned from him, Ben could fucking feel her eye roll.

“You love that pink shit, you ass. And a thank you would be nice.”

“And the napkins?”

“You’re getting crumbs literally everywhere at this very second. Five was a generous lowball.”

Ben scoffed, ignoring the tiny pieces of bagel he could feel in his beard. “Fuck off, you’re not even looking at me.”

“Don’t have to, I can hear your loud-ass chewing.” She threw another book to the growing pile on the floor, hands finding her hips as she huffed at the near-empty shelf. “Is there a bookshelf in your room?”

“I don’t fucking know.” Ben wasn’t even in his room enough to have any idea, and when he was, books were the least of his concerns.

“Can I check?”

“Why are you fucking killing yourself about this?” He watched Her overly tense back rise and fall in short breaths. “I was kidding about you hitting your damn head, but you’re being fucking weird.”

“No I’m not,” She mumbled, turning with a frown on her face. “And what’s fucking weird is you not jumping for joy that we’re not going eat bagels or mac and cheese for the rest of our damn lives.”

He gave Her a mocking smile. “Well, if you’re doing it for me, Sunshine, then by all means-“

Ben caught Les Misérables right before it hit his throat.

“Can you just,” She sighed, watching Ben with a sadness in her eyes he didn’t understand. “Can you please not be a dick about this.”

Ben nodded slowly, narrowing his eyes at Her as she let out a heavy breath. “You’d tell me if something was wrong,” he said Her name firmly. “If I needed to be ready for some shit.”

“Yeah,” She gave him a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I would.”

“Good,” Ben grunted, even as the Thing wanted to pull Her right into his chest. Even as he didn’t fully believe her. “There’s a cookbook on the top shelf.”

She blinked. “What, no there’s not. I checked-“

“Not well,” he said with a smirk. “I can fucking see it from here.”

“If you’re lying just to be an ass, I’m going to kill you, Pretty Boy.” She grumbled as she turned, and Ben waited while she scanned the highest shelf, chuckling to himself when she let out an infuriated sound that meant she’d found it.

“Told you,” Ben grinned widely as She pulled it down, turning back to face him with a sour face.

She flipped him off with one hand, holding the book with the other. “Cunt.”

“Brat.”

She wrinkled her nose, flipping through the pages with an adorable intensity. Ben just watched Her, the Thing pulling against him as her face lit up with a full smile.

“Found it!” She looked up at Ben, smile growing, and the Thing whined.

Ben tried to push it down, down, down and away from his chest, refusing to be a pussy who allowed his emotions to be controlled by the smile of one fucking woman.

One fucking perfect woman, the Thing reminded him, and a warmth spread through him against his fucking will.

“Congratulations,” he said dryly. “All by yourself too.”

“All by yourself-“

Ben gave her a flat look. “All by yourself as well.”

She rolled her eyes, pushing past him to walk down the hall. Ben trailed after Her like a fucking puppy. “What are you doing?” He called ahead, and she didn’t break pace for a second as she responded.

“We’re cooking dinner, dumbass.”

“We?”

“We.” They stopped in the kitchen, and she threw Ben another insufferably perfect smile. “I did not just destroy the living room to eat a bagel. We’re doing this tonight.”

Ben glared at her. “You keep fucking saying we-”

“Fine, Pretty Boy. I’m cooking dinner and you’re standing in the kitchen in case I need to yell at someone.”

“Hm,” he grunted. “I want another bagel.”

She gave a small laugh. “Deal.”

They shook on it—The Thing rolling around inside Ben as their hands touched—and She set to work.

Ben had seen a lot of car crashes. Watched a lot of bombs explode and a lot of people die.

While this was worse in quite a few ways, it was also a lot fucking funnier.

“What the fuck does ‘veggies are tender’ mean?” She snapped. “How can a vegetable be tender.”

“Maybe you need to arouse it,” Ben shrugged, taking a large bite of his second bagel. “I can do that for you.”

“You’re a gentleman,” She muttered, and he grinned, shooting her a wink.

“Are you doubting my abilities, Sunshine?”

She scoffed, but the Thing rumbled as her heart stuttered. “To make vegetables horny? Yeah, I think I am.” She narrowed her eyes at the book. “How ‘thin’ is thinly sliced?”

“How the fuck would I know?”

“Didn’t think you would, dumbass, I was thinking out loud.” She stuck her tongue out at him. “And I think they just mean like, small?”

She looked up at Ben for confirmation—despite Her calling him a dumbass less than five seconds ago—and the Thing started trying to roll around in his chest. “I don’t give a shit.”

“Helpful,” She snapped, dumping out a bag full of bell-peppers onto the counter, and he grinned.

Ben shoved the remainder of his bagel in his mouth, watching Her cut up the peppers—and then the onions—as if she was torturing them for information. Little bits and pieces were flying everywhere, he was almost fucking positive she cut herself at least twice, and he could hear Her mumbling threats to the onions about Her making them cry instead.

He snorted as She threw the vegetables into the pot, flipping them off as she turned on the stove. “How long do I have to wait for you to just give the fuck up?” 

“Forever,” She snapped. “Neither of us are going anywhere until these vegetables are tender as fuck.”

“I don’t know why you’re even doing this vegetable shit, you’re immortal now, you don’t need to be healthy-“

Ben managed, but only fucking barely, to dodge the knife as it flew at his face.

“Shut up.” She snapped. “Or I won’t give you any when I’m done.”

“Promise?” He mocked, and she picked up a second knife. “Jesus fucking Christ, fine. What are you even making?” He grunted, reaching to grab the cookbook.

She snatched it back and far from his hand. “It’s a surprise.”

“A fucking surprise?” He snorted. “Why?”

“Because.” She held the cookbook with white knuckles, and Ben rolled his eyes.

“Shitty ass surprise,” he grumbled, and She gave him one last glare before turning her anger down to the steak defrosting on the counter.

Over the next half hour, She managed to cut up the steak through a process of vulgar threats, curses, and throwing three more knives at Ben—only two of which he deserved. Once she’d shoved the steak into the oven—Ben had helpfully suggested She just use her own fucking fire and She’d asked if he had any interest in the house burning down—she picked up the pot of vegetables and walked over to where Ben sat at the counter.

“Tender?” She extended the pot for him to look at, frowning at its contents.

The vegetables were soft, and a little brown. Ben had no fucking clue what that meant in terms of “tender”.

“Fucking sure,” he watched the crease on Her forehead deepen, and the Thing wanted to kiss right over it until it vanished.

She looked up at him, lips pulling down, but nodded and dumped the vegetables into a bowl. After giving them one last glare, She dropped into the seat next to Ben with a heavy sigh. “The steak won’t be ready for ten minutes,” she mumbled, fingers tapping on the counter.

Ben shrugged, trying to control the Thing rumbling comfortably in his chest at Her arm brushing his. “Are you going to tell me what the fuck is wrong now?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” She muttered, and the tapping picked up.

“You’re lying. It might not be something I need to prepare for, both something is fucking up with you.” He watched Her scowl at nothing. “Is it your sister?”

The tapping picked up. “I don’t want to talk about that.”

He said Her name firmly. “You need to fucking tell her you’re alive.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you-“

“Just fucking drop it, Ben, ok?!” She snapped. “You’re not going to change my mind, so just fucking drop it.” She took a deep breath, and the Thing clenched in Ben’s chest. “Please, just let it go.”

He grunted, the Thing flipping as She looked up at him. “Fine.”

She nodded, relief crossing her face as the tapping slowed. “Thank you.” She paused, eyes searching his face. “Do you want me to do more of the PTSD treatment tonight?”

“Tomorrow,” he said, not having missed the bags under Her eyes and poorly hidden yawns. “You need to rest.”

She frowned. “I’ve literally been resting all day.”

“You were tossing and turning all of last night, Sunshine.” He said flatly, and She blinked at him, heart picking up.

“What, what are you talking about-“

“It’s not a big fucking deal,” Ben frowned at Her wide-eyed expression. “You were just rolling around a shit ton. Didn’t seem very restful.”

“Oh,” she mumbled. “Sorry.”

“I didn’t fucking need to leave the bed, Sunshine, I don’t give a shit.” He shrugged.

She tilted her head at him. “Would you have?”

“What?”

“If it had bothered you, would you have gone to sleep in your room?” She examined his face, and Ben could hear the chewing of her lips.

“Why the fuck does that matter?”

“Well, um, I just don’t remember the last time you actually slept in your own bed.” She said sheepishly, suddenly avoiding his gaze. “If you want to, you don’t have to stay in my room all the time-“

“Do you want me to go back to my room?” Ben asked, and his voice was harsher than he intended. The Thing was scraping at him, gripping at his throat a the very fucking idea of Her not wanting him, of Her sending him to be without her-

“No!” Her voice was panicked, and Ben blinked in surprise. “I don’t want you to go back, but if you want to-”

“I don’t,” Ben grunted, the Thing breathing in relief as he tried to sound like less of a desperate pussy. “I mean, I’m fucking fine staying there.”

“Okay.” She gave him a small smile, and the Thing felt light, even as she stood from her seat. “Steak,” She said, and Ben realized he’d started to frown as She moved.

“Whatever,” he grunted, and watched Her move through the kitchen. She threw together whatever shit she was trying to make, finally stood straight—a smug look on Her face—and turned with a mess of cheese, meat, and bread on a plate.

“I did it,” She was beaming at him, holding the “food” proudly, and any comments about how Ben was pretty fucking sure She’d just made a bioweapon died in his throat as the Thing tried to escape him.

“Congratulations.” He huffed, and glanced at the sludge in her hands. “What the fuck is it.”

“Cheesesteak.”

Ben frowned. “Cheesesteak?” 

She picked up the cookbook, dropping it in front of him as she sat back at his side. “Philly Cheesesteak, with peppers and onions.” She read aloud, pointing to the page with a grin. “Medium difficulty.”

The Thing was pounding at him, and Ben couldn’t stop himself from asking. “Philly Cheesesteak because?” At the flush of Her face, he pushed further. “Why Philly Cheesesteak, Sunshine? Any particular reason?”

“Shut up,” She muttered.

“Hm,” Ben teased, his own smile growing. “Does it have something to do with me-“

“Yes, you cunt. It’s because you’re from Philly.” She snapped, not looking at him. “Don’t be a fucking dick about it, I just wanted to make something I thought you’d like.”

“You only made one serving,” Ben pointed out as the Thing started roaring with a painful need to hold her. “And I already ate.”

“Oh, fuck off. We both know this is going to taste like shit.” She wrinkled her nose at the plate. “I’m going to make it for you when I can actually make it somewhat good.” She paused, heart faltering slightly. “If you want me to.”

Ben shrugged, and the Thing roared. “Food is fucking food. I’ll never say no to a pretty lady making me some.”

She hummed, and her heart picked up a little faster than it had been before. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he looked between Her and the plate. “Now eat that so we can go the fuck to bed.”

She wrinkled her nose at him, but began to eat in small bites. “It’s not terrible.” She said through a mouthful. “I’ve eaten worse.”

Ben grunted, watching Her chew and swallow. “Are you going to shower?”

“Huh?”

“Before bed,” he said, ignoring the way She licked her lips clean of food and how it made his gut warm.

“Are you saying I smell bad, Benjamin?” She teased, face all comfortable and happy. “That’s not very nice.”

He glared at Her. “I fucking want to shower, brat. And since you always whine about how long I take, I wanted to know if you need hot water.”

“Oh,” She blinked at him. “That’s, that’s really sweet.”

“Shut up,” Ben muttered. The Thing was powerful and uncontrollable in him at Her words, like a fucking pussy. He wasn’t fucking sweet, She just always got all pouty when the water was cold and it made him fucking frustrated. She would sulk around and be fucking grumpy and it made the Thing tight in his lungs, made him feel an edge he hated. She still hadn’t even fucking answered his question, so Ben poked her shoulder and she looked up at him with a full mouth. “Well?”

She swallowed roughly. “Oh, uh, yeah I think I am.” She frowned, and Ben could hear Her thoughts turning in Her head.

“Spit it out.” He prompted.

“What?”

“You look like you have a stupid question, and you’re going to fucking explode if you don’t ask it.”

“I won’t explode-“

Ben said Her name flatly. “Yeah, you will. So spit it out.”

She sighed. “You have to promise not to-“

“I know the damn drill, Sunshine. I promise not to mention it again if the answer is no. Now stop being a fucking pussy and ask the question.”

“If you want, and you don’t have to-“ She took a deep breath, and the words began to fall out of Her. “I’d be okay with it if you moved your clothes into my room. Or like some clothes. Whatever you want. I just think it might be easier, if you think you want to stay there. And I do want you, I mean I like you there, so, if you want, you can move your stuff into my room.”

Ben stared at Her, watching him with a nervous expression, heart pounding in Her chest. The Thing was rioting inside him. She wanted him in her room, in her space. She wanted him there, wanted things to be easier for him. For him to stay with her. She liked him there. With her. Ben cleared his throat, and spoke before he could even really think.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?” She said cautiously. “Does yeah mean, like, yeah I don’t want, or yeah I do want to, or yeah I’ll think about it-“

“I’ll do it,” Ben said, trying to sound as casual as he fucking could with the Thing trying to tell him to pick Her up and place her on the counter and make all that stupid fucking doubt leave her face because what the hell was it even there for in the first place-

“Okay.” She took another bite of Her food. “Then maybe you can shower now and move your stuff when I’m showering?”

“Sure,” Ben stood, and She turned her attention fully to her plate. There was a little thing of melted cheese on her lip, and he wanted to brush it off with his thumb.

“Don’t take a year.” She said, and Ben swallowed as her tongue swept out to pull the cheese into her mouth.

He coughed, forcing himself to move away from the counter. “Fuck off,” he muttered, and picked up his pace out of the kitchen as She giggled behind him.

It was a race against his own fucking self-control to get to the shower and take care of himself before the Thing made him turn around and prove to Her that there was no goddamn reason she should’ve been unsure. Make Her smile and pull her tongue into his own mouth, maybe spread Her out on the counter and taste her-

Ben practically ripped his clothes off, managing to climb into the shower before the Thing consumed him.

They were back on their bed, Her lying on her back with a bright smile and Ben sitting at her side. 

“Nap time too short?” She asked again, and this time Ben didn’t scoff or stand from the bed.

He smirked back down at Her, and reached out, running a thumb over her lips. “I’m wide awake, Sunshine. But I can think of a few ways to tire me out.”

Her mouth fell further open, and she let out a small sound. “Like what?” Her voice was barely a whisper, and Ben moved his hand tangle in Her hair, cupping her head as he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her into his lap.

“Whatever you want, beautiful.” He watched Her eyes widen, and Ben could feel the heat of her cheeks against his hand. “I have some ideas, but I’m open to suggestions.”

Moving his hand down, Ben traced a line from Her neck to her collarbone, dropping it all the way to her ass and lowering his head to kiss along her neck. She started to whimper, and he could feel the sounds escaping from her against his lips.

“Ben,” She said breathlessly, her hands finding his hair. “You-“ She let out a loud moan, head falling back as he squeezed her with one hand, tracing patterns along her skin with his other.

“Me, what?” He said Her name into her skin. “What do you want me to do?”

She dropped her hands from his hair, pulling his head up to look at Her, eyes scanning his face for only a second before she was kissing him. Long and desperate, all teeth and tongue and deep groans into each other. When She pulled back for air, Ben nipped at her lower lip and raised his hand from her waist, running his thumb over its swell.

“I want you.” She whispered, her own hand holding his against her face. “Can I have you?”

Ben pulled Her back to him, kissing her deeply until her grip was tight and she was grinding down on him. When he pulled back, he answered firmly, with no room for her to doubt. “You already fucking do.”

She nodded slowly, and suddenly she was touching him. Palming Ben through his pants, smiling perfectly at his hardness against her hand. “Where do you want me?” She asked, a beautiful fucking taunt. “You can take me right here, or at the wall. You can use my mouth, or my pussy, or I can just use my hand?”

He groaned Her name. “Fucking hell-“

“What do you want me to do, Ben? Where do you want to have me?”

Ben came, shouting Her name into the steam of the shower. Only as the high faded did it finally fucking occur to him the mistake he’d just made. He had no fucking excuse to return to his room and indulge the Thing anymore, no good reason to lock himself behind a door she wouldn’t enter and fuck his hand to the thought of Her.

He could back out. He could tell Her he’d changed his mind, he wanted to keep their shit separate, that keeping it together was just too fucking intimate and he didn’t want her to have that part of him.

Liar, the Thing hissed into him. You want Her to have every fucking part of you. You’re just too pussy to tell her.

No, he fucking didn’t. He needed to call it the fuck off, before he did something fucking stupid or insane-

She’d be so sad, The Thing snapped. You’d be fucking breaking Her.

She was a grown ass woman. She’d survive.

Would you?

Ben turned off the shower, jerking the handle clean off the wall. He dropped in on the tile floor, changed fast, and stomped down the hall to where Her heartbeat had moved— fully fucking ready to tell her he’d changed his mind and would probably just sleep in his own damn room tonight—only to open the door and find her sitting up at the headboard, already in pyjamas, eyes drooping as she read a small book.

“I thought you wanted to shower,” he said gruffly, and She just sighed, not looking up at him.

“Were you ever actually convicted of treason?” She asked. “Because if you weren’t, I’ve been calling you an enemy of the state for no reason.”

 “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Apparently, someone can’t be held guilty for treason with two witnesses or a confession.” 

“That’s not better, brat.”

She held up her book for Ben to read Constitution of the United States of America spelled out in pointlessly fucking fancy letters on the cover. “I was cleaning up downstairs, and realized I’ve never actually read the whole thing.”

“Yeah, most people haven’t.” Ben said wryly. “Only fucking pussy ass nerds bother with that shit.”

“Aren’t you America’s Son?” 

“Yeah, but I’m a fucking man who has a life outside of books. What happened to your fucking shower?”

She shrugged. “I’m not that dirty. I’ll shower in the morning, before we do the PTSD treatment.”

Ben grunted, not moving from the door. “I still think you’re not actually doing fucking shit with that.”

“I still don’t fucking care.” She finally looked up at Ben, and the Thing stared punching against him like a fucking pussy. “Why are you just standing there, you weirdo.”

“What?” Ben frowned at Her question, trying to fight the Thing telling him to go drop next to her, let her lean against him. “The fuck are you-“

“You’ve been standing at the door for like five minutes.” She said pointedly, folding the book and placing it on her bedside table. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fucking fine, Sunshine.” He grunted, and the rest of his will fucking crumbled at the goddamn soft look on Her perfect face. “I just wanted to know if I should wait for you to shower before I start moving my shit.”

“Oh,” She blinked, and started to stand. “I can help you-“

“No.” Ben cut Her off quickly. She hadn’t been in his room for more than a few minutes at a time since he’d started sleeping in hers, and some part of him was convinced she would walk in a fucking smell his cum lingering. At Her frown, he gave a short, gruff explanation of “you’re comfortable, I can fucking move clothes my damn self,” and left the room before she could respond.

It only took two trips to move all his shit, and after shoving into the drawers at Her instructions, apparently doing it wrong despite following Her every word, and Her doing it the “correct way”—which was the same way he had fucking done it—he dropped on the mattress, sitting upright as She crawled into hers.

“Night, Pretty Boy.” She mumbled through a yawn, and her eyes dropped closed before Ben could respond.

Ben didn’t remember falling asleep. He’d watched Her breathe peacefully at his side, listened to the lazy rhythm of her heart, and when she’d curled into his side, Ben had laid down and held Her to his chest. Almost like he’d only blinked, the room became full of light creeping through the curtains, and She was gone from the bed.

He could hear the shower running from the bathroom, her heartbeat smothered by the fall of the water. Unwilling to sit here, desperate for Her to return to his side like a fucking pussy, Ben stood and made his way to the kitchen, putting on the coffee and scowling at the pot as it took a million goddamn years to brew.

After impossibly long minutes Ben heard the water stop, and fucking cursed himself for the intensity of how he listened to Her heart upstairs. She shuffled around, the time stretching longer, and Ben felt the Thing sigh in relief as she finally began the walk down the stairs.

Ben glanced at Her as she entered the kitchen. “You’re up.”

“Fucking obviously,” she mumbled, stopping at his side. “Coffee?”

The pot gave a pathetic fucking sputter. “I think it’s broken.” Ben muttered, and there was another weak crackling sound in response.

“Hm,” She reached past him, opening the top of the machine. Peering forwards, She sighed. “Ben.”

“What?” He snapped, and She rolled her eyes, pulling the empty pot from its place and moving to the sink.

“You didn’t put any water in it, dumbass.”

Ben scowled. “I just fucking woke up, you try-“

“I’m not mad,” She said lightly, glancing over her shoulder with amusement. “I’m just saying it’s not broken, and that’s why.”

“Fuck off,” he grumbled, watching Her pour the water into the top of the coffee maker.

She only smiled at him, and even fake rage felt fucking impossible.

They didn’t talk much over breakfast, Ben trying not to watch the way Her damp hair hung around her face, or the bob of her throat when she swallowed her cereal. When the coffee had finished, She’d stood and poured two mugs, dropping one next to Ben’s plate and holding the other tightly between two hands.

“Living room?” She asked, continuing when Ben only frowned at her. “For the PTSD.”

He made a passive sound, drinking his coffee in a chug. “I don’t give a fuck.”

“What an amazing contribution to my efforts,” She muttered, and Ben winked at her.

“Does the exactly same amount of jack fucking shit wherever, Sunshine.”

She wrinkled her nose at him, poking her spoon around in the bowl. “You’re going to eat your words, Pretty Boy.” Her words seemed more targeted to the soggy cereal than Ben. “Just fucking wait.”

After dumping the dishes in the sink—Ben would fucking wash them later, and no amount of Her glaring at him would make him do it now—they dropped on the couch in those same fucking positions that had made the Thing loud and satisfied. This time was no fucking better, with Her gentle hands back in Ben’s hair and her perfect face only fucking inches away.

“I have a question,” She said abruptly, her hands hardly settled against his head. She didn’t wait for him to nod before she continued, speaking without meeting his eyes. “How did you know about Moon River?”

“Moon River?” Ben repeated slowly, watching Her overly controlled face as She gave a small nod.

“I just-“ She gave him a quick, nervous look. “I heard you humming it yesterday, during my, uh, meltdown. I never told you about it.”

He frowned. “What would there be to tell me?”

“How do you know about it?” She said firmly, finally fucking looking at him with raised brows. “And I asked first.”

“You tap it,” Ben said stiffly, and She tilted her head at him. “When you’re about to lose your shit.”

“And you recognized it based on tapping?” She said doubtfully, eyes narrowing. “It’s not a rhythmic song.”

“I took he a fucking bit to realize what it was, but it’s not my fault you can’t barely keep a fucking beat.” “There’s no beat in that song.”

Ben shrugged. “You do the verses. Stop trying to fucking avoid my question.”

“I’m not avoiding your question,” She grumbled, looking back up to his head. “You’re just making no sense.”

Ben said Her name flatly, and she gave an annoyed huff.

“It was my mother,” She snapped. “Her favorite song. She sang it all the time when I was a kid, it’s the only song she never made me perform, and it makes me feel safe.”

“Perform?” He frowned. “The fuck do you mean perform?”

She sighed. “Doesn’t matter.”

“The fuck it doesn’t”

“It really doesn’t,” She cut him off shortly. “It’s never something I’ll have to do again, so it just doesn’t. You won’t fucking care about it, Ben. Trust me.”

“Fucking try me, Sunshine.” She looked back down at Ben, and he gave her a challenging glare. “Don’t put words in my goddamn mouth.”

“If I do,” She said, holding his gaze. “You’re not allowed to be a dick.”

“Deal.”

“Promise?”

“Fucking hell,” he muttered. “I promise.”

“Okay,” She took a deep breath, glaring at his forehead as she spoke. “My parents divorced when I was young. It was violent, messy. I had to testify in court. My mom got full custody, because my dad had shit credit and my mom was an amazing actress. Showed up all running mascara and soft words, like She hadn’t just threatened me on the car ride over. She remarried real fast, like suspiciously fucking fast, to a rich, political dynasty asshole. Dude was a Connecticut senator when they got married, and he somehow got elected governor while I was gone. He would put on these stupid parties. With dancers and champagne towers and chocolate fountains. One of my brothers would give a speech, the other would play piano, my sister would dance, and I would sing. Sometimes they’d hold an auction for what song I performed, and the only song my mother didn't allow me to perform was Moon River. It was our song, her song. It reminds me that there was a least one thing, one stupid fucking thing, that made me more important to her than the money. I mean,” She gave a dry, hollow laugh. “She probably would’ve caved for enough money, but I left before she could.”

Ben watched Her, the Thing scraping to hold her. “What made you leave?”

The silence before She spoke was torture. The Thing needed to know what her final straw had been. What line had been crossed, so he would never go fucking near it, fucking walk as far away from it as he could until She never even had to fear it.

“She tried to keep me from leaving.” Her voice was soft. “I was fourteen, about to start high school. She tried to send me to some dog shit prep school, said I needed to work on my manners and being more fucking lady-like for when I graduated. I told her grades were important to get into college, she told me I wouldn’t be going to college. Said I was too pretty to have to worry about a job, pretty enough that men would overlook my temperament.”  She snorted. “I told her I wanted a job, I wanted to go to college. She told me to fuck off now, because she’d lock me in the house if I didn’t. So I fucked off. I moved in with my dad. Dude lived in a dogshit apartment with rats and asbestos and loud neighbors, but I never had to perform again. I could leave whenever I wanted, I was fucking free.” A shadow crossed Her face, her hand gripping Ben’s face tighter. “I was free.”

“Did they fucking look for you?” Ben felt the Thing grow taut in him, straining for the clouds forming in Her eyes. “When Homelander-“

She cut him off, shaking her head. “He faked my death. Left a note, nobody questioned it further.” Smoke curled around them, and Her heart was uneven and quick. “He used to tell me that I was better with him, he cared more than anyone could, and he would tear the world apart to get me back if I left him.” She took a shaky breath, and the Thing felt heavy in Ben’s chest.

“You’re not going back,” Ben said lowly, and Her eyes fell to his. “I fucking mean it.”

“I know,” She said quietly. “I trust you.”

The pain on Her face made Ben want to make Homelander fucking bleed and bleed until he died a painful, pathetic fucking death.

“I think we’re done.” He pulled Her hands down from his face, and She frowned at him.

“What do you mean, it’s barely been thirty minutes-“

“You’re still tired, Sunshine.” He says firmly. “We’re done.”

“But-“

“Nope, done.” Ben pushed Her hands to her lap. “We’ve got other shit to do, Sunshine. You’ve got to practice your cheesesteak.”

She scowled. “It’s your night to make dinner, cunt. You’re not getting out of it just because I’m trying to learn to cook.”

“Well, you can fucking practice for lunch, and I’ll still do dinner.”

“I chose what you make.”

“Are you fucking negotiating?”

“Yep,” she gave him a fake-sweet smile. “I choose what you make, and what we watch.”

“Fuck no,” Ben rolled his eyes. “Dinner-maker controls the TV. That was the goddamn deal.”

“I get to work on your PTSD. That was a deal as well.”

“That’s not the way it fucking works-“

“That’s the offer on the table, Pretty Boy.” She shrugged. “Take it and I’ll go make a cheesesteak right fucking now, leave it and I keep working on your stupid fucking head.”

Ben glowered at Her determined, insufferable, perfect face. “You’re a fucking piece of work, brat.”

“Right back at you, cunt.” She grinned widely—all light and smug and pleased—with Her hand outstretched, and Ben couldn’t fucking force himself to be mad at Her if she tried.

“Fucking Christ,” Ben muttered, but shook Her hand all the same.

With a small, satisfied sound that made the Thing fucking groan, She stood and walked straight to the kitchen. Ben trailed like a fucking pussy behind Her, deciding it wasn’t because the Thing started to claw at him when She left his sight, but that he just simply couldn’t miss the disaster about to unfold.

After about ten minutes it became clear that while She seemed to have mastered what “thin and tender vegetables” looked like, Ben was starting to wonder if he should be concerned about the steak giving her an aneurism. While it was damn adorable to watch her fight with the frost-bitten steak one the counter—a battle that involved several graphic threats about tracking down the cow’s family and using them for Her food instead—Her face was contorted in dramatic anger and Ben could hear her chewing through her lip.

“It would really go faster if you just cooked with your fucking fire powers.” Ben drawled and She glared at him.

“I don’t know how to do that, cunt. I can’t control it at that level.”

“I’ll teach you.” He said—complete fucking sincerely—and She scoffed. “What,” Ben scowled. “What’s so fucking amusing about that.”

She shrugged, leaning against the counter with crossed arms. “You can’t even control yourself, and most of our powers are very fucking different.”

“First of all, brat, I haven’t exploded in fucking months. Second of all, shut the fuck up. And finally, I used to train people at Vought all the goddamn time.”

“So?”

“So,” he snapped mockingly. “I know what I’m fucking doing.”

“Yeah, when you’re being paid a million dollars to tell someone don’t make a fist like that, you’ll break your fingers,” She dropped her voice in a deep-voice, mocking impression. “Aim for the throat, people use that to breathe.”

“I trained people’s powers as well,” Ben pushed, matching Her frown. “I made some good fucking heroes.”

“I’m sure,” She said, leaning forward in sarcastic interest. “Crimson Countess, you have to aim at the target. You won’t hit it if you don’t.”

“And she got a lot fucking better at it, so my point is fucking proven.”

“You were fucking her,” She dismissed with a wave of her hand, turning back to the steak. “Doesn’t count.”

The Thing started to feel like it was crawling up and around inside Ben. “What the hell does that mean?”

“I dunno,” Her heart was stumbling, and Ben wished she would fucking look at him so he could see if Her face was in that pretty flush. “Reward systems are scientifically proven to be effective.”

“So me fucking her was a reward-“

Ben’s smug words died in his throat as fire ripped through the air, filling the room with smoke and the smell of charcoal. Ben waved a hand, clearing the smoke, and found Her standing at the now-black counter, hands on her hips as she glared down at a pile of charred ash.

“Didn’t work.” She said, spinning around with a scowl. “And we’re out of steak.”

“What the fuck was that?” Ben all but shouted, the smoke still clinging to the edges of the room. “You didn’t need to destroy the goddamn kitchen!”

“That was what you told me to do,” Her shoulders were tense, words clipped. “I told you I couldn’t control it, and ta da! I can’t!”

“You’re being a fucking brat,” he spat Her name, and when she turned to face him Ben hadn’t expected to see the sullen, tight look on Her face. Lips drawn together, hands gripping her sides with white knuckles. It wasn’t quite the hollow look that always made the Thing physically hurt, but it was really fucking close.

“I just don’t want to talk about training, okay?” She spat the word training with a venom, and though her voice was steady Ben could hear the tapping begin. “You can’t fucking help this.”

“This?” Ben stood from the counter, walking to Her in fast, long steps. “You mean you?”

She didn’t flinch as he stopped in front of her. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Stop fucking saying that,” he shouted, the Thing roaring in his ears, drowning almost all else out. “I can fucking fix this for you, if you would stop being such a stubborn bitch all the time!”

The sullen look faded into rage. “It doesn’t fucking matter!” Her voice had raised to match his. “I’m not supposed to have these powers. I’m not someone who’s going to even be a fucking fake hero or earn any fucking rewards. I’m a walking bomb, and I can’t control it, and it doesn’t fucking matter because there’s no fucking point.” A shallow, distressing breath shook Her body. “I don’t want to hurt people again, I won’t let myself.” She wasn’t looking at Ben anymore, voice clouded and heavy. “So it doesn’t matter.”

The Thing wasn’t only painful or consuming anymore. It was in Ben’s blood, fucking burning at Her, for Her. He grabbed Her perfect face, turning her sad eyes to his. “You won’t hurt people,” he said, keeping his voice as fucking calm as he could. “If you just let me fucking help you.”

“But-“

“I’m literally a walking bomb, Sunshine.” Ben raised his voice over hers. “If there’s no hope for you, there’s certainly fucking none for me.”

“That’s not the same,” She said quietly. “You’re you. You’re Soldier Boy.”

“You mean the fucking terrorist?” He watched Her lips tug slightly at his dry tone, and the Thing felt a little less suffocating. “Yeah, I’m sure the public will be clamoring for my return when this is over.”

“Aren’t we self-aware today,” She gave him a half-hearted smile, and Ben returned it.

“I’m always fucking self aware, Sunshine. It’s one of my best qualities.”

She gave a small laugh, and the Thing grew looser. “I think even you know that’s not true.”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about,” He drawled, and Her smile became a little more genuine. “Now will you please just let me fucking train you.”

She sighed, but it wasn’t as heavy as before. “It doesn’t-“

“Do you seriously fucking believe-“ Ben didn’t let Her finish, because if she said doesn’t matter one more time he might lose his fucking mind. “That you’re just going to be a fucking hermit for the rest of your immortal life.”

“I mean,” She said with a strained, fake-passive tone. “Yeah.”

“You think I’d fucking let that happen?”

She blinked at him. “What?”

“Sunshine, when we’re out of this and I’m shipped off who fucking knows where, you’re welcome to come.”

“Are you-” She gaped at him, and the Thing felt stuck in his throat. “Are you serious?”

“You burn, I burn.” Ben reminded Her firmly, because even if he wasn’t entirely sure where this offering was coming from, he knew he fucking meant it. “If you can’t be around normal fucking assholes, control or not, you can always fucking be around me.”

She scanned his face. “And if I can be around people?”

“Then you can stay in shit-ass New York with all those fucking pussies on your team.” Ben answered, even as the Thing scraped at his ribs at the fucking idea of it. “But you’ll have to learn to control it.”

“What If I can’t,” there was nothing but fear and exhaustion in Her voice, and it made the Thing move faster in him. “What if I just can’t?”

“You can.” He didn’t leave room for protest before he continued. “We’ll start tomorrow.”

She gave a hesitant nod. “Tomorrow.”

Ben took the victory.

The remainder of the night was quiet, Ben heating pre-made meatballs per their shitty deal, Her deciding they would watch Game of Thrones—a fucking suspicious choice given she always grumbled at Ben’s commentary—and Ben tried not to stare at Her through the night, his brain fucking consumed by every goddamn way he wanted to touch her. He managed, by some fucking miracle, to force his attention to how he would go about their training.

Ben hadn’t been fucking lying, he had trained new heroes at Vought. Never any quite as powerful or insanely smart-mouthed and perfect as her, but She didn’t have to know that. He’d figure this out, because the fucking idea of Her locking herself up to keep every weak undeserving pussy safe made him feel bloody.

When Her eyes began to look heavy and she began rubbing her face to keep them open, Ben dragged her up into her—their—bed. Ben tried not to dwell on the Thing—peaceful and quiet from the soothing sounds of Her breathing and heart—and how his offer hadn’t felt forced onto its tongue. How he couldn’t blame its grip over him, because his words had been entirely fucking true, and had fallen from him naturally.

She was up before him in the morning again. Ben felt a cold space where She had been, and the shower wasn’t running, making him sit up roughly, not bothering to change before he stalked downstairs. Finding Her in the kitchen, cross-legged at the counter with a sandwich in one hand and a book in the other, Ben found it a lot fucking easier to breathe.

 “You’re up early,” he leaned against the door, and She looked up at him with cheeks puffed, mid-chew.

“Sorry,” She said through the mouthful of food, and Ben grinned as crumbs fell from her perfect mouth. “I got up to pee, and I couldn’t fall back asleep.” 

Ben walked to lean across the counter, the Thing bucking as She swallowed roughly. “That fucking excited to get started, huh Sunshine?”

“Fuck off,” She rolled her eyes. “I was just hungry.”

 “Sure.” He winked. “You’ll need the energy.” “Are we training my fire or running a marathon?” She asked, raising her brows at him. “Because I can always back out.”

“You mean pussy out?”

“Fuck you, Pretty Boy. I’m going to burn your face off, and you’ll have no one but yourself to blame.”

Ben grinned at Her as she took an aggressive bite, holding his gaze. “We’ll see, brat. Are we ready to go?”

“Don’t you want to eat?” She asked through chews.

“I’ll fucking live.”

She shook Her head, shoving the remainder of her sandwich into his hands. “Eat, Ben.”

“I’m fucking fine,” Ben said Her name dryly, failing to return the food to her as she held her hands behind her back.

“Eat,” She snapped. “You get all grumpy when you don’t.” When Ben still didn’t move, She narrowed her eyes at him. “Eat or I’m pussying out.”

Ben scowled at Her, but shoved the remainder of the sandwich his mouth, holding her glare with a look of irritated amusement as he swallowed

“Happy?” He mocked, and She gave him a genuine, toothy smile.

“Absolutely.”

The Thing fucking whined, and Ben had to fight a smile from taking over his goddamn face.

“Can we get fucking going then?”

She shrugged, “if it’s that important-“

Ben grabbed her arm—ignoring the warmth of Thing at her touch and is weak fucking need in his gut when she made a sound of surprise—pulling her to dining room. They stopped in the center of the space, and Ben forced himself to take a step back, looking down at Her sternly.

“How is this even going to fucking work?” She asked, bored sass dripping from her voice.

Ben winked at Her. “Reward system, Sunshine.” He ran through the plan he’d spent the previous night developing, and almost missed the flush of Her face and the stutter of her heart. “I’ll tell you what to do, and every time you do it right, I’ll owe you a favor.”

“A favor,” She repeated, and Ben couldn’t figure out what that fucking slow tone and neutral expression meant. “What can the favors do?”

“Whatever you want, that’s how favors work.”

“No limits?”

Ben smirked at Her. “No limits.”

She swallowed, and the Thing rumbled. “Then let’s fucking go.”

“Palm open,” Ben instructed, demonstrating with his own hand. When she followed suit, he nodded and continued. “Now light it.”

She gave him a flat look. “Are you fucking serious? I can light my hand, Ben.”

“Prove it.”

“Fucking asshole,” She muttered under her breath, and closed her eyes. A small flame ignited in her palm, and she stuck Her tongue out at Ben smugly. “Told you so, cunt.”

Ben fought the urge to grab Her, pull her tongue into his mouth. “I’m not done, brat.” He sneered. “Hold it.”

“Hold it?” She frowned, glancing between Ben and her hand. “The fire?”

“In your hand, for five minutes.” He grinned down at Her. “No spreading it, no letting it go out.”

“That’s it?” 

“That’s it.”

She gave him a distrustful glare, spreading Her fingers wider. “My first favor is going to be making you dye your beard blue.”

“What?” Ben’s tone of mock-fury seemed to only make Her grin. “Why?”

“Because I hate you.”

“Sure, Sunshine.” He pushed down how the Thing strained at the fucking idea of Her words being true. “But you’ll only be able to fucking waste your favor like that if you don’t fucking burn my beard off.”

“Fucking watch me, Pretty Boy.” She snapped, and Ben just winked.

The first minute was fine, but near the middle of the second Her eyes started to cloud, teeth gnawing at her lips. The fire started to flicker, and before the third minute started it burst up, spreading up Her arms and through her body.

“Goddamnit!” She screamed, smoke still rising after the fire went out.

Ben gave Her a cocky grin. “What that about watching-“

“Not a fucking word.” She spread Her palm once more. “I just wasn’t ready.”

Ben hummed, and shot him a murderous glare. “I didn’t say fucking shit.” He teased, and she rolled Her eyes. “I’m sure you’ll get it this time, brat.”

“Stop being supportive, you cunt.” She hissed, and Ben laughed.

It took Her two hours, twenty minutes, fifty-two tries, and a lot of swearing to hold the fire evenly for five minutes. It was fucking worth Her verbal abuse, Ben decided, because he’d never seen her smile that wide and happy as when she finally succeeded.

“Yes!” She looked like she might literally fucking jump with joy. “Suck on that, Benjamin.”

“One favor is yours, Sunshine.” He couldn’t fight the Thing from taking over him with a broad, face-covering grin and chuckled. “Now do it again.”

By the end of the day She’d only burned Ben five times—a fucking miracle as far as he was concerned—could hold it for ten minutes, and Ben owed her five favors.

“You’re making dinner,” She cashed the first one almost immediately, and Ben had expected nothing less. “And I still choose what we watch.”

“That’s two goddamn nights in a row,” he grumbled, and She snickered.

“I know, it’s amazing.”

“Brat.”

“Cunt.”

Though Ben scowled, the Thing felt so fucking good—proud and blissed out like he was on a fucking drug—watching for the first time in goddamn days look happy. That pussyass fucking joy only grew in him when Ben sat at Her side on the couch, passing her a plate of Dino nuggets. Her smile was like a fucking infection, and the Thing running through Ben wasn’t helped in the slightest by the presence of those blue, off-brand sunglasses on her head.

“What the hell are you wearing those for?” Ben asked tauntingly, trying to make his voice crude to cover the Things genuine need to know. “It’s fucking night time. Indoors.”

“They were collecting dust,” She reached a hand up, dropping them onto her face. “And I look cool as shit in them.”

“You’d look better if they were green,” Ben muttered. “Blue’s a-“

“Pussy ass color?” She teased. “Don’t worry Pretty Boy, I won’t touch your beard and ruin your handsome face.”

“Handsome?” He blinked at Her, the Thing bellowing so loudly Ben couldn’t even pretend to be cocky.

She ignored him, even as Her heart flipped. “How would you feel about a pink beard?”

Ben whacked Her shoulder lightly, and she giggled, giving him a pout that made the Thing hungry. “Shut the fuck up.” He grunted, and She just blew a raspberry at him.

Her attention returned to the TV and as they fell into a comfortable silence, Ben tried his fucking hardest to not steal glances at Her perfect face in the TV light, tried to fight the way the Thing rioted every time she laughed at the show.

When Ben went to shower that night, his thoughts were haunted by the wide, free smile on Her face.

The next two days were some of the most peaceful of Ben’s entire goddamn life. For the fourth morning in a row, She had woken first. There had been towel discarded onto their growing pile of dirty clothes that told Ben she’d showered, and he was able to hear Her heart beating with the shuffle of her steps from downstairs. He’d entered the kitchen a quarter hour later to find Her in an intent focus, surrounded by grocery bags and the cookbook open on the table.

“How long ago did you get up?” He asked, and She’d jumped in surprise.

“Two hours,” She’d answered, gesturing to the steak on the counter. “Mallory sent the delivery early. I think I’m getting better at this cooking shit.”

“I’ll be the judge of that, Sunshine.” Ben had teased, and been whacked by a paper grocery bag.

The day was filled with training, and once they’d hit fifteen minutes Ben started to have Her hit random household objects they both deemed entirely fucking useless. Itchy blankets and pillows from the spare bedroom, paintings of horses and flowers Ben told her were fucking shit—She’d laughed at that and the Thing had grown though his chest—all of Her remaining, non-fireproof clothes, and several books She’d claimed “made Her want to hurt someone in middle school.”

“I’ve never known you to need a reason to hurt someone,” Ben had drawled Her name.

She’d flipped him off. “I’m a god of peaceful resolutions, Ben.”

“Sure.”

“I am.”

“I agreed with you, brat.”

“I’ll fucking kill you cunt,” the words likely been spoken against her will, being the small, angry gape of Her mouth after.

Despite Her growing control over her powers, Ben somehow ended up with more burns that afternoon than the one before. He’d been scowling at Her as she held his head, beard slightly burned in a real fucking noticeable way.

“I look like a fucking pussy.”

“Because your beard has one little patch?” She’d teased, and watching where Her palms were resting in his hair.  “I promise, Ben, it looks the exact same to everyone but you.”

“Don’t lie to protect my fucking ego-“

 “I’ve never lied to protect your ego before. I’m not about to start now.”

Ben hadn’t had a good retort to that, and they’d sat in a bitter silence until She’d nudged his thigh with her knee. “What,” he’d sounded less resentful than he’d liked to, but it was hard to be bitter when the Thing was so fucking satiated by Her gentle smile, and how it was all for him.

“I swear, you look fine. You look like you always do.”

He’d smirked, “which is?” 

“Don’t push it.”

“I think the words you meant to say were like a Greek god of sex.”

“The Greek god of sex was a woman,” She’d mumbled, looking down at him. “And I said don’t push it.”

Ben had cum that night—the flutter of Her heart as she looked at him replaying in his head—with Her name swallowed in his throat.

She was up first, fucking again. Though she was still next to him in bed—their legs tangled and one of his arms wrapped instinctively around her—Ben had woken to Her eyes watching him with not a trace of lingering sleep.

“Morning, Pretty Boy.” She’d whispered, and he’d groaned, scratching at his face to try and push the itch of sleep from his body.

“How fucking long have you been watching me, Sunshine?”

“Not long.” Ben hadn’t believed Her—she wouldn’t meet his eyes, her own looked hung with gray, and her words sounded flat and rehearsed—but he’d let it go. They’d spent the morning it the Kitchen, Ben watching Her try to cook and doing her second cashed favor, reading a fucking book.

“This is a goddamn waste of a favor,” Ben had snapped, and She’d hummed, not turning away from the steak she was beating into submission.

“I have twelve favors still in the bank, and more on the way. I think I’ll live.”

“I shouldn’t have fucking offered you favors. Should’ve just said you get complete TV control.”

“Oh, definitely,” She laughed. “I probably would’ve agreed if you offered me ten bucks and some chocolate. But you didn’t, so now you have to read.”

Ben huffed, and dodged as spare thin and tender pepper flew at his face. “Fucking rude,” he’d said, and She’d grinned at him.

“Don’t bitch and moan like I’m torturing you. You’re just reading.”

“That’s fucking torture. This is worse than torture.”

“Woe really is you, Ben. All those words and not one is smut.”

“What the fuck is smut.”

She’d blinked, and her heart had stuttered. “It’s um, porn. Book porn.”

“You can read porn-“ Ben had examined Her, the embarrassment on her face. “Do you read porn, Sunshine?” 

“I’m not going to dignify that with an answer,” She’d mumbled, turning her back to him once more.

“I think you read porn-“

This time, the pepper hit Ben right in the nose. When She wasn’t paying attention he’d eaten it off the floor, and it didn’t taste like complete fucking shit. She was, through brutal and hilarious trial and error, getting better.

Everything was good. Genuinely fucking good. That afternoon Ben had walked away with only two burns, She had hit about half of the targets he’d set up with passable aim—a vast improvement from Her grand total of zero the day before—and the Thing was so fucking content it was driving Ben insane. Because though he was still forced to find relief during inconvenient times in locked spaces, the Thing was getting real fucking specific about a lot of shit. It had gotten so fucking comfortable, fantasies had started to happen in the moment. She leaned against him slightly, and Ben was lost in thoughts of pulling her on top of him and fucking her until she collapsed against him. She smiled at him and Ben barely held himself from bruising her mouth with his. Two nights in a row they’d been so close—tangled and pressed together in sleep—that Ben hadn’t been sure where he stopped and She started.

Things were fucking good. She was fucking perfect and Ben was starting to worry that the light feeling in his chest was something that might last. That he might burn the world to keep there.

She was sitting next to him now, watching the TV while Ben watched her. He wanted to touch Her, he had to touch Her. More than just her hands and legs, fucking everywhere. He needed to feel Her, because this stupid fucking euphoria was stronger when She was at his side and he could hear her heart. She needed to know that, he needed Her to smile because Ben told her that she was the most perfect goddamn thing that had ever existed, and nothing even came fucking close-

The door slammed, and She was moving before Ben was, a controlled flame igniting on her fingers. Some muffled grunts came from the dark hall, Ben felt his whole body tense, ready to bleed whoever was there-

A silhouette was nearing the door, and Ben was fucking proud of how fast the fireball left her hand. Only a second later, goddamn Butcher walked into the room, covering their floors in fucking blood and sweat.

Ben should’ve pushed Her harder that afternoon. Maybe Her flame would’ve hit Butcher in the fucking face instead of only leaving a scorch mark on the wall near his head.

“Fucking Christ!” Butcher roared, stumbling far to the side. “You almost fucking hit me!”

“I’m not that lucky,” She snapped, and Ben snorted. “What the hell are you doing here?” 

“Are you blind, Love?” Butcher unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a large bullet wound in his chest. “Fucking fix it.”

She was, as fucking always, too kind for her own good. Because she stalked around the couch, and laid a single hand over Butcher’s wound in a venomous silence. Ben’s jaw clenched as Her heartbeat began to pick up, at the smug fucking look on Butcher’s face, at how she was rubbing her own chest in mirror to Butcher’s injury.

“Where did you even get this?” She asked, and Butcher shrugged.

“Don’t matter.” His gaze turned to Ben. “Got a gift for you, Gov.”

 “A gift?” She and Ben said in unison, and Butcher rolled his eyes.

“Aren’t you two bloody adorable,” he sneered, and Ben wondered if She could fix a ripped off head. “It’s in the damn car, I’ll need help getting it.”

“Help?” She asked, and Ben could see the thoughtful, untrusting frown covering her face, even with her back turned. “What is it?”

 “A fucking surprise.”

“He hates surprises,” She said, and the Thing hummed somewhere near Ben’s lungs.

“He’ll like this one,” Butcher dismissed. “Don’t you fucking trust me, Love?”

“Nope.” She snapped, heartbeat growing erratic even as she removed her hand. Butcher’s wound was gone, replaced by smooth, unblemished skin.

Butcher turned—flipping the hall light—and walked to the door in long steps. Swinging it open to the cool night air, he gave a sweeping gesture, brows raised. “C’mon cunts. We ain’t got all fucking night.”

Ben followed Her down the hall, only step behind, an arms distance away. Butcher’s car was parked in the drive, still running with the headlights on.

“What would you have done if the car had got stolen?” She asked, following Butcher to the trunk.

“Considering I can’t file a police report,” Butcher said, tone bored and cruel. “I think I might just use all the fucking CIA resources at my disposal to bloody find it.”

The trunk was popped open, and in it lay—fucking finally—the Soldier Boy shield in all its flawless fucking glory.

Ben didn’t hesitate to yank it up, grinning widely, and almost missed Her look of amusement.

 “Would you two like a minute alone?” She teased, and Ben scowled at Her.

“Shut the fuck up, Sunshine. It’s my goddamn shield, that you pussies-“ Ben pointed an accusing finger at Butcher. “Have fucking owed me for two months.”

“Time wasn’t right, mate,” Butcher said lazily, and Her heart faltered.

“And it’s right now?” She was almost whispering, the wind howling over her words. Even in the darkness, Ben could see the fog begin behind her eyes. “Why?”

“Big mission in four days.” Butcher began to move to the front of the car. “Thought I’d get ahead of it, let Soldier Boy do whatever weird shit he wants with his baby blanket before we have to move.”

Ben’s fury at the baby blanket comment was drowned out by the tap of Her fingers. The blanched, fearful fucking look on Her perfect face. The Thing howled, and Ben’s teeth became gritted.

“What type of shit are you about to make us pull, Butcher?” Ben growled.

Butcher winked. “We’re trying to wrap this circus up soon, Gov. Don’t worry your little mug about it.” Butcher’s attention turned to Her, saying Her name with a smirk. “See you in a few days.”

The car pulled out of the driveway with a screech, and She and Ben were left standing in the night. She looked at Ben with an empty smile as they returned into the house.

“Happy to have your shield back?”

“Should never have left,” Ben gripped it a little tighter as the Thing started to pull him toward her. “The fuck is Butcher planning?”

“What?” She said, blinking at him. “I- I um, I don’t know.”

She wasn’t looking at him, and every movement she had was controlled, mechanical. Ben didn’t fucking believe her. “You sure about that?”

She nodded, making a sound of agreement. Ben was going to push, he was going to ask why she was fucking lying, what she knew and why it was making her act so fucking strange, but She gave a long, stretching yawn, eyes lidded and steps unsteady.

“I’m tired,” She mumbled, leaning into Ben as they moved down the hall. “What time is it?”

“Almost ten,” Ben watched Her give another, loud, fucking adorable yawn, and the Thing felt warm where they touched.

“Few more hours before bed,” She nodded, walking toward the couch. Ben caught Her waist with arm before she could sit.

“You’re going to sleep now, Sunshine.” He placed his shield carefully at the foot of the steps. “You’re going to fucking pass out.”

“No I’m not,” She wiggled a bit, but Ben didn’t budge. “It’s only ten.”

“What time were you up this morning?” He asked dryly.

“What time were you up this morning?” She snapped.

“I fucking asked first.”

She gave him a half-hearted shove. “Nuh uh.”

“Really?” He snorted Her name. “What are you, a fucking child?”

“That’s rich coming from you, Ben.” She was starting to slump against him. “And even if I was, you’re not my fucking dad, you don’t get to give me a bed time.”

“I think you’re giving yourself a bed time, beautiful.” The word slipped out of Ben’s mouth, and the Thing became frozen as She looked up at him.

There was no fucking reason for that to be weird, Ben had called fucking hundreds of women beautiful. She wasn’t any fucking different. Even if She was perfect and leaned into him and looking up at him with sleepy, shining eyes and the Thing wanted to—fucking had to—hold Her like this forever-

“I’m not tired,” Her words were slurred mumbles against Ben, and he chuckled because—before the words had even left Her mouth—she was slumped into him, breathing growing steady with sleep.

Ben carried Her upstairs, laying her carefully on their bed and pulling the blankets up her body. When he drew back up, fucking forcing himself to walk away, back down the stairs, let Her sleep alone like a normal fucking man and not some weak fucking pussy who was scared to leave her side, she made a small sound behind him. When Ben turned, She was splayed out across the mattress, with one hand reaching out to Ben’s side, and frown twisted on Her perfect lips.

“Fuck it,” he muttered to no one, and stalked back to the bed. The Thing’s flailing around inside of him was calmed as Ben pulled Her to his chest, and She gave a small, breathy sigh as Her face returned to a picture of easy content.

Ben fell—lulled by Her heart and gentle breath—into deep sleep.

She was up first. The bed at Ben’s side had already grown cold, but he could hear the shower running through the bathroom door, hear the slow drum of Her heart as she moved. Ben stood and moved down the stairs, aiming to put on the coffee before she finished, only to find a half-full pot and a discarded mug at the counter. Her phone lay, face-down, at the mug’s side and glancing at the sink, there was a dirty plate that had definitely not been there the previous night.

When She arrived in the kitchen—hair damp and face blank—Ben coughed loudly.

“I can see you, Ben.” She moved past him, picking up her phone. “You can just say hi.”

“How long have you been up?” He asked roughly, and She shrugged.

“Few hours. We went to bed early last night, I must’ve gotten all the sleep I needed.”

“You fucking passed out last night,” Ben snapped Her name. “And it is not early. A few hours would mean before the fucking sun.”

She didn’t look up at him. “So?”

“You’re being fucking weird. And you never answered my question last night.”

“What question?” Her voice was flat, bored.

“What the hell is Butcher’s mission? It’s clearly something important, if he decided to give me my fucking shield.”

“I don’t know. Nobody’s told me.”

“I think you’re fucking lying.”

She raised her head, glaring firmly, coldly, at Ben. “I’m not. They don’t tell anything, you fucking know that.”

“I-“

“Nope.” She cut him off, placing her phone on the counter and crossing her arms. “We’re not fighting about this. Doesn’t matter what you think, Benjamin. That’s the fucking truth. Okay?”

Her face was like steel. He hadn’t seen her face like this, blank and controlled and full of so much quiet fury, in fucking months. The Thing was fucking cowering in Ben, like a goddamn pussy. Not afraid, but fucking desperate for her to stop looking at him like that. 

“Fine.” He grunted, and something like relief flashed across Her face. “But you need to fucking promise that if I need to be worried, you’ll tell me.”

“Sure,” She turned to the fridge, and Ben grabbed her arm, turning her to face him.

“Fucking promise.”

She blinked at him, voice a little softer—almost fucking delicate—when she said, “Promise.”

“Good,” He released her, and though the Thing felt no more peace, Ben took the goddamn weak reassurance. “Now eat, we’re training in a hour. Today you’re going to hit all the fucking targets.”

“You have a whole lot of faith in me, Pretty Boy,” She gave him a smile, and even that felt fragile. “Don’t know where the hell it comes from given how dogshit I am at this.”

“You’re getting better,” Ben winked. “Under my masterful fucking guidance.”

“Uh huh,” She snorted. “We’ll see about that.”

Two hours later, after She missed the target for the eleventh time in a row—Ben watching from the edge of the room—he was starting to think she was doing it on purpose.

“You know, if you’re trying to prove a point,” Ben said Her name, giving her an annoyed look. “There are damn better ways to do it.”

“I’m not trying to prove a point,” She snapped. “You’re the one who chose the smallest fucking cup in the world.”

“You hit it yesterday.”

“Shut up,” She missed again, a low noise of frustration sounding from her chest. “God fucking damnit!”

Ben watched Her, lips gnawing and breaths becoming shallow. “Calm the hell down, Sunshine.”

“I am fucking calm.”

“You’re burning a hole in the floor.”

She looked down to where the wood was charred beneath her feet. “Fuck off.” She muttered.

“This whole fucking house is fire-proof.” Ben pushed himself off the wall. “You’re burning like a fucking bomb. What the hell is wrong with you today?”

“Nothing’s wrong, I’m just having an off day.” Her words were hissed through teeth, and smoke was filling the room.

“You’re sloppy.” He stopped, glowering down at Her. 

She didn’t falter, holding his gaze. “Last time you said that, was anything wrong?”

“Last time you fucking broke down.”

“Do I look like I’m breaking down now?”

“You look like you’re about to collapse.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Hit the fucking target.”

She didn’t break eye-contact as her arm shot out, and Ben looked in time to see the cup—along with the entire damn wall—catch fire.

“That doesn’t count,” he grunted.

“The fuck it doesn’t.”

“You have to only hit the target, brat. That’s the whole goddamn point.”

“Fuck off, you asshole.” She shoved against his chest. “You’re being a cunt on purpose.”

“I’m not the one being fucking insane about ‘nothing’.” Ben mocked. “We’re staying right here until you either admit something is up or hit the target the right fucking way.”

“Fuck you.”

Ben didn’t answer, only held Her glare. The Thing hated this, it hated how fucking strange She was being, how She wouldn’t fucking talk to him, how Her face was all painful shadows and contorted control. But Ben couldn’t fucking break. Couldn’t fucking let it go just to see Her smile. Not when she was tapping and chewing and her eyes were so fucking empty and she wouldn’t tell him why.

The afternoon was long. She didn’t hit a single fucking target, and Ben called it when She started looking like she was about to explode. Ben showered—trying to figure out the fuck to make Her talk—while She continued her practice in the kitchen. When he returned downstairs, Ben found her on the couch, watching the TV with a blank expression.

“Have you calmed the hell down?” He snapped, and the Thing grew thick in his throat when She looked up at him with exhausted, foggy eyes.

“Yeah,” She said softly. “I’m sorry-“ She cut herself off, swallowing heavily. “I promise nothing is wrong. I’m just tired.”

“Because you keep getting up like you’re in the fucking military,” Ben muttered, walking to sit at Her side. “You need fucking sleep.”

She gave a hollow laugh. “Pot, meet kettle.”

“Shut up. It’s not the same.” Ben leaned back. “And I have been sleeping.”

“I know, you snore like a truck.” Her smile this time was a little lighter. “Are you ready?”

“Ready for what?” Ben turned to look at Her, and found his face being pulled down, soft hands in his hair. “Right now?” He frowned at her. “It’s late, and you look a little too fucking tired.”

“We missed yesterday.” She said as if it was fucking obvious. “And if you still think it does nothing, you shouldn’t have anything to worry about.”

Ben’s frown turned to a scowl at that. She was too fucking good at backing him into those corners, where She knew he couldn’t respond without her winning. “You think you’re real smart, huh?” 

“I don’t think I’m smart,” She gave him a cocky grin. “I know I’m smart.”

“Brat.”

“Cunt.”

As Her brows drew together in focus, the Thing became strained. Something was fucking wrong. It didn’t matter how many times She denied it, she was more stressed than he’d ever fucking seen Her. Ben racked his brain for a way to ask Her that wouldn’t make her explode, wouldn’t make her shut down or turn away from him. It was an exhausting process, he had no clue how She did this all the time like it was easy, asking careful question and using stupid fucking tricks to bend him to Her will. Admittedly, Ben admired it. It was fucking hot, the small smiles on Her perfect face and how quick her words came. But Jesus fucking Christ, he wished She was worse at it. Especially as he tried to do it himself.

He said Her name slowly. “How did you meet Butcher?”

“What?”

“How did you-“

“I heard you,” She said tightly. “Why are you asking that?”

Ben fought the frown on his face. “Am I not allowed to ask fucking questions?”

“Not weird ones out of the blue.”

“It’s not that damn weird,” he grumbled. “You’ve never told me. Fuck me for being curious how you fell in with a bunch of fucking pussies.”

She sighed. “I escaped Homelander,” her hands gripped his head a little tighter. “They found me. Not much more to say.”

“How did they even know about you?” He searched Her face for any tells, any breaks in her mask.

Her face remained passive, unreadable. “Maeve told Butcher. He told Mallory. They tracked me down.”

“Why didn’t you fucking leave?”

“Leave?”

“The country,” Ben pushed. “Fuck, just the damn East Coast. Why did you stay where you could be found?” 

“You don’t know that I didn’t,” she muttered. “Maybe they found me in Aruba.”

“No, they fucking didn’t.”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t know that, you cunt.”

“Answer my question, brat.”

She glared at Ben’s forehead. “I don’t know. I just, the first thing I found out when I escaped was that to everyone in the world, I’d been dead for over two years. I didn’t have anything to go back to.”

“So you should’ve just fucking left-“

“I couldn’t,” She hissed, and Ben felt her hand get warm. “I had nothing, no one. Just a fucking grave that proved I had existed. I was angry and tired and alone. Butcher found me at my grave, because that’s the only place I could be. I didn’t have it in me to leave, because I kept fucking hoping I’d blink and the grave would vanish.”

“Sunshine-“

“They found me, and they offered me a reason. I ‘fell in with them’ because they knew I was alive, and it gave me some sort of fucking value. That’s it.”

Ben placed his hands over Hers, and she finally looked at him. “I think we’re done.”

This time, She didn’t fight, and her voice was so fucking tired when she spoke. “Okay.”

The rest of the night was quiet, and though She was smiling and laughing, the joy felt uneasy, and it never reached her fucking eyes. When She leaned against Ben the Thing became loud, because though she wouldn’t look at him she was gripping his arm like he might vanish. Though She traded teasing words with him, there was no edge of amusement to them, lined only with that flat, rehearsed sound.

She was up first. They had fallen asleep late, Her pressed into the bed by Ben’s arm across her stomach, but She was up first. Ben found Her in the kitchen, sitting with her fingers tapping quickly on the counter. Before he could ask Her what the fuck she was doing up so early again, She looked up and smiled—a real fucking smile with teeth and clear eyes—as he entered the room.

“You’re up!” There were bags under her eyes, hanging heavier than before, but she was really fucking smiling and the Thing was tearing in two. “Finally.”

Ben started at Her. “Finally?” 

She hummed, nodding as she stood and walked to the oven. “Are you ready to have your mind fucking blown, Pretty Boy?”

“What the fuck are you-“ Ben cut himself off as She bent over, pulling out a cheesesteak—a beautiful cheesesteak that smelled fucking good—and turned with a grin.

“I did it.” She said smugly. “I cooked.”

“You’re real fucking pleased with yourself, huh.” Ben raised a brow a Her, and the Thing hummed as she gave a strong, proud nod.

“You’re going to fucking proud of me as well, dummy. I’m a god of this cooking shit.”

Fighting a smile, Ben rolled his eyes. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

She placed the cheesesteak before him, and gave a dramatic bow. “Bon appetit, cunt.” 

Ben expected it to taste like shit. It would’ve been really fucking funny if it tasted like shit, and it would’ve been so fucking easy. He could’ve teased her, or pretended it was fine and not felt the Thing buck around inside of him. But She would never just make shit easy for Ben. He had never met a more impossibly, obnoxiously fucking perfect person who seemed to know how to push every single one of his goddamn buttons. Because, fucking hell and Christ, this cheesesteak was good.

She watched his reaction carefully, eyes a little too wide to be natural. “So?” Her voice was nervous, delicate, and Ben couldn’t fucking force himself to lie.

“It’s good,” he muttered and She blinked.

“So you like it?”

Ben swallowed. “It’s good.”

“You said that,” Her voice was strained. “Do you like it?”

“Yeah, Sunshine.” Ben took another large bite, and the words pushed out of him. “It’s fucking amazing. Keep your damn head on.”

Her smile took over her face, and though she didn’t look the slightest bit less exhausted, she looked so fucking thrilled at his words that the Thing fucking whined.

“Great. That’s good. I’m, uh-“ Her face was becoming flushed. “Thanks.”

Ben winked at Her. “You’re going to cook more shit now, right?”

Her heart stumbled, and she looked away. “We’ll see.”

“What if I give you that complete TV control?” Ben said through a mouthful, and She shrugged.

“I can just use my favors for that.”

“You’ll run out,” Ben said pointedly. “You didn’t get any yesterday.”

“I told you, it was just an off day.” She grumbled, and Ben nudged her with his foot, waiting for Her to turn before he spoke.

“If you want to take a break from it, just fucking tell me.”

She stared at him. “You fucking bullied me into this, and now you want me to take a break.”

“You’re exhausted. You’re not going to perform any better.”

 “I’ll be fine.” She snapped. “It was an off day.”

“You don’t have to prove a damn thing to me-“

“I’m not trying to.” She stood upright, moving to the door. “I’m fine, and I’ll perform fine as well.”

Ben examined Her, posture too rigid, face washed out, blinking too fast. “If you don’t, I earn a favor.”

“Deal,” she crossed Her arms. “There’s not a chance in hell you’ll get anything.”

“We’ll see,” Ben said through a mouthful, and She stuck her tongue out at him before marching away.

As he ate, Ben listened to Her move in their room. Her heart was fast—erratic and loud through the floor—until, suddenly, it wasn’t. It grew slower, steady and even, and She had stopped moving. Ben walked carefully up the stairs, abandoning the plate in the kitchen, and opened their door to find Her slumped on the bed. She lay on her side, head against Ben’s pillow, leg angled off the side of the mattress like she’d been knocked out. Her eyes were fluttering slightly, her breaths coming long and deep, and Ben realized he hadn’t seen Her sleep like this a fucking week. With a peaceful face, completely taken in rest. Every perfect feature of her face was blissful, somehow more beautiful with the push of pain. The Thing was filled with a foreign fucking adoration, and Ben couldn’t stop himself from carefully pulling a blanket over Her body, flipping off lights and closing curtains until there was nothing that could disturb Her. He paused before leaving the room, watching Her like a pussy fucking creep, but he could’t bring himself not to.

The Thing wanted to touch Her, Ben wanted to touch her, and the only thing that kept him from pulling her to his side was fear of waking her. This—Her sleeping without restraint—was more fucking important that the Thing and it’s stupid goddamn need.

Ben returned to the kitchen, finishing the cheesesteak and trying not to dwell on the ache of the Thing to return to Her. Just be there, near Her, if she fucking needed anything. She had to sleep, sure, but that didn’t mean Ben couldn’t fucking be there. What if She woke up, and was ready to tell him what had been bothering her. What Butcher was planning. What if She fucking cried, what if she needed him, just him. Not any food or comfort or help but just him. 

He found himself in front of the TV, no attention on the show playing. Only Her breathing, only her heart. Any flutter or staggered sound made Ben’s whole fucking body tense, and though no drums sounded, it felt painfully fucking similar, like the slightest break in Her was a break in him.

When he heard the first scream, Ben had never moved so fucking fast in his life. He tore up the stair, kicking the door clean off its hinges, and a rush of fire blew past him into the hall. Ben’s blood turned cold as he moved into the room, his heart pounding in his chest.

She was floating off the bed, thrashing like she’d been fucking possessed. Everywhere around her was fire, covering her body and pushing at the walls. She was screaming, no breaks in the horrible fucking sound for breath. Her eyes looked screwed shut, her jaw hanging open and body fighting something Ben couldn’t see.

He launched himself at Her, trying to avoid her flailing hands—curled into claws and scratching at the air—as he shook her awake. He roared Her name, and she rose higher off the bed, back arching and fire growing. She looked like she was being tortured, screeching words Ben couldn’t understand and making deep, guttural sounds of agony. Ben could feel his skin burning—searing and scarring and raw—but grabbed Her roughly and pulled her down from the air. He couldn’t wake Her up, her eyes wouldn’t fucking open, the screams wouldn’t stop-

Ben did the only thing he could think of—deciding She could give him all the hell in the world for it and it wouldn’t change a goddamn thing—and slapped Her. Not hard enough to break Her, holding his strength back from leaving even a temporary mark, but enough to make it sting. Enough to make her eyes shoot open, make Her breathe ragged and sharp gasp as she fell fully onto Ben.

Tears were turning to steam in Her eyes and the screams became weak and desperate scrambles for air. She was clinging to Ben with flaming nails in his skin, but he didn’t give a goddamn fuck, because all that mattered was Her. Awake, choked on sobs and burning, but awake. Ben would let Her melt his fucking skin off if it helped, if it meant he would never have to hear her scream again.

Ben wasn’t sure how much time passed before She finally spoke, words pushed from her throat and so quiet he almost didn’t hear them.

“Why-“ She took a pained breath, hands fisted in Ben’s shirt. “Why did you let me sleep?”

“You passed out,” he said Her name in a low tone. “You fucking needed it.”

She shook her head. “You should’ve woken me up.”

“Did you not hear me say you passed out?” Ben’s voice raised slightly, holding Her tightly against him. “You looked like shit, like you hadn’t slept in days-“

“On purpose!” She pushed at his chest, voice high and unsteady. “I couldn’t sleep, I can’t sleep! I won’t let myself or-“

Ben narrowed his eyes as she cut Herself off with a miserable sound, something furious build in him as Her head fell into him.

“Or what?” He asked firmly, and She shook her head.

“Nothing.” Her voice was a whisper, and Ben pulled her back, holding her head so she was looking at him.

“Or what?” This time the words were louder, angrier. She had been fucking hiding something, and if it was something that reduced Her to this, he wouldn’t fucking let it go or bend anymore. Ben was going to know what was fucking wrong, if She wouldn’t tell him, he’d torture it out of Butcher by hand.

“I can’t-“ She shook her head frantically, and Ben  grabbed it between his hands. “I can’t tell you.”

“Yes, you fucking can."

“No, you don’t understand, I- I can’t, you’ll-“ She choked on another sob, and the Thing was roaring inside him.

“I’ll what?” Ben said Her name through teeth. “What the fuck is wrong-“

She made a desperate whimper, trying to pull from him. “You’ll try to-“ Her breaths were shallow and short. “Can’t-“

“Look at me.” Ben lowered his voice, even as he tightened his grip.

“No-“

The Thing was like stone in him, running a cold, angry resolve through Ben’s body. “If you think for one goddamn fucking second that I’ll let something hurt you, you’re a lot more stupid than I thought.”

“You won’t- you can’t-“

“Stop fucking saying that.” He snapped, and another weak sound fell from Her mouth. “Just, fuck, please.” He traced soft circles on Her face, and her heart slowed slightly. “Fucking look at me Sunshine. Just look at me.”

Finally, She did. The lingering fire went out as she met his eyes, blinking away heavy tears.

“What’s wrong.”

“I can’t tell you.” She whispered, and Ben shook his head.

“You need to fucking tell me. I can’t do anything if you don’t-"

“I know." Her eyes were so sad, she looked damn haunted. “That’s why I can’t tell you.”

“You need to make some goddamn sense.”

She sighed. “I can’t.”

“Try.”

“No, Ben. I can’t. I won’t. This isn’t something you can fix.”

He said Her name slowly. “Either you tell me now, or we sit here until you come to your fucking senses.”

“I-“

“You just woke up screaming and set the whole fucking bedroom on fire.” He roared, unable to care if his voice was loud and cruel. “You’ve been lying to me that everything is fine, but it’s clearly fucking not, so if you don’t start talking right fucking now I’ll-“ Ben took a deep, furious breath, dropping his head against Hers. “Just fucking tell me, goddamnit. You’re making me feel fucking sick, so please tell me.”

She pressed her head to his, and Ben wasn’t sure either of them were breathing. “You’ll try and stop me,” Her volume was barely a fucking sound. “If I tell you, you’ll try to stop me, and I can’t let you.”

He said Her name, and she shook her head, leaning back.

“I can’t let anything stop me. This is it. I can’t tell you or you’ll stop me, I can’t tell Annie or Hughie or MM because they’ll stop me. I can’t sleep because I’ll lose my nerve and stop myself. And I can’t let that happen.”

“I-“

She cut Ben off again, red eyes searching his as she placed her hands over where Ben held her face.

“This is the only way. So I can’t let anything stop me.”

Ben started at Her, the Thing squeezing at his throat. “Tell me.” 

“Ben-“

“You aren’t fucking leaving this room until you get real fucking specific about whatever shit you’re about to pull.”

She only sighed. “I told you-“

He hissed Her name. “I have some fucking news for you, Sunshine. Whatever it is, I’m stopping you. If it’s a gambit to steal Butcher’s kid, if it a play to trap Sage, if it’s some sort of self-sacrificial bullshit-“

Her heart faltered, so subtly, but Ben caught it. She started to shake her head, but he didn’t waver, keeping her perfect, tragic face aimed at his own.

“What the fuck are you about to do.” He growled, and a small sob left Her. “And don’t say you can’t tell me or it doesn’t matter or lie or apologize. Say the fucking truth,” Ben’s voice became weak, desperate, pathetic as he said Her name. But he had to know. He might fucking die if he didn’t. “Please. Just tell the fucking truth.”

The second before She spoke was the longest of Ben’s life. It was hell, because if she lied it would rip the Thing apart, would rip him apart. She was watching him, hands still holding Ben’s, and when the silence broke with Her unsteady inhale—worlds falling out of her like vomit—Ben time move once more, all too fast.

“The Ryan plan. It’s the Ryan plan. It’s the only safe way to get him out, get him away. Safe. Get proof, undeniable proof of what Homelander is. What he’s capable of doing, what he’s done. Becca Butcher files, and-"

“You.” Ben said, blood running cold.

“Me.”

“And how, fucking how, did you plan on getting close enough to tell him.” Ben spat, and She wouldn’t look him in the fucking eyes.

“The only definite way.”

“Fucking say it.”

“Let Home-“ She made a weak, hollow, broken sound. “Let Homelander take me."

This was hell. Ben was fucking certain of it. This was some sort of punishment, where he got to have Her only to lose her. He wouldn’t lose her. He couldn’t lose her. Not if it was something like his, something unnecessary and so fucking stupid. There was no longer a divide in Ben between his rage and that of the Thing. Every fiber of his body was in a consuming fucking chant, a certain answer to what he had to do.

“No.”

She shook her head. “It’s not-“ 

“No.” Ben’s voice was firmer, louder. “Not a fucking chance in hell.”

“I’m not asking.” Her voice was still empty, but more firm with the anger creeping onto her face. “You don’t get to tell me what-“

“We fucking promised.” Ben growled. “We aren’t going back. So no.”

“You don’t get to stop me, Ben.” She spat. “I’m fucking doing it.”

“Would you let me go back under, for some bullshit, pointless fucking plan?”

She scowled. “Of course not, but this isn’t-“

“It’s the exact fucking same!” Ben pulled himself from Her completely. “You’re not doing this, not while I’m fucking alive and able to do something about it!”

“You don’t tell me what I can do!” She screamed. “This is the only way, and I’m fucking doing it!”

“NO!” He roared. “You don’t get to fucking give yourself to him like you’re a fucking pawn.”

“I am a pawn!” She screamed. “I’m the only way in, the only way to save Ryan, get him the fuck away so you can do your fucking job and kill him.”

“Do you really think that I’d just let you go?” He hissed. “Do you seriously fucking believe that Homelander would take you and I wouldn’t fucking burn everything to get you away from him.”

“I’m not your fucking responsibility. Protecting me isn’t your job-“

“I don’t give a fucking shit about your plans or Butcher’s plans or my job. I give a shit about you.” Ben could hear the drums in the distance, but it didn’t fucking matter. Nothing fucking mattered except Her. “You burn, I burn. You’re not fucking burning without me, so no.”

She stared at Ben, and all the anger was gone, replaced by a look he couldn’t fucking understand. “Ben-“

“No.” He snapped, extending his hand. “Give me your phone.”

“My phone?”

“I’m calling your team. We’re going to come up with a plan that’s not fucking stupid.”

“My plan-“

“Isn’t going to happen. You’re going to sleep, and I’m going to stay right fucking here until we come up with a new fucking plan.”

She glared at him. “If you lock me in this room, I’ll fucking-“

“Stop being so fucking dramatic, I’m not locking you anywhere. Wherever you go, I go. I won’t leave your side for a fucking second, not until I know you won’t try and go through with this idiotic idea.” Ben flexed his hand. “Give me your phone.”

She let out a shaky sigh, tilting her head. “You’re serious.”

“As goddamn cancer.”

She watched him—Ben still couldn’t fucking read that expression on Her perfect face—looking for something She seemed to find with a small nod. When She placed her phone in Ben’s hands it felt like the world finally started moving again.

“I’m sorry.” She said softly, keeping her hand over the phone in Ben’s palms. “I’m really-“

“No apologies.” Ben said, closing his fingers around Hers. “Go sleep.”

“Can you-“

“After I call.”

She hummed carefully, walking to the bed. When She didn’t lie down—only sitting at the headboard with her arms wrapped around her body—Ben raised his brows.

“I won’t-“ She swallowed. “I won’t sleep if you’re not here.”

Ben blinks. “Oh.”

“I can wait-“ She cut herself off as Ben dropped on his side of the mattress.

“I can talk while sitting,” he said dryly. “Sleep.”

All the fight and pain seemed to drain from Her at once with Ben’s words, and she almost fell into his side as sleep overtook Her. Ben slung his arm over Her shoulder, and for the first time that day the Thing breathed.

Ben managed to get her phone open himself, and found Butcher’s contact with much more ease than last time. It took him a second to figure out the difference between cell and work, but when it began to ring Ben held it to his ear, grinding his teeth as Butcher took his sweet fucking time to pick up.

“Oi, Love. We ain’t supposed to be talking for another two days-“

“We need to fucking talk Butcher.” Ben growled. “Change of plans, She’s not doing your dirty work. If you and your pussy ass team aren’t here by tomorrow afternoon to figure out something new, all deals are off. Do you fucking understand?”

There was silence for only a second. “I don’t know what-“

“Don’t bullshit me. Tomorrow afternoon, or I walk.”

“I don’t take any bloody orders from you, Gov. And you can’t just fuckin walk-“

“Fucking try me.” Ben hissed, and didn’t wait for Butcher’s response to hang up.

————

The day was long. You slept, really slept, for the first time in a week. No nightmares, no fire, no vigilante methods to keep yourself awake. Ben wouldn’t let you out of his sight, except to use the bathroom. And even then you’d have to talk the whole time so he knew you were there. He didn’t trust you, and you didn’t blame him. He won’t look at you, he keeps ignoring your apologies, and the Feeling can’t stand it. It’s killing you. He’s barely spoken, except in one-word answers to questions. 

“When will the team be here?” You ask nervously.

“Evening.” He says coldly, and that’s all you get.

Now you’re wrapped in a blanket, sitting quietly on the stairs as everyone fights around you. Most of your view of the team was blocked by Ben—who had planted himself firmly at the foot of the stairs—but you could hear it all.

 “Wait,” Annie says slowly. “So was this her plan, or Butcher’s?”

 “Sounds like a Butcher plan.” MM mutters, and Butcher scoffs.

“This was all her,” he snaps your name. “I was just enjoying the ride.”

“When did you even come up with this?” Hughie asks, and you catch a glimpse of his worried face as he tries to lean around Ben and address you.

Ben promptly moves to block him once more. “Don’t fucking talk to her, you fucking pussy.”

“I’m just-“

“Five steps back, Cocksucker, before I make you.”

“Ben,” you mumble, standing up and walking to be directly behind him. “It’s fine.”

“Listen to Sunshine, Gov.” Butcher sneers. “It’s fine.”

You glower at him over Ben’s shoulder. “Stuff it, Butcher.”

“I still don’t really understand,” Annie speaks over the venomous looks you and Butcher are exchanging. “Does Mallory know about this?”

“No,” you sigh. “Only Butcher and I. That was the point, no possible leaks that would tell Homelander it was a trap.”

“And the Becca files-“

You cut Hughie off. “I would’ve hidden them on myself.”

“Homelander would’ve seen them, no?” Frenchie frowned. “X-ray vision.”

“I had Butcher buy a tampon-shaped USB.”

Annie’s face wrinkles at your words. “That’s… Disgusting.”

“By the way,” Butcher interjects. “If we ain’t going through with this, you owe me forty.”

“There’s no way in hell you’re going through with this, Butcher.” MM snaps. “You two-“ he waves a hand between you and Butcher. “Are motherfucking idiots, who knew how insane this plan was and didn’t tell us because there’s not a single fuckin universe where we’d let you go through with it.”

“I don’t know why I’m takin all the bloody blame for her plan-“

“Because she’s on strike one!” Annie shouts. “This is strike fifty for you, asshole! There’s a reason she went to you, because is your exact brand of fucking shit!”

“Ooo,” Butcher mocks. “Church girl using some vulgar fuckin words, I’m shaking in my sketchers.”

Hughie says your name, pleading. “You have to have known this was a bad idea. Why-“

“It was, it is-“ You see Ben’s jaw clench in front of you. “The best way to get Ryan away from Homelander at his own will. There’s no tangible records of me, or anything that Homelander did to me.”

Annie frowns. “What about a witness-“

“There are none. I, I-“ Fire itches under your skin as memories of white lab coats covered in ash flash in your head, clearing suddenly as Ben leans back, his hand moving to brush your knee. “I killed all of them. When I escaped.” You swallow. “It was an accident-“

“Were there rotating guards?” Ben turns to look at you, eyes narrowed in a look of stop apologizing.

“I think so.” You mutter. 

“Then that’s it. We find one of those fucking pussies, get them to testify or give us some fucking proof.”

You shake your head. “Homelander might have killed them-“

“Maybe he did.” Ben shrugs. “And we’ll find another fucking way. You’re not throwing yourself in front of this stupid fucking train,” he says your name, holding your gaze like no one else is in the room. “That’s it.”

MM coughs your name, and your attention is ripped from Ben. “Are we going to need to put some security on you-”

“She’s not leaving my side.” Ben snaps, and MM glares at him.

“I didn’t fucking ask you, Soldier Boy.”

“I’ll be fine,” you say, giving MM a reassuring nod as you notice the muscles of Ben’s back growing tense. “I promise. Just, please, keep me updated.” Your voice is desperate. You don’t care. “Tell me what you find, even if it’s nothing.”

MM nods. “You’ll stay here?”

“I swear it.”

The teams leave, and it’s just you and Ben, alone.

“Ben, please-“ Almost the moment the door closes you’re begging, chasing Ben as he walk away from you and up the stairs. You just need him to say something, anything that makes you sure he doesn’t hate you.

“Stop it,” He grunts your name, not turning. “Just, fucking stop it.”

“I’m sorry-“

“I don’t want your apologies.” He snaps. “I’m not mad.”

“Yes you are-“

“No, I’m not.” He whips around, and still catches you before fall into him. You feel it. He’s not mad, but something is pushing around in his heart. It’s painful, and it’s so much worse. “I’m mad at Butcher, I’m mad at Homelander. I’m not fucking mad at you.”

“Why?” You can’t help but whisper. “I lied.”

Ben sighs, eyes boring into yours. “Because it’s you.” He grunts, and the Feeling keens. “Too fucking kind for your own good, too fucking smart as well, even if that was the most stupid shit I’ve ever heard.”

“So,” you don’t think you can breathe. “You forgive me.”

“I wasn’t mad at you, Sunshine. I’m fucking furious that you thought this was a good idea, that you weren’t going to tell me. But you didn’t betray me. So we’re square.”

“Nothing would’ve happened to you,” the words are blurted, because you need him to know. “The plan was you’d just be locked in here alone, and Butcher would have Frenchie make something for when you had to leave. I wasn’t ever going to put you back under.”

“I know. I trust you.”

And you feel that too. He does.

“You don’t hate me,” you say, one more time. It’s barely a question, but Ben answers anyway.

“I don’t hate you.”

“You give a shit about me,” you repeat his words from last night carefully, the Feeling desperate to hear him say it again.

He grunts, and you feel his heart turn. “I give a shit about you.”

“And your offer? To go with you?”

“What about it?”

“It’s still an offer?”

“Did I say it wasn’t?”

“No, but you might not have been sure and-”

He cuts you off with your name. “Do you trust me?” When you nod, you can feel his heart, tense and hot. “Then believe me when I tell you that I meant it. No pussying out.”

“No pussying out.” You echo. “Ben?” He frowns, eyes holding yours, so you continue. “I give a shit about you, too.”

A smile pulls his lips. “You as well.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, and you’re also smiling. “Stop using my own lessons against me.”

“Stop teaching me shit.” He teases. “It never ends well for either of us.”

“What if, what if we learn stuff together?”

“Sunshine, if you’re about to suggest I go back to fucking school-“

“No, dumbass,” you laugh softly. “You can’t cook either. We have our one, shitty cookbook. I’ll keep learning if you do it with me.”

Ben narrows his eyes. “Why? What are you going to make me do?”

“I just want to do something together that isn’t about life or death.” You mumble, looking anywhere but him. “I’m not trying to make you do anything. If you don’t want-“

“Fucking fine.” You turn sharply, unsure you heard him correctly. “Whatever.”

“So you’ll do it?” He grunts a sound you know to be begrudging affirmation, and your smile grows wide as you extend your hand.

“I’m not fucking shaking on it.”

“Do it or I’ll never make cheesesteak again.”

He scowls, grumbling something about blackmail, but shakes your hand roughly. You expect him to let go—pull away and keep being gruff and quiet—but instead Ben pulls you into him, holding you caged, warm, safe in his arms. You hold onto him, because if he lets go your legs might give out and the Feeling is soft and content here. You don’t know how long you’re standing there before Ben speaks, and you feel the words rumble in his chest as he does.

“You need sleep.”

He’s right, and you don’t have anything in you to fight, so you just nod. Ben picks you up, fully off the ground, and carries you into your room. As he places you on the bed he tries to let go, but you hold him tighter, pulling him until his head is next to yours.

“What if I have a nightmare,” you say softly in his ear.

“Are they-“

“About Homelander. All of them.”

“Then I’ll wake you up, and we’ll watch TV or some shit.” Ben says firmly.

“You won’t leave?”

“You couldn’t force me away.”

You believe him. You can feel it, the stone resolution and the pure fucking care. Both, somehow, for you. He’s still touching you, and the Feeling is peaceful. It never wants him to let go.

“Okay,” you yawn, and your body is already growing numb.

“Goodnight, beautiful.” You hear him say right before sleep catches you.

End Note: As we reach 10 chapters, 100k words, and 1 month, I just want to pause and say that I am so, so thankful for you guys. I can’t believe the love and support everyone has given this fic, or properly articulate how amazing this has been for me. I don’t think I’ve had so much fun writing in years, and I honestly didn’t think people would even read this. Every time you guys engage with my little story it means the whole fucking world to me. Every comment or interaction is everything to me, you don’t even know. Thank you, thank you, thank you again, and I’ll see everyone next time for the much less angsty chapter 11. In the mean time, let me know your thoughts! <3

Taglist: @lordofthunderthr @kritara @sukunassfinger, @justiceforquentin @acciditties

@c1gs-coffee @manicjk @artemys-ackles, @a-cup-of-nightshade, @bitchykittenconnoisseur

@fghj18

Want to be tagged? Just ask!

[3vergr3en]

Kissin’ and hope they caught us!

Part two | spotify playlist

PAIRING (📖) . loser!collegeau!jake x fem!college!reader

A/N (🖊️) . I'm crazy over loser Jake (he's so cute 😕) my obsession with the headcanon abt Jake being a loser trapped in a hot man's body is concerning in the name of feminism. he has me gripping my hair like im going insane or smth

ADDITIONAL INFO (💻) . W/C is 2.2k! porn with little plot. Reader is smitten with Jake!! Jake is a little oblivious but it's okay, his geek charm makes up for it (and for the fact that he's PACKING). These two are FREAKS and PERVS. No p in v, oral (male received), Jake cant help himself from cumming inside, public sex!! everything about this fic is just so filthy and nasty 🫣

You recalled all the times when you dreaded going to college. It would be a new chapter of your life and you didn't know if it would turn out well.

But that would change as soon as you stepped into your campus's library and laid eyes on such a greek god of a man who sat at a table surrounded by books. Looking past the round frame of his glasses, you can see his big doe eyes that held a blend of curiosity and intellect. But that innocent look to him would only fuel your desire as you take in his features. His plump, soft pink lips curling up into a warm smile complimented his chiseled jawline. You don't know how a man could look so handsome yet so cute but you knew right then that college would be the best time of your life.

Midterms were nearing and what does a studious girl like you do during these times?

Eye-fuck your best friend who's taking the time out of his day to help you study.

"Y/n?" His soft-like-butter voice brought you out of your daze. "Do you understand this?" Jake asks, bringing your attention to the section in your notebook where his.. long, slender fingers are pointing.

You tug your bottom lip between your teeth, biting back the whimper that threatened to slip out when you watch him pick up your pen and skillfully swing it around his middle finger till it sits perfectly on his ring finger. You can only imagine how his fingers could feel inside of you. Curling just enough to reach that spot that makes you see stars. Yeah... he's getting it tonight.

“I uhm— I don’t understand, sorry.” You reply with a lack of sincerity. You knew damn well what you were doing. You like to say that hearing it from Jaeyun would make studying fun.

Jake grins, letting out a soft chuckle. Who’s he to turn you down when you’re seeking his help. Because in reality, he’s had an eye on you for a while. He will never forget the day when he first met you.

It was a Tuesday, and Heeseung came literally begging (almost on his knees too) him to do his paper that he forgot was due at 11:59 PM that same day. And what does sweet, caring Jake do? You guessed it, he manages to cram a 6-page essay into his already busy schedule. He remembers sitting at a table in the library, books about whatever Heeseung was researching were scattered around him. He was on the brink of calling it quits and letting his friend fail (which was most likely not gonna happen) and quite literally started praying for a sign of some sort to encourage him to continue on.

And as if he had his own personal angel watching over him to hear his prayers, the sound of your boots clicking against the smooth, wooden floorboards drew his attention from the book sprawled out in front of him. There you were, strutting through the double doors with a smile. The confidence that oozed out of you had reached him even when he was across the room. He watched you talk to the lady at the front desk, in awe when you tucked a strand of loose hair behind your ear as you focused on something. You were like a shot of espresso and he drank in the sight of you. You were everything he had ever dreamt of in a girl. From the hair to the way you dressed, hell, even your smile. He was too lost in his thoughts to realize you were walking up to him. It wasn't till you spoke that snapped him back into reality, "Hey, is this seat taken?" You ask, pointing at the empty seat next to him.

He just stares.

Holy shit. You were talking to him. Holy shit. Holy fuck. shitshitshit. C'mon, Jake. Say something.

His voice slightly cracks when he mutters a quick, "No."

You bite your bottom lip, smiling at his reaction. "Great. I'm Y/n, you are..?" You ask, sitting down in the chair beside him.

His eyes dart around the empty seats surrounding the two of you. Why would you want to sit directly next to him? Do you think he's cute? Well, you're definitely cute. You're really hot. Drop-dead gorgeous even. Wait. Why are you staring at him like that? Did he- OH-

"Jaeyun! Sim Jaeyun!" He almost barks out, cringing into his seat when he gets shh'ed at by a random student.

You giggle quietly, slouching down to match his level. "Nice to meet you, Jaeyun. I hope we can be friends."

Friends... Yeah.. I can do friends! (he def cannot do friends and neither can you)

"Hey Jake," You calling his name startles him. "Hm?" He really needs to stop dozing off in front of you.

"There's this book that I couldn't reach earlier. Could you help me with that?" You chuckle, giving a moment for the boy to process. And as if on cue, his head perks up to look at you. There he goes.

You guide him towards the very far back of the library, specifically a corner that had students unlikely to come by. It was shielded off by another shelf of books, allowing for you two to go unnoticed.

"Where was it again?" Jaeyun asks, his height easily granting him access to the tallest shelf.

"Right.." You point at some random book, "There."

Jake, too immersed in his determination to find the said book, fails to notice you sinking down onto your knees right next to him. "Y/n? What's the title of the book? I can't really..." He finally goes to look at you. But he's confused when he's met with an empty space that was once occupied by you. He looks around until his gaze travels downwards where he sees you looking up at him with a smile.

"Y-Y/n! Wh-What are you doing?" Oh god. He can feel himself twitching inside his sweats. This is a very dangerous sight to see you in.

"I wanted to repay you for helping me, Jaeyun." You calmly explain, batting your eyelashes at him.

He's dreaming. He has to be.

"You're such a sweet guy y'know..." Your hands snake up his legs, "And I was thinking 'How could I ever repay him' but then," You lean in to plant a kiss on his prominent bulge, "This idea popped in my head not too long ago."

Jake could only lean against the shelves of books to steady himself. His hand glued to his mouth to muffle any sounds that slipped out while you pulled down the waistband of his pants.

This is exactly like his wet dream but so much fucking better.

"Y/n— oh fuck.." He moans into his hand when he feels you pulling his cock out from its confines. The cold air hitting his warm dick makes him hiss.

"Holy fuck, Jake. You're huge." You gawk, staring at his cock that you were lazily stroking. It was average in length, but fuck, the girth makes up for it.

"Fuck. Please, Y/n." The way he moaned your name sent waves of heat straight to your core. You swore you could feel your slick seeping through your panties.

Your hand feels so much better than his by a long shot. It's so soft, so warm. If it feels this good in your hand, he wonders how it would feel to be buried inside of you.

As pre-cum oozes out from his tip, you couldn't help but circle your thumb around the head of his cock. This must've been a sensitive spot for him by the way he abruptly thrusts his hips forward. "F-Fuck. I need to feel more, please." He begs almost pathetically, eyes hooded in need. Need to feel your mouth around his dick.

"You have to stay quiet, Jaeyun. Don't want people to find out what we're doing back here, do we?" You question, giving his cock a tug that makes him whimper.

You're so hot when you're manhandling him like this. So so hot. "No." He answers shakily, his chest heaving up and down.

You smile at him. So obedient. So cute.

You flattened out your tongue, slapping his head on the pink muscle. He tilts his head back, jaw slacked and mouth open, but no sounds come out. Only heavy breaths and quiet whimpers. Your warm breath fanning over his cock feels so good. But nothing will prepare him when he then feels you licking up a long stripe from the base of his dick to the very tip. If it weren't for the shelves supporting him, he'd be on the floor right now.

You moan before lapping your tongue at his tip, collecting his pre-cum. "You taste so good, Jakey."

You felt daring all of a sudden. Having the man of your desires stand here, letting you suck his dick was hotter than any fantasy you had. You relaxed your throat, giving yourself a moment to prepare for what you're about to do.

Jake could sense something coming from you. The way you looked up at him, he can see in your eyes what you're thinking about. He didn't really know exactly what to expect, but he brought one hand to cover his mouth just in case.

A guttural moan rips out from Jake when you suddenly try to take him whole into your mouth. His eyes widen as he realizes that he was louder than he anticipated it to be. He just prays that no one comes snooping around. Especially not when he has his dick down your throat because not only would that be petrifying, but he can not let you stop. Now now. Not when he had spent countless nights fucking his hand, hoping that it'd be your mouth one day. Now that it's happening, he can't let a second go to waste.

You gagged around his length, feeling the head of his dick hit the deepest parts of your throat. And what's crazy is how he isn't even fully in your mouth. There was still a couple inches left. That fact alone was you clenching around nothing. You could only imagine how he'd feel inside of you. He'd make you feel so full, so stuffed. You moan at the thought, sending vibrations into his dick that makes the boy rolls his eyes to the back of his head.

Jake, on the other hand, was reeling in the pleasure of having your warm, wet mouth around his cock. He moans into his palm, teeth sinking into the flesh to the point where he almost draws blood. It's surreal how your mouth makes him go fucking crazy. His head feels so light yet so heavy.

Your hands gripped the back of his thigh to steady yourself while pushing more of his dick down your throat for merely a couple of seconds before pulling away. You're gasping for air, perhaps you overestimated how much you could take him.

Jake nearly cums at the sight. Your chin is glistening while a string of saliva connects your lips to his raging red tip. He isn't sure what came over him at the moment, but he needed to feel your mouth around him again. He finds himself sliding a hand into your hair, grabbing a handful of it before shoving his dick past your swollen, pink lips and down your throat. "Fucking take it. Holy shit." He groans, mouth open with a mantra of your name spilling out.

You're blinking away the tears that pooled in your eyes, trying to focus on breathing through your nose while your best friend manhandles your mouth. This was a total 180 of how he usually is, and you loved it.

Everything about this was so lewd. The sounds of you gagging around his dick mixed with Jake moaning was music to your ears. You look up at him through your lashes, taking in how cute he looked in his specs while moaning your name.

"This mouth feels.. fuck. Feels so fucking good." Jake mutters, hips snapping against your face as he feels his high nearing. "G-Gonna cum down your throat. Sh-Shit, you're gonna take all of my fucking cum." He's just rambling now. Mind is too fucked to even think about anything else but cumming down your pretty little throat.

With one final thrust, his pelvis is flush against your face as he feels himself emptying his load down your throat. "Holy fuuuck.. Oh my god, Y/n."

You could only sit there and swallow everything he gave you. This is your way of repaying him.

He doesn't pull out till he feels himself going soft in your mouth. And he's quick to start apologizing once he does, "I-I'm so sorry, Y/n. I didn't even ask where you wanted me to cu–"

You're swatting your hands around, shaking your head as you swallow hard. "It's okay. I wanted it." Your voice is hoarse due to his assault on your throat. But you loved the result of it.

He helps you stand up before combing out the knot in your hair that he caused. "Well, the library is about to close for the night. We should get—"

"Do you want to come over to my place, Jakey?" You ask, holding his hands in yours.

He nearly chokes on his own saliva. "Uh,, y-yeah! We can!" He agrees, nodding almost frantically.

"I need help with biology. Specifically anatomy." You smile, trailing your finger down his chest.

"Yeah... I-I can help you." He whispers out.

"Yeah?" You giggle, pecking the corner of his mouth.

He'll help you with whatever it is if it means you'll repay him by giving him head.

[dellalalakang]

triple n: RIP kang della

masterlist | main masterlist

— lhs, pjs, sjy, psh —

well.......

contains: fivesome. really rough (choking, slapping, etc.), DELLA HAS AN IUD!!, della getting absolutely manhandled, her hands gets restrained for a bit, BUT THEN THERE IS A BIT OF DOM!DELLA ACTION, double penetration (as in anal), tiiiiiny bit of breeding kink, kitten as a nickname kink, daddy kink (sorry guys lol ik i said i wouldn't but i can't help it), i also said that they're never goofy during sex but we have the 02z in one session y'all— it's bound to get a little silly, LONGEST FIC I'VE WRITTEN (7.3k WORDS), longest + most detailed + most insane smut i've ever written omg i dont think i will EVER top this

happy belated anniversary my darlings 🤍 happy two years to della and her men (and alice) ✨

AND HAPPY ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY TO ENHA'S (5/8) LOSS IN NNN! this chapter takes place on midnight 2022/11/11 (so i kinda thought that was today bcs dumbo self messed up the dates so i'm one day late but it's all good)

hi guys! i missed you! i will try to reply to asks soon! i'm so sorry for disappearing again, life has been rough and moving too fast 😭 DID NOT PROOFREAD BECAUSE I AM EMBARRASSED

Kang Della is going to die tonight.

While not literally, she was definitely going to be reborn as a new woman.

"Lala, stop praying. You're not actually gonna die," Sunoo said, more interested in his phone than his overreacting girlfriend. "You're gonna have so much fun, and we have the day off tomorrow. It'll be great."

"Sunoo shut up and help me pray," Della herself was already dressed, cleaned up and ready to head out.

But certainly not ready to meet the hyuppas.

"Why are we even praying when you're going to be doing something so sinful?"

There were three possible outcomes from tonight; One, the hyuppas being so annoyed that they prefer to ignore her for a bit. Though that is just her anxiety talking.

Two, they would take turns with her for four days straight. Which also means that she would have a limp and some back pain for a week or so.

Or three, they would all have their way with her, at the same time.

And the last option seems to be the most likely.

❅◦❆◦❅◦❆◦❅◦❆◦❅◦❆

"Oh, hi! Oppa! Really funny seeing you here but Sunghoon-oppa asked for beer, so here—" Jake immediately pulled Della into his room before she could escape from what was coming.

"You're in massive trouble, young lady," the girl would've laughed if the situation wasn't as serious. Who actually says that sentence in real life? Sim Jaeyun, apparently.

"Oh, wow! All the hyuppas are here!" Della laughed nervously. "Seems like you guys are preparing to have a celebration together! Wouldn't want boring 'ole Della making things all boring!" 

The stern look on all four men made Della withdraw into herself. She avoided eye contact by playing with her nails, mentally preparing herself for the scolding.

"Kang Della, sit down," Heeseung ordered, gesturing the couch with his eyebrows.

"Ah.. I really need to my room though, Yunji-unnie's waiting for me," Della hopes that she could somehow avoid the earful, though it is looking very improbable. "So I'm just here to hand over the beer and—" she gasped when Jay slowly took her hands and held them behind her back like a criminal.

"Do you know how hard it was to wait for you?" he said in a low tone. "The only reason why we did this stupid challenge was because of you."

Jay's deep voice caused Della's skin to erupt in goosebumps. She bit her lip as her heart started pumping faster. She tried to look into his eyes but quickly adverted her gaze when she saw how handsome he looked with his expression. She could feel herself getting wet again.

"The fucking audacity you had to lose to someone who wasn't even a part of this bullshit of a challenge," Sunghoon walked over and held her face with both hands. He noticed a familiar scent within the proximity. "You've been fucking drinking too. You did a lot with Sunoo, huh?" 

She had forgotten about the alcohol in her system, now understanding why her brain seems so hazy. She barely drank anything, but she is a major lightweight. The drink Sunoo gave her, mixed with the lack of sexual attention (and undeniably, Sunoo's seduction) must be why she lost the game so easily.

"I wasn't thinking straight. I didn't plan it or anything. Honest!" she replied with puppy eyes. While the look stirred something inside Sunghoon, it certainly wasn't sympathy. 

"Even if you didn't plan it, you still did it, didn't you?" he asked in an eerily calm voice. "You can't really take it back now, can you?" he brushed her bangs back but kept his hold firm. "Even if it was silly little foreplay."

Everything Sunghoon did just made her core uncomfortably wet. She was embarrassed to clutch her legs tighter but her mind was just occupied with how stunning he looked and how hot his words were.

"No," Della whined, shamelessly staring at his lips. "I'm sorry, oppas."

"Do you know what's gonna happen now?" Sunghoon asked, staring at her lips as well.

"Am I getting punished?" Della bit her lip at the thought.

"You're gonna deal with us four, yeah? We've been stupidly waiting for over a week," Sunghoon caressed her cheeks before forcefully making her look at the two boys on the bed. "Look at them. We all deserve to be relieved from this challenge, hm?" he whispered in her ear.

"Nghh," Della whined at the sight of Jake and Heeseung. They were sitting on the joint bed with a can of beer in their hands. They were intently staring at the three of them, anticipating their next moves and patiently waiting for their turn. They knew that hard-dom Sunghoon would be the best at disciplining Della in bed, while romantic Jay would really show her just how serious they are.

"Do you think you can do that?" Sunghoon whispered again, causing Della to gulp and nod her head. "Use your words."

"I'm gonna deal with all four of you," she said timidly. She has never handled more than two people before, and now she's jumping straight to four.

But she is excited. Extremely excited.

"Good girl," Jay kept his hold with one hand, using the other to stroke her hair. "Your safe word today is red and yellow, okay? Regardless of Korean or English."

"Okay, oppa," Della closed her eyes at the gentle kiss Jay left on her hair. Suddenly all the nerves left and she's just left with pure anticipation.

"Good girl," although the words were identical to Jay's, Sunghoon's praise sounded rougher, more possessive. "Now come here."

Sunghoon connected his lips to hers hungrily while his hands moved to grope her bare breasts under her pyjama top. 

Jay let out a small smirk, his hands busily tying her wrists with the neck tie he prepared. His recently free hands then moved to unbutton her top, helping Sunghoon get easier access.

"You're not wearing a fucking bra. Sunoo must've enjoyed these babies, huh?" Jay said against her neck as his hands replaced Sunghoon's. The latter's opted to move down and roam his hands on Della's hourglass figure.

"Did he? Answer Jay," Sunghoon mumbled on her lips before shifting his kisses to her neck.

"No, he didn't," Della whimpered at the stimulation. Her legs were now almost crossed at how eager she is for some sort of sexual activity.

"Aish, that kid," Jay cursed, pulling away from Della to grab himself a beer. "Won 3N but didn't even fully enjoy it," he then pat Heeseung's shoulder and sat down beside Jake. "Tag. You're it."

Heeseung smirked, taking a big swig of his drink before making his way to Dehoon. With some liquid courage, he knew that they would all have a long, wild night ahead of them. They all definitely need a few cans because they desperately need this.

"You could've tagged me, y'know?" Jake pointed at his roommate.

"Shut up," Jay sipped his drink. "Just go over and join them– who's stopping you?"

"Nah, I'm actually enjoying the view," the younger laid back and rested his upper body weight on his forearm. The two watched as Sunghoon pulled away as soon as he noticed Heeseung.

"I told you to sit down, didn't I?" Heeseung practically mumbled, using his free hand to push her down onto the couch. "Why didn't you listen to me but obeyed Sunghoon and Jongseong?"

Della's mouth watered at the angle. If her instincts were correct, she was gonna suck someone off, most probably Heeseung. 

And she absolutely loves giving head.

Heeseung especially tends to let out these adorable sounds that are music to her ears. She knows that he will try to hold them back since they're not alone, but she is determined to have this gorgeous man let loose of his (almost) equally gorgeous noises.

"I'm sorry, oppa," the lower angle made Della's puppy eyes look even more cute. "I was just nervous."

"You know what those eyes do to me," Heeseung ran a thumb over her lip. "Should we forgive her, Sunghoon?" he sucked in a breath when she took his thumb into her mouth to suck gently.

"We'll see about that," a loud zipper sound filled the room as Sunghoon aggressively undid his pants. "Open up," and his cock was in front of Della's face in no time.

She did not need to be told twice. Her eyes instantly closed as her tongue swirled around the tip. She played around with it for a few seconds before pushing it all the way to the back of her throat.

"Fuckkk, I missed this," Sunghoon threw his head back. "So fucking good," he bit his lip harshly.

Upon the sight, Heeseung hurriedly lowered his sweatpants with one hand, but struggled to get his hard-on out from the tightness of his boxers. He eventually succeeded once Sunghoon helped by taking the beer out of his hands.

"Pay attention to hyung too," Sunghoon said and took a large gulp of the liquid. 

Della wasted no time in having Heeseung inside her mouth with her tongue swirling around the girth. She didn't care as her hair got everywhere.

"Thereee you go," Heeseung grunted, pushing the hair behind her shoulders and brushed her bangs back . "Ah fuck!" he bit his lip to try and contain his sounds.

"Ya– I meant divide your attention, not completely move on to him," Della gasped as Sunghoon pulled her hair so she could come back to him. "Back and forth, baby, you can do it."

It is definitely difficult. Della has never given head with her hands tied before, let alone with two dicks.

But if the boys know anything about their baby, they'll know that she is not a quitter; she will persist until she's absolutely certain she can't.

She bobbed her head two times on Sunghoon before switching back to Heeseung to repeat her movements, and doing the same to Sunghoon again. The perspective was so hot that Sunghoon's breath turned heavy and Heeseung's moans were audible again.

Jay and Jake, on the other hand, were getting a bit impatient because they could barely see anything. Sunghoon could almost sense it, and as he turned his head to look at his two best friends, he found Jake fiddling with his can while Jay tapped his hand in wait.

"Hyung, let's move to the bed," Sunghoon breathed out, pulling Della away from him and up from the sofa. Della whined at the loss but let herself be moved around like a doll. "Be fucking patient. You were willing to wait for a month, you can definitely handle a few seconds," Sunghoon slapped her lightly.

DellaTheMasochist only gave him an annoyed look with a bratty pout, making him slap her once more. 

"Oh you're gonna be a little brat, huh? I'll deal with you fucking later," he then carefully pushed her to Jay's arms, causing Della to smile in adoration. No matter how rough sex is with Sunghoon, he's still a huge softy.

"Well hello there," Jay caught her with one hand. "Were you being a bit bratty?" he asked while fixing her hair gently.

"No, never," Della shook her head innocently. Sunghoon grinned as he opened himself a can, sitting on the bed beside Heeseung. 

Her absolute brattiness only comes out to Sunghoon. She's an angel with Jay, putty with Jake, and a dominant with Heeseung.

"Of course not, you're our princess," Jay breathed down her neck and captured a nipple in his mouth. He blindly handed Jake his drink so he could use both hands to hug her waist. He spent a few minutes slowly enjoying her boobs, leaving hickeys all around the area. 

The three knew that Jay liked his intimacy, so they didn't interrupt.

He eventually laid her between himself and Jake, opting to just stroke her hair for now. Della was settling into a more comfortable position when Jay noticed that Jake's hands were now free from the cans he was holding. 

He gestured for the Aussie to begin, eliciting a grin from Jake before hovering above Della.

"Hi, baby," Jake whispered. His attractive face and accent left a small blush to her cheeks. "I missed you," he connected their lips together in a steamy kiss. 

The thing with Dake is that they don't always have a clear dominant in the bedroom. Most times it's Jake while others it's Della. What's crystal is that they are really passionate together. Practically straight out of an erotic movie.

"I'm still annoyed about Triple N but I miss you too much to fucking care right now," he ran his hands down from her sides, eventually tugging her shorts and panties down as far as he could. "Just wanna devour you."

He then proceeded to make his way down until he was off the bed with his face in between her legs. He completely got rid of her lower garments and took a deep breath, biting his lip before diving into her heat. One of his favourite things to do with her, and something that she desperately needed.

"Ah fuck!" Della threw her head back, pressing her thighs against his head. "Ahhh Jakey!" she whined. 

"Sensitive babyy," Jay cooed and held her face with his hand. "You almost gave this up for a month, you know?" he left small kisses all over her face.

"November's my birthday month, she ain't gonna give this up for the whole thirty," Jake pulled back slightly to comment. With his accent and slight mumbling, Jay could barely understand what he was saying. Della, however, understood perfectly.

"I told you that I would give you an exception, right?" Della's answer just connected the dots for Jay. Big mistake.

"You promised him an exception?" Jay halted his caresses to seriously ask. But Jake had resumed his mission, and Della is far too distracted to answer. "Fucking answer me– you gave him an exception?" he tightened his grip on her face.

"Y-yeah, for his birthday," Jay let out a scoff at her answer and humourlessly chuckled.

"I was gonna go easy on you and let these guys do their own thing," his voice turned rough, something he didn't think he would do tonight. "But you were gonna give Jake an exemption and that– pay attention," he slapped her lightly when she moaned to his face. 

"Sorry, oppa," Della whined, finding it difficult to concentrate when Jake's mouth was pleasuring her so well.

"It pisses me off," Jay whispered roughly. "Instead of just calling the challenge off, you were gonna make the three of us wait 'til the end," he smirked at how hard she was struggling to contain her sounds of pleasure. He let go of her roughly to sit up."Sorry man, I gotta take it from here," he pat Jake's shoulder. 

"Mmkay," Della moaned loudly when Jake gave out one last suck to her clit. "I call dibs on cleaning her off though," he smiled widely while licking his wet lips.

"Deal," Jay immediately flipped Della over onto her stomach. "Tsk tsk tsk, Lala..." he swiftly took his shorts and boxers off in one go. "Stay down," he firmly instructed as he removed her restrains.

The three boys couldn't stop the grin when they watched Jay unleash his beast. The Jay they've seen before was nowhere near as aggressive.

"Have fun, bro," Sunghoon hollered. "Have fun, princess," he toasted his beer at Della when she made eye contact.

"I'm gonna fuck you now, yeah?" Jay whispered in her ear. He noticed the goosebumps that rose on her back as he was lifting her hips and parting her legs. "Hold on tight," he warned, handing her a pillow.

He bit the bottom of his sleeveless shirt just so he could get a clearer look of his shaft rubbing against her folds. 

"Aghh," both Della and Jay groaned when his full length entered her. "Fuckk!" after ten days, he knew he had to let Della adjust a little. Yet he also knew that she didn't need long based on how wet she is and how Sunoo had prepped her.

So not long after, he pulled back and thrusted into her. Hard.

"Ngghhh!" Della squeezed her eyes shut while tightly hugging the pillow. "Oppaaa!" she moaned loudly.

"God! I fucking missed this!" Jay grumbled out. The cloth was no longer in his mouth and he had his head thrown back. "Fuck!"

He kept his hands on her hips as he pounded into her. Slow, but powerful thrusts.

"Ahhh! Oppaaaa!" Della continued to moan loudly. "Oh my God!" she realised how noisy she was being, so she began to muffle her sounds into the pillow.

"Oh no you don't," Jay grunted. Instead of taking the pillow away from her, he decided to flip her onto her back. Essentially switching to the missionary position. "Oh hi there, sweetie," he smirked at her, leaning down to place a kiss on her lips. "Hold on," he forcefully placed her hands on his shoulders before resuming his thrusts.

"Shit!" Della gasped, struggling to maintain eye contact with Jay as he continued to fuck her in the same manner. "Jay-oppaaa!" she practically screamed. Her nails starting holding on for dear life, scratching the skin of his biceps and her mouth was stuck open with nonstop moans.

The three other boys were turned on as hell.

Jake kept adjusting the bulge in his pants while Sunghoon and Heeseung had to constantly shift in their seats.

Waiting was especially hard for Heeseung as he barely got to touch Della in ten days. So he downed two cans and working on his third in no time, making him slightly tipsy and extremely impatient. 

And the sight of her mouth opening just reminded him of something.

"That's it," he crawled across to Jella's side of the bed. "Sunghoon said we were moving to the bed, so you're not done sucking me off," he sat on his knees beside Della's. "Sorry, Jongseong-ah," he breathed out and helped guide Della's mouth to his length.

"By all means, hyung," Jay pulled away and halted his movement to let Della find a comfortable position. "You better do your best. We know you can do it, baby," he whispered to Della, taking off his shirt as he waited.

"Shittt!" Heeseung moaned practically straight after Della's mouth wrapped around him. "There you go, baby– just like that," he assisted by thrusting so that all she had to do was just suck around him and pump what she can't.

"I'll start moving again," Jay began thrusting as soon as he alerted Heela. "Aghh," he grunted, furrowing his eyebrows together. The view of Della sucking someone off in front of him just made him want to fuck her even harder.

He needs to hear her moans even if they were muffled.

"Ahh! Lala!" Heeseung whined when Della kept moaning around him. "Just like that! Sooo good! Nghh!"

Since his mind was foggy from the alcohol, he didn't even bother to hold back on his moans. Even when they start to get a little too subby.

Meanwhile, Sunghoon and Jake wanted to join in so badly, but fear that they would overwhelm their baby. Though they can't just sit there and do nothing.

So they decided to devise a plan for when their turn comes.

"Have you... ever done anal?" Sunghoon awkwardly asked Jake after covering his dick with a pillow. "Like do it from the butt?"

"Me or Della?" Jake's question made the ice prince slap his arm.

"Della, of course," Sunghoon scolded.

"Ack! No– I just gotta make sure I understood what you meant," Jake explained. "No, we haven't."

"I have and I brought condoms and lube," Sunghoon pointed at his luggage. "So here's the thing... Della has been quite curious to try like.. two people.. like.." Sunghoon tried to find the words to explain it in a way that Jake would understand, knowing that the guy mostly knows English sexual terms.

"Like at the same time? Double?" Jake asked while bringing his hands up for gesture.

"Uh, double," Sunghoon nodded, instantly feeling awkward again. "Do you... wanna try it with me? It's her first time and maybe you can do the... back because you've never tried it before."

Jake was quick to make up his mind, all thanks to the two beers he had downed.

"Let's do it," he raised his hand to dap Sunghoon up. "Jellahoon, am I right?"

"Of course," Sunghoon grinned.

"Fuck! I can't cum already!" Heeseung grit his teeth and slowed down his hips. "Lalaaa," he whined.

It was then when Della finally pulled away from the blowjob. She looked into his eyes whilst her hand kept pumping his shaft.

"Heeseung, babyy. What did I tell you about holding back?" she forced herself to restrain her moans just so she could remind him who's in charge.

Fortunately, Jay, who was finding the exchange amusing (also wanting Della all to himself during his orgasm), had slowed down his thrusts to help her focus.

"To never do that because only bad boys hold back," Heeseung's rational thoughts went straight out the window. He was fully going to show his dongsaengs that Lee Heeseung is a sub. A major one. "But I'm not even inside you yet!"

"Come here, baby," Della got up from her position. "I'll be back," she placed a quick kiss on Jay's lips. 

"Go ahead," Jay was so intrigued at his hyung and girlfriend's new side that he didn't care about his delayed orgasm— as long as he gets it straight after Heeseung reaches his.

"Poor babyy," Della cooed at Heeseung, brushing his hair back. "Why don't you sit comfortably and let Lala do the work?"

The 02z watched in amazement as they discover how their hyung is actually like in bed. They watched him obey Della's instructions like clockwork, as if he's done this a million times.

He rested his back against the pillows with his legs ajar. His large bambi eyes were stuck on Della the whole time, looking absolutely lovestruck.

"Take off your shirt," Della pointed lazily, getting on top of his lap. "You're a good boy, right?" she connected their foreheads together and aligned him to her entrance. 

All Heeseung could do was nod enthusiastically.

"Then don't hold back," Della whispered before sliding down on his length. 

"Ahh!" both Heeseung and Della let out high-pitched moans. As Della bounced up and down, Heeseung's hands automatically went to wrap around her waist.

"Sh-shit!" Heeseung hugged her tighter while squeezing his eyes shut. Because he was already close earlier, it took no time for him to reach that point again. "Lalaaa!"

"Feel so good, Heeseung– ahhh!" when it comes to Heeseung, Della (most of the time) tries to compose herself. She's taking care of him after all.

"Shit– is that what it looks like when Della rides you?" Sunghoon asked under his breath. "That's fucking hot."

His hand then tried to secretly stimulate himself, making sure that neither Jake or Jay could notice. Jay, on the other hand, was openly pumping himself, not caring that his best friends could be looking.

"Damn, you're pretty big, bro," Jake suddenly blurted out at Jay. "Nice one."

"Thanks, I guess," Jay chuckled and kept moving his hand, not feeling awkward in the slightest.

"Why were you looking at his dick?" Sunghoon snickered, but that brought Jake's attention to him and that's when the latter noticed his sneaky hand.

"Why are you secretly jacking off? Just do it like Jay, no balls!" Jake slapped his calf. "We're literally in the middle of a fivesun—"

"Fivesome," Jay corrected him.

"Fivesome!"

"Ew, no! I feel so exposed! Like I'll be jerking off in front of you!" Sunghoon completely removed his hand from his dick. "And it's easy for you to say! You're still fully clothed!"

"It's not like we've never seen you naked bef–"

"02z, if you're not gonna suck each other off then shut the fuck up," Della interrupted their bickering while making eye contact. "Your hyung's trying to cum in peace."

"Yes ma'am," "Sorry," "Sorry," they all apologised quietly, hoping that no one notices their erection hardening even more. They hate admitting their thirst for Della's dominance. 

Or to be accurate; They love her dominance, yet hate admitting their desire to be like Heeseung.

But it's not like the 02z have never been docile to DommeDella. 

"Sunghoon, don't be fucking weird or I'll repeat last month's occurrences," Della's threat immediately made Sunghoon's skin erupt in goosebumps. He just hopes that she won't elaborate and reveal to his friends what exactly happened.

Thankfully, she didn't.

"Are you okay, baby?" Della went back and cooed to Heeseung, keeping her pace steady as she cradled his head.

"I'm gonna cuuuum," he sobbed. "Fuck! Lalaaa!"

"There you go. Don't hold back, Heeseung baby," Della mustered up all the energy she had to quicken her pace.

"Ahhhh! Lalaaa!" Heeseung used his tight hold to assist her bounces before ultimately letting out a loud gasp as he released spurts and spurts of warm cum. "Oh my God, babyy," he sighed and relaxed his shoulders.

"Good boyy," Della halted her thrusts, caressing his hair lovingly. "Filling me up soo good," she placed tiny kisses on his head. "I love you, baby."

"I love you too, Lala," Heeseung breathed out. "Thank you," he pulled himself away to connect their lips.

They were stuck in a slow make-out session for a while before Jay grew impatient and pulled Della away from the older. 

"You didn't forget about me, did you?" Jay grumbled in her ear. "I gave you time to fuck hyung but now you forgot about us?" he lifted her up like she weighed nothing and placed her front facing down.

"You're being rude, Jay. Your hyung needed to—" Della cut herself off with a gasp when Jay landed a firm spank on her ass.

"You're not in control no more," he said in a low voice, lifting her waist up slightly. "Where are your manners?"

"I'm sorry, oppa," Della whimpered when he spread her pussy lips. She could feel Heeseung's cum slowly pouring out of her. As always, he came a lot.

"Shitt– hyung," Jay called for Heeseung to see. The latter had pretty much sobered up from earlier and is back to his usual self.

And at least for now, he still had not realised what he had done in front of his dongsaengs. 

"Keep it in, baby," Heeseung took two of his fingers and pushed the cum back inside her, causing Della to gasp. "Add onto it, Jongseong," he patted Jay's bare shoulder with his clean hand before heading towards the bathroom.

"My pleasure," Jay whispered. He wrapped his arms around Della's body and instantly pushed himself inside her once again. "Fuckkk, Della."

"Yess! Oppaa!" Della squeezed her eyes shut, letting out babbles of words that barely made any sense. She could feel Heeseung's cum slowly absorbing inside her as Jay fucked it deeper. The sounds of the moisture only turning on everyone in the room more.

"Fuck! You're gonna cum soon, aren't ya?" Jay's hard-but-slow pace tried to quicken when he felt Della tightening around him. "Just a little more, baby– Oppa's almost there, wait for me," he left kisses on the side of her face as he tried to concentrate on cumming together with his girl.

Fortunately for him, Della knows exactly what to do in this situation.

"Fill me up good, oppa. Make me feel so full," Jay had never verbally admitted it to her, but she knows that he has a breeding kink. "Stuff me full of—"

"FUUUUCK, I'm cumming!" Jay's left hand frantically went to search for Della's. "C'mere baby," while his right hand went to bring her face to his. 

They connected their lips together, essentially muffling their moans (and screams). Della used her free hand to hold onto his head, making the scene look even more sweet.

"I love you, Della," Jay mumbled against her lips.

"I love you, Jay," Della whined at the feeling of her own orgasm mixed with Jay's (and Heeseung's). "So, so much."

"So, so much," Jay left a final kiss on her forehead before getting off of her back. His eyes immediately went to her cum-filled entrance. "Good girl, keep it in," he grunted, his eyebrows furrowing at the sight of barely any cum leaking out. 

He chuckled when Della wiggled her ass for fun. "How cute," he slapped her ass and stood up. "Agh fuck, you really milked me dry."

"Come on, it hasn't been THAT long, guys," Della rolled her eyes. "We didn't even last the whole month."

Just as she finished talking, a harsher slap was placed on her ass.

"You fuck four men on a daily basis– you still think you could've handled it?" Sunghoon asked, flipping Della onto her back. "Do I also need to remind that you were the one who gave in first? YOU?" he grabbed onto her leg to pull her closer to the edge of the bed and closer to him. "Don't make me teach you a lesson."

"Go easy on her, Sunghoon-ah. She's about to receive a handful with you and Jaeyun," Heeseung reminded. He grabbed Jay's and his cans of beer before joining Jay on the bed. The two were now dressed in their boxers.

"Yeah, just shut up and let's do our shit," Jake impatiently took off his pants but kept his shirt on, only removing his zip-up. "You've done anal, baby?" Della nodded her head in enthusiasm. "Yeah? And you like it?"

"Mhmm! Are we doing what I think we're doing?" Jake chuckled at her excitement. 

"You're adorable. Isn't it gonna hurt, baby?" the tips of Jake's fingers began grazing Della's thigh.

"I wanna be closer to my men," Della gave out a seductive look to both Jake and Sunghoon, making sure to use Korean so Sunghoon would understand.

"How cute," Sunghoon mumbled. "Don't forget your safe words," he ran a hand through Della's hair before laying down on the bed, legs still seated on the edge.

"Is she getting on top of you or me?" Jake asked his partner. "Isn't it more comfortable with you on top?"

"I mean... It's easier for me to thrust but it's more comfortable for her to hug me, no?" Sunghoon explained. "Won't it be unstable if she lays on her back?"

"No– Della should be on her stomach, on her back is difficult, I think," Heeseung pointed at the three.

"Are you doing double?" Jay's eyes widened when he realised what they were discussing. 

"Uh," Jakehoon replied briefly.

"Then Della should be on her stomach and the one who does the back thrusts from behi– on top," Jay gave his take.

"No– the reason why I say she should be on her back is because she needs to be distracted from the pain and Sunghoon would be able to thrust and properly do that," Jake tried to explain his take. "Otherwise his movements are limite—"

Their discussion was cut off by a loud groan from Della, followed by the girl hovering over Sunghoon chest-to-chest.

"Stop taking so fucking long and just fuck me," she wasted no more time and slipped Sunghoon's cock into her entrance.

"Oh my God!" "Oh fuck!" the two hissed at the sudden feeling. 

"Fucking finally!" Sunghoon threw his head back. "Come here, kitten," he repositioned Della a little so he could move more comfortably. 

Thanks to his long legs, all he needed to do so was to hold her in place.

"So fucking tight," he said with gritted teeth. He was never one to make a lot of noises in bed, but with his buddies around, he's determined to look cool. He was gonna try to contain his facial expressions, which is something he never holds back on.

Yet his plan went straight out the window when Della adorably cuddled into his chest. 

"Oppaaa," she whined.

"Aww, kitten– my princess," he cooed, bringing one of his hands to hug her close. "Does that feel good, kitten?"

Della could only mew louder and nuzzle her head more, making all four boys coo at the sight.

"This seems enough for you, baby. Do you really need more?" Jake went up to her face to tease while his lubed finger equally teased her back entrance.

Della looked into his eyes and said the one name that the two have kept a secret for a long time. 

"Please, daddy?" 

Jake halted for a second, taken aback at the sudden change of mind. He was not one to be shy about his kink, but Della was a bit apprehensive that the members just won't understand.

But weirdly enough, none of the boys reacted, as if they already knew of the fact.

"Sunghoon, stop moving for a second," Jake went back to his position and squeezed more lube onto Della's hole. "Stay relaxed, darling," he warned Della before pushing a finger in.

"Mmm," she closed her eyes and pursed her lips.

"I'm right here, princess," Sunghoon whispered in her ear. "Relax some more," and immediately continued his movements.

"There ya go, good girl," Jake muttered, slowly twisting and pumping his finger. When Della was almost fully relaxed and resumed her previous moaning, Jake gradually added another finger in and followed by another once she adjusted to that as well. "Such a good girl."

"Ahh! I'm gonna cum!" Della announced, pushing her upper body up to catch a glimpse of what Jake's doing. "Fuck!" her eyes rolled back as she turned back to Sunghoon. "Oh my Goodness!" her moans only got louder when she looked at Sunghoon's facial expressions.

As always, his eyebrows were furrowed the whole time while he switched between biting/licking his lips, having his mouth open or gritting his teeth. He had completely forgotten about his initial plan of restraining himself.  

"Go cum, darling," he choked out, giving his last few hard thrusts after Della threw her head back and cried out. 

He almost let out a sigh of relief. If Della waited just a few seconds longer, he too would've been calling to cum and he did not want that just yet.

"Relax a bit, kitten," neither Sunghoon nor Jake pulled out, but they wanted to give Della time to catch her breath.

"What a good girl," Jay noticed Jake ripping open the condom wrapper and immediately sprung to action. "Taking four men so well," he continued to drop praises while caressing her hair.

"If it gets too much, please let us know and Jake can jerk off for the night or something," Heeseung also joined in with a joke.

"Hyung!" Jake whined. He somehow successfully got the condom on with just one hand, and is now lathering his length with the lube.

"Byee daddy" Jay added fuel to the fire by grinning and waving at him. 

"Shut the fuck up, Jay, I complimented you earlier," Jake sent a glare at his friend.

"The tension is insane. Now kiss," Della lifted her head to comment.

No matter how many times she has teased them, they have never expressed or voiced their discomfort, which she knows they aren't afraid to do. In Della's mind, this would imply that the possibility of it happening is not zero.

"Aish Lalaa!" "Eyy!" "Babe!" "Aghh" the four boys complained, with Jake adding an additional smack to her ass.

"You think his dick is big, right? You have my permission and sucking ONE dick does not make you ga—" 

"Okay, that's enough," Sunghoon spoke up and gave her one hard thrust. "Jake and I still need to cum, princess. Stop the yapping."

"I'm sorry, oppa," Della whimpered, bringing her head down to rest on Sunghoon's chest again.

"I'm only letting you off since you've been so good to us, understand? Don't test my patience," he said in a low voice, his hips starting to move in a steady pace once again.

"Understood," Della let out a high-pitched moan at the stimulus but was cut off with her own gasp as Jake pulled his fingers out.

"I'm putting it in," Jake breathed out. He squeezed some more lube on Della's rim before slowly entering. "FUCK!"

"Mmh!" Della had her eyes squeezed shut, trying to adjust to his size (especially with Sunghoon in her other hole).

"Our strong baby," "Such a good girl," Jay and Heeseung showered her in praises, using their hands to caress her arm and back while Sunghoon does so with her hair.

"Fuck– so fucking tight," Jake threw his head back when he was fully inside her. "Hang in there, baby, good job," he smoothed his hand over her ass.

"Yellow?" Heeseung asked about the safe word, just in case.

"Green," she quickly answered. "Can you move slowly, oppa?" her head shifted to make eye contact with Sunghoon.

"Of course, darling," he placed a kiss on her hair before slowly pumping her. "Shit, kitten," he squeezed his eyes shut and threw his head back.

Because of Jake, she felt tighter than usual but was still wet as ever. He knew he couldn't last long, especially after nearly cumming earlier.

"Jaeyun, please move," Della breathed out, starting to feel pleasure again.

Both Jake and Della let out a loud gasp at the sensation. The pace began to quicken in no time, making the scene look like it came straight out of an incognito site. 

"Oh my– fuuuuuuck!" Della moaned loudly, feeling fuller than she's ever felt. "Oppaaa! Daddyyyy!" little tears began pooling in the corner of her eyes. "Aaaaaaahhh!"

"So good, baby. Taking both of us so well," Jake leaned forward to mumble in her ear. "Shittt, so tight baby," his face held a large smile and left temporary hickies around her neck and shoulders. "My good girl."

There's no doubt that the back end is tighter, but Jake's favourite was really the sight of having two of her holes stuffed, and the fact that him and Sunghoon were the first ones to do that.

The three were so into each other that they didn't notice Heeseung getting up to retrieve Sunghoon's old, red iPhone. He knew that they would want the scene to be recorded— for their eyes only, of course.

"I'm recording," Heeseung announced before pressing record. They all turned to Heeseung for a second and resumed like nothing happened.

"Come here, kitten," Sunghoon grunted, pulling Della's face in for a kiss. She moaned into his mouth when she felt her two best friends quicken their pace. 

She noticed Jake tugging at her hair, so she broke the kiss off to then connect her lips with his, bringing a hand back to hold his head in place.

Jay, who did not want to just lay there beside them, started playing with Della's tits while palming himself. He personally doesn't need more, but he did not want the video to appear awkward. 

"You guys really look so fucking hot," Heeseung commented. He turned off the recording and went back to his original spot. "I wanna kiss, baby," his head got closer so Della could easily kiss him.

"FUCK! I'm cumming!" Della pulled away to scream out. Her eyes were closed shut and her open mouth spewed out loud whines after whine.

"Yesss, kitten," "Me too, baby, me too," Sunghoon threw his head back while Jake buried his face in her neck. It did not take the three long at all to reach their orgasm.

"Jay-oppaa," Della managed to let out, weakly stretching an arm out so he could come closer. "I haven't kissed you."

Jay felt his heart swell in adoration and he swiftly did as told without hesitation.

"Fuckk! Aaaahhh!" Della pulled away but kept their foreheads together and squeezed Heeseung's hand.

They looked absolutely ridiculous being in one big huddle (and it was certainly not the most comfortable), yet that was the moment when the five of them were just connected. It's what they needed and exactly what they hoped for tonight.

"I'm cumming, baby," Jake's voice was shaky, and his thrusts started faltering first. "Shit! Good girl, baby. Good girl, good girl!"

"Shit! Shit!" both Jake and Della came around the same time. The former usually takes his time to ride out his high but he almost instantly pulled out so Sunghoon could finish properly.

Sunghoon looked at him in thanks, immediately adjusting his position and hurriedly chased his orgasm. Della started shaking and screaming with overstimulation, letting go of Heejay to hold on tightly to Sunghoon.

"Shit! Ahh baby, almost ther– NOW KITTEN. NOW, now, now!" Sunghoon babbled a bit as his orgasm overtook his body. "Shit," he sighed and relaxed his body, still holding onto Della tightly. "You're amazing, princess. I love you," he chuckled breathily.

"I love you, my prince," Della breathed out with a smile.

The two shared a sweet kiss before Sunghoon pulled away and shifted Della over to Jake, who was now lying beside him.

"What a good girl.You're an absolute champ and you're incredible," Jake couldn't help but chuckle. "We're so fucking lucky, baby. I love you so much," he then connected their lips in a passionate kiss.

"I'M so lucky to have you guys and I just love you sooo much," once they pulled away, Della's head instantly went to rest on Jake's chest. "Let's clean up before we get too tired."

"Oh no you don't," Jake shifted their position so Della would lay on her back. He got on top of her with a mischievous grin on his face. 

"I called dibs on cleaning you off, remember?"

Eventually everyone washed up and got ready for bed. They decided to all sleep together on the makeshift king-sized bed with Della in the centre. They were cuddled closely, but it didn't really matter anymore to them.

"Guys, we're actually really cute," Heeseung giggled. "I fucking love this relationship."

"Just a bunch of bros with our girl" Jake sighed. He held Della tighter to his chest and shut his eyes, ready to sleep.

"For a second there, I thought you were gonna call me a hoe," Della giggled, looking up at him. 

"I'm never gonna call you a hoe, babe! I'm not Sunghoon!" Jake's reply made Sunghoon smack his shoulder.

"I will never call her that!" Sunghoon looked at him with betrayal. "I don't even know what that means but I know it's bad!"

"You call her names in bed, we all know it!" Jake protested back.

"Ya– rarely ever, right princess? Only on certain times and we both have no issues with it," Della nodded at Sunghoon's defence. "See?! Don't kinkshame me, daddy."

"YAA!" Jake shaking Sunghoon's leg off of his own. 

"Today's session just revealed everyone's kinks," Jay laughed. "Sunghoon likes to call Della 'kitten', Jake likes to be called 'daddy', Della apparently likes anal," he stopped himself for saying Heeseung's out of respect.

"Pffftt, okay mister kinky. Didn't know you could go hard like that," Sunghoon grinned. "I thought you just liked vanilla but you were slapping Lala and everything."

"Why do you like to get slapped?" Jay ignored Sunghoon and asked the girl he was semi-holding.

"I don't know! Sometimes I just like things!" Della shrugged defensively. "I like a whole bunch of things!"

"Yeah and your boyfriends all like different things too," Sunghoon chuckled. "You're absolutely perfect for us."

"Awww," Della grinned but got shy and hid her face in Jake's chest. "I'm sorry for making you all join No Nut November. This was really dumb and I'm also really sorry for losing to someone who didn't even join."

"Don't worry about that, darling. It's all forgiven and practically forgo—" Jay's words were cut off by the boom of Heeseung's voice beside him.

"WAIT!" Heeseung shot up straight in realisation. Della and Jake both jumped in surprise while Sunghoon and Jay flinched. Heeseung looked back at them with horror in his eyes.

There was a reason why he was quiet the whole time. It's because it just hit him how;

"YOU GUYS FUCKING SAW ME IN MY WEAK STATE!"

i gotta be honest, i hate to be that person but i was feeling really insecure about my writing tbh. like the first draft was not hot AT ALL and i wanted this long awaited/overdue smut to make you guys all hot and bothered y'know? i think it's much better now and i'm feeling both proud and insecure but i hope you enjoyed it and happy anniversary! taglist: @duolingofanaccount @lalalalawon @clar-iii @deafeningballoonpeach

[charmandabear]

Office Hours - Chapter Ten

Summary:

It's bowling time! You and the gang get a little closer over this highly unsexy game. Definitely no sexy things will happen in this chapter. No, don't look at the tags. Stop, what are you doing.

Pairing: Astarion/f!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4.3k

Tags/Warnings: thigh riding, dry humping, rough kisses, fantasies of bondage, cumming in pants, vampire bites/blood drinking, conversations about academic research, semi-public semi-sex

So I didn't actually mean to wait a week and a half between posting chapter 10 on AO3 and posting it here, but as a result, I can tell you that the un-beta'd chapter 11 is now up on my Kofi! You can read it for free, or you can wait until it's fully edited on AO3. Up to you, guy.

As always, @zipzoomzaria is responsible for the devastatingly handsome professor in the banner.

Read on AO3 ~ Masterlist

Admittedly, you kind of delight in the look on Astarion’s face as you cross the threshold into the bowling alley. His nose wrinkles while his eyes dart around the space, cataloging everything from the stained black and neon rainbow carpet, to the bored employee sitting in front of rows and rows of dirty rental shoes, to the group of noisy teengers eating nachos covered with a thick liquid cheese.

He lets out a low growl and you giggle, almost giddy at the evening ahead of you. There is absolutely no chance in hell you’ll be able to do anything even remotely sexual in this environment. You grab his hand and drag him over to the shoe rental.

“Hi, can I get a 7 ½?” you ask the employee, and they languidly pull their chin off their hand and turn around to grab the shoes.  Astarion hovers behind you, still uncomfortably taking everything in. You take the shoes from the employee and drop them in front of you, stepping out of your flats and into the bowling shoes.

“Ugh, gods, I don't know why you insist on taking part in this,” he says with a sneer, well within earshot of the employee, whose eyes have already started to glaze back over. “It’s not enough to put your fingers into a grease-coated ball, you choose to play dress up with a hundred other people’s feet?”

“I mean I wouldn’t choose to, I just have to if I want to actually do the bowling part of it,” you tell him as you wiggle your ankle to get the shoe to settle.

“Sorry, what?”

You had been waiting for this moment and you try to hide your glee as you say, “Yeah, you have to rent special shoes so you don’t fuck up the floor.”

His face remains frozen for a moment in a look of utter disgust as he processes what you said. “So you’re telling me,” he drawls, waving his finger like a disgruntled valley girl, “that in order to play this asinine game that you’re making me play, I must pay money to let my feet bask in the foot sweat residue of several hundred strangers?”

“You also have to leave your shoes with them while they’re rented,” you add, handing your flats over to the employee, who slips them in the cubby whence they retrieved your rental shoes. Astarion splutters incoherently.

“That’s it, you’ve lost me, this was a very cute idea but I am absolut–” You grab his hand as he starts storming away and pull him back towards the rental counter.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun, I promise!” You grasp his hand in both of yours, an exaggerated gesture of a pleading child. “Just do it for me, please?”

He scowls at your beaming face for a moment before rolling his eyes and approaching the counter again.

“I’ll take a 9 ½,” he grumbles through gritted teeth. The employee continues to display an almost impressive amount of apathy as they grab the requested size. Astarion makes a show of his disgust as he takes off his patent leather oxfords and puts on the grubby shoes that were presumably red and blue at one point. 

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” he mutters out of the side of his mouth and your grin widens.

“You absolutely will not,” you tease. He stands suddenly, closer than you had realized, and looms over you.

“Would you like to test that theory?” he hums in a low voice, and your breath catches in your throat. He turns away from your reddening face with a smug sense of satisfaction as he hands his shoes to the employee. He starts to walk away when their voice interrupts him.

“Sir, you need to pay for those,” they call out halfheartedly. He turns around to you, just staring back innocently.

“Oh, I’m paying,” he confirms blankly, and you shrug.

“You’re the one with tenure, you make more than me,” you state matter-of-factly. He scowls again but doesn’t protest, and instead just taps his phone on the pin pad.

You scan the lanes to see if you can spot any of your friends. Gale sees you and waves you over to where he and Wyll are sitting together stiffly. Shadowheart and Karlach aren’t here yet. 

“Hello, there,” he calls, grateful to see faces he recognizes. A paper boat of fries sits on the table between them, along with two plastic cups of water.

“Any word from Karlach?” you ask Wyll, leaning over the hard plastic bench to grab a fry.

“She apologized, she said they’d be here soon,” he replies, glancing at the text from her.

“Took them longer to get ready than they expected,” you say with a grin, and Wyll clears his throat, cheeks darkening slightly.

“Oh Tav, have you caught up with If Books?” Gale asks you, taking off his glasses to clean them with his knit sweater vest.

“Yes, I couldn’t stop listening to it,” you reply enthusiastically, “some episodes have been very illuminating.” You cast a quick glance at Astarion and he petulantly shoves his hands into his pockets and shuffles his feet. “But it’s so hard waiting for each new one,” you add, and Gale nods.

“Yes, and they’ve switched from a bimonthly schedule to a monthly schedule, so the wait is even longer,” he agrees.

“What’s up, fuckers?” Karlach’s voice booms across the lanes and Astarion mutters, “Oh thank the gods,” under his breath. Shadowheart and Karlach saunter over, Karlach double fisting pitchers of a pale amber beer. She puts them down onto the table, only one of them sloshing beer over the edge. Shadowheart narrows her eyes at Astarion, sizing him up.

“Shade, this is Astarion, Astarion, this is my best friend Shadowheart,” you awkwardly introduce them to try to cut the tension as early as possible.

“Yes, I’m aware,” Shadowheart says with disdain, looking down her nose at Astarion. “I’ve heard plenty about you.”

“Only the best, I’m sure,” he lobs back. “Funny, I don’t think she’s mentioned you.” You shoot Astarion a dirty look as Shadowheart’s eyebrows disappear into her bangs. You can tell that she’s unaccustomed to sparring with someone who has as much snark as her, but the verdict is still out on whether or not it’s a good thing.

Oblivious to the heated standoff behind her, Karlach types away at the console, putting in slightly wrong initials for everyone and giggling maniacally as she does. In order, the names say ASS, TAV, CAR, SAD, GIL, and WIL.

“Soldier over here’s lucky, her name is already three letters,” she laughs and winks at you. Astarion fiddles with the roll of his sleeve and looks at the ball return with apprehension.

“I suppose my ‘ass’ is first?” He hits Karlach with the look over the glasses and she throws her head back, cackling like a hyena. 

“Good on ya, Cardigan, there’s a sense of humor under that mop after all.” She kicks the toe of her red and white shoe at him from where she’s sitting, but he dodges out of the way. He walks up to the ball return and shudders before he decides on one, visibly gagging as he picks it up.

“Okay you drama queen, we get it, it’s gross,” you laugh at him, “now just knock as many pins down as you can, okay?”

“That much would seem obvious,” he smirks, and walks up to the edge of the lane. He glances back at you one last time, almost as if he’s assessing if you’re really worth the humiliation, before throwing the ball down the lane. It glides towards the pins in a smooth straight line before crashing into their pyramid, knocking over all but one. He stares at the lone pin in shock as you and Karlach whoop at him.

“Hey, you might actually be good at this game after all!” you shout as he walks back to the bench, looking just a little more pleased with himself. He’s about to sit down when you stop him, saying, “No, you get two frames.” He looks back down at the end of the lane just in time to see the mechanical arm sweep away the fallen pins and leave the remaining one standing. He makes a dramatic show of sighing heavily and picks up the ball again. He approaches the lane, calculates the pathing, and throws the ball. It knocks down the last pin.

“Okay Ancunín, comin’ in hot with the spare!” Karlach laughs and he puffs his chest slightly at the compliment. “I think you might need a better nickname than Cardigan.”

“Gods please, I’ll take anything,” he begs, and you stand up to grab a ball.

“Perhaps Dr. Bowling?” Wyll pipes up, and Gale adds, “A doctorate in Bowling Studies with a concentration in spares and strikes?” Astarion’s scowl is icy, but even you can tell he’s having fun.

“I’ve spoken too quickly,” he says, gritting his teeth.

You find that the six of you get along quite well. The conversation is easy and light as you cycle through your turns, laughs flowing between you as freely as the terrible watery beer.  

You take a gulp from your plastic cup, your legs draped over Astarion’s lap as Gale takes his turn. Astarion scoffs at the smell.

“Nine hells, how can you possibly drink that piss?” He turns his face away from the yellowish liquid. 

“I don’t know, I have low standards for myself?” you answer with a shrug. 

Shadowheart lets out a high pitch giggle. “Clearly, considering you’re dating him,” she snickers, and Astarion fixes her with a playfully snide look.

“Big talk coming from someone who needs aloe vera after a romantic evening,” he retorts with pursed lips. Shadowheart tries to suppress a smile – talking shit is her love language.

“At least she and I agree to it prior,” she says coolly, and Astarion goes even paler than usual. He shoots you a nervous glance, a sort of are we allowed to joke about that? But you laugh and take another sip of your beer, surreptitiously rubbing the back of his hand resting on your knee in assurance.

You’re enjoying watching Shadowheart and Karlach navigate the awkward early stages of the relationship. Shadowheart has her hands clasped around her knee, bent in front of her as her foot rests on the plastic bench. Karlach’s arm is draped across the back of the bench, leaving enough plausible deniability as to whether or not her arm is actually around Shadowheart. You suspect by the end of the evening, it’ll be less ambiguous.

“So tell me, Gale,” Wyll asks as Gale waits by the ball return. “I’ve never met a wizard with a PhD, what was your research in?”

“I’m so glad you asked, because I think you in particular would find use of it,” he responds enthusiastically. “It was in ethical uses of high powered spells. There’s a stigma around mortals chasing too much power, but I feel very strongly that some spells simply have no downside.”

Astarion quirks an eyebrow, his hand absentmindedly playing with the ends of your hair.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for someone who’s power hungry, Dekarios,” he says with a smirk, and Gale emphatically shakes his head.

“No, the power isn’t for me, it’s for– well, hold on.” He quickly grabs his ball from the return and throws it down the lane. It hits the gutter within seconds.

“Too bad!” Karlach calls, her arm slipping ever so slightly around Shadowheart’s shoulders a bit more.

“It’s fine. Anyway.” Gale is quick to return to the benches, excited to talk about his research. “I strongly feel that Globe of Invulnerability, Heal, and Heroes’ Feast simply have no downside. We should implement systems in which they can be used for the greater good.” 

“Fascinating. Do doctors not already use Heal in hospitals?” Wyll muses, then turns to Shadowheart as he stands to take his turn. “Shadowheart, you’re a cleric of Selûne, you must use Heal all the time.”

Shadowheart shakes her head. “We’re not permitted to use anything more powerful than Mass Cure Wounds, and even then it’s only in the most dire situations, like war zones. I don’t even know how to perform it.”

“See, this is precisely what I’m saying! Imagine all the good that we could do if there were more medical professionals who knew Mass Cure Wounds and Heal.” Gale gesticulates wildly with his almost empty cup of beer. 

“Heroes’ Feast could end world hunger in a matter of minutes!” Wyll nearly shouts from the lane right before he bowls his second frame, almost as excited as Gale.

“Yes!” Gale returns the excitement and then downs the last sip of his beer. “In fact, I think many of these high level spells are outlawed in some countries without even considering how they might impact our society.”

“Hey Ass, you’re up,” Wyll calls, heading back to the bench. 

“Darling, could you move your legs?” he asks you, his tone saccharine. You make a show of deliberating, holding your finger to your chin.

“Hmmm, I’m not sure. Wyll, who’s winning right now?” you call out to him and he speaks through the fry in his mouth.

“Ashtarion,” he mumbles.

“Yeah, I don’t think I will move,” you smirk obstinately, pushing your calves down into his lap. He raises his eyebrows at your challenge, peering at you over his glasses. He grabs your ankles and sharply turns you in your seat, his rough handling sending a subtle jolt through your core.

“Don’t pick a fight you can’t win, love,” he hums, his lips barely brushing against yours. He stands and turns towards the lane, leaving you slightly breathless. Karlach and Shadowheart titter at your dazed expression, the distance between them having all but disappeared.

Astarion gets yet another strike, and you briefly wonder how this English academic got so dexterous before remembering the feel of his long smooth fingers working inside you. You blink several times to banish the needlessly dirty thought as he turns around with an insufferably pompous look on his face, his newly discovered talent feeding his already overinflated ego. You try to play it cool as you stand and walk toward the ball return, but he blocks your body with his. You look up at him and he runs his knuckle up the front of your throat, stopping it right under your chin.

“Don’t choke,” he purrs and you press your lips together tightly to prevent an embarrassing noise from escaping. You shake your hair over your ears to cover how red they’ve become, but you’re certain your cheeks still give you away. You grab a ball and throw it down the lane, hardly aware of how many pins it knocks down. You stare into the ball return with glazed eyes as you watch your pink ball slide out of its mouth. You grab it, barely registering the shouts of encouragement from the others, and throw it down the lane as quickly as you can. You turn around before seeing the outcome of the frame, your mind occupied by one solitary thought.

“Excuse me, I’m going to run to the restroom,” you mumble, wrapping around behind the plastic benches as Karlach stands to take her turn. As discreetly as possible, you run your fingers across Astarion’s shoulders as you pass behind him. If you’re lucky, he’ll get the hint. If not… well, you need to take a breather anyway.

You duck into the hallway branching off the main lanes and settle yourself behind an ancient payphone. You have no idea if it’s meant to be kitschy and retro or simply a relic of a bygone era. You take a deep breath as you try to clear your head.

It didn't take long for Astarion to swing around the corner, grabbing your face in his hands and pushing you up against the wood-paneled wall. His lips are hard on yours and his fingers tangle in your hair – a roughness you’re all too happy to accept. You grasp at his lower waist, pulling his body further into yours. Your lips pop open as a small moan escapes when his knee slides up between your legs, pressing against your already aching mound.

“I thought this was meant to dampen our appetites,” he murmurs through breathless kisses. You clutch the back of his head as you grind down wantonly on his thigh.

“It’s not my fault you get fucking hot when you’re competitive, ah–” you swallow the moan as he slides his chilled hands up the back of your shirt, pressing into the dip just above your ass.

“I take it you like seeing me win?” You can feel his lips smiling against your earlobe, and you let out a small squeak when he gives it a gentle nip.

“I like seeing you cocky,” you groan, desperately chasing the friction that his thigh provides. He chuckles and pushes his leg up further into you, causing you to grunt through your teeth and pull on his hair as you try to keep the obscene noises that he’s tearing from you under control.

“Tell me how else you like me,” he rasps, and you can feel his erection pressing against your thigh. 

“I like it when you’re domineering,” your voice cracks as you continue to roll your hips against him. “I like when you tell me what to do. I like it when you’re just a little mean but even more when you tell me I’m a good girl.”

His hips buck against you and you shift on top of his leg, trying to relieve your own throbbing cunt while rubbing your leg against the bulge in his pants. His lips are still on your ear and he lets out a hissing breath when you lightly brush against his cock.

“You are my good girl, don’t stop.” His breath is cool against your skin and he runs the tip of his tongue along the shell of your ear, pulling a deep shudder from you. You can already feel how wet he’s made you, and if he keeps this up you might just come undone.

“I want you to put your hand around my throat when you fuck me,” you whine, your slick folds sliding against each other as he grinds his thigh into you. “I want you to put me in a collar and hold the leash tight and tell me I’m yours.” The fantasy is pouring out of you at this point. You’re hardly aware of your surroundings, all that matters is you and Astarion.

You can tell your words are affecting him, too. The rutting of his hips grow frantic and you tighten your hand in his hair and you can feel that familiar spiraling heat blooming out from your core.

“Gods, Astarion, I’m–” you mewl, fully riding his leg at this point. “Please bite me, I want you to bite me, I’m begging–” The moment his fangs sink into your flesh you come, your hand pressed tight over your mouth to muffle the sound, your hips stuttering with each rippling wave of pleasure. As he takes long dragging sips of your blood he makes barely audible whimpers into your neck, his hips still thrusting into your thigh. You bring your hands to his ear, gently pinching his velvety lobe between your fingers.

“Fuck, come for me Astarion,” you whisper into his hair, and it’s enough. He inhales sharply through his nose, teeth still latched onto your neck, and the rest of him stills, save a few subtle jerks of his hips as he spills inside his pants. You let out a breathy chuckle as you card your fingers through his hair affectionately. He pulls away from your neck and you’re blessed with one of your favorite sights – his lips slightly bloody, his eyes wild and frenzied, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. You kiss him, lapping up the metallic droplets from his lips, and he lets out a shuddering breath.

“I do so love it when you do that, you know,” he sighs, and you stifle a giggle.

“Make you come in your pants?” you tease.

“No– well, yes, I mean– I mean no!” he stammers, uncharacteristically flustered, and you hum with approval. “No, when you kiss me just after I’ve fed on you. It makes me feel… closer to you, I suppose.”

“Plus I bet it’s, like, really sexy,” you joke, skating over his sincerity, afraid of what you might accidentally say in response. You’re so not ready to write a check that you can’t cash.

“Yes, it is,” he murmurs and kisses you again, unphased by your deflection.

As though an impenetrable barrier had been lifted, someone rounds the corner to head to the bathroom and the two of you straighten up like you didn’t just dry hump like a couple of horny teenagers. You try to tidy your appearances, but there’s no accounting for the noticeable stain on the front of Astarion’s pants. He pinches the bridge of his nose, his glasses sliding up onto his forehead.

“I can’t believe you… ugh. I can’t be seen by the others like this.” He sighs deeply, the consequences of both of your actions finally catching up to him. You bite your lip guiltily, then suddenly gasp, recalling the machine you’ve seen in hundreds of restrooms throughout your life but never had any use for.

“Do you have a quarter?” you ask him frantically, and he stares at you, completely flummoxed.

“No, who carries cash anymore? What, why do–” You’re gone before he can finish his sentence, dashing around the corner to find Shadowheart. Karlach sees you first, and her face lights up as she waves her whole arm at you.

“Hey, we were just about to send out a search party,” she laughs as you round the corner of the benches.

“Itoldthemnotto,” Gale adds quickly, and you appreciate that he learned his lesson from last time. Shadowheart strides up to you and grabs your chin, pulling it to the side to expose your neck.

“Ugh, Tav, you shouldn’t drive when you’re like this,” she groans. “Te absolvo.” She flicks your forehead as she casts the spell and you flinch before a sheepish grin slides onto your face. 

“Hey, where’s Astarion?” Karlach asks, making like she’s going to head towards the bathrooms to look for him. You grab her arm before she can get too far.

“No no, don’t worry about that,” you speak frenetically, “Does anyone have a quarter?”

“Who even carries cash anymore?” Karlach asks with a bemused face, but Shadowheart glowers at you.

“Why, what do you need it for?” she asks through gritted teeth.

“Don’t worry about it,” you mumble, and she rolls her eyes. She grabs her purse and pulls out a sleek black leather wallet embossed with a crescent moon. “I only have ones,” she says, and you yank the bill out of her hand.

“That’s fine thanks love you be right back.” You take off with her dollar and make a beeline for the change machine near the arcade. After several attempts to flatten the bill enough for the machine to accept it, you hear four clangs as the quarters drop into the metal tray. You quickly scoop them out and run back to the hallway outside the bathrooms where poor Astarion is pretending to talk on the payphone.

“Where in the sweet hells did you go?” he hisses, and you finally get a good look at his appearance. His hair is still slightly disheveled, and he’s untucked his shirt to let it hang over the wet spot on the front of his trousers. You don’t answer him, but rather grab his wrist and duck into the women’s restroom that is, thankfully, empty.

You turn to the metal machine hanging off the wall that dispenses three invaluable items for a bowling alley bathroom: tampons, condoms, and scrolls of prestidigitation. You drop a quarter into the slot above the third item, crank the knob, and out falls a tightly rolled scroll.

“They’re usually for mothers to clean up after they’re done changing their baby’s diaper,” you say, nodding your head towards the plastic baby changing station. “But clearly they have other uses. Infame.” You recite the spell’s incantation and the scroll vanishes along with the stain on Astarion’s pants. He lets out a sigh of relief.

“Thank the Gods.” He unbuckles his belt and begins to tuck his shirt back into his pants. “You owe me,” he adds wryly.

“Um excuse me, who just traipsed all over just to hunt down a goddamn quarter so you could clean up after yourself?” you pout and he slides his hands around your waist.

“But who’s responsible for getting me into this mess in the first place?” he hums in a low voice, brushing his lips against yours. You’re about to melt into his kiss when suddenly the door to the restroom opens and a bewildered looking halfling walks in. You and Astarion spring apart and he quickly redoes his belt buckle. You embarrassedly shuffle out the door without a word.

The two of you reemerge to see all of your friends waiting impatiently by the shoe rental. Your and Astarion’s shoes have already been removed from their cubbies and the employee is just waiting for you to return the bowling shoes. The two of you jog over, and Shadowheart rolls her eyes as you approach.

“Fucking degenerates,” she mutters under her breath, grabbing Karlach’s hand and storming out the door.

[pink-yuri]

♡ Handsome Girl and Sheltered Girl ♡

[melobin]

behind the screen 𐙚 sungchan smau #11

✧ camgirl reader x roommate sungchan

✧ synopsis. in which sungchan discovers his favorite camgirl also happens to be his roommate

✧ wc. 1.4k

✧chapter warnings. half written half smau. none

behind the screen masterlist

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“breathe”

“i can’t”

“girl”

“chae” your turned to look at the girl who sat behind her reception desk, leaning against it on your elbows. she patted your hair softly.

“it’ll be okay”

“what if it’s not?”

“y/n jake’s a sweet guy it’s okay”

“i’m just nervous” you looked at you, fingers finding one another so you could mess with them “he’ll be here any minute, he told me he’s on the way” chaewon smiled at your words, you couldn’t help but laugh at her.

“go have fun, enjoy your lunch and then you can tell me everything” you nodded as you saw your phone light up, a twitter dm from jake letting you know he was outside, chaewon seemed giddy as she spoke again “go” you nodded and stood up, instinctively straightening out your clothes before letting yourself walk towards the doos of the building, exiting only to see jake leaning against his car.

you knew jake didn’t know what you looked like, all you’d given him was a photo of your outfit and told him that’s what you’d be wearing. he seemed to spot it right away, recognising the coloured blouse you had on. jake was almost overwhelmingly handsome in real life and that only increased when you stopped in front of him. he smiled at you.

“you’re so beautiful” you couldn’t suppress the giggle that was building in your throat at his words.

“hi jake”

“hi merci” your body cringed a little at the name.

“please call me y/n, merci doesn’t exist around here” you nodded and smiled at you before lifting himself off of his car.

“your name suits you” flattery was jake’s favourite thing, you assumed. he opened his car door for you, letting you settle into the passenger seat before shutting it and entering the drivers side “i was thinking we could just go for lunch and talk a bit, if that’s okay” you nodded at him, smiling as he done up his seat belt.

“that’s more than okay jake” there was a smile on his face as he settled in his seat. the car engine turned on as he turned his key and soon enough he was pulling out of the car park.

“you know i don’t live too far away from the city, i didn’t expect us to be so close together” you knew jake lived near you, you always recognised his locations in his twitter photos so it didn’t come as a surprise to you to hear him say that “like 20 minutes maybe?”

“i live basically in the middle of the city so we’re quite close”

“good to know” jake had a playful look in his eyes as he turned his head to look at you for a moment before looking back at the road “for future reference of course” you rolled your eyes at him, letting a laugh fall from you. it wasn’t a surprise to you that jake wanted to sleep with you, it’s the whole reason why he messaged you the first time he did, you just weren’t sure if you were going to let it happen.

jake was handsome, beautiful if anything. but it was hard for you to imagine you, y/n, sleeping with someone who only knew you as merci. sure he had met y/n now, but he still only knew merci. you weren’t sure if jake wanted to fuck merci or if he wanted to fuck you, your online persona wasn’t much different to the real life you, she was just more confident and sexual. the answer to sleeping him in the future was a maybe, just maybe.

you were pulled out of your thoughts as the engine of the car stopped, you looked up to see the place he’d picked.

“when you said lunch i thought you meant a random little cafe jake, not a whole ass restaurant” jake laughed as you both exited his car, he led you to the entrance before he gave his name for his reservation.

“i wanted to bring you somewhere special, you know this is basically our first date after all” you narrowed your eyes at him as he pulled out a chair for you, letting you sit down before going to his own across from you.

“i never agreed that this was a date” jake laughed, picking up the menu from in front of him.

“well, we’re meeting for the first time, getting food. i organised the meeting, i picked the place, i picked you up and i’m dropping you back and not to mention the fact i’m paying” he opened the menu and looked at you, a smile on his face “it’s a date”

“a lunch date, not a proper date” jake rolled his eyes at you and laughed.

“i’ll convince you by the end of the date that it’s a real date” you couldn’t hold back the small smile that was fighting its way on your lips.

“try me”

jake took his time to order. asking you what it was you wanted so he could order for you too. you couldn’t deny that jake was sweet to you, he treated you nicely and made you giggle but a date? so soon? it didn’t seem right.

“you’re truly so beautiful y/n, i always knew you would be but” he looked at you, his eyes shined a little under the light above your table “wow you’re gorgeous” you smiled at him.

“you don’t need to flatter me jake, i’m already here”

“i’m not trying to flatter you” he had a smile on his face as he looked down at the food behind placed in front of the two of you “i genuinely think you’re gorgeous and i just want to make sure you know that”

“well, i appreciate that a lot jake” he smiled again, he seemed to smile at you a lot. jake was definitely a sweet guy, yet there was a very clear indication of where his interest in you lay. a date seemed to be too much of a label for meeting up with a guy who just wanted to fuck you.

“i hope we can get closer in the future”

“me too jake” maybe not in the way he wanted. his next words were interrupted by your phone ringing, looking at the caller id you noticed it was sungchan. you saw jake’s eyes fall to where you phone was laid on the table, he narrowed his eyes at the contact name “it’s my roommate, please excuse me for a moment” jake nodded and watched as you answered your phone.

“sungchan, hi, what’s up?”

“i was wondering if you wanted to get lunch? eunseok had to fit a client in early so he’s taking a later lunch than me” you sighed at his question, somewhat wishing you were sat across from him instead of jake.

“i can’t right now i’m on a lunch date with a friend right now sorry”

“do you need picking up to get back to the office?”

“no no it’s okay sungchan go enjoy your lunch, he’ll drop me back when we’re done”

“okay i’ll see you later” the call ended kind of abruptly, you weren’t sure what to do as you set your phone down and looked at jake.

“i’m sorry about that”

“it’s no worries at all” he placed his fork down on his plate as he began to strike up another conversation.

“i didn’t realise your roommate was a guy”

“yeah we’ve been living together for around a year, he’s been a great friend to me” jake nodded and leaned back a little in his chair.

“is it not awkward?”

“hm?”

“you know, with your job”

“oh he doesn’t know” jake raised his eye brows and laughed a little.

“how hasn’t he found out?” you shrugged.

“he’s not the most attentive person in the world, or he knows and he just hasn’t said anything to me, either way i’m okay with it” jake nodded and hummed.

“that’s fair, i’d hate knowing you lived with a man who knew you were a cam girl” he laughed at himself “let alone a man who wanted to fuck you”

“what? scared of a little competition?”

“no, i know id win anyway love”

“surely” he smiled at you as he looked at his watch, he pulled his sleeve back a little further and stretched his arm out, part of you thought he was doing it to show off.

“i have to head back to work now but it was really nice to see you, hopefully next time we can see eachother without any interruptions” you smiled at jake, next time seemed to be out of reach right now.

“we can talk about it”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

“so how was it?”

“chae, i don’t think im going to be seeing him again”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

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[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet Cute - Ace's Story - 3

Source for pic

Firestarter 3

Word Count: 4300

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader, slight NSFW (It's mature, not explicit), slightly sugestive behaviour, flirting, jealousy, frenemies, sexual tension, miscommunication, unresolved tension, slight angst, slow-burn, romantic comedy vibes, alternate universe modern setting, swearing, drinking, fluff, feelings realisation, denial of feelings.

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You intended to have some alone time, to reflect and heal, but your childhood friend's older brother, Ace, seems to be there just to upset that fragile peace you're striving for. He's a flirt and a womaniser. But why does he also have to be so handsome and perfect? And how long can you resist his charms?

Notes: Are you guys liking the story so far? I'm almost done writting it. It will be around 10 chapters, maybe 11. If you wish to be added to a tag list, say so! Thank you!

Masterlist for previous introductory chapters.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

“How was the run, bug?”

“Fine.” Grumbling, you drink a large glass of water and start biting down on an apple. “What do we need to do, today?”

Shanks sees your foul mood and deftly avoids it, enumerating all the menial tasks that need to be done. Not only on the property, but also in the house. 

“Okay, I'll take the inside of the house, you get started outside. Fair?”

Shanks nods as he reaches for his straw hat. 

“At lunch we'll discuss your surgery. I've given you enough time.” Your voice is stern and you almost sound like your mother. Shaking that thought away, you grab your supplies and get started. Cleaning the house has always allowed you time to think, and you're in desperate need of that. 

The bathrooms aren't that dirty since it's really only the two of you in the house and, surprisingly, Shanks is pretty clean. So, as you scrub the shower, you start to think about Ace. He's the epitome of the boy next door. With all the repercussions of it and all the girls that come with him as well. And despite your mind telling you constantly that you should not be with him, you can't help your body from desiring him. 

You even consider giving in to temptation and getting with him, just for fun, so you can finally get him out of your head. But that's just stupid. And counterproductive. So you scrap that thought. 

But you still revisit that ‘friends’ idea. You have fun with him and you could use some fun in your life. You just need to stop thinking about him carnally. How hard can that be, really? 

Just on cue, your phone buzzes and, after finishing the shower, you remove your gloves to read it. 

Dinner? Friends have dinner together. You both need to eat. But you have to make sure that it's nothing romantic. He needs to understand that. Or that you're not just one of his usual girls. He needs to understand that as well. Yet you seem to be taking a while to answer, so he adds another thought. 

You exchange a few more texts to get the hour and arrange to meet him since he's going to be there sometime in the afternoon. What should you wear? Well it's just a friendly hang. You don't need to wear anything special. 

Maybe you should call Nami… but that is a double-edged sword. Do you want to involve Nami in this? You know she'll be all up in your business with incessant questions and… Groaning you dial Nami's number and set it on speaker as you use your nerves to tackle the toilet. 

“Hi, girl!

“Hey, Nami, you busy?”

“Nope. It’s actually my day off, and Vivi managed to escape her City Hall duties earlier than expected, so we’re hanging.” You smile into the toilet. You had met Vivi over online calls but you had yet to meet the real thing. She is Nami's girlfriend and an angel for putting up with her fiery attitude. 

“Send her my love. Can you help me?”

“What is it, sweetheart? 

You sigh, but ultimately decide to treat this as if it was a band aid. Just rip it and scream after. 

“Well, Ace invited me to hang with him at the firehouse so he doesn't spend his shift alone. Pizza and movies.” You ignore the high pitch squeal on the other side and are already regretting all of the life-choices that led to this moment, but you continue. “It's a ‘friends’ thing!” You emphasise. “I just need to know if you have any tips on what I should wear? For a friendly hang!” You need to reinforce that notion. 

All credit where credit is due. Nami doesn't squeal anymore on the phone, though she can't quite disguise the amusement in her voice. 

“Honey, can I come over after lunch? We can choose together.”

“Oh, no, no. I can't intrude on your time with Vivi!”

Nami giggles on the other side. “I'll bring her along! And some of my clothes too… Talk later, hun!”

Crap, you shouldn't have called Nami. She's going to bring the skimpiest clothes ever. 

-*-

“That's too much, Nami!” You whine and kick the high heels away from you. “It's a friendly thing! I'm wearing sneakers! Help me out, Vivi.”

The blue-haired girl giggles and shows Nami an apologetic smile. “She wins, Nami. Simple is better in this case.”

“Fine!” Nami concedes with a pout and you sigh exasperatedly. You're tired of trying on clothes and you still need to take a bath. “But you're not passing out in thigh-high socks or shorts!” She squeaks. “I know that showing your thighs like that will drive him crazy.”

You roll your eyes at her as you set aside the chosen outfit. It's not that bad. You won, it's simple, yet cute. “I don't want to drive him crazy.”

“Sure, honey. And I don't want to earn money.” 

“Unrelated.” You bite back. 

“Still, both are untrue.” She winks as she gathers the skimpy outfits she brought while muttering that she'd make you wear them on another occasion. “What about your hair? We could-...”

“No, no! It's fine! I got it from here, Nami. Thank you so much for your help. Vivi, thank you for coming, your help was precious in handling Nami.”

She giggles and agrees. Both girls tell you to have fun tonight and Nami begs for a text with an update when you get home. Even if it's in the morning, and she double winks when you remain stoic at her joke. Before your bath, you go downstairs to accompany them and have a quick word with Shanks, who avoided surgery conversation at lunch like a professional. 

You wave the girls goodbye and then saunter to the living room, where your father is watching some sports game on TV and scowl while clearing your throat. 

“Oh, bug! The girls left? I thought you were going out for dinner?”

You blush slightly. “I am, just not with them.”

He mutes the TV to look at you with a raised brow. “Want to tell me who you're going with?” He raises his hand in the air. “Only if you want, baby, I know you're an adult now.”

“It’s just a friendly dinner. Ace wants to show me the firestation and we’re going to eat some pizza and watch some movies.” You seem to be finding it quite hard to hold your father’s stare.

“Ace?” His brows knit together but he nods. “Okay, be careful.”

Your head cocks to the side instinctively. “With what?”

“Just… it’s a dad thing, okay? Be careful!” He gets flustered and unmutes the TV but you’re still not done, so you position yourself in front of the screen on purpose. 

“The surgery, dad.”

Closing his eyes, Shanks sighs and turns off the TV. “Okay, let’s talk.”

-*-

You’re blow drying your hair after a quick shower while humming to a song. The talk with your father went as well as expected. He refused the surgery and you probed him so hard with questions that you finally understood he is simply afraid of becoming even more impaired than he already is.

You assured him that everything would be alright and that the condition his back is in is going to leave him impaired anyway and, after some coaxing and perhaps a slight hint of coercion, you managed to convince him to schedule a time with Dr. Law so he can give you both a step-by-step of the surgery, to assuage any fears you have remaining. 

You stare at the time and curse. You have about ten minutes to get ready and leave the house before you’re officially late. Finishing your hair, you apply very light makeup and then proceed to dress in the outfit that gave you a headache during the afternoon: jean shorts, thigh-high black socks, and a fitted black t-shirt with the most appropriate lettering for the occasion - ‘Firestarter’. You had almost doubled over laughing when you came across that shirt from your collection. You finish the look with your black and white sneakers and some bracelets. 

One last look in the mirror makes you shrug your arms and sigh. “It’s a friend’s thing. Stop overthinking it!” You growl to yourself and leave with a hasty step.

“Bye, dad, see you later!” You hear him rushing to the door of the living room and stare at you, his arm under his chest as if he was crossing it with his missing arm. You blush and add. “There’s lunch leftovers in the fridge if you want. Bye.”

“Bug.” You stop with the door open and turn back with a soft smile. “You look great.”

“Thanks, dad!” Your smile widens and you step out. “I really have to go, love you!”

You hear a soft ‘love you too’ before you close the door behind you. 

Luckily, your car - that’s now fixed thanks to Kid - doesn’t give you any trouble starting and you arrive at the fire station at the aforementioned time. Parking the car and taking a deep breath, you walk to the door and knock softly, phone already in hand in case he doesn’t hear you since the firestation is huge! It has three rolling garage doors for when the trucks need to exit and it looks old, its red bricks faded by the sun.

He must’ve been standing right on the other side of the door because it swings back and you are greeted by a smiling Ace.

“Hello, gorgeous.”

His smile falters as he sees you and you notice his eyes lingering on your exposed thighs. Nami was right. You want to giggle, but you remain composed. 

“Hi Ace.” Your eyes also linger on his muscular chest. You're used to seeing him without a t-shirt so you’re not quite sure why that black, fitted shirt makes him even hotter. 

“Wow.” He mutters. “You look… damn! Firestarter, indeed.” He chuckles nervously and you raise an eyebrow. Has the player run out of moves?

“Thanks.” You stand at the doorway awkwardly while he’s still hung up on how you look. It’s quite flattering, actually, and you are glad you took Nami’s advice. “Should we get inside?”

He gasps and moves away from the threshold. “Yes! Come in! I’ve already ordered the pizza, Deuce should be here any second now.” You nod and get inside while looking around. You enter some sort of reception area, so he leads you inside.

“This is the day room.” It’s a larger room with a big table, some chairs, a TV and a grey loveseat. “We’ll be watching a movie here.” He smirks as the doorbell rings. There’s a doorbell? You missed it. “Oh, it’s Deuce, I’ll be right back!”

“Wait, Ace! Let me give you some money for the pizza.”

“Are you kidding me?” He snorts. “No way.” Then he dashes through the reception room to get the pizza. You hear some sort of discussion but you can’t make out the words. You’re curious, but you don’t mean to pry since Ace acted as if he knew the pizza guy, so you entertain yourself by watching a case with old photos and trophies. 

Until you hear a hushed, ‘no, Deuce! Oh, come on!’ and a rustle of feet approaching. You turn to the door to be met with a grinning tall man with blue spiky hair and carrying two boxes of large pizza.

He chuckles and settles the pizza on the table, his eyes never leaving you. “Hi.” His grin widens and Ace enters the room with a scowl. 

“This is my idiot friend from school, Deuce. Deuce, this is…” He stammers and you take over.

“The idiot brother’s friend from school.” You tell him your name and extend your hand to shake it, but he smiles, takes your hand and places a kiss on the back, making you blush from the surprise.

“Delighted to meet you. You’re gorgeous.”

“Alright, okay, that’s enough. Bye, Deuce! Don’t you have more pizzas to deliver?” Ace grabs Deuce by the collar of his t-shirt and pulls him, making him let go of your hand.

“If you get tired of Ace, I’m great fun!” He replies, making you chuckle as Ace pulls him even harder. He’s halfway through the reception when you hear him exclaim: “You were right, Ace, this one is something!”

“Shut up, idiot!” 

The smile vanishes from your face as you stare at your reflection in the trophy case. ‘This one’ he had said. As if it’s a regular thing for Ace to bring girls to the firestation. Cute girls, apparently. Girls he actually wants to kiss. 

You sigh and shake your head as you hear his footsteps approach. No matter. You were only here for a movie and pizza. Nothing else. 

“Sorry about him. Deuce is a good friend but he’s a dick sometimes.”

You smile as Ace grabs some paper plates from one of the drawers and opens one of the pizza boxes. “Soda or beer?” 

“Soda’s fine.” You answer as he takes out two cans from the fridge. “What do you want to watch?”

Ace insists on watching a horror movie, thinking it might scare you, but turns out he’s the one doing most of the jumping. You eat three slices of pizza and Ace finishes the rest of the boxes. The man sure can eat.

Ace sits on the floor to eat the pizza, but as soon as you are both done, he climbs to the sofa, stretching as he does it to make it seem like his back hurts. You lean down, intent on removing your sneakers so you can get more comfortable on the couch when he gasps.

“What the hell is that on your arm?” He points and you eye him with a raised brow.

“What do you mean?”

“There!” He points again at your left forearm where there’s a big purplish bruise and you smile at him.

“Oh, this! It was from the other day. When I was almost hit by a car. It barely hurts.” You wave your hand dismissively but he grabs your arm to examine it closer and you clench your jaw. Why are his hands so hot?

“I did this?” He murmurs while his index finger ghosts over the bruise, creating a little trail of goosebumps.

“Well, yes, but, technically, you saved me so-...”

“I’m sorry.” He looks really apologetic, his eyes never leaving your bruised arm. The loveseat is pretty small so he’s really close to you and you can almost feel heat coming off of him. It’s not just his hand that is warm, it’s all of him. How is that possible?

“Ace, it’s okay. Really.”

He removes his eyes from the bruise and raises them to meet yours. You could close the distance between both of you with a mere blink, such is his proximity. His hands are still reaching and holding your arm, so he’s already leaning all over you and, once again, you feel some sort of magnetic pull. Some animalistic desire that makes you want to kiss him.

Your eyes dart down to his lips inadvertently, and your breathing accelerates. 

Friends, friends, friends!

Your mind keeps screaming at you, but his smell is inebriating and you want to drown in it. You want to drown in him. 

You’re just another girl. You’re just another girl.

He’s close, so close. 

The horror movie on TV unleashes a jump scare with a loud sound and this time, for the first time during the whole movie, you jump and get up abruptly. “Bathroom. I need to use the bathroom.”

Ace takes a deep breath and scratches the back of his neck. “It’s that door over there.” He points and you nod. You don’t really need to use the bathroom. But you needed to get out of his hold. Quickly. 

-*-

The mood returns to relaxed and normal when you return. You sit on the couch, having removed your sneakers, and sit with both legs bent to the side. Ace seems to find the seat small, so he stretches an arm over the back, behind you. 

The oldest trick ever. 

“So how come you still live with Mr. Garp?” You need to cut this sexual/romantic tension so, what better way to do it then by creating tension with his existing family member. 

You sense the change in his demeanour but his eyes never leave the screen. “It… just never happened.”

“Luffy and Sabo left. Is your grandpa ill?”

“No.” You sense his discomfort with the situation so you don't probe anymore. If he wants, he'll tell you about it. Which he does, after a moment. 

“I screw up a lot.” You turn to him. The seriousness in his tone conveys his real feelings and you hang on every word he's willing to give you. “I always have. I never had perfect grades, I just got by. I didn't go to college and I never joined the Marines like grandpa wanted.” He sighs and his gaze remains fixed on the TV though the ending credits have just started rolling. “I don't have any goals, I can't keep a steady relationship and, even if it looks like it, I don't have my life together. Grandpa doesn't believe I'm capable of great things. And it's true.”

Your eyes bore into his, but he doesn't turn to you. Swallowing a hard lump on your throat, you nod slowly. This man doesn't let his life move forward because he doesn't believe he is worthy of it. Garp had other plans for his grandson's life and, apparently, laid his frustrations upon Ace. Who now cannot escape this life on his own. 

“But you are capable of great things, Ace.”

He scoffs. “How do you know? I've changed! And even so, we hardly even talked before you left.” He doesn't mean to be hurtful, but it's true. 

“You're right. But here's how I remember you: A caring big brother who watched over Luffy when they got home from school and made sure he ate plenty of fruit with his snacks; A protective big brother, who caught Luffy with a broken lip and didn't rest until he found the bully and forced him to apologise; And even if it went against your aloof and bad boy persona, a loving brother who knew how to comfort and show love to a boy who needed it.”

His eyes finally turn to you. They're downcast, but you're sure he absorbed everything you said. Perhaps it is the beginning of a healing process for him. You can only hope so. 

“Thanks. I… I needed that.” He still seems lost, so you hold his hand and entwine your fingers with his, giving him some slight pats on the back of the hand. 

“Anytime you think you're not good enough or not capable… think of me, okay?” You grin and wink at him. 

Finally there's a hint of a smile on his face and that manages to warm you up. It felt nice to speak with him without him trying to escape the conversation with funny remarks. 

His thumb starts to trace gentle patterns on your hand. “I'm already thinking about you all day, what's the difference?” You want to believe him. His smile is genuine and you can almost perceive a small embarrassed look. But you can't really believe in him. The notches under his belt are too heavy to ignore. 

“I'm sure that works with all the girls.” You scoff and point your head at the TV. “Movie's over. Can you show me around?” You let go of his hand and lean down to put on your sneakers. 

“Yeah.” He replies dryly. 

-*-

He's shown you the locker rooms, the comms room, the small bedroom with two bunk beds, for when they spend the night, and now you're both standing in front of the pole. 

“Wanna do it?” He grins. “We need to get down so I can show you the truck. It's pretty cool…” He tempts you. 

“I don't know…” You eye the thing suspiciously. Technically, it's not hard. It's just sliding down. 

“I'll go first and I'll catch you if anything happens.” He assures you but you're still weary. “As much as I would love to catch you, I doubt you'll need it. You're so brave, courageous, strong-...”

“Eugh, stop that! Fine. I'll do it.” You giggle excitedly and he claps before grabbing the pole with both hands. 

“It's not rocket science. You grab, and you go down.” His voice descends as he slides down and you chuckle. Your nerves are getting the best of you. 

“Okay, okay, I got this.” You grab the pole with both hands. “Grab, and go down.” You do a little jump and squeal as you slide down. Ace is there to catch you but he was right, you don't need it. Though he still places his hands on your hips, just in case. 

“You're a natural.” His breath kisses your eyelids as you look up to meet his gaze. 

Magnets. 

But you need to reverse the polarisation. You need to be repelling, not attracting. 

“Thanks.” You whisper back. 

Reverse the poles. 

You walk away from him and act amazed at the huge space the trucks are in. It's a garage with firefighting equipment and two trucks and an ambulance. “It's huge!”

“Yeah I get that reaction a lot.” He chuckles and you can't avoid a snort. 

“You're quite cocksure.” 

“I sure am!” He keeps grinning and you laugh out loud. “Come inside.” Opening the door to one of the trucks, he, once again, sets his hands on your hips to help you up. Does he have a thing for hips? Because it sure seems like now you do! Everytime his strong hands grip you, you shudder and gasp at the feeling. It leaves you wanting more. How would his bare hands feel against your bare hips? 

Friends, damnit! Friends! 

Right. The truck! “So many buttons.”

He sits down in the driver seat and leans back. “Want to play the siren? It's quite fun!”

You look at him with half a smile, fairly tempted. “No, we shouldn't. We might give a heart attack to some senior citizens.” You grin. 

He still shows you where the button for the siren is and what the other buttons do. But after a moment in companionable silence, it's his turn to ask you a difficult question. 

“Why did you want to get married so young?”

It takes you by surprise as your face whips towards him, holding his gaze. He's serious again. “I… don't know, exactly…”

It's your turn to focus your eyes somewhere else and you choose your hands as you fidget with them. 

“It seemed like it was the right thing to do. My mom married my dad after high school. So when Ichiji proposed, I thought I should do the same.” You snort. “Look how well that worked out. To my parents and to me!”

Ace rests his head against the headrest and crosses his arms behind it, making his taut muscles bend and flex and you regret having looked, so you return your stare to your hands. Your innocent hands. 

Ace is very sinful. 

“I think it did. Both ways, actually.”

“What?”

He turns his head your way, slightly. “Clearly your parents weren't made for each other. I remember hearing them fight all the way to my house.” You can't help but agree with that. Both your parents were a lot happier and more civil with one another, actually, once they separated. “And your ex, clearly, was not meant for you. I mean… It takes a special kind of dumbass to cheat on someone like you…”

You fight against your better instincts. You should know better than to be swayed by his words. He's a player. He's got moves. He's got the right words. 

And they freaking work. 

Because you are a mess right now. Your heart keeps fluttering against your chest with all the sweet things he's saying and you've been rubbing your thighs together since he grabbed you by the hips when you descended the pole. 

Clearly you want him. You want him so badly. 

But you can't! Because you were never a girl for casual relationships and Ace doesn't do serious! He said so himself. So you sigh, do a little more rubbing and try to focus on grounding yourself. 

Off-limits. Off-limits. 

“Thank you for tonight, Ace. It was fun. I should get going.” You move so you can leave but he sets his hand on your forearm. 

“Are you leaving already? Did I do anything wrong?” Your stomach tightens and your chest aches. 

“No, Ace. You did everything right.” Leaning in, you give him a quick peck on his face. Then you turn and jump out of the truck. “I just have to go. I need to help dad, tomorrow. It's late, I'm tired.”

And you need to get away from him. 

He nods with a silly little smile on his lips. Your kiss helped make him realise he did nothing wrong. 

“Okay, sure. I'll walk you out.”

And after you gather your things from the day room, he walks you to the front door and into your car. You keep thinking that a goodnight kiss would be very nice. But you already gave him a very innocent kiss on the cheek and that should be enough. 

It's not. 

So you say another goodbye and enter the car. Your heart feels both heavy and light. It's a weird dichotomy that leaves you wanting more. Ace is fun and easy. But he's not boyfriend material. 

And you seem to have started to develop feelings for him. 

And that is not okay.

[minimomoe]

Love Bites

Baker Fem Reader x Toji Fushiguro (mafia au)

word ct: 15.1k, 11 Chapters

tags: Fluff, grumpy x sunshine, found family, a little angsty but nothing too bad, marriage proposal, established relationship, (last chapter only: kitchen sex, creampie, oral- fem receiving, other sexxy funtime stuff)

Chapter Five: Pumpkin Spice

The warmth of Toji’s hand sears through your gloves even in the nipping cold. You look around in the skating rink and see a little girl in a sparkly pink jumpsuit who is doing a camel spin before evolving it into a salchow. Your eyes couldn't even keep up with how many rotations the child was completing, and you weren't sure if cheering her on would distract her or not. You watch in amazement before she realizes that the little girl who’s finally slowing down is Nobara, one of Megumi’s friends. You hadn’t recognized her for a moment because her copper hair was tucked inside of her beanie. 

“That was beautiful,” you compliment and Nobara beams up at you before giving a curtsy. You were about to give another comment before you lost your balance again. You stumbled forward, trying to steady yourself, but fell short and the ice below you was rushing up to your face fast. Luckily for you, Toji was a steady boulder who was quick to hook his hand underneath your arm to prevent you from ending up in the hospital. 

“Thank you,” you giggle. “This is much harder than they make it look,” you say sheepishly when you are finally standing up straight. When Toji invited you out to come skating you agreed without hesitation, then later realized that you had never gotten on ice for any recreational business. You tried to look it up online to prepare, but it was hard if you didn’t have any skates to practice on your own. You were relieved to see that you weren't the only person unable to skate in the rink, but it was still a little embarrassing. 

“Follow my feet,” Toji says, gliding in front of her to grasp both of your hands tightly. Toji wasn’t wearing his usual suits, instead opting for an all grey sweatshirt and pants combo, with a black puffer jacket and beanie to match. It was a simple outfit, one that you had seen a thousand times before on other people, but he looked devastatingly handsome. Suddenly your feet started to shuffle frantically because you were admiring his face instead of following Toji’s feet like he told you. Your face crashes into his chest with a thump that even Toji groans at. You try to pull back but your feet slip again, causing you to make the same mistake. 

You slump in defeat and scowls at the ice below you. You rub your head into his chest, then lift your head up, digging your chin into his sternum to look at him. 

“I suck at this,” you pout. You bat your eyes at Toji and let your arms dangle at your sides while he continues to hold you up from your underarms. “Even the kids are better than me,” you grumble. You look at Yuji who also said he has never skated before, which was true since he was struggling to take baby steps on the ice with the help of Nobara and Megumi when they first came in, but now he was attempting a triple axel because Nobara had dared him to. 

Toji pressed a kiss to the top of your head, an absentminded but affectionate gesture since she couldn’t actually feel the kiss through your hoodie and beanie covering your head, but you warmed up from it nonetheless. 

“You’re doing fine. Yuji’s freakishly good at everything.” 

“He could go to the Olympics at this rate,” you comment, pointing at how he landed yet another obnoxious turn that Nobara suggested. The kid was only ten years old for crying out loud. You groan and turn your forehead back into Toji’s chest again. 

“Are you hurt anywhere? Do you want to leave?” Toji sets you right on your feet, his eyes grazing over your body. 

“How could I have been hurt? You’ve been holding my hand or body this whole time,” you laugh, then slowly shuffle to the nearest bench looking into the rink. “I don’t want to leave just yet,” you say, sitting down and stretching out your legs in front of you. Toji occupied the space next to you and you both watched the three of the children race around the rink together. You scoot closer to him, closing the gap between you, then rest your head on his shoulder. You hum along to the Christmas song that is playing overhead, threading your hand under Toji’s that was resting on his thigh. By instinct he brings up your hand to kiss the back of it and you grin in response. You sit quietly and listen to the sound of jingles and laughter for a moment until Toji speaks up. 

“What are your plans for Thanks—“

“Is this the reason why you can’t pick up the phone, you fucker?” A deep voice asks behind the couple, and your eyes widen at the interrupter. He must have been taller than Toji, with tattoos on his face and creeping up his neck, and spiked pink hair to top it off. Toji didn’t even turn around to acknowledge the man. He replies with a simple, “It broke.”

“If you’re gonna lie, at least make it a good one,” the other man grumbles. He finally looks down at you, who Toji scooped and tucked closer to his body. The other man crosses his arms over his chest and whistles.

“What’s this? You actually got yourself a woman now?”

“What do you want?”

“She’s really cute. What’s your name, honey?”

Toji pulls you closer and glares at the man. “Sukuna,” he warns. 

“Sukuna me all you want, I asked some questions first.”

“Baby, this is the bane of my existence. Bane of my existence, this is my baby. Now go back to whatever the fuck you were doing before this.” 

“I was looking for you, asshole. We have a problem,” Sukuna says after winking at you.

You give a small wave of your hand but stay quiet during their interaction. You can see Toji getting increasingly stressed out from the conversation so you rub his thigh consolingly. 

“Can’t. Busy. Take it to Nanami.”

“Nanami is pulling the same shit as you but he’s smart enough to stay inside to avoid me.”

“Gojo then.”

“He’s being disgusting with his girl right now. They’re feeding each other whatever baked goods she made for him this time and rubbing each oher’s noses,” Sukuna shivers. 

“Sounds like you should get yourself a partner,” Toji sighs. 

“Don’t worry about me, I got my eyes on someone. Speaking of partners, are you gonna bring her to the family Thanksgiving dinner?”

“I was getting to that before your big ass showed up.”

“I’d love to go. What should I bring?” You pipe up. 

“Anything you want, sugar, I’m sure it’ll taste amazing,” Sukuna purrs and dodges the arm Toji threw out in an attempt to punch his stomach. 

“Great. That’s settled. Call the kids over so I can drop them off at Nanami’s place as punishment for blocking my number again. We have some work to do.”

“I’ll be fine, Toji. It looks like your…friend needs you,” you smile. 

“Thank you,” Sukuna nods. “Here you go,” he hands you a cafe cup. “The lady in the store gave me a sugary pumpkin spice latte instead of black coffee.”

“Don’t take that,” Toji scowls and snatches the cup from Sukuna. “After I take her back then we can talk. Fuck off.”

“Love you too, baby,” Sukuna teases. He walks down the street hauling Yuji and Nobara on his shoulders and Megumi walking close behind, leaving Toji and you alone to walk to his car. 

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” Toji says once you get in his car. 

“I want to. I want to meet the rest of your family,” you assure him.

“They’ll love you, but I’m greedy and wanted to spend Thanksgiving alone together.”

“We’ll have some alone time when we leave,” you say, leaning on the armrest and looking at his lips. 

“Oh yeah?”

You hum in response, drifting closer to his face, but place a finger on his lips before you could touch.

“First you should get me a pumpkin spice latte. I really wanted that one,” you grin.

Chapters: I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI.

M.list || Ao3 || Twitter || Ko-fi

[jooniperbonsai]

Thanks For The Sub (ksj) | Chapter One

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

Rating: 18+

Chapter One length: 11-14k 18,371 (OOPS LOL)

Release date: Fri. January 19, 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: After a clip of you sucking at video games goes viral, you've become somewhat famous, with thousands of subscribers now tuning in each week to see you play. Overnight, you've gone from a sexually frustrated grad student who reads smut in her room to a gamer girl (or rather, a not-gamer girl). This would have been the perfect job, except it was never the job you wanted. Desperate for money to pay for grad school, you bounce between your new gig and working at a local restaurant to pay the bills, where your hot coworker-now-boss Seokjin plays many of the lead roles in your sexual fantasies.

Seokjin, two years post losing his fiancé and job within the same day, is tired of the rut he's dug himself into and wants to start over. Now 30 years old, he's stuck managing his family's restaurant where he harbors an insanely inappropriate crush on you on top of carrying one hell of a secret: Seokjin is also known as Jin, a successful gay-for-pay camboy on the streaming site Worldwide Handsome.

When the stress of the upcoming semester and the pressure to stream becomes more than you can handle, you seek out some much-needed stress relief online, only to discover a man who looks a little too much like your boss is staring right back at you.

Warnings for Chapter One: Swearing, cheating (not between main characters), big age gap between lesser characters that can be uncomfy, sex work, gay sex work when the worker is actually not gay (but everyone is chill about it), <- allusions to queer fetishization bc of this, feelings of shame and guilt, feelings of failure/depression, improper restaurant safety procedures, the existential crisis of your late-20s/30s that we all seem to go through, off-handed references to kpop culture including fanfics because I'm a clown and need to call us out sometimes, silly literary tropes, references to pregnancy (NOT reeader), boss-employee power dynamics, allusions to queer BTS members or relationships, cameos of au Seventeen Members (Wonwoo and y/n are besties). NSFW sex stuff: big dick Seokjin (of course), Seokjin with rolled shirt sleeves and cutting things in a kitchen, Daddy Dom Seokjin makes himself known, blindfolds, camming (obviously), f/m masturbation, lots of dirty talk, sex toys, degradation kink, praise kink, sexual fantasies at the worst moment, kink exploration, a lot cum (sorry), I mention the omegaverse as a joke, a sparkly pink dildo, seokjin has a massive collection of toys and he intends to use them, seokjin and reader are constantly horny, reader is kind of inexperienced, implied exhibitionism kink, implied voyeurism, implied public sex.

a/n: it's here (and longer than I intended but oh well!) this fic is inspired by a combination of fics from the lovely writing community on here, the copious amounts of smut I read, a dabble of my friends or my own experience, & the high drama of kdramas. I felt really compelled to write this fic after rereading "tip 143 (for ∞ seconds of love)" by minilouvre on ao3. I feel like the camboy/person trope is so fun to explore and I wanted to try my own take on it with our Seokjin, who doesn't seem to get as many fics written about him but absolutely deserves it. I also wanted to create space for a fic that explores the weird transition of late 20s-30s that both BTS and I (and maybe many of you) have experienced in the last few years. I hope you enjoy! I keep my inbox open, so lmk your thoughts!

xo - h

That’s it baby cum for me. 

Such a good little slut for Daddy.

Wish that dildo was my cock. 

Fuck this is so hot.

The tip jar was going wild. The mute button tapped long ago, tonight was by far the most successful night camming Seokjin had ever had. He would definitely be able to afford that new gaming PC after this. 

Thank god. After three hours streaming, he was getting tired of riding the glittery pink dildo. It was cute–a Christmas gift from one of his loyal subscribers– but admittedly, he hadn’t prepped well enough before putting it in an hour ago, and when he let out a pained groan as he sank down on it, he immediately knew he would be feeling it tomorrow, and maybe the next day. 

His only consolation was the five new top-tier subscriptions he’d received while experiencing searing hot pain. He’d clearly appealed to someone’s kink. Well, there was always something for everyone. 

Seokjin knew this well. Today was his two-year anniversary since his first livestream on Worldwide Handsome, an international gay live cam site. During those two years he had seen just about every kink requested, from wax play to autoerotic asphyxiation to something called the omegaverse; he’d sifted through the internet and researched enough on each request to decide which ones he’d be willing to perform, and which kinks were too much outside of his comfort zone. 

Now, with an apartment full of gifted costumes and drawers full of just about every type of sex toy known to the human population (and perhaps even some aliens if those toys held any accuracy), it was obvious that Seokjin was a knowledgeable and successful camboy who could fulfill so many men’s fantasies.

Except for the fact that Seokjin wasn’t actually gay. 

Which is, as it turns out, also something people are into. 

Two Years Ago

It wasn’t that Seokjin ever intended to be a gay sex cam worker, much less a camboy at all, but two years, four months, three weeks, and twelve hours ago, Seokjin hopped on a plane after finishing a week-long conference in Los Angeles. He’d booked the first flight out, eager to come home to his fiancé. 

During the week, he hadn’t heard much from her. He understood, of course. She’d mentioned before he left that during that week she would be busy catching up on work and finalizing a really important project with a looming deadline. She’d been stressed about it the morning he left, practically shoving him out the door with his suitcase. 

But he missed her desperately, especially with the distance between them, and he was hoping he could regain some of that intimacy by trying phone sex. They’d been having less sex recently, probably from the stress of work, but he still craved her every single day, just like he did when they were in college. 

For most of his and Soon Yi’s relationship, they were insatiable. In college, they were known for being embarrassingly public in their displays of affection, with Yoongi once catching them in the kitchen at a party with Soon Yi’s hand down Seokjin’s pants and Seokjin’s hands up Soon Yi’s shirt. At first, Seokjin wondered if he always felt so horny because of his raging hormones and the fact that Soon Yi was the first person he’d had sex with. But even three years later, on the night he’d proposed, they had to leave the restaurant he rented out so they could have sex in the car. 

Soon Yi was charming. She matched Seokjin’s wit, always ready to keep up with a joke and take it to the next level. She fit in effortlessly with his group of friends, remembering their birthdays and always showing up with a tiny treat for them, even if they hated celebrating. His parents adored her the moment they met her. She was frequently fawned over when she visited his work to bring him lunch or to just stop by and say hello. 

When his boss, Mr. Choi met her during the company’s annual gala, he told Seokjin she was enchanting, she was the moon that lit up the evening sky. Mr. Choi was also incredibly drunk when he said this, but he wasn’t wrong. 

Soon Yi glowed through Seokjin’s darkest nights like the moon. 

That’s why when she denied every video call request he made during his trip, Seokjin knew something was wrong. He felt desperate and needy, something he’d never experienced during their relationship. 

As he laid in his hotel bed, touching himself to their memories, a strange need overtook him: he wanted to remind her that despite all the work stress, they always got through everything together and ultimately, being intimate might help with reconnection. 

So at the end of his boring conference, he flew back, planning on surprising her when she got home with a delicious meal and sexy massage. Maybe he’d even use those silly novelty heart-shaped handcuffs Jungkook got him as a gag gift. 

He was ready to rekindle his love for the moon. 

What Seokjin wasn’t ready for was the fact that when he walked through the door of his house, the only moon he saw was that of Mr. Choi’s naked ass as he thrust into Soon Yi on the dining room table. 

As it became immediately apparent, Soon Yi’s “work project” was clearly what was playing out before him as he watched the only woman he’d ever been in love with writhe in ecstasy underneath his much older work superior. 

It would have been one thing to lose his fiancé, but in witnessing this entanglement, Seokjin also knew he’d lost his job. Due to the blur of his memory, his brain trying to erase what he’d seen, he wasn’t entirely sure when they realized he was home. However, by the time he had grabbed another duffel with some fresh, non work-related clothes from his dresser–after he breezed past his unmade bed that probably didn’t smell like him anymore–Soon Yi and Mr. Choi were half dressed and sheepishly waiting for him near the entry.

Seokjin couldn’t bring himself to look either of them in the eyes as he stated his resignation letter would be on Mr. Choi’s desk the following morning. 

When he arrived at Jimin and Jungkook’s apartment to crash, that’s when reality set in. What would he do now? He had no house to live in, no job to make money from, and he just lost the love of his life. 

His head was splitting from the idea of car payments, a mortgage under his name for a place he wouldn’t be living in, having to tell his parents, calling the wedding venue and paying that awful cancellation fee on top of not getting his deposit back. The extra zeros in his bank account were depleting fast and it wasn’t like he would be able to sleep on Jimin and Jungkook’s couch forever. 

After two weeks of dodging family phone calls, desperately applying to every job that didn’t sound like a scam, waking up in the middle of the night from the lumpiness of the couch or Jungkook’s horrible snoring, Seokjin felt like he was out of options. 

“I’m going to call my parents and tell them. Maybe I can work at the restaurant for the time being while I wait for callbacks. I have some money in my savings for my own apartment. I just can’t keep doing this,” he said. 

“Hyung, are you sure? You know that we don’t mind you being here as long as you need. Really, it’s not an issue.” Jimin was gentle as always, the concern on his face knitting his eyebrows together. 

But Seokjin knew he was avoiding the inevitable, so when he nodded and then called his parents, their warm voices on the other end felt like a sign he’d made the right decision after all.  

The next week, Seokjin began working at his family’s restaurant, filling in for shifts that were short, typically in the kitchen. Chopping and prepping the food for the chefs, dish washing, and anything that kept his hands busy were welcome distractions from the painful reminder of what awaited him outside of the restaurant. 

Soon Yi was pregnant. Seokjin found out one day when he stopped by to grab a load of his things to bring to his new apartment. While both he and Soon Yi agreed to sell the house, it appeared she was taking longer than him to pack. He figured this was because she would be moving in with Mr. Choi, who lived in the penthouse of a luxury apartment complex downtown. 

During their meeting with the real estate agent, Soon Yi had scribbled her new contact information and mailing address onto some forms with Mr. Choi’s details. Wealthy people always operated on their own timeline, one where they could hire a moving company to have everything neatly packed and stored within hours. 

Seokjin, however, was limited to an ongoing loop of back and forth where he crammed his car full of silverware, lamps, and his MapleStory figure collection Soon Yi once mocked him for collecting. As Seokjin continued to pack away his belongings, he saw it. In the guest bathroom outside of the kitchen, there were two positive pregnancy tests in the garbage can. 

Soon Yi was pregnant and the father wasn’t him. The last time they’d had sex was three months ago. She would have known by now if that were the case. 

A wave of nausea rushed over him, and somewhere between bouts of gagging and wiping tears from his eyes, Seokjin realized that things were truly over. 

Two months passed, and still he couldn’t find a job. While the restaurant gig was taking care of some of his bills, it was only a matter of time before Seokjin would be unable to take care of himself. At 28 years old, he’d have to move back in with his parents, which was next to impossible in terms of space, not to mention the fact that his brother and wife were living with them while their apartment was being renovated to better accommodate a life transition of their own: they were expecting their first child.  

Given his semi-recent discovery, being around a pregnant woman was something Seokjin didn’t particularly want a reminder of. 

“I don’t know what to do. Something has to give,” he said one day as he sat in Yoongi’s living room. A thick coat of snow was covering the earth outside, though from the sweat running down the back of Seokjin’s neck, you would never be able to tell. Yoongi always kept his home at the exact opposite of the climate outside, trying to quell the possibility he would have to experience any physical discomfort if he dared to ever leave his house, which he rarely did.

His friends all sat around him, quietly sipping their whisky or beer while the flashing light from the TV casted a kaleidoscope of colors across the coffee table. Hoseok nudged Taehyung, who’d fallen asleep at some point between the long pauses in conversation. Seokjin couldn’t blame him. 

It was late, much later than the invitation Yoongi extended typically lasted, but this meetup was different. Everyone had always known Seokjin to be optimistic. From a goofy dad-joke-making 18 year old until now, he’d consistently been a source of light. When Taehyung’s grandmother died a few years back, it was Seokjin who made him first smile again with a spot-on impression of his own halmoni as they slurped bowls of naengmyeon.

His hair was shaggy and unkempt, his smile fading quickly from his face after cracking a joke. His jokes were also darker, less silly and eye-rolling and more self-deprecating and sarcastic. It was like his life was draining from him before their eyes, and it was becoming nearly impossible to stomach. 

But concern doesn’t always lead to action, which is why they were sitting around in Yoongi’s living room hoping the whisky would give them some inspiration to find a solution to Seokjin’s problem that he wouldn’t immediately turn down. They’d scoured job sites together earlier, and anything in Seokjin’s former profession only led to him suggesting his next boss better be a woman or else he might have to keep his future girlfriend away from corporate events or dining tables. Other careers in his field were met with similar disdain. 

Seokjin wasn’t always this way. In college, he didn’t know what kind of job he wanted or where he wanted to end up, so he majored in acting, hoping that it would lead him where he would eventually develop some sense of passion. 

In a sense it did. During an internship with an entertainment company shortly after he graduated, his attention to detail, natural charisma, and flexibility showcased a skillset he didn’t even know he had, which resulted in him being offered a position in their corporate headquarters the following fall. He’d been there ever since. 

But Seokjin didn’t want to return to the same life he’d had. So much of his life up to this point had been the same, and it clearly didn’t work out for him, so why continue on? The only issue was that he once again felt like he was 18, trying to decide on a path to follow when he didn’t even know who he was anymore. Nothing was appealing to him. 

“What about video game streaming?” Namjoon suggested. “You love games, and you have all the equipment. You used to talk about doing that all the time.” 

“Yeah, hyung. You’re also really good at talking and stuff, so it would be fun to watch you do it!” Taehyung perked up at this suggestion, shaking off his sleepiness to contribute to the conversation. “I’ve seen how much streamers make with all their sponsorships and stuff, they don’t even have to work another job!”

The energy in the room picked up slightly as they waited expectantly for an answer. 

Seokjin grunted. “Okay, look. I would love to do that. That’s my dream job. But you’re forgetting something important. Those streamers didn’t just jump on the internet one day and then got thousands of subscribers and sponsorships to pay their bills overnight. Some of them took years to build up their following before they even started making money off of it. A lot of people actually lose money from game streaming. And I need money now. I don’t have that kind of time!”

Taehyung deflated, settling himself back into the couch next to Hoseok, who gave him a tender pat on his thigh. 

“But what if…what if you did a kind of streaming that made you money pretty much right away?” Jungkook offered quietly. 

Seokjin glanced over at his youngest friend, who was holding his empty whisky glass in his hands instead of looking at him. 

“What do you mean? Is there some kind of gaming livestream service that does that?” Now Seojkin was curious. 

“Um, well, not for gaming, exactly. I was just thinking. Um, you could always do like an OnlyFans or something? I have a friend who does it and she sometimes makes $1000 a night. And that would take care of–”

“You mean being a camboy? Jungkook, seriously? Listen I know we’ve all had a bit to drink, but that’s a ridiculous idea.” Seokjin snorted. “Besides, the market is flooded with people doing their own sex work. Maybe your friend is just really pretty or something to make that much from it, but I highly doubt I would make any money off OnlyFans because no one would even see me!” 

Jungkook nursed his bottom lip between his teeth as he was dismissed, his body mirroring Taehyung as he fell back into the couch cushions. 

“Hyung is right,” Jimin added finally, having spent most of the night settled quietly next to an even quieter Yoongi. “He wouldn’t make much money on OnlyFans. All the men on there are either ugly or buff, and Seokjin-hyung looks way too gay to appeal to that market.” 

Yoongi, who was sipping his whisky as Jimin spoke, spluttered into the glass as he lost his composure, falling into a fit of laughter. From the other side of the room, Hoseok joined in, clapping and gasping for air between laughs.

“Excuse me? What the hell does that even mean? Yah, stop laughing! It’s not funny!” Seokjin fought the smile that was trying to form on his lips. Okay, it was a little funny.

“Well, hyung, isn’t it obvious? Remember that one time we went to a gay bar and all those guys I tried to pick up tried to pick you up instead?” Jimin sighed as he glanced at Seokjin before reaching across the coffee table to grab a handful of cheese balls. 

“We’ve been over this. They weren’t trying to pick me up. They just told me I was really handsome and had fuckable lips. And they’re not wrong!” 

“Wait when did you guys go to a gay bar? Where was I?” Yoongi cleared his throat, finally recovering from his laughing fit. 

“You didn’t want to come, remember? I don’t know why you’re asking this, you never want to go anywhere. Anyway that’s besides the point. Seokjin-hyung and I went to the gay bar and he stole all of the guys I was hitting on because they wanted to make him their baby girl!”

Hoseok wiped a tear from his eye and chuckled. “Yeah, no, hyung I’m sorry but if Jimin is being passed up at a gay bar for you, you clearly give off that vibe. I can see it. You look all soft and plushy and like you would be the perfect bottom.” 

Seokjin tried to fight off the heat that was creeping up his neck into his ears, but after a few glasses of whisky, and the ungodly temperature of the room,  it was a failed mission to avoid being flushed.

Jimin shot a glare at Hoseok, who shrugged. “What? I meant it as a compliment!” 

“Well, thanks I guess. Now I know I look like I’m gay. That doesn’t seem to solve my problem here!” Seokjin looked over at Namjoon for backup, but all Namjoon seemed to be able to do was give him an apologetic smile.

 “No, I know, I know. We got off topic.” Jimin said, “Sort of. Listen, like I said before you wouldn’t be successful on OnlyFans, just because of what they market. But you could always market yourself differently. And I’m thinking, if you really need to make money fast, you could always work with what you’ve got going for you.”

The entire room went silent. 

“Wait,” Namjoon said, “you don’t mean…” His eyes flitted to Seokjin and widened in alarm. 

Slowly, everyone shifted as they realized what Jimin was suggesting, Seokjin evidently being the last one. 

How was he supposed to work with what he had when what he had was apparently drawing a different crowd of people from the one he was interested in? What did Jimin mean by marketing himself differently? Was he supposed to just stream on websites that were exclusively for gay men? 

Oh. That’s exactly what Jimin was saying. 

“Wh-Jimin what the fuck? You mean I should be a gay camboy? I know we just talked about me being attractive to men, but I’m not interested in them that way!”

Jimin huffed. “Well obviously I know you’re not gay. Otherwise we might not be in this situation.” 

Seokjin winced. 

“Sorry, that was unfair. It’s just…hyung, you’ve been so not like yourself lately. And you’re right, something needs to change. I know you’re not gay, but this still could help. Haven’t you heard of gay for pay? Like in porn and stuff a bunch of straight actors will fuck each other or some gay guy because it pays more than straight porn. It’s the same thing.”

“Only you don’t have to actually fuck anyone. Maybe you should remind him of that,” Yoongi added. 

“Right, exactly! Look, you don’t have to do it. But it could help you get by and pay bills in the meantime until you find something else that you want to do. And there’s a lot of sites where you can stream even once and get a direct payout the next day. It might be worth a shot.”

Seokjin thought about it for a moment. It didn’t sound completely awful. From what he’d seen from the times he saw cam sites out of curiosity, most of what happened was masturbating and talking to people. And he didn’t hate people. But something about it made him nervous. 

“I don’t know if I’d be okay with being watched. That seems embarrassing.” 

“Oh please, the number of times you and Soon Yi fucked basically in public is astronomical. You’re practically an exhibitionist,” Hoseok teased. 

“That was different! I was with her! Now it would be everyone watching just me up close and personal. Namjoon-ah, talk some sense into them. This is crazy, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know if it actually is, hyung,” Namjoon said lightly. “Jimin-ah and Hobi have made some good points. And I think…I think if you weren’t even just a little bit curious you would have immediately said no instead of going back and forth with them over it like how you flat out said no to the other stuff. Maybe you’re feeling a bit shy because it’s been a little while and you are trying to heal through the breakup and stuff, but you also don’t have to do it or you can do it once and change your mind after if you want. 

“It just doesn’t seem to me like this is the worst option for you. You get to talk to people, you can maybe have fun. You don’t see the people on the other side anyway, so if you wanted to pretend they were girls instead of guys you could, or turn off the comments probably? It’s not real sex though. And even if it was, is that so wrong? It’s not like you would be cheating on Soon Yi for doing this. I mean-”

“Thanks Hyung! I think we get it!” Jimin interjected, raising his eyebrows at Namjoon as if to say shut the fuck up. 

Seokjin felt his stomach sink. Is this why he was panicked at the thought? It wasn’t real sex, but it almost felt like he would be doing something wrong by doing this. Not morally against himself, but someone else. Maybe he was still hanging on to Soon Yi in ways he didn’t fully realize. 

He felt almost like a heavy weight was pressing on his chest and forbidding him from moving on. What would happen then if he tried doing this for himself? Would the weight still feel the same? He wanted to know. 

“Ah, fine, I’ll think about it.” He looked over at Yoongi, who looked relieved that the conversation was nearing its end. “You have anything to add to this? A final voice of reason?” 

Yoongi snorted as he jumped up to stretch. “Nah. Except, as your former roommate, ‘Seok’s got a point about the exhibitionism thing. You were way too into showing me your dick all the time and walking around naked when we roomed together.” 

The room erupted into laughter, Seokjin himself joining. This time his smile didn’t immediately fall from his face. 

Slowly, everyone else stood, bodies unwinding from furniture and each other. While Jimin ordered Jungkook and himself a taxi, Seokjin waited with him. 

“My only issue is, how do I pretend to be gay? Won’t they know I’m not?” 

Jimin scoffed as he nudged a sleepy and tipsy Jungkook into his shoes. “I don’t know hyung. You have an acting degree. Use it.”

A few weeks later, Seokjin held his first stream, nervously engaging with the handful of viewers trickling in and tried to deflect the discomfort he felt in his new spotlight.

“Um, hi everyone. My name’s Jin. Thanks for coming. You can probably tell, but this is my first time and I’m really nervous. I hope you enjoy the show.” 

Seokjin decided to shorten his name for his streams to help him feel like he was embodying a different persona, someone named Jin who may actually be gay. It wasn’t a big change, but it was nice to give himself some separation from Seokjin, the guy who was doing gay for pay to afford a new life.

Unfortunately, Jimin’s suggestion for Seokjin to act wasn’t as easy to implement as he’d hoped. Within the first half hour, viewers of his stream had noticed he was still nervous, and started asking him questions to get him to unwind, and hopefully undress. 

“Ah, yeah, uh, anal. I’ve done it once or twice, it’s nice.” It wasn’t a lie, he’d tried anal a few times with Soon Yi and did find it nice, but he also knew that this wasn’t what the question was asking. 

“Do I have a boyfriend? No, I’m single.” 

Slowly he began undressing, the heat of his half-truths causing him to feel like he was burning up. 

“Are you really gay? Well, what kind of question is that? I’m here aren’t I?” 

That question seemed to satisfy his audience for another half hour, until a new thread of people trickled in, asking him the same questions. He was running out of ways to answer.

I don’t care if you’re straight. You’re still hot. 

When he read this comment, he exhaled deeply. And from that one reaction, a flurry of others joined in. 

Yeah, idc either. You’re still so pretty. 

So hot if u were straight. Maybe I’d convert u. ;)

I’d let you put it into my ass and let you pretend it was a pussy.

For some reason, these comments began to fuel him. The attention was kind of nice. It reminded him of how he used to feel. 

Maybe he didn’t need to act gay to get what he wanted. Maybe he could just enjoy the pleasure of the compliments and company and see what happened from there? The weight he had been carrying around in his chest was feeling a bit lighter, and the comments were helping distract him from the pinches of guilt that he was doing something wrong. Because he wasn’t. 

Here, he was Jin, a sexy, flirty guy who could shine in the sky of his own making. 

Jin, the moon. 

That’s it. He was the moon.

Present

“That’s it, give it to me. Please, I’m gonna cum.” Seokjin hoped the words he moaned at his camera were true. He was so tired, and he wanted to be free from the stupid dildo.  

Lately, Seojkin has been having a hard time cumming on stream. He wasn’t sure why. For so long it had never been an issue, but streaming had begun feeling less like a fun way to relieve stress and more like an actual job. 

Never before was he so popular with his stream, and while it’s nice to see a larger deposit being made into his bank account each week, every time he came home from the restaurant and knew he was scheduled to do a cam show, his stomach knotted up with dread. 

The last time he felt this feeling was a little over two years ago, when hopping on planes to fly to mundane conferences or sitting in board rooms for morning meetings consumed all his time. Even during the period he was jobless, there was a tiny part of him relishing the fact that the work-related dread was over. 

And it returned with a vengeance. Seokjin tried everything, ventured into new kinks and even the game features of the website with the hope that he would feel the rush he used to love from streaming. But nothing really worked. It was now just his job.

He didn’t even want to stream for so long tonight, but because it was his anniversary, he wanted to make sure he ended on a good note to thank his viewers. 

One thing Seokjin’s viewers loved was seeing him cum. It was the part of his stream when he always earned the most tips. Jimin had been right. 

If Seokjin knew anything now, it’s that he had many assets worth using to finance his life, and his pretty face coupled with his big dick seemed to work for him.

But even as he stroked himself, precum dripping down the head of his cock, and even though he was riding the dildo in a way that would hit his prostate and finally give him an easy out, he could feel the edge pulling away.

“Fuck,” he grunted. He was losing it. He doubled down, rocking his hips to see if hitting a different sweet spot would do the trick. But it was to no avail; his cock was softening.

On his nightstand, his phone pinged, which only could mean one thing. Seokjin always turned his do not disturb mode on during his work hours, only allowing phone calls from his family or one alert from an app to pierce through the silence. This one was the alert.

It meant Y/N was online and you had just started a live stream of your own. 

You were one of this month’s top gaming streamers, bringing in more viewers than Seokjin had ever received during his top months of streaming. You were popular not because you were good, but because you were the exact opposite.

You were awful at most games you played, jolting at jumpscares over and over, losing in first rounds of Fall Guys or Dead by Daylight. One time you jumped into a game of Fortnite and were eliminated by a potty-mouthed child the second you landed. Your jaw hung open as the tiny, high pitched voice called you a bitchass before falling into a fit of laughter that had Seokjin himself in tears. 

You were inspiring. Sexy. You received dozens of comments every stream about how pretty you were or how great your laugh was, which you often didn’t read out loud but always offered a humble nod and show of thanks when you did. There was something about you that hit up the world around you, and though he wouldn’t so much as utter it out loud, Seokjin had a massive crush on you.

But Seokjin was also sort-of-not-really your manager. Unlike all the people pining over you in your comment section wishing they knew you in real life, Seokjin actually did. He saw you three times a week at his family’s restaurant that he was strong-armed into managing while his parents took the opportunity to finally travel and see other parts of the world. 

Seokjin stayed, not because he needed the money. Not that his pay was all that much anyway. 

Camming was incredibly lucrative for him, cementing his income in a way that allowed him to pay rent in a very nice apartment downtown. Seokjin was also someone who had always been smart with his finances and knew how to invest in the best trends. 

When his house with Yoon Si finally sold (after four months of her taking her sweet time to gather her last belongings and sign off on him putting it on the market), Seokjin took his cut and applied it toward a better streaming setup and some lower level stocks…and a special edition MapleStory figurine to celebrate the new chapter in his life. 

Seokjin’s family never seemed to question how he was able to afford his fancy apartment given how much money he made at their business. Well, they did ask once, but Seokjin orchestrated some simple lie saying he worked in cryptocurrency, and that seemed to be enough of an explanation for his family. No one wants to know how crypto works, which in the end worked in his favor. 

He’d planned to leave the restaurant about 8 months ago, but then you showed up one day asking about a job. The restaurant was within walking distance to your university, where you were getting your master’s degree in early childhood education. While the program you were enrolled in had some funding, you’d told Seokjin’s mother you were a student and in need of work. The following Monday, Seokjin walked in and found you with an apron tied around your waist, your bright eyes and smile shining back at him. He couldn’t bring himself to leave after that. 

A few months after you’d started working there, Seokjin and you had become somewhat friends, sharing stories about past jobs (minus some key details on Seokjin’s part), student observations you had to do for school, and your interests. You mentioned casually you were a livestreamer for gaming, never alluding to how popular you actually were.

Eventually, Seokjin convinced you to give him your username, batting his eyelashes dramatically and promising he would be your cheerleader. For some reason, that seemed to work, and later that night, Seokjin tuned in to your stream, one man among the thousands. From that moment on he let his crush become a safe thing where, like his own viewers, he could fantasize from behind a screen. Maybe soon he would actually ask you out on a date, taking your coworker relationship and transforming it into something more.

And then a month ago his parents left, leaving him with the roles and responsibility of manager. Which meant he was an authority figure who could arguably do whatever he wanted. Similar to how his boss in a way was an authority figure who could get whatever he wanted. That idea turned Seokjin’s stomach sour. He could never do anything about this crush now, not while you worked underneath him. It was too familiar and distorted, and he never wanted you to be in the position he was once in. It was completely inappropriate.

But try telling his dick that.  

Two days ago, Seokjin witnessed you in the kitchen bending over to pick up onion peels that had fallen to the ground. You definitely weren’t aware, but your skirt had ridden up a bit while you were working, and that meant he could see a tiniest delicate trim of lace on your blush colored panties. 

And despite the fact that Seokjin was 30 years old and had believed he’d gotten past his boner-in-public-just-from-seeing-underwear era during his teen years, he was evidently wrong. Because those panties and soft looking curve of ass didn’t just belong to anyone; they belonged to you.

This wasn’t the only time he got hard for you at work. Sometimes on days when there were no customers, he would watch you study at one of the tables, where you were prone to stretching your body after long periods of staring down, trying to unknot the tense muscles caused by sitting almost completely still as you tried to comprehend what you were reading. 

During those stretches, you would often let out the most sexual moans and sighs as you felt relief and it was enough to have Seokjin tucking himself under his belt like a horny school boy. God, what he would do to hear you moan underneath him, because of him. 

He thought about recording you stretching. He was addicted to your voice, your soft sighs. It would be so easy to just “leave” his phone in the booth behind you. Then he could hear it forever while he imagined what else made you moan. Did you like your nipples sucked? Did you sigh when you were being stretched open and felt full? How did you taste? 

And then Seokjin pulled himself together and realized how sickeningly perverted he was to be thinking about you like this as he stood hard and aching in the middle of his parents’ fucking restaurant.

He wanted you. So much so that now as he worked his cock in his fist, he let himself fall more into fantasy, one where you were watching, curious about the many toys and gifts around his apartment, wondering how you could reach the limits of what you wanted and needed to make you scream. He imagined that across town, you weren’t firing up your computer for a night of cozy games, but rubbing your pussy at the same speed he was stroking himself, wet and begging for him to cum all over those gorgeous tits, that wet tongue–

Seokjin groaned as he came, his entire body trembling as a thick load erupted all over his hands, chin, and chest. Normally he could control the direction to minimize the mess but this orgasm caught him a bit off guard, almost completely lost until it crept up with a burning need and coated him. He hadn’t felt that good in a while. 

As he panted and focused his eyes back onto the screen, his comments were flooded with praise and tips, viewers exclaiming how this might have been his best orgasm they’ve ever seen, which was saying a lot considering some of his subscribers had been with him from the very beginning, and there had been some pretty fantastic orgasms. 

He wouldn’t deny it, though. He felt looser in his joints, calm washing over him and breaking apart the bitterness that was in his gut from how lackluster streaming had been recently. He wiped his chin with a grin and reached for the towel next to him, ready to wrap up his show. As he delivered his thank yous, one comment drifting through the chat stopped him dead in his tracks. His post-orgasmic high was crashing as panic flittered into his stomach. 

Did you guys hear him moaning a name as he came? Who the fuck is Y/N?

She had to leave. If the king couldn’t overcome his malice, she knew she couldn’t stay. No amount of love she had for his son was going to make him see that. She’d told him she loved him despite the scar that ran over his left eye and down his soft cheek. She vowed to be good enough to marry him, do whatever it took. Yet the king and queen had laughed at her, had their guard hold his foot on her back so she couldn't stand up from her deep bow. 

Laughed as they stood from their thrones to welcome the guest’s arrival: the consort for their son. The prince stood with them, silent as he followed them through the open doors. Quiet like how he used to be back in the first days of when she met him last summer. In memory, she couldn’t even fathom how he was anything like the man she’d grown to love. Yet, looking up from the pulp of the floor, she’d seen him return to that man. 

Hadn’t the days she’d spent walking those palace gardens with him been enough? They’d stood together under the plum blossom tree in the middle of winter and he’d promised that he would love her even while the buds were hibernating. 

“We can watch them become flowers together in the spring,” he’d said. 

He had taken her to his bed that night. Used his sensuous tongue to lap at her sweet nectar. He devoured her heart and soul. Climaxed with her and held her through the heavy snow.

Where was that man now? She didn’t know.

She waited until well after nightfall, when even the latest bird twitterings were silenced by the call of sleep. She knew she couldn’t bring much, but she managed to slip into the kitchen after dinner to pull together a few scraps for the road. Where would she even go? The nearest village was at least a two-day walk and if he sent his men for her, she knew word would spread before she’d even arrived. 

Unless he didn’t send anyone for her, she realized, her stomach dropping with nausea. He wouldn’t send anyone for her. She knew this. It’s why Prince August stood in the throne room, lethal as ever, even with no sword in his belt. August. Sugar. Whichever person he decided he was in the moment. Her nickname for him didn’t matter anymore. He wasn’t sweet. His desire for power showed the bitterness in his heart. He had given in to his parents’ wishes, despite the times he swore he would never give them the satisfaction.

He was cruel. But even worse, she believed he wouldn’t be. She was a fool.

It was the darkest part of the night when she left the servant’s quarters. She’d miss the ladies and all their kindness, but she knew she couldn’t serve August his breakfast in his bedchamber after this. After knowing that the sheets she once laid in with him were now being laid in by someone else. 

She took the back route, near the interior of the garden, ducking behind the ornamental shrubs and skirting past the watchpost the guards usually abandoned at this hour with ease. All that was left was to make it through the courtyard and she would be free. 

She padded her way along the path. A light breeze of the pre-dawn was catching, fluttering the branches of the newly blossoming trees around her and blowing petals in their wake. She caught one in her fingertips and fought a sob. Plum blossoms.

Should she take one with her? For the memory? So that she could always have a part of him with her? 

No, she decided. It would be too much to remember this. Once she passed through those gates, she would not be the same woman she was. Holding her breath, she let the petal go, hoping wherever the wind carried it, it would find the peace she too was looking for. It swept to the end of the courtyard, over the gate that was now her future. 

This was a sign, she mourned. Not all promises were meant to be kept.

With a final look at the place she’d learned to call home, the man she’d learned to call home, she opened the gate, ready to forge into the unknown. 

“Petal,” she thought she heard his call, his nickname for her. Though when she turned around, he was nowhere to be found. 

She must’ve imagined it, wished for the impossible. As she took steps through the gate, she looked out at the world around her, the plum petal a few feet in front of her. Maybe she would take a piece of him with her, after all. It was too tempting not to. 

She moved, trying to ignore the tug she felt back toward the palace, the invisible string of fate she thought that tied her to August trying to tangle her back in. She wouldn’t do it. She wouldn’t go back. 

She bent down, clutching the petal tenderly in her palms and letting the first tears fall. 

“So that’s it, hm? After all that, you weren’t even going to wish me goodbye.” 

She rose swiftly, whipping around to the voice’s owner. 

There, leaning against the outer palace wall, was August. 

The alarm on your phone chimes, pulling you from the book in your lap. You’ve been reading all afternoon, the sun now taking its final bow before plunging the world into darkness. Soon you’ll have to turn the lights on, then it will be time for work. On your only day off. 

You groan, stretching your neck as you allow yourself to come back to reality. 

To some, it would be hard to call your job “work”. Many people dreamed of being professional game streamers. Who wouldn’t want to be paid to sit online, play games, and talk to people? 

You don’t. That’s the problem. 

Your ascent into gaming stardom was a fluke. About 9 months ago, you were in between semesters for your grad program and looking for ways to unwind. Your oldest friend, Wonwoo, was a pretty successful streamer who often hosted game nights to play with his viewers and friends. 

You frequently watched his streams, letting his soft voice be the perfect background noise as you studied and formulated the next lesson plan or behavioral assessment. You’d known Wonwoo for what felt like forever at this point, being his first subscriber, first moderator, and first kiss (not in that order). But your middle school kiss outside of the convenience store never led to anything more than that, as desperately as you’d wanted it to. 

Once he moved across the country, you let your crush die with the distance. The years turned faster and your twenties were spinning by with the revolving door of lovers you’d watch him pine over, cry over, and in one case, almost marry. Streaming then became one of your main forms of connection, and your role as his moderator tied some part of you to him out of loyalty. To imagine him as anything other than a friend now feels ridiculous. 

But that loyalty you have is also to a fault. When Wonwoo’s usual streaming friends bailed one night during a tournament, you subbed in…for a game you didn’t even know how to play. 

And to make matters worse, this was a game that required talking to each other on-stream, which meant you not only sucked major ass at this game, but Wonwoo’s 700 viewers that day were also subjected to your constant frustrated squeaks, swears, and embarrassed maws as you tried to key-smash your way to victory but ended up throwing the entire team’s game with your incompetence. 

Wonwoo wasn’t mad, though many others were. He knew what he was getting into when he agreed, and his streams operated with very few rules: no hate, no spam, and we are in this to have fun. And he did have fun. By the time the first round was over, he and most of the chat were losing it over your commentary. 

As he wiped tears from eyes and took in a breath, he read his comments. “‘Damn, I never heard a chick threaten someone with a plunger like that before’. Yeah, I’ll give it to you, Y/N, you got really creative with your insults in that. Hey, PartyShitty thanks for the sub! ‘I can’t BREATHE’, yeah I’m still trying to get it together. W00000000000000000ziiiiii–damn that’s a lot of zeros in that username–thanks for the 5000 points! ‘Is she hot’ uh, I mean, I don’t— 

“Oh shit, LetsGetIt15, thank you for gifting twenty subs! ‘Please, Y/N, start your own channel. I’ll be the first subscriber.’ Actually, no, I’ll be. But really, that's not a bad idea.”

Wonwoo navigated the rest of his stream with ease that night, but after it was over, he called you to try to convince you to start your own channel. 

“It could help with school at least! Or you could get that special edition of that one book you like with the dragons or the blue alien porn stars or whatever it is.”

“They’re neither of those things, they’re actually–”

“Whatever they are! The book that has people fucking nonstop and some plot. You know, the special edition cover that you keep talking about in your close friend story that you won’t buy?” Wonwoo said. “The point is, if you start streaming you could finally buy it and then stop talking about it and I won’t need to see sections about how hot you think their alien or fairytale or demon whatever cocks are.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh at his exasperation. “That won’t stop with me getting that book, just so you know. And if it bothers you so much, I can take you out of the close friend story. I didn’t even know you looked at my stories that much.” You didn’t know he still used Instagram at all actually. He very rarely posted. He mostly lived on his Discord channel talking about games with his subscribers or other friends.

Regardless, it was nice to know that he was trying to be aware of your interests, even if it was incredibly embarrassing. Although the copious amount of smut you read wasn’t something you always wanted to broadcast to the public, you’d still made some friends from online book communities over the last few years and enjoyed keeping them in the loop of your reading list.

Also, Wonwoo had a point. Streaming could help paying some of your school expenses…or get you more books. You told him you’d think about it, and while you weren’t completely in love with the idea of streaming, it did provide you with some steady income until you landed your job at the restaurant.  

After that conversation, you haven’t discussed smut or cocks since, and you’re honestly relieved, not because Wonwoo is hard to talk to about things, but because you are. Which is why streaming always feels a little uncomfortable and your position ironic, because you can barely have conversations successfully unless you really know the person to ramble about your interests to, or you can occasionally eke by with small talk. 

But streaming requires the spotlight being on you in some way at all times. It’s your face that is fixed to the corner of the screen, monitoring your every reaction. It’s your voice that echoes into the mic and responds to your chat. Sure, you have mods and some streamers don’t interact with their chat at all, but you don’t want to be like that. You’ve been on the other side before, and know that most people are just lonely and looking for connection. . 

From the moment you decided to do this, you were aware that because you were now a “gamer girl” you would be subjected to the three extremes of the comment section: chronic oversharers who tell strangers all their personal baggage perhaps in the hope that you will assume some role of therapist to them, people coming to insult your gaming (which is the point so that can’t impact you) or physical appearance, or sexually explicit comments. 

Over the months, you’ve seen many things flitting by on the screen, deleted in haste by your trusty mod squad, but it doesn’t stop the fact that you still see them. 

Those things you can handle. They are impersonal and a direct copy-paste of the same thing.

But when people compliment you? That makes you want to bury yourself under your covers and never come out. Because the compliments are always personal and touching a part of you that is authentic.

The people in your chat want to know you. They want to know what kind of music you like, your favorite foods and books. They ask if you have a boyfriend or girlfriend or partner, compliment your hair or the shirt you’re wearing or your gaming setup. It feels intimate. Almost like you could find these people and touch them and let them know you. 

But they can’t. Because the only thing that drew them to you, the part where you’re this funny, positive gamer chick who sucks at video games but is down for whatever, isn’t real. 

Spring Day Streams Y/N is a persona. You don’t stream because you’re her. You stream because you have to be her in order to survive.  

And now she’s taking up more time. Last month’s streams landed you Streamer of the Month, which thanks to the exposure, brought dozens of new subscribers and thousands of points, and that helped take care of some of your expenses for the new semester. Some. You’re still behind on your credit card bill. 

Also, more people means more expectations for streaming. So you’ve kicked up your streaming schedule from twice weekly to three times a week, with you occasionally hopping onto Wonwoo’s channel even if you aren’t streaming to mod. 

When you aren’t glued to your computer, you’re usually at the restaurant, in a cramped kitchen where you do the prep work, often alongside him, your sexy coworker-but-now-boss, Seokjin. 

The man you are quietly obsessed with. You can’t think about Kim Seokjin without thinking about all the positions you want him to fuck you in. 

Which is also why you’ve been devouring books lately. When you’re home, you throw all your energy into the escapism they provide, especially ones where you can get yourself off to whatever fantasy Seokjin effortlessly slips into. 

For every hot mob boss, corrupt CEO, longterm best friend, dragon-rider, fairy, demon, alien, ghost, or hockey playing love interest you can find, Seokjin is sure to fill the role. A hot merman looking for someone to help him grow legs and something else? Seokjin. A Grinch who inherits his family’s Christmas tree farm and discovers how much he loves to ho ho ho? Seokjin. A god who tears apart the underworld to find his lost lover, and then during the reunion fucks her on the throne of Satan while she wears the crown? All Seokjin. 

Unfortunately, his transition from co worker to boss has made your fantasies all the more dirty. 

It’s been incredibly difficult for you to handle the fact that any flirtation you two previously shared in the months before he was your boss can no longer continue. But it’s also incredibly hot.

Fantasies of him eating you out on the counter have been replaced with the fantasy of him shoving you in the back office and fucking you on the desk while wearing one of those perfect-fitting dress shirts he often parades around in. 

And when he rolls up the sleeves to help in the kitchen? Fuck, it’s humiliating how wet you get.

The entire thing is pathetic really. He’s just standing there half the time, lecturing everyone on proper kitchen hygiene and ensuring one of the cooks doesn’t use expired seasonings for his eomma’s secret sauce. 

And you’re standing next to him clenching your thighs together because when you’re this close, you can just make out the freshness of his cologne and feel the heat of his body close to yours. 

When someone fucks up, he has a tendency to take over, chopping with unmatched precision and self assurance, trying to keep his voice even and usually failing as everything builds in intensity until he’s accidentally speaking at a million miles an hour and lecturing until his face turns red. 

If someone were to pass by the shop, they’d probably mistake his shouting for anger, but you’ve come to understand Seokjin is just passionate about things. Usually when he comes down from his tangent, he’s embarrassed and apologizes, and not long after the entire staff is laughing along with him as he cracks a joke at himself for his inability to tone it down.

Which to you makes him even hotter. Seokjin is able to see his faults and work with them, not against them. He holds himself accountable. He’s nothing like the haughty men you’ve gone on brief dinners with after downloading dating apps for the hundredth time while you’re drunk. He’s actually funny, knowing the right way to use humor and tell jokes, never at someone else’s expense, and definitely without being disgustingly crude. 

All those clowns you suffered through drinks with always made comments and digs at other women or referenced their cock like they were setting up some goofy scene from porn and you would find it hilarious and endearing. 

Seokjin isn’t like that at all. He probably refers to his dick as a penis and would blush to high heavens if he knew how horny you are for him. He’s unwound you, and he has no clue. Maybe if it hadn’t been literal years since you’ve last had sex you could tone it down. 

With working all the time and going to school, it’s already been hard to even go on singular dates here and there. And since the prospects were frankly awful, sex is just something that has had to go onto the back burner for a bit, but you seemed to scorch the fucking pan by forgetting to turn the heat off and now you are burning and hungry. 

With a final sigh, you put the book down, annoyed that you didn’t have time to finish it today or at least get to a good part where you could insert yourself into the role of the palace servant and Seokjin as the Prince. Based on the reviews, there’s sure to be a hot sex scene coming up involving using a sword in a particular way that has piqued your curiosity. 

In a moment of depravity earlier, you’d snaked one hand down the front of your panties to rub a few damp fingers around your clit to take the edge off. 

You check the time on your phone, already aware that you don’t have time to cum before streaming. You already hit the snooze button twice. The spicy stuff will have to wait. 

Defeated, you stand up, turning on the lights in your apartment as the sun finally fades away and the dark creeps in. You eat a bowl of cereal while doing your makeup, what little of it you want to put on. Finally, you fire up your PC, trying to ignore the irritation you’re already experiencing from being so high strung and unsatisfied.

The second this stream is over, you’re going to make sure you cum until you pass out. Until then, it’s time for work.

“At what point am I supposed to become good at this again?” You ask Seokjin as you attempt (and fail) to julienne carrots. 

When you arrived at work at an ungodly hour this morning to prep for the weekend rush, Seokjin had already started the coffee. 

Your empty cup now idles next to your scrap pile of too-wide carrot blocks that’ll have to be pulverized by the blender and repurposed in another recipe. 

Seokjin chuckles as he buzzes about the kitchen, reaching tenderly around you to grab your mug for a refill. 

“That all depends on how much you practice.”

“So should I expect a large carton of carrots to be delivered to my home this evening with the instructions to have them julienned by Monday?” You tease, as you split another carrot down the center, half of it flinging off the prep counter and onto the floor. 

Seokjin smirks and bends down. He picks up the carrot and deposits it into the garbage bin. “Two cartons, actually. Given how many carrots we’ve lost already today, I need to make sure at least some of our inventory lands on the customer’s plate and not just into the trash.”

“How considerate of you,” you chide, and put down the knife, reaching out to accept your newly filled coffee mug. Seokjin’s hands are red from the constant washing and chopping of potatoes, which you recently learned he’s allergic to. 

As well as garlic, and you’ve already voluntarily peeled and minced that for the day. That much you can do without guidance, but anything besides your imprecise chopping is on the list of knife skills Seokjin wants you to improve upon. 

This is fair, given how dangerous your previous cutting methods have been. Once Seokjin saw the way you tried to stab at a watermelon, it was over. Now you often come in an hour and a half early before each shift to practice. 

And to also be alone with Seokjin before he is forced from the kitchen to deal with other duties. 

“Thank you,” you say, as you take the first warm sip and shiver. It’s freezing outside, and it’s only supposed to get worse. 

There’s snow forecasted for the weekend, which could mean one of two things: everyone stays home and avoids driving, or they all leave the house in one show of silent agreement and fill every nook and cranny of the restaurant to order bowls of sundubu jjigae or crisp and hot pajeon. 

Seokjin predicts that because a warm front is moving in afterward, people will utilize one of the only days of snow you’ll likely get this winter to gather together.

Valentine’s Day is soon, and the city has started to prepare. Storefronts have begun switching out new year sale signs for pink and red heart motifs, with spas and restaurants offering couple specials. The perfumeries have moved from campaigns advertising the perfect Christmas gift to ones of sexy, decadent colognes sure to transform a man into his inner beast. 

And then there’s the chocolate. It’s like the air in the neighborhood the restaurant resides in smells different, less greasy and grimy and more sweet. Everywhere you turn there’s pastries, cakes, bonbons, crepes, chocolate dipped nuts and other confections that just looking at makes your teeth sore. 

With the district washing itself in a pink glow, more and more couples have been braving the cold, landing in the restaurant after weighing themselves down with shopping bags. 

You’ve seen what’s in them, often tripping over or kicking at least one bag each shift while you attempt to bring an order to the table and spilling the contents. This year seems to be popular for matching couple outfits. You’ve seen a lot of pairs in their early twenties wearing or recently acquiring sweaters that have the same characters or color combinations. With the temperatures dipping into a bitter chill this week, some have elected to wear cute but inconvenient sets of mittens that allow them to hold hands as they stroll. 

When it snows in the city, the world gets quieter, cleaner. Even if people shuffle around in the bustle of novelty experiences, how they show their love, from brushing the snow off each other’s coats or taking kissing selfies in front of snow fallen trees, it always makes you feel a little softer, a little more at peace. 

Snow is really romantic.

“What?” Seokjin asks, which alerts you to the fact that you’ve been staring at him as you let your thoughts run, a dopey grin splattered across your face. 

“Oh, sorry, I was just thinking about how much I love the snow.” You break eye contact, feeling the heat of embarrassment flood your cheeks. 

“Ah, yeah. It’s supposed to start soon,” he looks at you thoughtfully before looking back down at the tofu blocks he’s draining. 

A silence falls on you, the once normal pause now becoming a bit awkward. 

“What do–”

“I just–”

You both stumble over each other, trying to fill the unnatural pause you’ve reached, which has you laughing and Seokjin cracking a wide grin. 

“What were you going to say?” he asks, and then motions for you to get back to your carrot desecrating. 

“Ah nothing. You were going to ask something?”

You slice a carrot, this time less match stick and more shaved. Damn. 

“Oh, um. I was going to ask you what you like about the snow. That thought kind of came from nowhere and I was trying to follow.” His voice is careful, as if he’s trying not to offend you. Is he nervous?

Your mouth draws into a thin line. Can you risk saying what you were just thinking? Is it inappropriate to talk about romance in front of your boss, who you’ve thought about kissing in the snow at least three times a day? You don’t want to make him uncomfortable. You’re aware of the ways in which Seokjin’s new position of authority weighs on him. 

While he’s always had more authority due to being the owners’ son, it isn’t like Seokjin walked around the place with a power complex before his promotion. You two had become something akin to friends in the months you’ve worked together, falling into occasional flirty banter as you shuffled around each other to mop floors or wash dishes. 

You know he used to work for a large company a few years ago but quit to help his family with their restaurant. You also know he loves MapleStory and is always showing you his newest splurge from their online shop or the latest piece to his collection. 

He doesn’t have any pets, but sometimes debates getting a dog and then when shown support, he dismisses it with boisterous laughter, talking about how he doesn’t have the time and if he ever wants to get a dog, he will have to buy a house. Usually once he lands on discussions of a house, he gets a little more quiet, perhaps a bit sad.  

He has an older brother who has one child and another on the way, a major reason for his parents’ decision to travel now, before the new baby arrives. His brother and brother’s wife have visited a few times while you were working, but Seokjin’s mother had mentioned that her son and his wife recently moved into a new house outside of the city, and with the new addition joining sometime in the spring, it can be a bit exhausting to pack up the car for a few hours of visiting time. 

While you haven’t experienced Seokjin as an uncle, you know how much he loves being one, excusing himself from the front of the shop to Facetime with his nephew from the back office, where you can hear his voice carry with high pitched impressions and jokes or random songs he babbles to the youngest Kim. 

Knowing him in this way feels a bit awkward now that he’s the one signing your paychecks. Since his transition, he’s been a bit more formal with you, you assume trying to be respectful and professional. 

You understand where he’s coming from, but you miss the past connection you two had formed. And that seems to dictate your response. 

“I like how romantic snow is. How it not only makes the lights twinkle more, but how people do cute things in it. Snowball fights, drinking hot chocolate, building snowmen. They change their behaviors for the snow. To celebrate love in it. Last time it snowed here, I saw one girl push her boyfriend into a snowbank.”

Seokjin laughs as he begins popping the tofu blocks into containers. “That sounds awful,” he says. 

Your heart plummets. “Oh,” you squeak. 

His head darts up to catch your expression and his eyes flash. “Oh, no no! Not like that. I mean, being pushed into the snowbank. That poor guy was probably soaking wet and freezing after that!” He waves his knife in his hand wildly with his gesture and then quickly deposits it into a sheath before stepping over to your workstation. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to come out that way.” 

You recover. “Oh he was. He also got his revenge by pulling her in with him. And she wasn’t even wearing a coat.”

You watch Seokjin’s tense shoulders relax. His broad frame is so close now, towering over you. He smells a little like the earthy starch of potatoes, but you like it. 

“I, uh,” he says, his voice becoming more raw. “I like the snow too. You’re right, it is romantic in a way. The snowflakes getting caught in your hair, you huddle closer to someone to share body heat, it’s nice.”

As if on cue, your bodies inch a little closer to each other. Seokjin reaches his arm forward, brushing along yours as he grasps one edge of the workstation to lean in. 

“Yeah,” you reply lamely. 

You blink up at him and he smiles back. You both sit there for a moment, neither of you moving, just studying the other’s expression. 

Then, he leans in.

Your breath catches, and his other arm lifts up above you on the other side, caging you to the workstation.

Your eyes close from the intensity. He’s so close that you feel the fabric of his rolled shirt sleeve graze against your cheek. 

All it would take is him leaning in and searing his lips onto yours and you would fold for him. You know this.  

This is what you often fantasize about, the two of you in this position. That’s the power he has over you, his smooth seduction, your willingness. 

If he asked you right now, you would strip down and bend over this workstation, let him fuck you with your nipples brushing against the cold steel of the counter, carrot shavings squishing against your face as he impales you with his cock. 

It would be so easy, he just needs to ask you. 

“Y/N,” he says, a bit more distant now, but you shudder at how roughly he says your name. 

“Mm?” you hum, forcing your eyes to reopen. Seokjin has pulled away from you. How long has he been just looking at you standing here with your eyes closed?  

“Turn around,” he says. 

Wait, what? 

You stare back at him blankly. Is he reading your mind? 

Seokjin rolls his eyes and laughs, holding up the package of dried seaweed that was above you on the shelf. He tosses it on the counter behind him.

“Are you still here or did I lose you? I said turn around.” You freeze, confused. 

He did all that to reach above you for some seaweed? Is he fucking with you? And what does he want you to turn around for? 

“Wha–”

You open your mouth to ask but Seokjin moves in, his hands on your wrists as he takes you and spins you around so you’re up against your workstation, his stomach resting on your back as you stand sandwiched against him and the cold counter. You clench your thighs, suddenly aware that you are wet. 

Fuck.  

“You need to focus,” he says low in your ear. You take a shaky breath. 

Focus. How are you supposed to focus when you imagined this exact scenario exactly one minute ago? 

“I, what?” Your words fail you as you stand there, stunned and aroused but also completely confused about what he wants from you. This entire situation is a mindfuck. 

Seokjin’s hands leave your wrists and make their way to your hands as he moves you like a puppet. 

“Y/N, were you even paying attention? We just went over this. God, I swear, I’ve told you. You need to be present in the kitchen space. You’re lucky I resheathed the knife for you while you were on another planet. You could have easily gotten hurt.” Seokjin scolds you overhead. 

Oh. You look to the right and see the kitchen knife you were using back in its protective shell and not where you left it, which, come to think of it, was incredibly close to where your hands were now on the counter under Seokjin’s. Yikes. 

“Sorry,” you mutter, feeling a prick of shame seeping through the fog. Seokjin isn’t trying to fuck you against the counter; he’s trying to make sure you don’t cut your finger off. 

He tuts above you, his grip still firm as he directs you to the uncut carrots and chopping board. 

“Tsk, honestly. You’re ridiculous. What am I going to do if my best girl is hospitalized after losing her hand because she’s too busy daydreaming about snow storms instead of having basic kitchen awareness? You know, I could send you home over this. Make you unable to come back until you rewatch those kitchen safety videos with the fake blood and awful actors. Seriously.” 

You shiver at his words. He’s so busy setting up for a rant, you almost miss it. 

“Your best girl?” You ask lightly. 

Seokjin stills, your joined hands hovering over the cutting board. “Oh, uh. You know what I mean. You’re the best….girl we have on staff. You know.”

You don’t. You’re far from the best girl on staff. Seha has a degree in culinary arts. She’s usually the one who has everything prepped days ahead with perfectly formed cuts. She manages the kitchen cleanliness with rigidness. She even barks orders at Seokjin when he’s in the kitchen because he isn’t as clean as her. 

If she wasn’t out with the flu, none of this work would even need to be done. Maybe Seokjin is getting sick too. He’s been feverish looking and a little uneasy around you all morning, and clearly he’s now being delusional.

“Ah,” you concede, and give your hands a shake to urge him to continue. 

“Right, anyway. You’re getting better at your cuts, but I’m losing money quickly with all your sacrifices to the floor goblins. And we don’t have much time left before the others start coming in, so let’s finish this up.” 

You let Seokjin guide you, literally hand-over-hand, as he restructures your positioning on the knife and angle of the blade to slice through the carrots a lot more cleanly and easily. 

“That’s it, good. You’re doing such a good job,” he breathes. 

You feel his exhale along your spine. God, you’re a pervert. He’s just trying to help you better yourself, and all you’re thinking about is how dominating he seems right now and how much you want to please him. 

God, if he calls you a good girl you know you’re going to moan audibly. That’s how bad he’s got you.

You keep working, and once you get the hang of it, Seokjin’s grip loosens, allowing you to finish the bag by yourself. But his hands are still on yours, even if you’re the one in control. 

After a while though, it’s becoming too much to handle. Him bent over you like this is limiting your range of motion, making it hard to wipe the sweat on your hands or move your scrap pile further down the counter. 

He’s also a human furnace, the space between you still so limited that you’ve begun sweating under him. 

In one particular cut of carrot, the sweat caused by the joint heat of your hands causes you to lose your grip, shooting it down onto the floor. 

Reflexively, you reach down to grab it, but with Seokjin still attached to you, it proves to be an immediate disaster. 

You throw your body into a bend, which forces you back, your ass grinding directly into Seokjin and being met with something very large. 

You gasp and Seokjin grunts, swiftly releasing your hands, which are actually balancing you in your bend. 

You fall forward, smacking your head into the edge of the counter as you go down. 

The kitchen echoes with an embarrassing clang as your forehead ricochets off the metal. 

“Fuck,” you groan, a sharp pain shooting through you.. 

You scramble to recover, one hand going to your head as you steady yourself, rubbing the soreness. Seokjin flails above you, panicked. 

“Oh shit! Y/N I’m so sorry! Oh my god. Are you okay? I shouldn’t have let go, I just was–” Seokjin rambles as you stare up at him, trying to get him to steel himself. 

“No, fuck, ouch, it’s okay! I’m okay. Seokjin, can you please just get me some ice and help me up?” You aren’t sure you can get yourself up as your vision swirls from the heat of the pain. You really went down hard. 

Seokjin ceases his flailing and shouting, leaning down and picking your body up off the floor with impressive strength and carrying you to a clean workstation in the center of the room. He sits you on top of it, making you now almost his height. 

Holy shit.

Once sure you’re not at risk of flopping over, he walks over to the ice maker with a clean kitchen cloth and folds some ice cubes inside. 

You reach for the cloth, but he refuses to hand it over. 

“Yah! No. Please let me do this, I can see the bump forming already. I’m the one who caused your injury.” He gingerly lays the cold cloth against your head. You wince. 

“‘Snot your fault,” you pout, trying to ignore the pain. “It was an accident. No one caused it.” 

Seokjin sighs and places his free hand behind your head, discouraging you from angling away like you’ve subconsciously been doing. 

“It is my fault. I let go of you. After just lecturing you about kitchen safety. God, what kind of example am I setting? I’m really sucking at this boss thing.” 

You reach up, placing your hand on Seokjin’s wrist to remove it from the ice. But he doesn’t relent. You keep your hold. 

“Seokjin, you’re not a bad boss. God you’re literally the opposite. Everyone here loves you. You’ve only been the manager for a little while. Give yourself some time. And keep in mind both of your parents ran this place, and now it’s down to just you.” 

You feel the tendons under his wrist adjust, his grip a little looser. Seokjin’s wrists are soft and tan, a thin coating of hair trailing up his forearms and under his sleeve. Your grip loosens too, and you let your thumb brush back and forth through the hair. 

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t supposed to be the manager. My brother was supposed to manage the restaurant when my parents were ready to retire. That was always the plan, anyway. But things change. When they were getting their apartment ready for my nephew to arrive, I think they realized how tight space can be living in the city. We grew up in an apartment complex not too far from here and it always felt like we were on top of each other. 

“Which, we kind of were. My brother and I shared this tiny room that had bunk beds, and we lived that way until he went away to college. I used to always smack my head against the ceiling when I was a teenager and woke up in the middle of the night. My forehead would get huge bruises on it, probably a lot like the one you’re going to have on your head.” He frowns. 

“I guess my brother didn’t want to see his kids living like that either. I never minded it so much, but maybe that’s because I was the younger one. Not having any privacy during puberty or dealing with me during puberty was probably a nightmare for him.”

You shoot him a sympathetic smile. “It was nice of you to take over on his behalf then. I know you used to work for major companies in the business district downtown. This must have felt like a sacrifice.” 

Seokjin’s arm falls away from your head, your soft caress pulling away with it. He sets the cloth down next to you. He worries his bottom lip into his mouth and then shakes his head. 

“No, it was never like that. I’m sure eomma filled everyone and their brother’s ears with stuff about me. ‘Seokjin is our business minded son! He’ll make a great leader!’ ‘Seokjin is talented in the kitchen and spent his whole life working for us. We trained him well!’ ‘Don’t worry about him abusing his power. He knows exactly how it is for everyone!’” Seokjin’s says, his voice inotating the same pattern of his mother. 

“Well, she wasn’t wrong. You are all those things,” you argue, lacing your fingers in his. You know it’s not necessarily appropriate behavior between a boss and his employee, but at this moment, you’d argue Seokjin needs a friend more than anything. 

“I’m not, though, Y/N. I didn’t sacrifice anything to do this. It wasn’t some great act of loyalty where the son with a promising future gives up his dream for his family business. In fact I had to beg my parents to let me work here! Because I, their failure of a son, lost everything and had nowhere else to go! And the shit I ended up doing to even keep myself afloat…I’m not a great leader. I’m nothing more than a fraud.”

Seokjin rakes his free hand through his hair. 

“I had a good life before this Y/N. A good job, a nice house, a fi-...just..I was living a dream that I no longer have for myself is all. But at the time I was on top of the world and now I feel like such a fucking failure.” 

Seokjin looks like he’s falling apart, eyes darting madly as he shifts around, suddenly transforming into nothing like his usual cool, goofy self. 

You need to stop this from getting worse. To distract him and stop him from talking himself into a pit of despair. If Seokjin’s mouth is occupied somehow, he can’t continue with all the negative self-talk. 

A stupid idea flashes in your head. You don’t even think before you roll with it. 

“Jesus, I can’t even manage properly. I messed up Mino’s paycheck a few weeks ago and I’m still not sure how it happened. I’m just not–”

Your lips connect with Seokjin’s, your legs wrapping around his waist to tug him closer as you move your body against his. Seokjin returns the kiss in earnest, parting his mouth to welcome your tongue as you lap the words out of his mouth. 

His plush lips feel so soft against yours, his taste a bit bitter from the coffee you both drank earlier, but you find yourself craving more of it, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth with the hope that maybe you can absorb it. 

Seokjin groans in response, gripping your hand tighter, his other settling on your lower back as he pulls you closer. If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear every atom in your body is vibrating at a higher frequency from his touch. You want to feel him everywhere. 

You break the kiss, and see Seokjin’s eyelids are heavy, almost like he’s drunk. You’re about to move back in, to tongue along his sweaty, long neck, suck on his protruding Adam’s apple. 

That’s when you hear it. The slam of the back door as your coworkers arrive.

Seokjin jolts back, breaking the hold you have around his waist with your legs. 

His mouth looks a little red and swollen. And his eyes are wide, panic flashing across his face. 

“I–I’m sorry!” 

Before you can reassure him, tell him that you’re the one who should be sorry, you started this, who crossed this line between boss and employee by kissing him, Seokjin bolts from the kitchen. 

You sit for a minute, stunned, and then look around, taking in the scene around you. The carrot shavings all over the counter, the discarded one still on the floor. Your knife is unsheathed again. There’s containers of tofu and seaweed just abandoned in a pile next to a large pot. 

And you can feel the puddle forming under you from where the ice has begun to melt. What the fuck just happened? What mess did you just get yourself into? 

The rest of your shift, you’re anxious. Especially because you’re short-staffed due to the weather forecast, which has led to three call-outs from people who commute from across town. That means you’re performing multiple roles: taking orders, bussing tables, seating customers, and getting appetizers, drinks, and side dishes ready for each group of people coming through the door. 

Seokjin was right in his prediction; you guys are slammed. And because there’s less staff, that means Seokjin is orbiting around you, following behind with cleaning rags as you finish bussing or running into you in the narrow doorway as you both attempt to fetch an order from the kitchen. You’re both flushed and sweating, the hairs on the back of your neck now matted down. 

Your mind is swirling around that kiss and its consequences, but you don’t have time to lose focus; the minute you finish one thing, you’re pulled into another task for a temporary distraction.

Only to be thrust back into the reminder of this morning when Seokjin lightly caresses the small of your back as he squeezes behind you to grab more plates. 

If either of you ever need a break, you don’t say so, only pausing in between rushes to pee, take a bite of something, and chug water before you’re thrown back out into the mess. 

Finally, after you elect to work a double, it’s closing time.

“Y/N!” Seokjin calls you from the front as you scrub the grime off a stack of dirty dishes.

Your pulse quickens. You’re the last one here. The storm kicked up an hour ago, and since you live the closest, you shoved your coworkers out the door so they could get home before the roads were a mess. 

You dry your hands on your messy apron, pulling out your phone and wincing at the slew of missed calls, texts and notifications. You were supposed to stream again tonight with a bunch of other girl gamers as a part of a “Galentine's Day” collab, playing dating simulation games as a warm up before jumping into some first person shooters. 

You’d reached out to cancel once you saw the stress tugging at Seokjin’s face, his jaw set, his brow constantly furrowed. While the other streamers were completely understanding, you still have a ton of notifications from your social channels asking if you are okay and some texts from Wonwoo and a few other friends asking the same. 

You’ll fill them in later. But now, you have to face Seokjin. 

He’s sitting at a freshly wiped-down table, counting the drawers and preparing the deposit slip. 

He ushers you over and gestures at the stack of cash, silently asking you to verify his numbers. You comply, the room silent less the shuffling of bills or coins under your fingertips and your habitual mouthing of the numbers to ensure you don’t lose count. 

He nods at your final calculation, jotting the number down on the sheet and placing the bills together. You turn and begin to head back to the kitchen. 

“Wait,” he says, and you freeze. 

Your stomach is quickly turning into a bundle of knots. You suck your lips into your mouth as you spin back around, Seokjin’s eyes meeting yours. 

“I…” Seokjin takes a deep breath before continuing. “Listen. I’m really sorry about this morning. Today’s just been a whole mess and I really shouldn’t have been airing my frustrations to an employee like that. It was inappropriate and immature. I know better than to behave this way.”

Did you say your stomach was in knots? You mean it’s filled with heavy, sickening lead. “Oh, right. Uh, don’t. I mean, I started it. I just…you were panicking and I didn’t know what to do and I thought maybe this would help.” 

Seokjin’s brow furrows, a frown on his face. “Why are you apologizing when I’m clearly the one in the wrong here? Ah, no let me finish! I’ve always prided myself on my professionalism and ability to keep personal matters out of my work. And I failed in doing so, which takes advantage of you since I’m your superior. You not only felt a need to comfort me but also stop me from spinning out. I’m truly sorry Y/N, about the oversharing and the um, kiss. I definitely gave into my emotions in a moment of weakness. Please forgive me, I promise I will never touch you again. This won’t happen again.” 

His head droops and he looks down, clearly ashamed.

Oh. So he doesn’t want this. Which, why would he? He’s right in that he’s your boss, and clearly Seokjin values his reputation and his job because they’re a reflection of not just him, but his family. Why risk that with someone like you?

You swallow the lump in your throat along with any response. There is the boundary, you know better than to cross it. 

As you move again, Seokjin rises from the table. “Y/N…you know what? You go home. The storm is really coming down.”

“But, there’s still mopping and all those dishes left,” you croak. Your voice is so hoarse from being dehydrated and talking all day that you barely recognize it as your own. 

“Don’t worry about those. You look and sound exhausted. It’s not your job to take care of everything. Go home, enjoy your romantic snowy trek,” he smirks, “and get some much needed rest. You’ve more than earned it.”

When you arrive home, your body slugs onto your bed, finally giving into the fatigue you’ve ignored all day. Your feet ache, your stomach now settled enough from your walk that you are starving. And you smell awful. 

As much as you want to fall asleep, you know that you at the very least need to eat something. 

With a groan, you rise, hobbling to your kitchen to make some instant ramyeon. The collab stream is now over, you learned this while finally checking your phone on your way home and seeing a thank you message blasted out by one of the streamers. Oh well. 

You suppose you could get back to your book, see what Prince August and his lover are getting up to in their reunion, but that seems like more brain power than you’re willing to give. 

You elect to eat, then take a shower, rinsing the grime of the day off you. When you step out of the shower, you see an ugly looking bump and purple bruise on your forehead. 

That’s right, you’d already forgotten about your injury from earlier. You touch it lightly and recoil from the sharp pain. Damn, maybe you should’ve checked to see if you were concussed earlier. You didn’t realize you hit your head that hard. 

You decide to ice it before bed, crawling under your covers and trying to rest while you play back your day. 

How you started is so significantly different from where you are now. When you woke up, you were eager and excited to be around Seokjin, to learn new skills and feel light and warm in his presence. Now, the idea of going back to work in a few days, to have to muddle through the rejection you got tonight and try to get back to a baseline makes you feel nauseous. 

Seokjin wants to make this all water under the bridge, and you want to do that for him. But it’s nearly impossible when he’s, well, him. He doesn’t understand how much more difficult it’s going to be to look at him because you’re not walking around with a face like that: perfectly balanced and delicate features and a full, delicious set of lips. 

God, he really did taste fantastic. You wonder what would’ve happened if you two weren’t interrupted. Would giving into his emotional need for comfort have given you more? You know it’s wrong to think about, because you're the one who took advantage of him, not the other way around. 

He can say he took advantage of you with his power imbalance or whatever, but you’re the one who was seconds away from licking down that thick neck or grinding back onto that massive cock. 

Fuck, that’s right, Seokjin is huge under all those clothes and your ass got to experience rubbing against it today. And maybe it’s just wishful thinking, but he seemed like he was a little hard. 

If Mino and the others had been just a little later, you might have seen it. They might have walked in on you on your knees as you choked on it, Seokjin’s moans and whines echoing in the kitchen. 

Because now from kissing him, you got a taste of those little noises he makes. And the memory has you becoming slick and needy. 

It’s late. Too late to read your smutty book, especially since you’re not at the next smutty scene yet. August and his beloved are just reuniting. You’re sure it’s bound to be good, but you don’t have that kind of patience right now. You need to cum, to get your ideas about Seokjin and what he firmly set as a boundary out of your head once and for all. 

Which means you need to give your fantasy of him out of your head too. You shove the ice pack you’ve been holding to your head aside, ready to relieve some tension. 

You reach under your shirt and gasp when the chill of your icy hand plucks at one of your nipples. Yes, you need more of this. 

You touch the other one with your other hand, disappointed that it’s warm. And then you get a fantastic idea. You grope around for a moment until you feel the cold cloth housing the ice cubes from your freezer and pluck one out. It melts quickly in your hand, but the cold water is stimulating as you feel it run down your forearms, a droplet or two rushing down and reaching the heat of your armpit. You pull the large shirt you use as pajamas  up further with your other hand, fully exposing your chest and stomach to the chilly air of your apartment.  

The ice cube drips over your navel. You hiss as the new sensation floods your core with warmth. Some of the water pools in your belly button, a satisfying dampness taking over your body. Then, you drip the melting ice cube onto each nipple and relish how erect and sensitive they’ve become from your arousal. 

Your breasts are plush, something you love to grab and tug as you play with yourself. They’re heavy, the weight of gravity tugging them down instead of staying up as porn once made you believe was possible. 

You can understand why people sometimes get caught up playing with tits all the time. They’re arguably fun to play with. 

As the ice cube warms and shrinks, you become more curious, taking it between your fingers and swirling it directly over each nipple, a shock of cold hitting them and your hips bucking in pleasure. More. Whatever you’re feeling right now, you need more of it. 

You rip your sleep shorts and panties off in desperation, splaying your legs open and aiming yourself up so the last drips of the ice cube can fall directly onto the folds of your pussy, a few dribbles landing right on your aching clit. 

Heat, that’s what you actually feel. Fire and ice swirling together in a decadent and hot pleasure. You reach over and grab another cube, this time skipping the teasing and touching the ice right to your clit. It’s a lot. Too much. Not enough. The pain shooting through your clit is also full of so much pleasure and you don’t want to stop. 

You rock against your hand, rubbing your clit with your fingers as the ice melts, mixing the wetness of the water with your own, getting you messier, hotter, hungrier. 

The memory of Seokjin holding the ice pack flits through your head, how cold his one hand was as it held yours, similar to the chill of your own hand as you grind it against your pussy. You need something inside of you. Now. 

And unfortunately for you, all your toys are currently dirty. When you finished streaming last night, you made good on your promise to fuck yourself until you passed out, which means your collection of dildos and vibrators are now discarded in a pile next to your bed that you’d intended to wash after work today. 

You insert a finger and sigh. It’s not enough. The angle is too awkward and you can’t get far enough in. Seokjin’s hands are much larger than yours, capable of pumping his long fingers deep within you, to get to the part of your core that is aching. If he were here right now, he could be itching that scratch, a smug look on his face as he comments on how soaking wet you are for him and commands you to cum. 

Ugh. You said you wouldn’t think of him, yet here he is again, stirring up inside your fantasies. You can’t give in, you need to distract yourself, look at another face so you can feel motivation. 

You remove your fingers, wipe them on the damp washcloth next to you, and reach over on your side table for your laptop. 

You don’t watch a lot of porn, finding the videos often too fake, but you’re desperate. You scroll through the website, quickly losing some of your arousal as you click through pages of straight porn, the ones you know that will have some awful plot, or the woman has some nasal and fake moan that kills your buzz. Or the guys are so ugly, proving that porn always has the male gaze in mind. 

You just need to cum. Today has been awful enough, and knowing you have to stream tomorrow again is already causing you to wind up. No, this is necessary stress relief. An unwinding. Make it dirty and to the point. 

You click over into the other categories. You need just a man, someone else who isn’t Seokjin. You hover over the male masturbation tag, still disappointed. Then you see a banner ad for a camming site: Worldwide Handsome, Hunks From Around the Globe. That, you think, seems more promising. 

Live cams are interactive, more with immediacy. Usually the guys on them are hot or gay or both and just ready to jack off for money and give in to some dirty talk. Even the gay camboys don’t always care if women are viewing. Money is money. 

You click the banner, praying this doesn’t immediately give your computer a hundred viruses that will delete all your coursework you’ve saved to the harddrive. 

Luckily, it’s a legitimate website, much like OnlyFans, just with the emphasis on queer men from every country. You might just be saved. 

There are so many categories to choose from: couples, kinks, trans, bisexual, furries, just chatting, BDSM, interactive games, private rooms. It’s a little overwhelming. You select the “solo” tab, which, of course, has the most videos under it, and begin exploring. 

You click on one that seems promising, but quickly exit out because the user has fallen asleep and it feels too intimate. 

In another, the streamer is yelling at his chat for outting him to his parents, and you exit out of that as well. 

You’re about to give up when you refresh the page, but then a recently started stream catches your eye. It’s quickly gaining views, and has a little “1” next to it, probably to indicate that this streamer is the most popular one in his category. 

The title for the stream is Unwind with me. Late night play with Daddy which makes your core throb a little with promise. The thumbnail is black, which is a little odd, but you’re curious who this “Daddy” is and how he plans on helping his viewers unwind. Because that is exactly what you need. In his associated tags, there’s a tiny banner at the bottom that urges you forward “all genders welcome”. 

You click the link, and the video itself is black, but there’s still hundreds of comments fluttering through the chat. Is your stream broken? This sometimes happens when you stream too, but after a quick refresh you realize that the screen isn’t black. There’s a little bit of light pouring through whatever is covering the camera, detecting some movement through the veil. 

“You don’t know how stressed I am today,” a low voice groans. 

Whoa. You lean closer, tapping the volume button on your laptop to the max and leaning back. God, whoever this guy is, he sounds hot. This might actually work to get you off and get over Seokjin.

You balance your laptop on your knees and roll your hand down your stomach and between your legs, finding your aching clit and sighing as you delight in your touch. 

“I know we don’t always play games like this baby. I know you usually like it when I beg. But I can’t play like that today. It’s been so long since I got to fall back into what I desperately, absolutely need.”

His voice is so seductive yet also comforting in a way that’s familiar. You feel more of your arousal dripping out of you, and you scoop it up to swirl it around your clit, feeling a little twinge of that white hot pleasure return to you. 

“And what I need is to take the edge off, to remind all of you who is in charge. Some of you have been very, very bad lately. Haven’t I given you enough? A two-year anniversary stream? I gave you all my cum didn’t I? All of it.” 

The chat is going nuts, comments replying with “yes Daddy” accompanying tips that vary from twenty bucks to one thousand dollars spilling in. You check his timestamp. He’s only been live for five minutes and he’s already getting this much? Even your most successful streams take hours to reach a little over a thousand after royalty cuts. 

To his credit, though, if you had a grand to drop on him, you just might, and that’s going by his sexy voice alone.

“I let you watch me spill from my cock, let you see me touch myself. And you were greedy. Don’t think I don’t know what you did. I saw your questioning comments, trying to shame me for muttering someone’s name in pleasure. But I’m not ashamed. I’m proud.”

Fuck, what you would do to have this guy moan your name. You feel your orgasm approaching and rub yourself harder, a soft squelch echoing through your room.

“You took what I gave you for granted, you fucking whores. And now, you need to be punished.” 

You’re so close, the little peaks of pleasure starting to build up higher in intensity. 

The mystery man stops talking, and you along with the chat, begging for more. 

“Please,” you moan at your screen. 

Suddenly, you hear it, a wet, slick sound. Fuck, is he touching himself? 

“It’s been a long day. All day, I was working and I was so horny because some people in this world can’t stop fucking teasing me, tempting me to punish them, just like you.”

You feel the tremor of your first orgasm, but it’s not as sharp, more like a hint of what is to come. You pinch your clit between your fingers, sighing a little bit at the relief of pressure.

“You’ve all been very bad. And until you show me you can be good, I’m going to pump my cock and not let any of you see. You think you can do that? You think you can be my good little subs and prove to me you’ll behave?”

Oh god. Fuck. He’s insane, he’s so hot and insane, and you’re also insane, nodding along. The condescension is so hot, and it reminds you of earlier in the kitchen, when Seokjin scolded you for not being safe with the knife. His voice got rough just like this guy. And it makes you feel so needy and desperate. 

Please, you beg silently, just like how you did this morning. I’ll do anything. 

Almost as if he knows this, you hear a moan carry through your speakers. You assume he’s reading the comments and tips with promises to behave. You clench around nothing, really wishing at least one of your toys was clean for you to use to feel less empty. You’re never falling asleep without washing them again. 

“Good, that’s what I like to see. Now remember, you don’t get to cum until I get to cum. Go ahead and play with yourself for me, get yourself all worked up. And then be good and listen. I’ll tell you what to do next.” 

Whoops. Well, the first one didn’t count. You aren’t satisfied. 

He groans, signaling that he’s stroking himself again, rough jerks you can hear from the way his hands are sliding over his (you assume) lubed cock. 

“You want to see me cum? You want to earn it all over you? You know what you have to do, my pretty little subs. Work for it. And not a penny less.” 

In a frenzy, the tip jar continues to buzz in the bottom corner, the graphic of coins depositing into it glitching out a bit as it fails to keep up with the volume of tips. While he’s the most popular streamer on this site, it’s not as though the website is the only one of its kind, and that means that his couple hundred viewers are putting in the work and the cash. 

You watch the numbers rise next to the tip jar as his subs showcase their double entendre: both his subscriber count soars and his comments flood with loyal submissives.

Please, Daddy. Please let me cum. 

I’m sorry Daddy. I’ll be good, I swear. 

Remove the blindfold please! I need to see your big cock! 

Ah, it’s a blindfold. Of course. 

The graphic of the jar changes, exploding and sending animated dollars and coins across the screen. This is wild. His viewers have already met the milestone. They’ve just raised ten grand in less than 15 minutes. That has to be some kind of record. 

He tuts and the sound of it punches your gut. Why does he sound so familiar?�� “Tsk, that wasn’t so hard, was it? I knew you could do it. You want my forgiveness that badly, huh? Okay, I’ll give you what you need. I’ll forgive you.” 

Your pussy is throbbing. You’ve had to scale back the touching, feeling a weird sense of obedience to this camboy that you can’t describe. 

There’s a ruffling sound and the camera jolts before light pours into view, a blur of shapes and colors you can’t make out greeting you until it comes into focus and you’re met with a massive, leaking cock. 

“Holy shit,” you moan, finding your footing on your bed and moving your resting hand from your inner thigh back to your clit. 

The camera is framed from the user’s toned abs down to just the top of his thighs, showing off his heavy, tight balls and red, angry tip. 

“Is this what you’re begging for?” 

Yes, you shudder a breath. Yes. 

Large hands with long knobby fingers run along his thighs, one sweeping under to cup his balls while the other works his shaft, thumb sliding over his slit to rub precum around the tip. 

“Alright, then.” He begins pumping, smooth, tight jerks that have him squeezing his length and encouraging more strands of precum to leak out. He falls into a steady rhythm and you mirror the pace on your clit, gasping for breaths as you become all the more sensitive now that you have a visual to follow. 

“My face? Oh, no. You didn’t earn the right to see that. Don’t start with me. If you want to see my face when I cum, you have to reach the next milestone. You know the rules.” 

You don’t know the rules, but you hope someone else will be desperate enough to reach it for you. You’re dying to know what he looks like. 

Almost instantly, the money animation explodes on the screen again. A $5000 tip. Jesus Christ.

“Ah, of course mapl3stor33, I should’ve known it was you. Always so good to me.  Because of you I got to get that new collector figurine. Thank you. Well everyone, because of mapl3’s generosity and mmm…loyalty…fuck. I guess I’ll let you get your full fantasy. Let you see my face as you imagine you get to make a mess of me, milk my fucking cock all over you and let me make a mess of you.” He’s moaning as he speaks, pausing between sentences to pump himself harder as he gives “Maple” a proper shout out. 

Your cheeks heat in embarrassment. It’s one thing for you to create the fantasy, but him acknowledging it with some judgment, as though you’re not good enough to even fantasize about him, it’s leading you quicker to your undoing. 

His pace builds to a heavy, slick rut. His hands are slightly red, almost like how yours looked after washing the dishes before Seokjin kicked you out. 

Wait. Red hands. His look similar to Seokjin’s, with the same knobby long fingers. And the figurine and Maple…like, MapleStory? 

There’s no way. No, you’re clearly just losing it with your fantasies. This one is taking it too far. 

“Fuck, yeah that’s it baby. Touch yourself. Be good for me. Where do you want my cum? Oh, you dirty slut, fuck, yes. Okay, I’ll cum all over myself. Just for you. Shit. Almost, come on.”

Your fingers are still following his lead, unable to stop, so close to finishing, to the release. 

He moans, his hands blurring as he strokes fast and hard, jerking into himself. And that’s when you know. You heard that moan. You caused that moan. 

With a final solid, slightly whiny grunt, he backs up. His face coming into frame, and the first strands of thick white release cascades across Seokjin’s chest as you focus in on the pure bliss washing over him, his head thrown back and mouth shaped into a delicious “o”. 

“Oh, fuck. Take it, take my cum. Yes, that’s it. That’s my best girl, so good for me. Such a good girl.” 

The second you hear the praising fall from Seokjin’s mouth, he takes you over the edge with him. Your body rockets into your orgasm with a heavy clench of your core, feet losing their solid hold below you as you begin to shake and succumb to the feeling. 

You’ve unwound, the tension of your body unfurling as you’re cast out to sea, your body bobbing along each wave with a newfound euphoria. Out here on the water, the world is silent except the ring in your ears. You bask in the peaceful ebb until you feel a tingling in your fingertips and toes calling you back, forcing breath back into your lungs with a heavy pant. 

Once you recenter, you gaze back at the stream, confirming that this is the smiling and grateful Seokjin you just saw three hours ago. 

He called you a good girl. He came all over his sweaty chest. And he’s the top streamer on a gay sex cam site. 

©2024 by jooniperbonsai

[sunsuns-babie]

My Roommate is a Gumiho | SMAU+WRITTEN

A/N: Inspired by the Kdrama of the same name starring Lee Hyeri and Jang Kiyong. The plot will loosely follow similar main plot points to that of the Kdrama but with new twists added so you won’t get much of a spoil if you have or haven’t watched the drama!

main pairing(s): choi yeonjun x f!reader x kim sunoo

secondary pairing(s): minor kang taehyun x f!reader and f!reader x choi soobin

summary: To become human a, 999-year old Gumiho (Nine-Tailed-Fox), Choi Yeonjun needs to fill his fox bead with human energy before he turns 1,000-years. One day a college girl, Y/L/N Y/N, accidentally swallows Yeonjun’s fox bead. A Nine-Tailed-Fox bead can live in a human for ONLY one year and after a year is up it will break inside the human who holds it. This means Y/L/N Y/N will die and Choi Yeonjun will lose his chance at becoming human unless they can figure out how to safely get it out without just killing the girl anyway.

gumiho definition 1: A Gumiho/Kumiho or Nine-Tailed-Fox in English is a creature in folktales from East Asia and in legends in Korea. The Korean legend states it can freely transform into a beautiful woman or even a handsome man that will seduce men/women in order to eat their liver or heart.

gumiho definition 2: A Nine-Tailed Fox is a beasts of whom resembles a fox and can transform into an attractive person. In beast form it has four feet and nine tails, with a new tail growing every 100 years. After a millennium (1,000 years) on Earth, the worthy fox may then ascend to the Heavens and join the gods.

genre: non-idol au, sci-fi, fantasy, social media au, college au

characters: choi yeonjun, yu jimin “karina”, han yujin, choi beomgyu, kang taehyun, huening kai, lee chaeryeong, nakamura kazuha, choi soobin, kim minjeong “winter”, lee heeseung, hong seunghan, danielle marsh, lee wonhee, kim sunoo, choi yewon “arin”, and mentions of more

status: on-going

schedule: when I can upload I will life has just been crazy recently

started: june 21, 2024

ended: tba…

warnings: profanity, mentions of death & almost deaths, minor violence, allusion to sexual acts

Author’s Note: If you’re a follower of mine that followed me for my other Sunoo focused SMAU “If I Get My Way”, I’m currently reworking the plot and considering re-uploading it after I’ve made the necessary changes. I apologize if you’re waiting for more chapters for that work and are surprised to see this announcement but I promise I’m working on “If I Get My Way” and making it better. It won’t be forgotten because I have a lot of plans for it!

Index!

profiles: da gang 🤪 + yujin, team minjeong + wonhee, the nine-tailed foxes + the mountain spirit

01. It Took You 2 Weeks + WRITTEN PART (2,529 wrds)

02. Beomgyu’s DRUNK-DAZE[D] *WRITTEN PART* (2,062 wrds)

03. Kang Taehyun please come save me! *WRITTEN PART* (2,347 wrds)

04. KARINA Troublemaker, YEONJUN Problem Solver, Y/N Got Stomach Ache, YUJIN is Annoyed *WRITTEN PART*

05. Men born in the Year of the Dragon *WRITTEN PART*

06. May I Call You Miss Han? *WRITTEN*

07. Miss Han, you seem to scare easily *WRITTEN*

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taglist (open): if you want to be added to this specific smau’s taglist or the permanent taglist send an ask specifying which one, please!

[matttgirlies]

Matt & Me 🎀

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

a story heavily based on Priscilla Presley’s Book “Elvis & Me” based in the 1950’s - 1970’s.

fem! reader x singer! matt

disclaimer!! - in no way am i saying matt would ever support or do these kind of things, for the sake of the book certain unethical things do happen at times.

warnings - age gap,, i think thats all

all of the songs and celebrities mentioned in here are from the time periods this was written if you are confused🩷

Chapter 1

It was 1956. I was living with my family at the Bergstrom Air Force Base in Austin, Texas, where my father, then Captain, Joseph Paul y/ln, a career officer, was stationed. He came home late for dinner one evening and handed me a record album.

“I don’t know what this Matt guy is all about,” he said, “but he must be something special. I stood in line with half the Air Force at the PX to get this for you; everybody wants it.”

I put the record on the hi-fi and heard the rocking music of “Blue Suede Shoes.” The album was titled Matt Sturniolo. It was his first.

Like almost every other kid in America, I liked Matt but not as fanatically as many of my girl friends at Del Valley Junior High. They all had Matt T-shirts and Matt hats and Matt socks and even lipstick in colors with names like Hound Dog Orange and Heartbreak Pink referencing names of his songs. Matt was everywhere, on bubblegum cards and Bermuda shorts, on diaries and wallets and pictures that glowed in the dark. The boys at school began trying to look like him, with their fluffy hair and turned up collars.

One girl was so crazy about him that she was running his local fan club. She said I could join for twenty-five cents, the price of a book she’d ordered for me by mail. When I received it, I was shocked to see a picture of Matt signing the bare chests of a couple of girls, at that time an unheard-of act.

Then I saw him on television on Jimmy and Tommy Dorsey’s Stage Show. He was sexy and handsome, with his deep brooding eyes, pouty lips, and crooked smile. He strutted out to the microphone, spread his legs, leaned back, and strummed his guitar. Then he began singing with such confidence, moving his body with unbridled sexuality. Despite myself, I was attracted.

Some members of his adult audience were less enthusiastic. Soon his performances were labeled obscene. My mother stated emphatically that he was “a bad influence for teenage girls. He arouses things in them that shouldn’t be aroused. If there’s ever a mothers’ march against Matt Sturniolo, I’ll be the first in line.”

But I’d heard that despite all of his stage antics and lustful, tough-guy looks, Matt came from a strict Southern Christian background. He was a country boy who didn’t smoke or drink, who loved and honored his parents, and who addressed all adults as “sir” or “ma’am.”

I was an Air Force child, a shy, pretty little girl, unhappily accustomed to moving from base to base every two or three years. By the time I was eleven, I had lived in six different cities and, fearful of not being accepted, I either kept to myself or waited for someone to befriend me. I found it especially difficult entering a new school in the middle of the year, when cliques had already been established and newcomers were considered outsiders.

Small and petite, with long y/hc hair, y/ec eyes, and an upturned nose, I was always stared at by the other students. At first girls would see me as a rival, afraid I’d take their boyfriends away. I seemed to feel more comfortable with boys—and they were usually friendlier.

People always said I was the prettiest girl in school, but I never felt that way. I was skinny, practically scrawny, and even if I was as cute, as people said, I wanted to have more than just good looks. Only with my family did I really feel totally protected and loved. Close and supportive, they provided my stability.

A photographer’s model before her marriage, my mother was totally devoted to her family. As the oldest, it was my responsibility to help her with the kids. After me, there were Don, four years younger, and Michelle, my only sister, who was five years younger than Don. Jeff and the twins, Tim and Tom, hadn’t yet been born.

My mother was too shy to talk about the facts of life, so my sex education came in school, when I was in the sixth grade. Some kids were passing around a book that looked like the Bible from the outside, but when you opened it, there were pictures of men making love to women, and women making love to each other.

My body was changing and stirring with new feelings. I’d gotten looks from boys at school, and once a picture of me in a tight turtleneck sweater was stolen from the school bulletin board. Yet I was still a child, embarrassed about my own sexuality. I fantasized endlessly about French-kissing, but when my friends who hung around our house played spin the bottle, it would take me half an hour to let a boy kiss my pursed lips.

My strong, handsome father was the center of our world. He was a hard worker who had earned his degree in Business Administration at University of Texas. At home he ran a tight ship. He was a firm believer in discipline and responsibility, and he and I frequently knocked heads. When I became a cheerleader at thirteen, it was all I could do to convince him to let me go to out-of-town games. Other times no amount of crying, pleading, or appealing to my mother would change his mind. When he laid down the law, that was that.

I managed to get around him occasionally. When he refused to let me wear a tight skirt, I joined the Girl Scouts specifically so I could wear their tight uniform.

My parents were survivors. Although they often had to struggle financially, we children were the last to feel it. When I was a little girl my mother sewed pretty tablecloths to cover the orange crates that we used as end tables. Rather than do without, we made the best of what we had.

Dinner was strictly group participation: Mother cooked, one of us set the table, and the rest cleaned up. Nobody got away with anything, but we were very supportive of one another. I felt fortunate to have a close-knit family.

Going through old albums of family photographs showing my parents when they were young fascinated me. I was curious about the past. World War II intrigued me, especially since my father had fought with the Marines on Okinawa. He looked handsome in his uniform—you could tell he was posing for my mother—but somehow his smile looked out of place, especially when you realized where he was. When I read the note on the back of the picture about how much he missed my mother, my eyes filled with tears.

While rummaging through the family keepsakes I came upon a small wooden box. Inside was a carefully folded American flag, the kind that I knew was given to servicemen’s widows. Also inside the box was a picture of my mother with her arm around a strange man and, sitting on her lap, an infant. On the back of the photo was inscribed “Mommy, Daddy, y/n.” I had discovered a family secret.

Feeling betrayed, I ran to phone my mother, who was at a party nearby. Within minutes I was in her arms, crying as she calmed me and explained that when I was six months old, my real father, Lieutenant James Wagner, a handsome Navy pilot, had been killed in a plane crash while returning home on leave. Two and a half years later, she married Paul y/ln, who adopted me and had always loved me as his own.

Mother suggested I keep my discovery from the other children. She felt it would endanger our family closeness, though when it did become known, it had no effect on our feelings for one another. She gave me a gold locket that my father had given her. I cherished that locket and wore it for years and fantasized that my father died a great hero. In times of emotional pain and loneliness he would become my guardian angel.

By the end of the year, I’d been nominated to run for Queen of Del Valley Junior High. This was my first taste of politics and competition and it was especially trying because I was running against Millie Collins, my best friend.

We each had a campaign manager introducing us as we went from house to house knocking on doors. My manager tried to talk each person into voting for me and donating a penny or more per vote to a school fund. The nominee who collected the most money won. I was sure that this competition would jeopardize my friendship with Millie, which was more important to me than winning. I considered quitting but felt I couldn’t let my parents or my supporters down. While my mother was out looking for a dress for me to wear to the coronation, my dad kept reminding me to memorize an acceptance speech. I kept putting it off, certain I was going to lose.

It was the last day of the campaign, and a rumor began circulating that Millie’s grandparents had put in a hundred-dollar bill for their vote. My parents were disappointed; there was no way that they could afford to match that much money and even if they could, they objected on principle.

The night they announced the winner, I was all dressed up in a new turquoise blue, strapless tulle net formal that itched so badly I couldn’t wait to take it off. I sat beside Millie on the dais in the large school auditorium. I could see my parents with happy, confident looks on their faces though I was sure they were going to be disheartened. Then the principal walked up to the podium.

“And now,” she said, hesitating to heighten the suspense, “is the moment you’ve all been waiting for  . . . the culmination of a month of campaigning by our two lovely contestants: y/n y/ln  . . .” All eyes turned toward me. I blushed and glanced at Millie. “ . . . and Millie Collins.” Our eyes locked for a brief, tense moment.

“The new Queen of Del Valley Junior High is  . . .” A drum roll sounded. “ . . . y/n y/ln.”

The audience applauded wildly. I was in shock. Called up to the stage to give my speech, I had none. Sure that I was going to lose, I’d never even bothered to write one. I walked, trembling, to the podium, then looked out at the crowded auditorium. All I could see was my father’s face, growing more disappointed as he realized I had nothing to say. When I finally spoke, it was to apologize.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’m not prepared to give a speech, as I did not expect to win. But thank you very much for voting for me. I’ll do my very best.” And then, looking at my father, I added, “I’m sorry, Dad.”

I was surprised as the audience graciously applauded, but I still had to face my father and hear him say, “I told you so.”

Being elected Queen was a bittersweet victory, because the closeness that Millie and I once shared was restrained. Still, to me that crown symbolized a wonderful, unfamiliar feeling: acceptance.

My newfound tranquility ended abruptly when my father announced that he was being transferred to Wiesbaden, West Germany.

I was crushed. Germany was the other side of the world. All my fears returned. My first thought was, What am I going to do about my friends? I turned to my mother, who was sympathetic and reminded me that we were in the Air Force and moving was an unavoidable part of our lives.

I finished junior high school, my mother gave birth to baby Jeff, and we said our goodbyes to neighbors and good friends. Everyone promised to write or call, but remembering past promises I knew better. My friend Stephanie jokingly told me that Matt Sturniolo was stationed in Bad Neuheim, West Germany. “Do you believe it? You’re going to be in the same country as Matt Sturniolo,” she said. We looked at a map and found that Bad Neuheim was close to Wiesbaden. I said back, “I’m going over there to meet Matt.” We both laughed, hugged each other, and said goodbye.

West Germany

The fifteen-hour flight to West Germany seemed interminable, but finally we arrived in the beautiful old city of Wiesbaden, headquarters of the U.S. Air Force in Europe. There we checked into the Helene Hotel, a massive and venerable building on the main thoroughfare. After three months, hotel living became too expensive and we began looking for a place to rent.

We felt lucky to find a large apartment in a vintage building constructed long before World War I. Soon after we moved in, we noticed that all the other apartments were rented to single girls. These Fräuleins walked around all day long in robes and negligees, and at night they were dressed to kill. Once we learned a little German, we realized that, although the pension was very discreet, we were living in a brothel.

Moving was out of the question—housing was too scarce—but the location did little to help me to adjust. Not only was I isolated from other American families, but there was the language barrier. I was accustomed to changing schools frequently, but a foreign country posed altogether new problems, principally that I couldn’t share my thoughts. I began to feel that my life had stopped dead in its tracks.

September came and with it, school. Once again I was the new girl. I was no longer popular and secure as I’d been at Del.

There was a place called the Eagles Club, where American service families went for dinner and entertainment. It was within walking distance of the pension and soon proved an important discovery for me. Every day after school, I’d go to the snack bar there and listen to the jukebox and write letters to my friends back home in Austin, telling them how much I missed them. Drowning in tears, I’d spend my weekly allowance playing the songs that were very popular back in the States—Frankie Avalon’s “Venus” and the Everly Brothers’ “All I Have to Do Is Dream.”

One warm summer afternoon, I was sitting with my brother Don when I noticed a handsome man in his twenties staring at me. I’d seen him watching me before, but I’d never paid any attention to him. This time, he stood up and walked toward me. He introduced himself as Steven Wright and asked my name.

“y/n y/ln,” I said, immediately suspicious; he was much older than me.

He asked where in the States I came from, how I liked Germany, and if I liked Matt Sturniolo.

“Of course,” I said, laughing. “Who doesn’t?”

“I’m a good friend of his. My wife and I go to his house quite often. How would you like to join us one evening?”

Unprepared for such an extraordinary invitation, I grew even more skeptical and guarded. I told him I’d have to ask my parents. Over the course of the next two weeks, Steven met my parents and my father checked out his credentials. Steven was also in the Air Force and it turned out that my father knew his commanding officer. That seemed to break the ice between them. Steven assured Dad that I’d be well chaperoned when we visited Matt, who lived off base in a house in Bad Nauheim.

On the appointed night I tore through my closet, trying to find an appropriate outfit. Nothing seemed dressy enough for meeting Matt Sturniolo. I settled on a navy and white sailor dress and white socks and shoes. Surveying myself in the mirror, I thought I looked cute, but being only fourteen, I didn’t think I’d make any kind of impression on Matt.

Eight o’clock finally arrived, and so did Steven Wright and his attractive wife, Carole. Anxious, I hardly spoke to either of them during the forty-five-minute drive. We entered the small town of Bad Nauheim, with its narrow cobblestone streets and plain, old-fashioned houses, and I kept looking around for what I assumed would be Matt’s huge mansion. Instead Steven pulled up to an ordinary-looking three-story house surrounded by a white picket fence.

There was a sign on the gate in German, which translated as: autographs between 7:00 and 8:00 p.m. only. Even though it was after eight o’clock, a large group of friendly German girls waited around expectantly. When I asked Steven about them, he explained that there were always large groups of fans outside the house, hoping to catch a glimpse of Matt.

I followed Steven through the gate and up the short pathway to the door. We were welcomed by James Sturniolo, Matt’s father, a tall, gray-haired, attractive man, who led us down a long hallway to the living room, from which I could hear Brenda Lee on the record player, singing “Sweet Nothin’s.”

The plain, almost drab living room was filled with people, but I spotted Matt immediately. He was handsomer than he appeared in films, younger and more vulnerable-looking with his haircut. He was in civilian clothes, a bright red sweater and tan slacks, and he was sitting with one leg swung over the arm of a large overstuffed chair, with a cigar dangling from his lips.

As Steven led me over to him, Matt stood up and smiled. “Well,” he said. “What have we here?”

I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. I just kept staring at him.

“Matt,” Steven said, “this is y/n y/ln. The girl I told you about.”

We shook hands and he said, “Hi, I’m Matt Sturniolo,” but then there was a silence between us until Matt asked me to sit down beside him, and Steven drifted off.

“So,” Matt said. “Do you go to school?”

“Yes.”

“What are you, about a junior or senior in high school?”

I blushed and said nothing, not willing to reveal that I was only in the ninth grade.

“Well,” he persisted.

“Ninth.”

Matt looked confused. “Ninth what?”

“Grade,” I whispered.

“Ninth grade,” he said and started laughing. “Why, you’re just a baby.”

“Thanks,” I said curtly. Not even Matt Sturniolo had the right to say that to me.

“Well. Seems the little girl has spunk,” he said, laughing again, amused by my response. He gave me that charming smile of his, and all my resentment just melted away.

We made small talk for a while longer. Then Matt got up and walked over to the piano and sat down. The room suddenly grew silent. Everyone’s eyes were focused on him as he began to entertain us.

He sang “Rags to Riches” and “Are You Lonesome Tonight?” and then with his friends singing harmony, “End of the Rainbow.” He also did a Jerry Lee Lewis impersonation, pounding the keys so hard that a glass of water he’d set on the piano began sliding off. When Matt caught it without missing a beat of the song, everyone laughed and applauded except me. I was nervous. I glanced around the room and saw an intimidating life-size poster of a half-nude model on the wall. She was the last person I wanted to see, with her fulsome body, pouting lips, and wild mane of tousled hair. Imagining Matt’s taste in women, I felt very young and out of place.

I glanced up and saw Matt trying to get my attention. I noticed that the less response I showed, the more he began singing just for me. I couldn’t believe that Matt Sturniolo was trying to impress me.

Later, he asked me to come into the kitchen, where he introduced me to his grandmother, Minnie Mae Sturniolo, who stood by the stove, frying a huge pan of bacon. As we sat down at the table, I told Matt I wasn’t hungry. Actually I was too nervous to eat.

“You’re the first girl I’ve met from the States in a long time,” Matt said, as he began devouring the first of five gigantic bacon sandwiches, each one smothered with mustard. “Who are the kids listening to?”

I laughed. “Are you kidding?” I said. “Everyone listens to you.”

Matt seemed unconvinced. He asked me a lot of questions about Fabian and Ricky Nelson. He told me he was worried about how his fans would accept him when he returned to the States. Since he’d been away, he hadn’t made any public appearances or movies, although he’d had five hit singles, all recorded before he’d left.

It felt like we’d just begun talking when Steven came in and pointed to his watch. I had dreaded that moment; the evening had gone so fast. It seemed I had just arrived and now I was being hurried away. Matt and I had just started to get to know each other. I felt like Cinderella, knowing that when my curfew came, all this magic would end. I was surprised when Matt asked Steven if I could possibly stay longer. When Steven explained the agreement with my father, Matt casually suggested that maybe I could come by again. Though I wanted to more than anything in the world, I didn’t really believe it would happen.

a/n - thoughts on this story so far? all the fashion and technology and things is still based in the time period its set in but i promise it gets better as the story goes on! i know the age gap is crazy but back in the day it was normal and its the age gap in Priscilla’s book so i just stuck with it. I in no way support this at all🎀

Excerpt from: "Elvis and Me" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley. Scribd.

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