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saintobio · 2 months ago

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TITANIC.

deep in the heart of the Atlantic, an unexpected love defies the lines drawn by social class and destiny.

𝇈𓈒 genre. tragedy, angst, forbidden love, titanic au

𝇈𓈒 pairings. rafayel, fem!reader

𝇈𓈒 tags. first class!rafayel, artist!rafayel, third class!reader, singer!reader, social class differences, classism, might be ooc (esp thomas), not set in l&ds universe, mentions of arranged marriage, cheating, suicide attempt, allusions to sex trafficking and prostitution, violence (not from raf), explicit smut, nudity, cunnilingus, fellatio, unprotected sex, drowning, hypothermia, deaths, sinking of the ship, major character death.

𝇈𓈒 notes. 22.2k wc. dividers by drinkthesky and mikeykuns. events are exactly the same as the film, except for some small alterations. this was so fun to write albeit being really tedious and time-consuming 🤧 please enjoy, and reblogs are highly appreciated !

The RMS Titanic was known as the largest and most luxurious liner in the world. When the White Star Line first announced the ship’s launch, various headlines were even made across the globe, dubbing it ‘The Unsinkable Ship’ or ‘The Ship That Even God Himself Couldn’t Sink’. A bit ambitious, of course, but the hubris that came along with it was mostly from the upper echelon of the society who had the means to experience the ship’s impressive size and unparalleled luxury. It was all they ever talked about for months and months, waiting in full excitement to board the ship on its maiden voyage, scrambling to secure tickets to its first-class accommodations as if their money were merely falling from the skies.

Indeed, the Titanic was a grand ship, but for you and the other third-class passengers, it was anything but.

Your passage was paid for, not by a stroke of luck or generational wealth, but by a woman who recruited female entertainers to join the ship’s voyage. Just a month ago, your contract as a singer had ended when the pub you worked at shuttered its doors, leaving you without income and desperate to find a way to support your mother and sister. It was during one of those aimless nights, jobless and searching for a way to survive, that the proprietress noticed you. And it was exactly while she was posting a job vacancy outside her establishment when she claimed how your background and experience in singing and performing made you a perfect candidate for her offer.

You envied the wealthy. Truly. Because they had the privilege to turn down job offers, with countless others waiting in the wings or an inheritance ready to secure their future. Some of them didn’t even have to work at all. But for those on the other side of society—people like you who were struggling to make ends meet—certainly, the proposition was a windfall.

‘It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to board the Titanic,’ they’d say. ‘You wouldn’t have been able to set foot on it, even if you traded everything you owned,’ they’d say. ‘Only a fool would turn down such a chance.’ So, who were you to refuse? Beggars can’t be choosers, after all. Besides, who would deny the American dream? You considered that America held the promise of something greater, with the country being called the Land of Opportunities—a chance that might finally bring the stroke of luck you needed to lift your mother and sister out of the squalor of the slums back home.

A new beginning, a better life, and a future far from the harsh reality you were leaving behind.

And so, with the White Star Line boarding ticket on your hand, you turned back for one final glance at the place you had always known as home.

You soon made your way toward the deck of the ship, and your eyes searched the crowd to find your mother and sister standing among the sea of people, waving to you with hopeful, bittersweet smiles. You swallowed the lump in your throat and forced a smile of your own, holding back the tears that threatened to spill as you waved back, trying to etch their faces into your memory for the days to come.

“Farewell!” you heard one of your colleagues, Eliza, shout to her family by the dock. Like you, she too fought hard to keep her tears from spilling, feeling that familiar tightness in her chest as she waved goodbye.

“Won’t you come back?” you asked softly, your eyes drifting back to your own family.

Eliza turned to you with lachrymose eyes. “There’s no certainty how this journey will end for people like us. We’re often the last to know and the first to lose.” She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself as the ship’s horn blared, signaling the imminent departure. “But maybe… maybe this time will be different.”

You nodded, her deep words eventually sinking into you. The scent of the salty sea air, the cool breeze brushing against your cheeks, the creaking of the ship—all became imprinted in your mind as you both stood there, knowing that this might be the last time you’d see your families again. For a long time.

And as the ship’s engines roared to life, pushing the mighty vessel away from the dock, you clung to the belief that, somehow, this journey could still hold something brighter for you. The only way to live through life’s uncertainties and vicissitudes was to keep an optimistic mind.

Rafayel was once a celebrated artist across the continent. And today, he was among the elite who was surrounded by wealth and privilege, the same people who loved to talk about money and politics. He spent his first few days in the ship sketching its grandiose interiors and its ostentatious passengers, capturing the essence of their extravagant lives in his art. But despite his success and the admiration he received in his precedent years, there was a quiet loneliness within him now. A yearning for something more than the gilded cage he inhabited. The life of the wealthy—the first class people—just became too distasteful for him to paint on his canvas.

He couldn’t quite pinpoint when his disdain for high society began, but it had been long enough for him to realize that the lives of the wealthy and powerful were far from the glamorous façade they presented. In truth, they were dull and repetitive, filled with people who indulged in their riches and flaunted their possessions to your face. It was a never-ending competition of who had more, a relentless display of entitlement over who could command others at the whim of their fortune.

That was why when Rafayel stood on the deck of the Titanic that afternoon, despite his extremely comfortable and luxurious surroundings, he couldn’t help but lament over the idea that he was a prisoner in a ship, journeying to a place he never even once dreamed of going to. But being a painter who no longer flourished in the world of art, he somehow had to find a way to keep up with the lifestyle he had been living. And boarding this colossal ship together with a woman he didn’t love was his ticket to regain the success he had lost.

“You know,” Thomas, his agent, remarked as he leaned casually against the railings, “If not for Arielle, you’d never make it big anywhere else. Your time’s running out. Your paintings aren’t selling anymore. Soon, you won’t even be able to afford yourself. And knowing you, you can’t even live on tinned fish and cheap garments.”

Rafayel sighed inwardly, too weary to explain that the decline in his work’s quality over the past two years wasn’t due to a loss of skill, but rather a lack of inspiration. Being surrounded by the vain and self-absorbed had drained his creative spirit. Yet, the harsh truth was that with his paintings gathering dust and his exhibitions drawing fewer attendees, his rent payments had inevitably turned into mounting debts. It came to a point where he no longer had many choices for himself, financially speaking.

“You seem to hold Arielle in such a high regard,” he retorted, “Why don’t you marry her yourself?”

Thomas met his glare, unimpressed by his tone. “You brat. I’m doing this for you, Rafayel. I had to arrange this marriage between you two,” he repeated the same tired justification. “Didn’t you hear her? She’s the heiress to a wealthy family in New York, and she has all the connections you need to make a name for yourself there again. She’s willing to do it if you marry her. How can you speak ill of a beautiful woman who only wants your love?”

“Love isn’t something you can demand.”

He decided to ignore Thomas’s presence for a minute, tired of hearing his inane excuse of why he had to set up Rafayel with Arielle. Instead, he focused on his easel that was set up beside the rail, capturing the shimmering ocean under the twilight sky as he tried to find inspiration from the aureate horizon ahead of him. The soft brush strokes of his latest painting were interrupted by the occasional laugh or clink of fine china from the nearby dining room, but his mind wandered to a world he rarely saw—the lower decks.

Rafayel often wandered the first-class decks as he sought inspiration for his next masterpiece. Yet, today was the first time he noticed the decks below, and most importantly, you. You were a young woman from third-class, conversing with another female friend in your humble clothings, and seemingly longing for something beyond your reach. There was something about your warm, dreamy eyes that captivated him. And perhaps it was the stark contrast to the steely, formal interactions he was accustomed to in first-class.

You caught his eye once, which turned into a fleeting moment where your worlds collided, but his intense gaze seemed to have made your heart skip a beat. You were quick to look away as expected, and he felt awful knowing he might have made you uncomfortable.

“Oh, forget it.” Thomas waved a hand to his face, cutting him out of trance. “You’re aiming too low with those third-class women. You should be focused on a higher destination.”

Rafayel sighed in response. “Just leave me alone for a while. I need some space to paint in peace.”

Tonight, like every other night since you boarded, you had been told to sing. That your voice should fill the room with melodies, entrancing the well-dressed crowd of first-class passengers who watched you with a delicate balance of interest and indifference. Thankfully, the grand halls of the ship were already filled with laughter and music long before you were tasked to perform. Now, you were walking through the corridor, your heels clicking against the polished wood floor, while the elegant dress you wore swished around your ankles.

Frankly, it was mostly the men who were interested in your performances, and their women often indifferent.

You had performed in worse places than this, so you couldn’t complain. Besides, most of the guests, with their sparkling jewels and tailored suits, still applauded politely after every song, and some would even smile as you made eye contact with them. Admittingly, you did feel a little thrill at the attention, at being seen.

Because that was what you had always dreamed of as a child: to perform for the wealthy, to have your voice fill the room, and draw attention to your every move.

“Funny, isn’t it?” Eliza mused one night as you both settled into your cramped cabins in the steerage. It had been a tiring evening of performances for the first-class passengers. “Others dream of being wealthy, but you seem to dream of serving the wealthy.”

You adjusted the covers, keeping yourself warm. “I just feel like there are consequences to having so much money in your hands. I’m content with having just enough to get by.”

As the days passed and as the Titanic made its last final stop at a port in Ireland, that was when you began to notice things. Little things. The way some of the men in the audience looked at you, their eyes lingering far too long, with a hunger that made your skin prickle. The way your manager, Mrs. Hawthorne, hovered by the bar while speaking in low, hushed tones to the richest men in the room. You noticed how she always had a keen eye on you, watching as you moved from the stage to the back, and back again. It felt as if she was gauging something, calculating a certain transaction in her head.

After another night of singing, you found yourself backstage, wiping a sheen of sweat from your brow. Your voice was raspy, and your throat dry from hours of performance, but you felt a little bit of joy knowing you had done well. You were reaching for a glass of water when Mrs. Hawthorne appeared beside you—her smile a little too wide, but her eyes a little too sharp. A look that undoubtedly reminded you of a predator to its prey.

“Lovely performance tonight, my dear,” she said smoothly, placing a heavy hand on your shoulder. “But our clients… they might want a little more than just a pretty song. You understand what I’m saying, right?”

Your stomach twisted at the suggestion in her words. “What do you mean, Mrs. Hawthorne?”

She leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Some of these gentlemen… Well, they’ve paid a lot for your company. They expect a bit more than just a few songs. A bit of private entertainment, if you will.”

You blinked twice in the same second. “P-Private entertainment? You didn’t say anything about that when you hired me.”

Her grip tightened on your shoulder. “It’s all part of the package, dear. You want to keep your place on this ship, don’t you? Want to make those dreams come true?” Her eyes flickered darkly, and her aura became more and more austere as you refused. “Just be accommodating. Smile, laugh, let them buy you a drink or two... and if they ask for more, well... oblige. Surely, you aren’t a virgin to be acting like you’re new to this.”

The stubborn side of you pulled away from her touch. Everything that was coming out of her mouth brought you profound disgust. “I’m not a whore, Mrs. Hawthorne,” you hissed, getting straight to the point. “I’ve never done those things.”

She only chuckled softly. A cold, cruel chuckle that made your skin crawl. “Not yet, you haven’t. But this is a long voyage, and there are a lot of men here with deep pockets and lonely nights. You’re either useful to them or you’re not useful to me. However, I must remind you that your place in this ship is paid for by me. So, if I were you, sweetie, I’d make my choice correctly.”

“You…” Trapped and horrified at the situation you had thrown yourself into, you stared back at her in resistance. “You can’t do this! This is illegal—”

“Oh, sue me,” Mrs. Hawthorne replied in sarcasm before stepping back, her smile fading into the crowd. “Do what I say or you will be thrown off this ship. I have contacts back home that can surely check on your mother and sister, too.”

Your fingers tightened around the empty glass as she walked away, leaving you snapped into the dark and twisted reality of your current situation. All this damn time, the job you thought would bring you closer to your dreams was nothing but a front. A trap, with no escape in sight.

And somewhere in the back of your mind, you wondered just how much you were willing to endure to survive this journey. The faces of your mother and sister appeared before your eyes, their once hopeful gazes turning into a look of despair. Afraid for their lives. Hurt. Perished.

No, you couldn’t let that happen. You thought as you swallowed your pride.

Alongside Eliza and your other colleagues, you were forced to endure the advances of the wealthy men who frequented the gambling rooms below deck. The stench of cigars and alcohol, the rough hands, and the leering eyes became your nightmare-turned-reality while being in a prison that was supposedly dubbed as the ship of dreams.

You had never felt so degraded. You were overcome with a sense of filth and self-loathing, feeling as though you were utterly sullied. You felt so low, so disgusted with your own skin that your femininity was not respected.

How could Mrs. Hawthorne do this? That was all you ever thought about as you sat perched on a wealthy man’s lap, his rough hands roaming over your body as he laughed, more at the cards in his hand than at the joke one of the other old men had told him. The other men at the table barely noticed you, their eyes glazed with the haze of a high-stakes game as they bet all their money and fortune on a mere deck of cards. You had seen this look before, the detachment, the sense that you were nothing more than an accessory, a toy to be played with.

Your colleagues, fellow entertainers, were scattered around the room, their eyes hollow as they performed their duties, doing what they could to survive. But tonight, it was too much.

The disgusting old man’s grip tightened on your thigh, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered something vile. “Why don’t you let me have a taste later when I win this game, beautiful?”

“I-I need some air,” you muttered, trying to stand, but he pulled you back down with his iron grip.

“Not yet, darling. Wait until I have you naked on my bed,” he slurred, his voice thick with alcohol. You couldn’t imagine letting an old man touch you like that, and the mere thought of it made you sick to your stomach. “You will please me when I tell you so.”

“Let me go!”

“Pipe it down, will you?!”

You felt panic clawing at your insides as you bit down the screams that were trying to rise from your throat. It was as though the room was closing in on you, the walls narrowing until you couldn’t breathe. Until you suffocated. Without thinking, you wrenched yourself free and kicked the old man on the shin, stumbling out of the chair and into the corridor with your pulse racing as you broke into a run.

I’m sorry. You repeated your apologies to your mother and sister in your mind, over and over, as you sprinted across the deck. The click-clack of your heels ricocheted into the distance as you sobbed. I’m sorry I can’t make it. I’m sorry…

This wasn’t the life you had dreamed of, and you couldn’t bear the thought of being treated like an object, sold off to the wealthy and losing your dignity in the process. Night after night. Tears streamed down your face as you thought about letting down your family back home, about this being the last time you would ever see them, and about your own foolishness in embracing such cruelty.

You didn’t stop running and crying until you reached the stern of the ship, the cold night air nipping at your skin as you desperately tried to catch your breath. Breathe, you told yourself. But wouldn’t it be better if you didn’t? You leaned over the railing, the dark, icy waters below calling to you and offering a way out. And for a moment, you considered it. You considered it an escape. Anything was better than the life you were trapped in.

You knew you wouldn’t last another day in this ship without having your dignity stripped off you, especially not when it was the last thing you had for yourself. You may not have the money, the power, and the influence that these wealthy people had, but one priceless thing you owned for yourself was your dignity. And that wasn’t something they could take away from you.

Perhaps it was the adrenaline. The rush. The heavy emotions. Whatever it was, the overwhelming thoughts led you to climb over the railings, afraid and ready at the same time, to throw yourself into the gelid waters of the North Atlantic. Your trembling body and unstable breath didn’t stop you from looking down, waiting for the perfect timing…

“I’m sorry.” A sob escaped your lips as you closed your eyes, uttering a prayer in hitched whispers.

But before you could make the fatal leap, a strong hand suddenly grabbed your arm, making you gasp in horror at the unexpected intruder. You felt yourself being pulled back, and turned to see a man with amaranthine hair and kaleidoscopic eyes. “Miss, what are you doing?”

“I—” you choked on your words now that the shameful reality of what you had almost done was crashing over you. “You know what I-I’m doing. Mind your own business!”

“I can’t do that now,” he spoke with urgency, eyes softening as he looked at you with an earnest gaze. “Whatever you do to yourself, I’ll be held responsible. Think about it.”

What is wrong with this guy? You swallowed, confused by his insistence in pulling you back. Judging by the way he dressed, he was obviously another first-class passenger. So, why did he care about saving a mere third-class woman? Weren’t they all the same? You held your breath and glared at him, distrustful of his approach. “L-Let me go! You’re distracting me.”

The guy used his thumb to wipe the faint tears on your wet cheeks. “Let’s talk about this,” he said, “Jumping from here would be the most excruciating way to die, trust me.”

“How would you know?” you snapped, antagonism misdirected towards a man who was only trying to help. “You don’t get it. I don’t wanna go back there… with those old men…”

For a moment, his eyes flickered with recognition. “You’re the singer, right? I’ve heard you perform. You have a siren’s voice.”

“I’m no longer performing for people like you,” you bit back, trying to wipe away your tears. But in that instant, in that span of a second, you lost your footing and slipped from the railings. “Aaah!” Your scream pierced the evening air as you felt a cold rush of fear slapping your face. “Aah! Help! Help me! Please!”

“Hold on! I got you!” He gritted his teeth as he struggled to pull you back up, but determined with all his might to do so. “I… told you… you wouldn’t jump,” he panted, the muscles on his neck straining with the effort to pull you with your weight. You could see it in his eyes—the panic, the fear. Someone a stranger shouldn’t have for a person he didn’t know. And it brought you a thick sense of shame and guilt knowing you had him involved.

With your help, you extended another hand toward the railings and fought to climb back in. It was a struggle, but he eventually pulled you back onto the deck where both of you collapsed against the floor, gasping for breath like a freshly caught fish. You looked up at him, taking in his relieved yet gentle expression, and feeling nothing but shame for the terrible situation you had put him through.

“T-Thank you,” you stammered, your chest heaving as you tried to steady your breathing. “Thank you, and I-I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. You’re alright now.”

“W-What’s your name?”

He exhaled, a faint smile touching his lips as he shook his head. It was the first time through that near-death experience where you began to feel relaxed. “I’m offended you don’t know.”

“I…”

“I’m kidding. It’s Rafayel,” he said with a polite handshake, helping you to your feet. “Please remember your savior’s name.”

Before you could say more, the sound of footsteps approached, and you heard the old man’s voice, slurred and angry, as him and the Master-at-Arms headed towards you like you were a culprit they had been trying to catch. “There she is! That little whore! She thinks she can run away?!”

Panic seized you again, but the man beside you—Rafayel—stepped forward, placing himself between you and the approaching figures as if he was protecting you. “She’s with me,” he strictly said upon realizing the situation quickly enough. His voice was also firm, leaving no room for argument. “Leave her alone. It won’t end well if you insist on taking this innocent lady.”

The Master-at-Arms and security personnel hesitated, exchanging uneasy glances between Rafayel and the old man, who was clearly bristling with indignation. Yet, Rafayel’s gaze remained firm and unyielding, and it was evident that his social standing intimidated the crew. Unlike you, they seemed to recognize who he was and decided to back off.

So after a tense silence, the security personnel, clearly wary of challenging someone of Rafayel's stature, nodded reluctantly. They led the inebriated old man away, assuring him that they would find another woman who would be more willing to accommodate him for the night.

When they were gone, Rafayel turned back to you with his already softened eyes. “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice filled with a kindness you hadn’t expected. It was clear that through his gaze, he seemed to have picked up the puzzle pieces for the reason of your near-suicide. And he sympathized with you for it, as if he had once tried to go through that route, too. “Don’t worry about that old man. I’ll see to it that he won’t bother you again. Any of them.”

You nodded, though your legs felt like they might give out beneath you. The events that night were far too much for you to process. “Thank you,” you whispered. “You saved me twice today.”

He smiled, a small, sad smile, and offered you his hand. “Come with me. You shouldn’t be out here alone.”

For the first time in a long while, you felt something other than fear. You felt safe. And it strangely came from a stranger you knew little about except his name. However, he immediately noticed your hesitation, knowing that it was rooting from your mistrust and fear for the men in first-class who wanted to bed you, so he was quick to clear out his intentions.

“I’m not like those people,” he said, clearing his throat. His words were accompanied by a reassuring smile, and the earnestness in his eyes provided some comfort to the uncertainty in your heart. “I’m not a businessman, not a politician, definitely not royalty. I don’t gamble, I have no vices. I’m just an artist. You can trust me. I won’t do anything bad to you.”

Yet again, you weren’t given a chance to fully express your gratitude, only because a slightly older man with brown hair approached, shooting a disapproving look at Rafayel.

“I’m sure she knows her way back into steerage,” the other guy said curtly, his tone carrying a sharp reprimand as though engaging in a silent argument with Rafayel. “Don’t risk your image by accompanying her down there or offering her a place in first-class.”

Rafayel, visibly frustrated, shot back with the temper of a child. “Thomas, treat her like a human being—”

“I’m okay,” you interjected with a shaky voice, trying to ease the tension because you truly didn’t want to cause any more trouble on the man who had just saved you. You simply glanced at ‘Thomas’ before sending Rafayel a smile of gratitude. “He’s right, Rafayel. Your help means more to me than I can ever express, but it’s best that I return to my cabin on my own.”

Rafayel’s eyes searched yours, and for a moment, it seemed like he might argue further. But then he chose to relent when his shoulders slumped slightly in defeat. He clearly didn’t want to force anything on you. “Alright,” he said quietly, though his gaze remained passionately concerned. “But please, if you need anything, don’t hesitate to find me. I’m not far.”

You gave him a reassuring smile, the gratitude in your eyes more profound than words could express. But Thomas was there to humble you from the fantasy of being the damsel in distress. From his watchful gaze alone, you knew he was telling you that you weren’t and would never be welcome into their part of the ship after tonight. “Thank you, Rafayel. I’ll be alright. I promise.”

All Rafayel could do was nod as he reluctantly stepped back. Thomas could only give a brusque nod as well, signaling the end of the conversation. And as they turned to leave, you watched Rafayel go and felt a strange pang of sadness at parting with a person you just met. It was odd, definitely, but the momentary relief Rafayel’s intervention gave you was briefly replaced by the gruesome reality of your life at the steerage.

Turning back towards the staircase leading to steerage, you took a deep breath and started down the steps. The ship’s luxurious surroundings became more and more minimalistic as you descended, with the opulence of first-class fading away into the more sterile accommodations of steerage.

When you woke up the next morning, you thought everything that had happened was both a dream and a nightmare.

Eliza was staring at you from the opposite bunk bed, seemingly envious yet happy for you at the same time. For what reason? You weren’t sure yet. And neither did she say why she carried that look on her face as you got up from bed, wiping your eyes and realizing it was another dreadful day of being imprisoned in the Titanic.

“What’s wrong, Eliza?” you asked.

She offered you a small smile. “Nothing, just…”

It horrified you to see the marks on Eliza’s neck. And the pained expressions on her face, a reflection of someone who had been stripped of her dignity—someone who could have been you if not for Rafayel’s intervention. You couldn’t escape the grim reality that, despite his heroic act, your fate might soon mirror hers. Mrs. Hawthorne still held the chains around your neck after all, compelling you to do things against your will in exchange for your life, your family's safety, and your livelihood.

But to your surprise, Mrs. Hawthorne was a different person when she knocked on your cabin door that morning. You had braced yourself for the punishment of failing to fulfill your ‘duties’ to the old man the previous night, but her demeanor was unusually pleasant. Her smile seemed almost too pleased, leaving you wary and confused about her true intentions.

Has she gone mad?

“Good morning,” she spoke in the same merry voice that you hated, displaying a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Y/N, from now on, your services as an entertainer are no longer required.”

Your heartbeat took a pause. “What do you mean? I-Is it because of last night?”

She placed the papers on the small table beside you and sat down. “Your contract has been terminated. You’re free from your duties as of now.”

So suddenly… You stared at her, trying to process the sudden change in her demeanor. “But why? I don’t understand. Not even long ago, you were asking me to—”

“A gentleman from first-class, someone with rather striking purple hair, has paid a considerable sum to terminate your contract.” The cruel woman sighed, rolling her eyes. “He covered the cost of your ticket and added extra, more than enough to ensure you were released from your obligations.”

Your mind instantly connected the dots. “Rafayel? H-He did that? But why?”

Mrs. Hawthorne’s expression turned cold. “He made it very clear that he wanted you to stop entertaining people against your will. He even went so far as to threaten me with legal consequences if I didn’t comply. Said something about ensuring I’d face charges once the ship docks in New York if I didn’t let you go. What a boastful young man! If not for his money, I’d have cursed him out in the face. I don’t know what you did to woo that guy, but consider yourself lucky.”

What? You couldn’t believe it. You couldn’t ever believe Rafayel went out of his way to save you. Again.

“Go and enjoy the ship like any other passenger,” Mrs. Hawthorne continued, her words dripping with a false sense of privilege. As if living in peace on this ship was a luxury for you. “I’ll inform the crew that you’re no longer required in the entertainment department.”

As Mrs. Hawthorne exited your cabin, you sat in silence and finally understood the reason behind Eliza’s gaze. But you didn’t expect this, either. You could only glance out the porthole in guilt, seeing the vast expanse of the ocean stretching out before you. This new freedom felt both exhilarating and daunting if you were being honest to yourself. For the first time since you boarded, you now had a chance to explore the ship on your own terms, but the uncertainty of what lies ahead lingered in the back of your mind.

Because, then… What about your family? What about your income? What about your dream of performing on Broadway?

Only an ungrateful person would think selfishly about herself first before the person that generously saved her from this predicament. So, even if you swore to never bother him again, you had to take the risk. You had to seize your newfound freedom, at least, to thank him properly.

With that in mind, you made your way near the staircases leading to the upper decks. You had ‘borrowed’ a costume from the entertainers’ closet, the only suitable and elegant clothing you could find to pass as a first-class passenger. But as you walked through the luxurious parts of the ship, the sound of a piano drifted through the air, and its melody guided your next steps like a sailor entranced by a siren’s voice. The rhythm. The melody. It was drawing you closer and closer.

Before you knew it, you followed the enchanting tune, only to find yourself stumbling upon Rafayel in a room adjacent to the music room. There he was, deeply engrossed in his painting, the soft glow of the sun warmly illuminated his focused expression and the canvas before him.

Rafayel looked up, surprised. “Y/N? ” he said, his gentle smile lighting up his face as he noticed you. “I didn’t expect anyone to be here.”

You flushed, feeling out of place. The irony of stumbling into the wrong room seemed to have brought you to the right person. “I’m sorry. I-I didn’t mean to intrude. I followed the music, but it led me here.”

His curiosity was piqued. “And what brings you to this part of the ship? The music room is across the hall, miss.”

“I was just exploring,” you replied, smiling and feigning innocence. “Trying to see a bit more of this grand vessel.”

His response was a soft chuckle. “Well, you’ve found quite the place. May I offer you a seat?”

To your surprise, you found yourself seated next to him, eyes wide as you were immediately captivated by his artwork. The painting before you was breathtaking, truly mesmerizing. It was a picturesque depiction of the ocean and sunset, and every intricate color blended beautifully on the canvas. “Rafayel, did you paint this? It’s incredible! It’s so beautiful!”

“You flatter me too much, but I’ll take the compliment. It’s a work-in-progress, though.” He chuckled, wiping his paint-splattered hand with a towel. Despite the barriers of social class, a connection naturally seemed to spark between you both. “If you’re interested, I might even give you a discount on it.”

You knew he was joking, but if you had the means, you would have bought his masterpiece without hesitation. “You must be famous all over Europe. It makes sense why…”

“Actually, you’re mistaken,” he corrected, his smile dimming just a bit. “No one buys my paintings anymore. My art exhibits have become quite empty. I’ve been living off my savings and selling off my most prized possessions just to keep up with my lifestyle. Money and fame are fleeting, after all.”

“But why?” you asked, genuinely curious. “With paintings like these, I’m sure people would want to buy them.”

“It’s been a while since I painted something like this,” he replied, eyes locking into yours. “My recent works have been more somber. People tend to shy away from dull, lifeless art.”

You hesitated. “Is it because of a lack of inspiration?”

He stood up, smiling softly as if you were the first person to understand. “You could say that.”

Driven by curiosity, you glanced around the room and noticed several paintings concealed beneath dust covers. You looked at him for permission, and he gave it through a simple nod. However, when you pulled the covers back, you were taken aback to find that the paintings depicted intimate, nude portraits of women—women who appeared to belong to high society. To say you were surprised was understatement. You were rather stunned, astounded.

Rafayel, leaning casually against the wall, seemed to sense your astonishment. “Didn’t expect it, huh?” he asked with a hint of amusement. “Before you get the wrong idea, these are merely commissioned paintings. I didn’t paint them because I’m particularly intrigued with female anatomy or anything.”

“But they’re live paintings, you say?” you asked, truly amazed by the thought. “I… Wow.”

He hummed in agreement. “These kinds of paintings were what made me popular. Royals and high society people have a penchant for risqué art. It’s often erotic to them. They love commissioning nude portraits to gift to their husbands. My most significant client was the First Lady of France. I spent three months there, painting her repeatedly until an entire room in the palace was filled with her nude portraits. I even felt like I’m more familiar with every inch of her body than her husband, you know?” he jested just a little before continuing, “Anyway, so word spread about my paintings of the First Lady, and soon enough, French women flocked to have their own portraits done, too.”

You stared at the paintings, the elegant yet provocative depictions of high-society women capturing your attention in a way that you didn’t expect. And you supposed the perfect definition to your emotion right now would be fascination, because it wasn’t anything you had seen before.

Rafayel’s voice, on the other hand, broke through your thoughts. “It’s strange, isn’t it? How something so intimate and personal can become a symbol of status and power.”

You turned to him with no judgement in your eyes. “It’s admirable, really. You’re very talented.”

Rafayel pushed himself off the wall and walked over to the covered canvases, his fingers lightly grazing the edges of the dust covers. “Most people see me as just another artist, another name on a list of commissioned painters. But this,” he gestured to the paintings, “was what set me apart. It wasn’t just about the art itself but about the allure and the mystique. It drew people in, gave them something to talk about.”

You nodded slowly, absorbing his words. “And now? Does it still hold the same appeal for you?”

His expression may have softened, but a hint of melancholy blanketed his gaze. “Not as much. The thrill has faded. The commissions came, and the fame followed, but it wasn’t as fulfilling as I’d hoped. It’s easy to get lost in the glamor and forget why you started painting in the first place.”

You took a step closer as the air between you silenced into a quiet understanding. “What did you want to achieve? What was it you hoped to find in your art?”

He looked at you with his deep vulnerable eyes. “I wanted to capture the essence of beauty and emotion. I wanted my art to connect with people on a deeper level, to make them feel something genuine. But over time, it became less about that and more about what would sell.”

There was a brief silence as you considered his words. “Then, to me it sounds like you’re looking for something more meaningful.”

“Perhaps.” Rafayel nodded, his gaze turning back to the portraits. “I want to paint again, but not just for the sake of profit or reputation. I want to create something that speaks to who I am, something that brings back that initial spark of passion.”

“Maybe you’ll find that inspiration again.” You plastered an encouraging smile on your face. “Sometimes, the most unexpected encounters can reignite a lost passion.”

“I suppose so. And maybe, finding the right subject or the right moment will make all the difference.”

There was a brief, comfortable silence that settled between you. The intimacy of the moment, coupled with the way Rafayel glanced at your lips, created a sense of attraction that—like a magnet—pulled you closer to him. What was it about this man that drew you in like a moth to a flame?

But you had to think straight, of course. You woke yourself up to the reason why you were even here in the first place. Though, as you finally broke the silence, a small smile played on his lips. “Thank you… Rafayel. I heard about what you did for me. You didn’t need to do that.”

He put a handsome smile on display. “It’s the right thing to do. You don’t deserve to live like that.”

You didn’t want to go into details and ask him about how he found out how Mrs. Hawthorne’s illicit business operated, but you trusted that Rafayel was smart enough to figure it all out. Everything that had led you here; from your attempt to jump off the ship, to him freeing you from the chains of being an ‘entertainer’. It was an unspoken understanding between the savior and the saved.

You stepped closer to him. “I feel terrible, though. You said you sold off some of your belongings to save money, but you ended up spending them for me.”

Rafayel was amused at that, on the other hand. “Hey, I never said I’m completely broke. It’d take at least five more years for that to happen.”

“Lucky you, then.” You glanced around the room one last time, the paintings now seeming less like mere objects of scandal and more like symbols of Rafayel’s journey as an artist. You respected the nature of his paintings just as he respected you.

“Wanna get out of here?” he asked, playfully wiggling his eyebrows.

“To where?”

“To your accommodations down in third-class,” he suggested with a strange glint of excitement in his eyes, taking your hand in his, “I’ve always been curious. Can you show me?”

There were many things you learned about Rafayel. Firstly, he was an easy-going man who preferred rowdy pubs over formal cotillions. He didn’t care about social classes, something he had proven when you first met him, but watching him effortlessly bond with the other people from the steerage made your heart soften into mush. He began to feel almost unreal to you, like a dream, because you never imagined a man from such a high status could be so genuine, so down-to-earth. Yet, there he was, laughing and enjoying a pint of cheap beer with your fellow third-class passengers, without a scintilla of judgment or hesitation.

Secondly, he could certainly dance. You never saw it coming until he grabbed your hand and pulled you into the makeshift dance floor, inviting you to join him in a playful tap dance together with the other passengers. The lively, upbeat music of the steerage seemed to fuel his spirit far more than the refined, classical tunes often heard in the first-class dining halls.

“How’d you learn to dance?” you shouted over the music, spinning as Rafayel twirled you with an effortless grace.

He grinned, shrugging casually. “I’d call it au naturel.”

And lastly, he was far more charming than you ever anticipated. Despite his tipsiness, Rafayel remained by your side the entire evening, his presence around you gave way to subtle protectiveness that never wavered throughout the night. What amused you, though, was the reversal of roles—you felt like you were the one guarding him, a vulnerable first-class man surrounded by a roomful of third-class passengers, where he could easily become a target for discomfort or even theft. Yet, much to your relief, nothing of the sort occurred. Instead, his natural charm seemed to win everyone over, defusing any tension that might have arisen.

“Rafayel, please be careful on your way back,” you said, concern evident in your voice as you watched his half-lidded eyes and his unsteady sway from the alcohol. He stood outside your cabin, clearly tipsy. “Do you want me to help you get back up there? I don’t think I can enter past the gates, though.”

He swayed for a moment before leaning in, resting his forehead against yours. His eyes, clouded with intoxication, locked onto yours. “No need. That wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me.”

You decided to tease him, hoping to break the sexual tension. “Well, getting this close to me isn’t exactly gentlemanly, either, Mr. Rafayel.”

“Touché.” His cool breath fanned across your face as he chuckled. “I guess I’m not much of a gentleman after all.”

For a moment, you forgot about the crowded halls of the third-class cabins, the distant hum of the ship’s engines, and the people bustling around you. It felt like it was just the two of you, suspended in time. Your heart couldn’t stop racing at an unreasonable pace.

Rafayel’s smile widened, his lips only a couple inches away from yours. “But if I were, would I have had the pleasure of meeting you?”

Your heart fluttered in your chest. “Maybe not. But I’m glad you’re here now, gentleman or not.”

He lingered there for a minute longer, his forehead still resting against yours, before he finally pulled away with a reluctant sigh. “Alright, I should head back… before I lose any more of my honor.” His grin eventually faded into a soft smile as he caressed your cheek with his gentle hand. “I can’t remember the last time I had this much fun, Y/N. Thank you.”

As romantic and noble as he seemed, you knew your boundaries. You knew your place in society was no way near his. “You’re always welcome here,” you said, gently holding his hand—the one that had touched your cheek. “But you don’t belong down here, so up you go.”

“I’d rather be wherever you are,” he whispered, planting a kiss on your hand and making your heart pound wildly against your chest.

Though you cherished the moment, you knew it wasn’t the right time. He was under the influence of alcohol, and you worried he might regret his actions and words later. After all, you were a mere woman from the steerage, not someone he could proudly show off and be with. You had nothing to offer, nothing to match his way of living. You only had yourself, but you didn’t know if that was enough.

With that in mind, you had to keep your composure. Being too ambitious might one day bite you back the hard way.

“Good night, Rafayel,” you said, taking a step back, watching as he turned and stumbled a little before catching his balance. “Be careful, okay?”

“Always, sweetheart. Always.” He glanced back, flashing you one last grin. Then, with a mischievous wink, he started to make his way back to the upper decks, leaving you with a warmth in your chest that lingered long after he was gone.

If only you two weren’t divided by social classes.

Slap!

“What on Earth was that stupid act you pulled down there?!” Arielle’s voice resounded across the room with a harshness Rafayel hadn’t heard from her before. But honestly, the sting of her slap wasn’t what shocked him, it was the way she had shown her true nature from being a sweet, passionate lady into a manipulative, entitled woman who seemed to think she had a claim over him. “I can’t believe you were mingling with those filthy third-class people while I was waiting for you in my suite last night!”

Keeping his head turned in the direction she’d struck, Rafayel clenched his jaw. “You don’t know those people. They’re better than most of the ones up here on this ship.”

“And what?” she snapped, her ocean-blue eyes blazing with fury that almost matched the deep crimson of her hair. “You went down there for some whore? Don’t push me, Rafayel. You are not to see that lowly woman ever again.”

Rafayel’s patience wore thin at the mention of you, and he finally looked up to glare at her. “Stop trying to control me, Arielle.”

“You are my husband-to-be.” Her reminder was more so a warning to him. “It is a privilege for you to be married to me. So start acting the part. You will live by my rules, spend my money, and enjoy the privileges I grant you. Don’t think you’re above your place now, especially with your boring paintings not selling anymore.”

Frankly, Rafayel had never imagined himself marrying this woman. The engagement ring on her finger wasn’t even something he had chosen—it was bought and meticulously picked out by Thomas because Rafayel couldn’t be bothered to find one himself. If he already felt this way about the engagement, how much more about the impending marriage? Her relentless need to control everything was already a nightmare he could clearly see unfolding. And he knew he would never have the freedom to be the man of his own house, always trailing behind her like a shadow, always listening to her commands like a broken man. He would have to obey her every whim like a pathetic servant, living solely for her pleasures and demands.

The wedding hadn’t even happened yet, but he already wanted to put a pistol to his mouth and end everything.

“Don’t you dare ruin our reputation by mingling down there again,” she sneered, her voice dripping with disdain as if she were speaking of animals rather than people. “I mean it, Rafayel. You know exactly what I’m capable of doing to that whore.”

That threat was enough to force him into a tense, angry silence. “...Don’t you dare touch her.”

Arielle scoffed. Despite the jewelry and makeup that made her quite the face of a luxurious woman, Rafayel could only see how rotten she was on the inside. “I will do what I want if you do not behave yourself.”

He didn’t even try to console or win her back after she stormed out of the room and slammed the door shut with a loud bang. Why should he? He held no affection for her, and he certainly didn’t care about winning her over. He was even contemplating telling Arielle directly to her face that he wanted to call off the wedding, to let her know he didn’t need her to survive on his own, but things were easier said than done. And more importantly, there were various factors that held him back.

One of them, being his longtime friend and agent, Thomas, who soon entered his private suite. The guy’s lips were already tightened into a thin line as he eyed the red mark on Rafayel’s cheek. “I told you not to get involved with that third-class woman. You’re already engaged to Arielle. Why can’t you just appreciate what you have?”

Rafayel remained silent, leaning against the table and rubbing his temples in frustration. He couldn’t believe that the person closest to him would be the first to side with someone else.

“And can we talk about why you paid that shady woman, Hawthorne, to release the third-class girl from being a hostess?” Thomas continued. “Her problems are none of your business. You’re just involving yourself in all these rumors.”

Rafayel’s eyes hardened. “You know Y/N didn’t consent to that situation. She was clearly deceived into it—didn’t you see her nearly jumping off the ship trying to escape those men? Helping her was the right thing to do. She has a mother and sister waiting for her.”

“This is not about what’s right or wrong. It’s about maintaining appearances. And if you start ignoring the rules for everyone you meet, you’ll find yourself in quite a predicament.” His agent stared at him blankly, sighing. “It’s not just about you, Raf. Your aunt Talia—she’s counting on you. She’s the only family you have left. She invested everything she had to support your career, hoping that you would make something of yourself. But things didn’t turn out the way we all had hoped for, did it? Besides, this marriage isn’t just a contract. It’s a way to secure your future and her well-being.”

He could feel his jaw tightening at the clear attempt to draw guilt from him. “I’m aware of what my aunt did for me, but this isn’t what she envisioned for me. She wanted me to be happy, to succeed on my own terms, not to be trapped in a marriage I didn’t ask for.”

“You’re being short-sighted,” pointed out Thomas, “By marrying Arielle, you secure not only your future but also Talia’s. You know she’s been struggling with her health. She needs to know that you’re stable, that you’re not making reckless decisions that could jeopardize her security. If you back out now, it could destroy her.”

Rafayel’s gaze dropped to the floor as his mind grappled into a whirlwind of conflicting emotions—frustration, guilt, and helplessness.

“Is this really about me,” Rafayel said quietly, “or is it about what will happen if I defy you?”

“I know Arielle isn’t the kindest person,” Thomas continued, ignoring his question. “But sometimes, we have to make sacrifices for the greater good. And this marriage might not be perfect, but it’s a step towards securing everything you’ve worked for. It’s what will keep Talia safe and secure, not some fleeting romance on a ship or a misguided impulse.”

Rafayel’s silence became pregnant with contemplation. He was ultimately speechless, not because he agreed with his agent, but because the tables had turned in a way where the guilt and pressure was now placed on his shoulders squarely.

Sensing his deep thoughts, Thomas stepped closer and placed a hand on Rafayel’s shoulder with a reassuring grip. “Think about it carefully. The right decision isn’t always the easiest one, but it’s often the one that will ensure a future worth living.”

Another day had passed since that fateful night when Rafayel had pulled you from the brink of ending your life.

You had already settled back into the confines of the steerage, trying to adjust to the routine of your life as best as you could while Mrs. Hawthorne stuck to her word of leaving you alone. But as each supposedly normal day went by, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing. The brief moments you had shared with Rafayel suddenly felt like a distant dream, and you wondered if it was all just a fleeting impulse on his part.

Did he actually regret spending time with you that night? Getting to know you? Opening his heart to you? Despite the joy he seemed to express, you wondered if he felt disgusted with his actions the moment he woke up sober. Because as kind and down-to-Earth as Rafayel appeared, he was still part of the wealthy elite, like the rest of them. He was born into a rich household, accustomed to the life of high society, and it wouldn’t be all too surprising for him to view the unsophisticated passengers of the third-class as pitiful.

But a small part of you believed Rafayel was better than that. No, he was more genuine than that.

It was early in the morning when you found yourself drawn to the upper decks from your humble area in the third-class decks. You watched the first-class passengers from the starboard side, trying to catch a glimpse of the man who had saved your life and made you feel special. He should be there somewhere. Some place where the sun had risen. After all, didn’t he say you could come find him anytime? Your eyes searched aimlessly through the crowd, hoping for a sign, a familiar face.

Until he appeared.

Rafayel stopped by the railing, engaged in a conversation with the captain of the ship. Next to him was a graceful woman clinging on his arm, a girl with luscious red hair, pearlescent skin, and crystal blue eyes. The dress she wore was bedight with intricate patterns, sewn carefully through hours of labor to highlight the detailed gold threads on the satin dress. She was about the same age as you, it seemed, but her aura was the epitome of elegance and wealth, someone you could never be. Though, despite the distance, you could see the tension in Rafayel’s posture and the way he didn’t appear to be present in the conversation at all.

Then, he happened to have looked in your direction.

Contrary to the expectations in your head, he didn’t greet you with a familiar smile or a friendly wave. No, he avoided your eyes not even two seconds after he met your gaze. It was as if he was intentionally keeping his distance, and the sight left you feeling inexplicably hollow.

“Hang on,” you could hear one of your cabin roommates say, “Isn’t that the gentleman from first-class who danced with us?”

“Who’s that woman next to him?”

“Oh, first-class people. They’re all the same.”

“Did he just ignore you, Y/N?”

He did. And it hurt in a way you didn’t expect. You couldn’t quite understand your feelings or why they were so intense when you should have anticipated this, should have expected it. Or did you really believe he could be some sort of prince charming who would fall for a poor woman after meeting her for a few days? This was no fairytale.

God, but it was unbearable—the silence, the misunderstandings, the thought. As foolish as it might sound, you needed to hear it from him directly. Growing fond of Rafayel was already an abyss you had thrown yourself into, and you were willing to walk that path just to speak to him again.

You weren’t sure how you did it so well, but by using the same old trick, you were able to sneak into the first-class deck smoothly. The transition from steerage to first-class was blunt, and you already knew you had to yet again play the role of a wealthy woman, or at least a nouveau riche, just to blend in. But that wasn’t what you were focusing on this journey, you weren’t there to dillydally with the elite. You were there to see a certain amaranthine-haired man who had saved your life countless times in this ship.

When you spotted Rafayel slipping into a private room—the same room where he painted, you followed him like a spy, hoping not to be seen or caught by other onlookers in the area. You still had the decency to knock softly at first, but when there was no answer, you decided to let yourself in. The room was dimly lit, with rich, velvet drapes decorating the walls. And the smell of paint and canvas was an unmistakable association to him. Of Rafayel, who was there standing by a large window, his back to you.

“Rafayel,” you said softly, taking a tentative step forward but inexplicably drawn to his beautiful, radiant face. “Hi.”

He turned to look at you in an unwelcome surprise, however. “What are you doing here? You can’t be here.”

You closed the door behind you, the soft click signaling your privacy. “I just… I don’t know why I’m here. Frankly, I just wanted to see you. I wanted to understand if I did something wrong.”

There was guilt in his eyes, you saw that. But he was quick to cloud it with a look of resistance. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said in a neutral tone, his eyes avoiding yours. “It’s just... it’s complicated.”

“Complicated?” you repeated. “It’s because I’m from steerage, isn’t it…”

“No,” Rafayel interrupted firmly, as if the thought was absurd. “It’s not about where you come from. That doesn’t matter to me.”

You felt the distance he was placing between you two as you stood in front of him, not wanting to wear your heart on your sleeve. But it did sting. The way he was struggling to meet your eyes, the way he was looking at anywhere but you.

“I have a fiancé,” he dropped the hard cold truth, “I’m engaged, and it’d be disrespectful for me to spend time with another woman behind her back.”

The revelation struck you like lightning, probably worse than the impact it would have on you if you had jumped off the ship that other night. “...I see.”

“I apologize,” he quickly added, still averting the direction of his gaze. “I didn’t mean to lead you on.”

There must be a logical reason why he had never mentioned his fiancé the moment he had met you. But whatever it was, the pieces of the puzzle were falling into place, and yet, the complete picture remained frustratingly out of reach. The pain in your chest was undeniable, truly, but you tried to mask it with a smile. You knew when and how to feign a calm composure in the most critical situations.

“If that’s how it is,” you said quietly, “then I understand. I just needed to know.”

Rafayel’s eyes were an amalgam of shame and despair. “I’m sorry. You should leave before anyone sees you here.”

You didn’t wish to carry any grudge or bitterness towards a man who saved your life. If anything, you were still grateful for everything he did for you up to this point. You were happy that while you were drowning in a sea of despair, he became the buoy that you could hold onto. Even for a short, fleeting moment. So, despite the ache in your heart, you brought it upon yourself to show appreciation for one last time.

“Don’t worry, I’ll leave you alone now,” you spoke softly and faintly, “But before I go, I just want to say, Rafayel, that you are the most talented artist I have ever met. I admire your eye for art… I do, and also your passion for what you love. I hope that when this ship docks, you’ll find all the inspiration you need to create wonderful paintings again. I hope you never lose faith in yourself, because I know you’ll make it big out there. Even bigger than you already are, I can see it happening. You are an amazing person and a blessing to everyone around you, Raf. I wish you and your fiancé all the best.”

You didn’t wait for his response, neither did you look at his eyes and hope for him to stop you. He didn’t need to. You knew your place, and it wasn’t anywhere near him or any part of the first-class rooms and amenities. It was at the bottom of this ship, in a small cabin with two bunk beds and your limited garments. Their world was not meant for you.

It never was.

“So, when’s the big day?”

As usual, the grand dining hall was abuzz with the chatter and clinking of expensive cutlery. The long table was set with exquisite silverware, and the servants moved about with practiced grace, ensuring every need was met with precision that defined the excellent service of the White Star Line crew. Yet, despite the utmost grandeur of the setting, Rafayel felt strangely detached.

He sat at the head of the table, surrounded by the elite passengers of the Titanic, staring blankly at the plate in front of him. Little did everyone know, his thoughts kept drifting back to the conversation he had had with you yesterday. The way you had looked at him with those searching eyes, the way you had quietly accepted the painful truth he had laid bare. The image of your hurt expression haunted him, so much so that he disregarded the polished and pretentious world that now surrounded him.

Arielle was there seated beside him, and was occupied in an animated conversation with a group of socialites. Her laughter was light, her gestures demure and sophisticated, but to Rafayel, it all seemed pretentious. He knew she was only trying to look happy on the surface, trying to keep up with the appearances. She often glanced his way, her eyes carrying annoyance whenever he didn’t respond to her attempts to include him in the conversation. It was clear she was treating him as nothing more than a decorative accessory to her social standing, rather than—as she called it—a future husband. The more he observed her, the more he felt like a mere piece of furniture, simply existing for her to use.

The disparity between this world and the brief moments of freedom he had experienced with you in the steerage was jarring. The laughter, the warmth, the raw honesty of those times were replaced by the superficial chatter and insincere pleasantries of the elite. The perfect lives they spoke of in high society wasn’t where he wanted his art to thrive. They were of no raw and unfiltered essence as the dreams you spoke of and the hardships you had endured. Your ability to find beauty in even the smallest things was where visions of empowerment bloom.

And in realizing that, he knew, all along, that you were the inspiration he had long been searching for.

“Darling?” Arielle’s hand rested lightly on his arm, a gesture meant to convey affection but to Rafayel felt like a shackle. She leaned in close, her voice a sultry whisper that he barely registered. “Rafayel, are you even listening? Everyone’s talking about our wedding. Aren’t you excited?”

“Of course, Arielle,” he said, forcing a smile before his gaze wandered to the window, where the sun was beginning to set over the horizon. He wondered where you were or how you were doing. Were you singing your heart out somewhere? Dancing with your friends down at the steerage? Drinking happily with fellow passengers who didn’t care about money or status or anything of the sort?

Truth be told, things began to strike him with a painful clarity. He knew long ago that the inspiration he had once sought was never meant to be found among the pomp and pretense of high society. But only now did he open his eyes to the times that had breathed life into his art, that had given him a glimpse of something real and meaningful. And they were moments with you.

But how could he have that inspiration now when the vibrant muse that had sparked his creativity was out of reach?

Rafayel’s gaze fell to his plate, the food before him growing cold and unappetizing. “Excuse me.”

Come Josephine… in my flying machine

Going up she goes, up she goes

The cold wind nipped at your cheeks as you stood at the bow of the ship, singing under your breath, and gazing out at the endless expanse of ocean stretching before you. The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold, as if the universe itself was offering an evanescent moment of beauty in a world that often felt so cruel.

Balance yourself like a bird on a beam

In the air she goes, there she goes

You gripped the railing tightly, feeling the ship’s gentle sway beneath your feet, wondering how easily Rafayel would have captured the landscape forever in his canvas. You closed your eyes, letting the wind wash over you, trying to gather your thoughts, trying to push away the feeling of longing that had settled deep in your chest.

But then you heard it—the soft crunch of footsteps approaching from behind. You knew, even before turning, who it was. Your heart instantly tightened in your chest, holding your breath as you felt his presence come nearer. Slowly, you turned around, finding Rafayel standing there, his purple hair catching the light of the setting sun, his eyes apologetic and full of yearning.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled his words, taking a deep breath. “I lied to you.”

You felt a pang in your chest, both relief and hurt swelling inside you. “Why… are you saying this?” you asked softly, your eyes never leaving his. “Didn’t you regret everything?”

“No,” was his swift answer, shaking his head slowly and stepping closer. “No, I didn’t regret getting closer to you. Not for a second.” He then paused, only for his voice to break just a little. “But I was bound by obligations. Bound by things that I thought would help me and the people I care about. It’s all materialistic and I’m ashamed to admit it to you.”

You turned back toward the ocean, gripping the railing as the wind whipped through your hair. In that moment, truthfully, staring at the endless sea felt like you were flying. “Because I’m from third-class? Because I won’t understand your world?”

“No, it was never about that,” Rafayel replied urgently, stepping closer until he was beside you. Until he was holding you by the waist, both hands securing you from behind. “I’ve been living a life that was never mine. About to marry a woman I don’t love, painting for people I despise, pretending to fit into a place that feels like a prison. And then I met you.”

“Raf…” You could feel the changing rhythm of your heart as you turned to face him, searching his face, trying to understand. “She’ll give you a better life. You deserve to have a woman of the same class as you.”

“I don’t understand why we’re kept apart by such rigid lines. There’s so much more to life than these divisions,” he spoke in a troubled expression, his hand lifting to brush a strand of hair from your face. “The truth is, I can’t stop thinking about you. About how you made me feel alive again, how you gave me the inspiration I’d been longing to find.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart melt, allowing your walls to break. “This sounds ridiculous, but I’ve missed you,” you admitted softly, your hand still under his, feeling the warmth of his touch despite the cold wind around you. “I wanted to forget you, but I couldn’t…”

“I don’t want you to forget me,” he whispered, leaning closer as a pained smile tugged at his lips. “I want to be the one you remember. I want… I want to be the reason you smile, the reason you feel alive.”

You felt a tear escape your eye, and he gently brushed it away with his thumb. “Rafayel, I—”

“I’m done pretending,” declared he, “I just want to be with you, for however long we have. I don’t care what it costs me.”

Was this real? Your heart felt like it was about to burst, and you were scared that this might just be a dream, an illusion that you would soon wake up from. But then he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your face. “May I?” he asked, his eyes flickering to your lips.

And you nodded, you allowed it. A soft gasp escaped your mouth as his lips captured yours in a deep, searching kiss. The world seemed to fade away as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer as you kissed him back with all the pent-up emotions you’d been holding onto for days. His lips were warm and soft, encasing yours in a passionate lock, while his tongue was sweet and tender, exploring your mouth in a loving, burning kiss.

For a moment, there was only the sensation of his lips on yours, the taste of the sea in the air, the feel of his heart beating against yours. The world, the ship, everything around you seemed to disappear, leaving just the two of you on the edge of the world.

“We’re going to get caught—!” There was an obvious hint of nervous laughter in your voice as both of you giggled while racing through the corridors of the first-class halls.

“Shh,” he hushed you with a grin, placing a finger to his lips. “We’re almost there.”

All the while, Rafayel held your hand tightly as he guided you toward his private room. The thrill of sneaking around, hidden from prying eyes, seemed to fill him with a rush of adrenaline. But you couldn’t blame him, for you certainly shared the same thrill. There was a certain excitement in having you there, in his world, in his arms, like you belonged to him.

And he was right about being near. Because just a few more steps down the corridor, he finally stopped in front of one of the larger doors and pulled you into a lavish suite that seemed like an entirely different dimension. And good lord, you could hardly believe your eyes. Even though you had heard countless descriptions of the luxury on this ship, seeing it with your own eyes felt undeniably surreal. Left and right, no matter where you looked, the room was adorned with rich furnishings, a plush king-sized bed piled high with soft pillows, and even a private fireplace to keep the cold at bay during the night. His private suite alone was the size of ten basic cabins in the steerage. You didn’t bother asking the cost of his boarding ticket, knowing full well that it was more than what you could ever afford in your lifetime.

To be able to throw so much money away for a mere couple nights on a ship, though, you couldn’t imagine yourself doing that.

“Wow,” you marveled nonetheless, spinning around in awe while Rafayel watched your delight with a warm smile, leaning in to kiss your temple. “Your room is enormous.”

“Can you stay right here for a second?” he asked, violet eyes meeting yours. “And close your eyes while you’re at it.”

“Okay…” Curious but trusting, you smiled and shut your eyes, wondering what he was up to or what he was planning. It wasn’t long until you heard the faint sounds of rustling, drawers being opened and closed, the click of a safe, and then his footsteps as he returned behind you. “Are you done?”

“There’s something I want to give you.” His raspy voice nearly tickled your ear. When you opened your eyes, you realized you were in front of a mirror, and you could see him from behind as he opened a velvet box and fished out a stunning, glistening heart-shaped blue diamond. Best believe your mouth was on the floor right at the next second. You were simply awestricken, and anyone who would look at it with a straight face was absurd. The jewel sparkled with an otherworldly brilliance, reflecting the tiny specks of light from the chandelier, yet maintaining its regal, deep blue color.

“The Heart of the Ocean,” you gasped, recognizing it instantly. It was a gem of legend, one you had only ever heard about in whispered tales when you were a little girl. “How… how did you get this?”

“The First Lady of France gave it to me,” he patiently explained while bearing a wistful smile. “It’s her token of gratitude for the time I spent painting her. Thomas insists it to be my gift—a dowry, actually—for Arielle.” He paused, his kaleidoscopic eyes staring at you through the mirror. “But now I realize it belongs to someone else entirely.”

Disbelief coursed through you. “Wait, I-I don’t understand. You can’t be serious…?”

“I am,” was his confirmation, stepping closer with a sincere gaze. With a delicate touch, he lifted the necklace and draped the cool, weighty chain around your neck. His fingers brushed softly against your skin as he fastened the clasp, then he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your neck. “You’re the one who deserves this and everything I have to give.”

You stared at the gem resting just above your heart, its blue depths shimmering like the ocean beyond the ship. It felt like a treasure meant for someone else, someone more deserving. For an ordinary girl, you felt undeserving of such a rare, exquisite gem. “It’s… stunning,” you breathed, your fingers grazing its cool surface. “But why give it to me?”

“Because you’re the one who holds my heart,” Rafayel whispered, his voice low and filled with emotion. “I want you to have it… to know that you’re more precious to me than any jewel.”

“Rafayel!” Your heart swelled, and you turned to face him, feeling a rush of emotions you couldn’t quite put into words. You could feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, wondering what you did in your past life to be blessed with such a man. “I don’t deserve this—I don’t deserve you.”

“You deserve everything and more, my sweet.” His words held all the sincerity and genuineness you had to hear. “I want to capture the way I see you right now. Will you let me paint you?”

Heat permeated your cheeks at his request, but you were willing. More than willing to be his muse. “I’d be honored,” you said, your voice steady despite the flutter of nerves in your chest. An intimate idea suddenly formed in your head. “But if I’m to wear something so special… I want to do it right. I want you to paint me like one of your French girls, Rafayel. Wearing only this.”

Being in the middle of the Atlantic exposed you to the cold, freezing temperatures.

Yet, how come Rafayel’s room felt quite… hot?

Perhaps it was the crackling fireplace offering the heated atmosphere. But you weren’t sure if it was really just that. Your heart pounded at an erratic pace, racing with every beat as you watched Rafayel arrange the couch in the middle. Meanwhile, you stood on the side, a thin robe on, as he padded the pillow before settling into his seat. It’s now or never, you thought as you released a breath you didn’t know you were holding. I shouldn’t be nervous around him.

“Monsieur,” you teased, taking in slow, measured steps in front of him. “Your muse is ready.”

The artist himself was blushing. His cheeks were limned with a deep rosy red, clearing his throat and trying to avoid looking at places he shouldn’t be. He gestured to the cushioned couch, his voice a bit shaky as he fought to keep his focus on the task at hand. “Uh, you can… you can sit there.”

You wondered whether this was considered you betraying your principles by willingly exposing yourself to him. Had you become a hypocrite, denying advances from wealthy men as an entertainer, but now willingly revealing yourself to someone of the same class? Not long ago, you were just running away from said first-class men, despising every inch of your skin that they desired to touch. So, why were you here? Why didn’t you feel the same way?

Firstly, Rafayel was different. He was respectful, kind, and everything the others were not. You could feel the sincerity in his gaze, the way he looked at you as though you were something precious. He saw you like you were the art, not his paintings, nor the landscapes. You. And so, you began to slowly undress, letting your robe fall to the floor, and immediately feeling the cool air hugging your bare skin. Rafayel’s gaze remained fixed on you, full of reverence and awe, as though he were witnessing something profoundly sacred.

When all that was left was the blue diamond nestled against your naked figure, you moved to the couch he had arranged and lay on your side on the cushions. Rafayel took a deep breath, as if steadying himself, and then moved to his easel with his brushes in hand. “Stay still, sweetheart. Move your left hand a little closer to your face.”

You did as told, shifting awkwardly on the couch to place yourself in the exact position he had envisioned for his art. Dear God, the tension was surely eating at you. You knew he could feel it, too. Especially when his eyes fell to the intimate places of your body—admiring, studying. Your best move was to clear your throat and break the ice. “Not so professional now, are we, Monsieur Rafayel?”

He was mixing his paint as you teased him, the corner of his lips being pulled into an upward slope. “I am very professional, just so you know.” You were glad to hear him returning the small banter. “Now, don’t be moving your mouth too much, sweetheart. Save it for later.”

“Hey!”

“Just kidding.”

The hours eventually passed in a delicate silence. You didn’t catch when exactly the awkwardness had begun to fade, but now, the only sound in this quiet room was the soft, rhythmic strokes of his brush against the canvas. You felt his eyes on you, studying every line and curve, every shadow and light, capturing not just your likeness but something deeper—something more human. It was as if he was painting not just your body but your soul, the very essence of who you were.

You remained still for him like a doll, and throughout it, all you could think about was this moment. Him. This encounter. Despite the initial horrors your job as entertainer presented, everything still led you to this—to Rafayel. To the man who saw you as the true art, not the colors he was blending in his canvas.

Were things too good to be true?

It took some time, probably a good hour or two when he finally pulled away from his canvas, his breath coming in soft, quiet exhales. You could see the emotion in his eyes as he gazed at the finished piece. “This is how I’ll always remember you,” Rafayel said, dreamy eyes staring right back at you. “As the one who wore my heart.”

Overwhelmed by the tenderness in his gaze, by the raw, unguarded love that radiated from his every word, you stood, crossing the room to him where he met you halfway and pulled you into his arms. You felt his heartbeat against yours, his breath warm against your ear.

“You are amazing,” you whispered against his shoulder, holding him tightly. “Thank you for seeing me.”

And for that moment, there was nothing else in the world but the two of you, entwined in each other’s embrace, lost in the profound connection that had brought you both together on the edge of this endless ocean. To forget about everything and everyone seemed to be the lingering thought in your heads, and it manifested in the way his hands trailed down your curves, pulling you closer to him. Your lips were inches away, a proximity so near that you could feel his minty breath fanning your face.

“Beautiful,” he spoke in a hushed voice, face mesmerized by the sight of you. “I want to kiss you.”

“Then, kiss me,” you replied, your fingers reaching up to his collar, gently pulling him down. Nothing stopped you when you pressed your lips to his in a passionate, fervent kiss. Nothing prevented you when your fingers began to work on the buttons of his shirt with slow and deliberate movements. The fabric of his shirt soon fell away, revealing the lean, muscular contours of his torso. You trailed kisses along his chest, savoring the feel of his warm skin beneath your lips. “I’m yours, Rafayel,” you breathed back into his mouth as the kiss deepened, catching your breath between each shared moment. “Touch me, feel me, do whatever you want with me. I want you just the same.”

“You drive me crazy,” he grunted under his breath, hands roaming over your body. His touch confirmed to you that the desire was mutual, driven by an urgent need to connect on a level beyond words. His hands moved with a gentle yet insistent hunger, caressing the curve of your waist, exploring the delicate arch of your back. And in your ardent lip-locking exchange, you could feel the slopes of your breasts being pressed against his chest. Rafayel then bit your lower lip, fully submitting to his carnal desires, before reaching down to give your bum a tight squeeze.

“R-Raf.”

“Tell me if you want to stop—”

“Don’t stop. Don’t.”

With your consent, he guided you to sit up on the couch, not knowing how his touch ignited an inextinguishable fire within you. While on his lap, you moved your body against his and traced your fingers along his collarbone, down to the ridges of his abdomen, feeling the heat of his body beneath your fingertips. He returned the favor by cupping your mounds, massaging the plump flesh as if he was desperate to feel how soft they were.

One thing led to another. And before you knew it, you were already crawling out of his lap, only to kneel on the carpeted floor in between his knees, undoing the buttons of his trousers. Your eyes widened as soon as you released his aching member from the confines of his undergarment, revealing a handsome size that was proportionate to his height.

“Don’t stare at it like that,” he whined, cheeks flushed red as he leaned back on the couch, wrapping a hand around his shaft. Who knew Rafayel can get quite shy, too?

You found it adorable, if anything. But the equal lust you shared in your gazes remained on each other, even as you joined his hands at doing the job. Up and down did you stroke his length, watching him hold back a moan, only to crumble as soon as you decided to replace your hand with your mouth. It’s warm, you heard him say. It feels good, sweetheart. His cute little groans were in fact a pleasure for you to hear, encouraging you to do better at bobbing your head and sucking his entire length. You didn’t care about the string of saliva that appeared when you released his member with a pop, now using your tongue and dragging it from the base to the tip, where it swirled itself around until his cock began to twitch.

“How’d you learn these things?” Rafayel’s quiet groan was more so a jealous complaint. But he couldn’t take it anymore, he had to have you. He had to have a taste of you, too.

So to your surprise, he suddenly carried you in his arms, moving in a rush as you shifted from the couch to the bed. His movements were clearly driven by a primal need to leave his mark on you, to feel each other in the most intimate way. Because you didn’t expect him to lay you gently on his bed, climbing on top of you like a hungry shark who was ready to devour a small fish.

He started with your neck of course, feathering soft, tender kisses around the skin before moving to your breasts, alternating between squeezing and sucking the flesh, nipping and biting at your nipple. It didn’t surprise you to see him hungrily trapping your breast in a tight suction, revealing a red mark that would later be the same color as his hair.

“R-Rafayel.” By now, you were arching your back, legs spread open as he began to descend further and further until he met the perfect spot. Him staring at your womanhood almost made you wish to close the distance between your thighs, but he didn’t allow it. In fact, he was quick to dive head-on into your sopping cunt, lapping the entrance with his tongue—teasing and exploring your walls, your insides, until you were screaming his name. “R-Raf—! Mhm…!”

“You taste so sweet,” he spoke under his breath, encircling his thumb on your sensitive bud before looking back at your slit, slightly spreading them apart to look at the exact hole he was about to enter. And he did. He didn’t hesitate one bit at positioning his fully erect manhood on your entrance, its tip soaked by the wetness of your core before he eventually slid himself right in. A series of curses were released by him, while as for you, the dulcet melody of your moans were just what he needed to hear. “Damn it, Y/N… You feel really good.”

“Ngh—! Y-You—aaah!” You could feel your body being dragged back and forth, your hips being jostled as he continued to sink himself into you. His pace started slow and sensual at first, relishing the way your bodies intertwined, moving together with a fluid grace. At the same time, his kisses were soft and sweet, exploring every inch of your collarbone, while your own nails clawed at his back in the same passion. You felt it—him, the tip of his member hitting your sensitive spot and sending you into a euphoric trance. Every time his cock kissed your cervix, you were a moaning mess, your legs shaking violently at the electrifying pleasure spreading all over your body. He was inside you, all of him. “Haaah!”

The act itself was a beautiful, raw expression of the desire that had been building between you. You moved together with a synchrony that transcended mere physicality knowing that it wasn’t just an act of sex, but an exchange of love.

As you reached the peak of your intimacy, the world outside ceased to exist. There was only the two of you, lost in a moment of pure, unadulterated passion. And when the waves of pleasure finally subsided, you lay together, wrapped in each other’s arms. The residues of Rafayel’s love for you remained in between your thighs, a visual proof of the passion he harbored for you.

Rafayel’s breath was heavy, but his body relaxed against yours. He held you close, his touch gentle now, with the intensity of the earlier moments shifting to tender intimacy. “Once the ship docks in New York,” he said in a soft whisper. “Come with me. I want to leave everything behind and start new with you. Let’s both figure it out, together.”

You nestled closer to him, feeling the warmth of his body and the steady beat of his heart against yours. At that moment, it was as if everything had fallen into place. “Together.”

On the night of April 14th, everything on the ship took a daunting turn.

Literally. But before you could get to that part, you were strolling the first-class decks at the time, hand-in-hand with Rafayel, as he escorted you to the exit.

“Must you really go back down there?” he asked softly, embracing you in his toned, protective arms. “Can’t you stay here with me? Just for a little while longer?”

You looked up at him, your heart aching at the thought of leaving him for a while. But you knew you had to honor the constraints of your position because the risk of discovery was too great to ignore. Especially for his part. “I wish I could stay,” you replied, pulling away to squeeze his hand. “But I can’t. I need to go back to steerage for now, and then we’ll find a way to meet again.”

“I’ll come to you, every day.” Rafayel acted like a stubborn kid as a frown played across his features. Yet, he still leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that lingered a little over a minute.

What interrupted your romantic moment was the sudden sound of shouting and panicked voices that erupted from the bow of the ship. The noise was chaotic, and it immediately turned into a cacophony of warnings and vigilance as the watchmen, officers, and quartermasters ran about, speaking jargons you could barely interpret. You both pulled apart, the intensity of the moment breaking as the shouts grew louder, more frantic. Something was dangerously off.

“What’s going on?” you asked, your voice laced with worry.

Rafayel, his expression now a mask of alarm, could only hold you closer. “I don’t know, but we need to find out.”

You didn’t need to be told. The shudder of the ship, the deafening screech against the starboard side, and the massive iceberg passing slowly by were all the signs you needed to understand the gravity of the situation.

The Titanic struck an iceberg.

“Aaah!”

“Watch out!”

“Rafayel.” You turned to your lover, the fear in your eyes mirrored by the shock and disbelief in his face. “I’m scared.”

“It’s okay.” He pulled you gently but urgently, soothing your worries by rubbing your back in comfort. “I don’t think it’s serious. I’m sure this ship’s made to withstand that much impact—”

“You saw it with your own eyes, Raf!” It was the irrational fear consuming you, leading you to overthink everything as you saw how the crew members and officers alike were running in every direction, their faces pale with fear. “The iceberg… We’re not safe. You know we aren’t.”

As you both stepped into the corridor, the commotion was unmistakable. And he himself knew he could not play the situation as something trivial. Because otherwise, the ship’s own crewmen wouldn’t have been as alarmed. It didn’t help that Rafayel also caught Mr. Andrews, the very man who designed the ship, clutching rolls of blueprints as he hurried to meet the captain.

“Mr. Andrews.” Rafayel stopped him before he could walk any further. “How serious is it? We saw the iceberg.”

The respectable man looked between you two, his eyes clouded with an apologetic haze. Though, staying calm appeared natural to him, only giving Rafayel a gentle pat on the shoulder and urging him to make his way to safety. “Make sure to wear your life jackets and secure yourselves a spot on the lifeboats available. And also,” he paused, swallowing hard. “Try not to cause panic to other passengers for now. All rationality is lost the moment fear strikes.”

While you and Rafayel hoped to hear a more reassuring answer, of words saying that the issue at hand wasn’t anything to be alarmed about, Mr. Andrews’ words were clear.

The ship was about to sink.

It was your decision to inform only the closest people you knew about the unsightly situation. But it was Rafayel who requested if you could both let Thomas know first, seeing as he simply couldn’t abandon his longtime friend. Despite their disagreements, he had been there for him in his artistic journey, and never not once gave up on supporting Rafayel’s dreams. He was family to him, one way or another, and that was why Rafayel insisted he had to know.

So, you did. Rafayel and you, hearts racing and hands intertwined, made your way back to his first-class suite, both determined to find Thomas and inform him of the dire situation. In your short walk, the stewards were already scrambling about, opening doors, shouting and instructing everyone to put on their life jackets.

“Everyone, please put your lifebelts on and come up to the deck!”

“Can you tell me what’s going on, please? I felt the ship shudder.”

“Madam, there is no cause for alarm. This is just a precaution. Now put your lifebelts on, please.”

Meanwhile, as you reached the door to Rafayel’s suite, you were met with an unexpected and unsettling audience. The Master at Arms, his security personnel, and Thomas stood in the hallway, their faces grim and serious. But it was Arielle who stood out, with the reason being…

“You!” Arielle’s voice immediately cut through the hubbub like a blade as she stormed up to you, her vibrant blue eyes electrifying you with her anger. Without a moment’s hesitation, she grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked you toward her. The stretch on your scalp was sharp, but the shock of her attack was what shook you to the core. “You wretched little thief!” she spat, her voice dripping with venom as she threw you onto the floor, kicking you, smacking you, and pulling your hair. “You lowly whore! Trying to seduce my fiancé and worm your way into his life!”

You winced, trying to free yourself from her grasp. “I-It hurts!”

“Arielle, stop! Stop hurting her!” Rafayel’s voice was fierce and desperate as he lunged to intervene, trying to wrench Arielle’s hand away from you, but to no avail. She was unstoppable. And his efforts were futile against her relentless aggression. “Enough! Let her go!”

“You slept with this whore?!” Arielle’s face twisted with rage as she sent a crisp slap to his face. The hurt. The betrayal. You could understand why she felt that way and you wanted to apologize, to beg on her knees not to pour her anger out on Rafayel, but she already turned to the officers and Thomas, her voice rising in a commanding tone. “Gentlemen, this woman has been sneaking into the first-class areas illegally! She’s been trying to lure in first-class men, including my fiancé. She should be sent down to steerage and locked up immediately. She’s a threat to the order of this ship!”

The officers, unsure of what to do, looked to Rafayel for guidance. He was just pulling you to him, protecting you in his arms, as he shot his fiancé a glare. “Arielle, enough, will you?! We have more pressing issues right now and we need to focus on that—”

“If you won’t do it, then I will cause a scene on this ship!” Arielle’s eyes narrowed as she watched him hold you close. “I’ll make a huge scandal out of this!”

The officers, now caught between their duty and Arielle’s demands, began to move toward you with a forceful stance. They were already firm with the decision to take you away, in spite of your resistance, as you looked at Rafayel for any sort of help.

“Come with us, miss!”

“N-No… Rafayel,” you pleaded, your voice trembling. “Help me. Please.”

“Don’t touch her!” Rafayel’s fiery gaze didn’t intimidate the officers, even as he tried to retrieve you back from their grasps. But Thomas had intervened, pulling his friend back, and ensuring he wouldn’t meddle any further. “Thomas, let me go—they’re taking Y/N away! She did nothing wrong! It was all me!”

The Master at Arms stepped in between, glancing at an enraged Arielle and a pitiful you. What did you expect? The rich were always favored, and the poor oppressed. You would never win against her in a tug of war. “We’ll send her back to where she belongs, Madam. You can rest easy now.”

“Nooo!”

The last thing you saw before being forced out of sight was Rafayel’s anguished face, pain and sorrow clinging into every line of his expression as he heard your screams, saw your tears, and felt your fear at being taken harshly away.

You knew, right at that moment, that this was only the beginning of an impending maritime disaster.

The cold, metal bars of the brig felt like a cage around your body and soul, confining you to the sterile environment below decks and reminding you exactly of just where you belonged—at the bottom. In your confinement, your breath came in shallow gasps as you heard the muffled commotion of the crew members outside, the frantic shouts, and the loud creaking of the ship. They had locked you in here, unjustly accused and abandoned, and now, trapped.

Your eyes darted toward the small porthole above, the glass fogging up with your breath. You could see the deep blue water sloshing against it, confirming your worst fears that the majestic Titanic was indeed sinking before your eyes.

“Help! Help me!” It would only be a matter of time until you’d drown in this confined space, and there was nothing you could do to stop it. There was no knight in shining armor like Rafayel ready to save you. Even if you screamed for help, your voice raw and desperate, there was still no response except the relentless sound of rushing water.

And speaking of, the icy water began to seep under the door, slowly flooding the room you were kept in like a prisoner. You could feel the coldness against your feet, then your legs, creeping higher with every passing minute. Or two. Or three.

“Damn it, it’s so cold!” The fear clawed at you, and your heart pounded in your chest as you continued to scream, your voice hoarse and breaking in the process. You cried and let your screaming voice echo through the confined space. But the water continued to rise, and still, no one came. “Help! Please… someone… anyone!”

In a couple minutes more, your body began to tremble, and a fusion of cold and fear overtook you as the water reached almost past your thighs. The panic only set in deeper, and your breathing became staggered as you struggled with an attack of anxiety. Anyone in your state would have passed out by now, surely. But you tried not to give up as you pounded on the door, hoping that someone would hear you. Or that God himself have mercy on you.

“...Please!” Yet, nothing changed. No other presence outside your door came to your aid. Your shoulders slumped at the thought, and you leaned back against the cold metal wall, the water now up to your chest. All you could do at that moment was close your eyes, a tear slipping down your cheek as you slowly accepted the inevitable. You were going to die here, alone in the dark, in a place that no one would ever find. “Please… help me.”

You took one last, shaky breath, feeling the coldness envelop your entire being. And while you had already given up on life, you thought about your mother and sister back home who were probably unaware of the tragedy that struck the ship you boarded. You wondered when they would hear news about the sinking of the ship. Perhaps in the morning? Perhaps another day more? You were haunted by the despair in their faces, the grief of losing a daughter and a sister, just when they thought that you would make it across the continent safe and sound.

A thought of Rafayel also crossed your mind—a bittersweet memory of his touch, his kiss, and the way he looked at you. A man who was merely a stranger to you before you boarded this ship, but now became the lover you would keep in your heart as the promise of forever finally came to an end. You hoped that, even if he had already abandoned you, he would be sent somewhere warm and safe, away from the glacial waters of the Atlantic where you would soon sink into as another dead body in the deep seabed.

Up on the first-class decks, the passengers were scrambling toward the lifeboats, their voices adding into the pandemonium as things were becoming clearer that the Titanic was about to be submerged. The officers barked orders, and women and children were ushered toward the boats, the urgency growing as they prevented the men—no matter the social class—from getting into the lifeboats.

Rafayel stood among the crowd, his eyes distant and unfocused, as if he were miles away. He didn’t even notice Arielle dragging his arm with a tight grip, her voice shrill with frustration as she argued with an officer. “Why can’t he come on the boat with me? He’s my fiancé!” she insisted, her face flushed with anger. “This is unacceptable! We are first-class passengers!”

“Women and children only, ma’am!” the officer replied firmly, already turning to help another passenger, ignoring her selfish, hubristic demands.

But the thing was, Rafayel hardly heard her nagging. His mind was elsewhere—back in the brig, where he knew you were locked up, alone and scared for your life. He could hear Thomas’s voice in his ear, the warning, the plea not to pursue you, to stay with his people, to secure his own safety. Selfish, all of them. It was all Rafayel ever thought about as he spaced out.

Thomas, sensing his hesitation, leaned closer and whispered urgently, “Rafayel, don’t be foolish. We can arrange a seat for you on the next lifeboat. Think about your future, your life! Your aunt Talia is waiting for you!”

Rafayel’s heartbeat slowed as he glanced at Thomas, then at Arielle, who still gripped his arm tightly. His eyes moved over the frightened faces of the people around him—the elites he had grown to resent, their fear and desperation laid bare, yet their arrogance and selfishness still overpowering even in the middle of a crisis.

“Are we going to be seated according to class?”

“I don’t want to sit with those stinky steerage people!”

He saw his own reflection in their panic-stricken eyes, and in that moment, he knew. He knew he couldn’t leave you to drown alone in the cold darkness. The thought of you trapped below, your face filled with fear, haunted him like a ghost who was seeking for justice. You didn’t deserve to be there.

You, the one person who had shown him what it meant to truly live, was more important to him than anything else in this cruel world.

Thus, without another word, he pulled free from Arielle’s grasp as soon as the officers were guiding her into the lifeboat. It was the right timing, and Rafayel calculated that perfectly in his head, knowing that Arielle would be stopped if she even dared to get off the boat and endangered the passengers and officers who were already secured in it.

“Rafayel!” Arielle shouted, her voice rising in disbelief as she tried to snatch his arm. “What are you doing?!”

“Madam, stay put!”

“Get your hands off me—Rafayel, come back! You bastard!”

He didn’t answer. He simply didn’t give a damn about her anymore. And he only turned, his legs moving with purpose, his heart pounding in his chest as he pushed through the crowd, ignoring the protests of those around him. He could hear Thomas calling after him, Arielle bursting into frustrated tears at seeing him escape, but their voices soon faded amidst the furor.

His mind was made up. Right at the beginning. He was going to find you, no matter what it took, no matter what happened to him. Rafayel knew he was running against time here, against the very odds of survival, but he didn’t care. No. His feet pounded against the deck, his breath coming in harsh bursts, as he made his way toward the lower decks.

He was coming for you. And nothing, not the cold, the water, nor the imminent doom of the Titanic, would stop him now.

The water was up to your waist now, freezing and relentless, biting into your skin with a cruel ferocity that made your entire body tremble. Your teeth chattered uncontrollably as you banged your fists against the locked door, your hands now raw and bruised because of it. Every breath felt like a knife in your lungs, and every exhale was a desperate sob. Pathetic. You felt weak, hopeless, with the cold sapping every bit of strength you had left. You were shaking, shivering, down to a point where you became numb.

I can’t think straight…

The water climbed higher, reaching your lower abdomen, then your stomach, and you felt the sorrow settle in. It was about time you gave up. Resting your forehead against the cold metal, closing your eyes, you let the tears slip down your cheeks being the only warm thing you could feel on your face.

This is how I’ll die….

No, not yet. Because suddenly, there was a loud crash—the sound of wood splintering and metal bending. You blinked, too disoriented to understand what was happening beyond the door that was forced open. A rush of water followed, and there he was.

There he goddamn was. Rafayel, soaked and breathless, his face clouded with fret and remorse.

“R… Rafayel?” you exhaled his name, eyes wide open, wondering if you had already died and this was nothing more than a hallucination.

But he brought you back to reality as he surged forward, pulling you into a desperate, breathless kiss, with lips that were cold but full of life, of urgency, of love. “I’m so sorry," he whispered against your lips, the apology written on his face was more than any words could describe. “I love you… I couldn’t leave you. I couldn’t.”

Tears pooled your eyes the same way the gelid waters filled the room, and you cupped his face, feeling the warmth of his skin against your cold fingers. “Y-You c-came back,” you whispered, your voice breaking with emotion as you spoke through gritted teeth. “I thought you—”

“I did. I’m here now. I’m sorry, Y/N. I love you, I’m so sorry.” He pressed his forehead against yours, his hands trembling as he embraced your body. “We need to go,” he said urgently, pulling you with him. You didn’t exactly have the leisure of time to have an emotional exchange right now. “Come on. Can you swim?”

“I can… a little.”

With that, you waded through the freezing water together, your legs numb and heavy as you fought against the strong currents. The corridors were eerily quiet, flooded with icy water that was quickly rising like it was filling up a tank. Had you been alone, without a man holding you in his arms, you would have been swept away by the harsh waves. Your body alone was already shaking from both the cold and the adrenaline coursing through your veins, but Rafayel held you tightly, guiding you through the flooded passages as he focused on looking for the way out. Honestly, you admired him. He was doing so much better at handling a situation like this than you, and that came from someone with a social standing like his. It was as though he had always navigated hardships, so used to dealing with different crises.

“Raf, I-I’m s-so cold!”

“I know. I’ll get us out of here, okay?”

Finally, you reached a ladder, and you forced yourself to keep moving, pushing your exhausted legs up the staircase despite the weight of your drenched clothes pulling you down. By the third-class gates, you were already panting, sore everywhere, when you saw a clatter between the crowd of people being held back by stewards.

You spotted Eliza, her face pale and tear-streaked. It was the first time you had seen her again since this morning, and this horrific way of reuniting with her wasn’t anything you saw coming. “They won’t let us up.” She burst into a sob. “They said we can’t pass through, not until the first-class people have filled the boats!”

Her words made Rafayel’s eyes flash with anger towards the stewards guarding the gates. “This is absurd! You can’t keep them like animals. They have the right to live!” He turned to the other men with a commanding presence. “Gentlemen, come on! Help me break down this gate!”

The men nodded, understanding that a first-class man like him genuinely wanted to help, and together they grabbed a wooden bench nearby and slammed it against the metal gate. Once, twice, and finally, with a loud crack, the gate burst open. Despite the protests of the stewards, the crowd surged forward, feeling nothing but relief as they flooded through the open passage where the freezing waters had yet to reach.

“Go!” Rafayel urged, pulling you along as you ran through the hallways together. You pushed through the panicked crowd, dodging falling debris and slippery floors, until you finally reached the deck. He picked up one of the discarded life jackets on the floor and quickly wrapped it around your frail body, the click of the straps securing you underneath. Before you could even process everything that was happening, you could already feel his lips being pressed on your forehead. “You’re okay. I’m here.”

“Rafayel.” You looked up at him, hands clutching into his shirt with your tearful, shiny eyes. “How are we going to make it?”

The night air alone was frigid, and the deck was too crowded with people. Somehow, in the middle of all the ensuing chaos, a group of men—the ship’s orchestra—were playing a symphony of melodies in the background. They held their instruments with complete disregard to the horrors of their surroundings, and your heart broke at the sight. Until the very end, they stuck to their duty of maintaining calm and peace for the passengers. Of playing music, performing for the sake of others.

Good luck to each of you, sirs.

Rafayel turned to you, tugging your hand. “You need to get on one of those boats,” was his firm insistence. “It’s your best chance.”

You scanned through the havoc, looking for a vacant lifeboat, but the crew was shouting ‘women and children only’. That was enough for you to immediately shake your head in response. “No, I’m not leaving you.”

“You have to,” he urged, his voice breaking. “I’ll be fine, I promise. Just go.”

“But—”

“Y/N, you need to listen to me, okay?” He was already pulling you towards one of the lifeboats, pushing through the crowd, to make way for you. “You need to get on that lifeboat. I’ll be okay. I… I have an arrangement with one of the other boats there. Really. I’ll come find you as soon as they rescue us.”

“No, I—”

“Officer, I have a lady here!” Rafayel announced, his hand carefully guiding you upward. At this hour, the ship was already tilted at an angle of around 5 to 10 degrees while into the evacuation process, so they still had the time and space to get more women into the boat. And as soon as the officer saw you, you were quickly pulled up, but your hands refused to let go of Rafayel’s. “It’s going to be okay, Y/N. I’ll meet you later.”

“Come on, ma’am. Get in the boat!”

As the pressuring eyes pierced through you, you reluctantly nodded and let go of his hand, swallowing back the tears as you climbed onto the lifeboat. But as you sat there, the arctic wind whipping against your face, you looked at the crying women and children around you. Their faces were draped by the anguish of seeing the men they were leaving behind—fathers, husbands, lovers, and sons. You looked back at Rafayel standing on the deck next to those men. And among them, his eyes were filled with love, of relief knowing that you were safe now like it was his only goal. You suddenly remembered the words you had told him not long ago, about figuring this life together.

You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t leave him.

With a burst of adrenaline, you leaped off the lifeboat and back onto the deck, nearly losing your footing and the railing hitting your stomach as you landed, but you didn’t mind it. You had to reunite with him.

“No!” You could hear Rafayel shouting while you ran toward him. “Goddamn… Y/N! Are you crazy?!”

You ran and ran, pushing past the people, carrying your heavy feet across the slippery floors until you finally met with Rafayel by the upper decks, panting heavily and feeling your legs wobble from the strenuous effort. “I can’t—I’m staying with you!”

Rafayel’s eyes were lachrymose as he saw you, catching you in his arms, holding you tight as lips passionately crashed into yours. “You’re so stupid, Y/N,” he murmured against your lips, though his voice was filled with such raw emotion. “Why did you do that?! You’re so stupid.”

“Maybe, I am,” you whispered back, hot tears falling from your eyes like waterfall. “But I’m not leaving you.”

You shared another kiss. A deeper kiss this time around, as you felt each other’s lips embracing the remaining warmth it could offer. It was at that time where you realized that you had never felt any kind of love that was nearly as pure as that.

And across the water, on another lifeboat that was already rowing away from the titled ship, Arielle watched the two of you with tears gushing down her face. Her maid tried to rub her back, seeing that your romantic interaction with her then-fiancé was a sight for sore eyes. Though the frustration igniting in Arielle’s veins was hidden under her curtain of clothes, her hands were trembling as she clung to the edge of the boat. She was cursing the two of you under her breath, and could feel her heart breaking apart as the distance between her and Rafayel grew wider, especially as the realization sank in that he would never be hers. Not now, not ever.

But you didn’t see her. She was completely out of the picture between the two lovers on the upper decks.

Because you only saw Rafayel, and he only saw you.

Contrary to the quiet of the sea, the screams around you were deafening.

The ship had tilted sharply by now, the deck at a steep angle, and every step urged you to fight against gravity. It was heavy, it definitely was. But you fought through it knowing that Rafayel’s hand was tightly intertwined with yours, his eyes scanning the rapidly flooding deck for any sign of a lifeboat, any hope of escape.

But there was none.

The lifeboats were all gone, already drifting far away into the dark waters of the Atlantic, leaving behind only the desperate and the doomed. A distress flare shot up into the sky, bursting into a bright, fleeting light before fading back into the cold, endless night. It illuminated the panic-stricken faces around you for a moment, then disappeared, swallowed by the darkness.

You could hear the officers yelling for the boats to come back, demanding that they weren’t even half-filled. You could hear passengers shrieking as some of them slipped through the tilted floors, their bodies hitting the obstructions with a loud bang. Prayers were sent out by the priest who was holding onto a railing, with the other believers clutching his hand as the ship continued its incline. Others had already given up on staying on the ship, jumping instead to the crisp waters of the ocean thinking that their life jackets would be enough to keep them alive and afloat for another hour.

Rafayel looked at you with a determined face, unfazed by the growing number of lost souls around him. “We need to get to the stern,” he urgently told you. “It’s our only choice.”

You nodded, your heart thumping loud and fast, and together you began to climb, pushing with your all might against the sharp incline of the deck. Water rushed in from all sides, pouring over the railings, swallowing everything in its path. But you wrestled against the pull, your muscles burning as you climbed upwards, gripping onto anything you could find—the rails, the sides of doors, anything to keep yourself from sliding back into the icy depths below.

“I’m falling—!”

“I got you.” Rafayel was right beside you, pulling you up when your strength faltered, guiding you through the path.

The ship groaned beneath you, the metal screaming in protest as it began to break apart, the sound like a giant beast roaring into the night. It was scary. God, it was the most frightening sound you had ever heard. But you kept moving, kept climbing, until finally, you reached the stern, the very back of the ship that rose high into the air above the freezing water.

“Quick. Cimb over!” Rafayel urged, helping you over the railing. “Hold on tight. No matter what happens, do not let go.”

You did as he said, your fingers gripping the cold, wet metal of the railing. It was getting more and more difficult for you to think straight, to think rational, as the temperature of your body dropped low. The stern was now almost vertical, towering above the rest of the ship that was disappearing into the dark, unforgiving sea, but Rafayel’s voice kept you steady and awake. He climbed over beside you, his face close to yours and the fog of his breath visible in the cold air.

“Th-This is where w-we first met,” you reminded him, your voice trembling from the subzero temperatures. “Right h-here… on the stern.”

He displayed a small forlorn smile. “And it’s the best thing that ever happened to me,” he replied softly, his voice carrying over the wind as he briefly pressed his lips onto yours. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Y/N. I couldn’t exchange this memory for the world.”

You felt tears sting your eyes, your chest tightening because of this heavily poignant scene. The ship shuddered violently, and you gripped the railing even tighter as Rafayel reached out, cupping your face with one hand, his thumb brushing away a tear that slipped down your cheek.

“I never thought I’d find someone like you,” he continued, mellow eyes staring straight into your soul, “You’ve shown me what it means to truly live, to feel, to love. I saw the most beautiful art in you.”

“I love you.” You swallowed hard, feeling the lump in your throat. You couldn’t even hear your voice anymore as the words trembled on your lips. “I love you so much.”

He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead in return. “I love you, too. More than I ever thought possible. And I promise… after this night, you’ll be sleeping in a warm, comfortable bed. In my arms. Under a blanket. It doesn’t matter how, Y/N. As long as you’re safe. I won’t let go.”

“Raf—”

The ship groaned again, louder this time, and you felt it begin to shift beneath you, the stern rising even higher into the air. “Hold on tight!” Rafayel shouted over the roar, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you close to him. “Just hold on!”

“Aaah!”

“Haaaaah!”

The ship tilted further, and you clung to the railing with everything you had, your body pressed against his, locked between him and the metal railings. It was ironic, truly, how the cold Atlantic wind whipped around you, while the stars above flickered like distant, indifferent eyes as if the universe was seeing all of it unfold. The clear skies could only watch the disaster like a silent audience. While deep below, the ocean was a dark, churning mass, ready to swallow everything whole.

“I’ll never let go.” You held your breath and leaned your face close to your lover’s chest. “No matter what.”

“Together,” he promised. “Until the very end.”

And as the ship continued its descent into the icy abyss, you held on, holding each other close, refusing to let go. The ship was slowly dragging you and Rafayel down with it, and you could feel the brisk waters rush up around you, like a torrent of cold that bit into your skin and stole the breath from your lungs.

“Hold your breath in as long as you can!” Rafayel shouted, his voice muffled against the growling ocean. You tightened your grasp onto the railing, your hands numb and slipping, as the ship sank deeper and deeper into oblivion.

And then, with a sudden, violent pull, the ship disappeared beneath the surface, and you were plunged into the bone-chilling depths of the North Atlantic. You expected the cold to be immediate and shocking, like a thousand needles penetrating your skin and making you numb. Yet, in spite of the lack of sensation, you kicked and fought against the water, your lungs burning as you struggled to find the surface.

Need… to stay… alive, you thought. For him.

As soon as your head broke through the icy water, you gasped and choked on the cold air like a fish on the surface. Around you was a sight of horror—people flailing, gasping, some disappearing beneath the waves. Screams and cries filled the void, with their despair being the last horrifying things you had heard. You spun around, desperately searching for Rafayel, hoping that he was somewhere near. Safe. Alive.

Then you saw him—his pallid pale bobbing up and down among the waves, his eyes looking for yours among the throng of flailing passengers. Without second thought, you swam desperately toward him and longed to be embraced by his arms again. “R-Rafayel!”

“Y/N! A-Are you okay?” he asked, kissing your face over a million times that night.

You two waded through the agonizing pressures of the polar water, and you tugged at his hand, suggesting you couldn’t move any more than you have. The exhaustion, the lack of oxygen, the subzero temperatures were beginning to overcome you. You were freezing to death. “I can’t… a-anymore!”

“No, Y/N. You can do it. Come on, over there!” Rafayel shouted, pointing to a floating piece of debris—a wooden door bobbing nearby. He reached for your hand, guiding you toward it through the frigid water. “Climb up!”

With a tremendous effort, you managed to haul yourself onto the door even though your body was shaking uncontrollably from the cold. You reached out to Rafayel, pulling him toward the edge, but as he tried to climb up, the door tipped dangerously, threatening to submerge again. That was how he landed on a decision to leave it be.

“It’s okay,” Rafayel murmured, his voice weak but accepting. “You stay. Stay up there.”

He remained floating beside you, ensuring no one would try and push you off the door, while his lips turned blue and his face became pale. You could hardly even recognize the color of his eyes, nor his hair, nor his once rosy cheeks.

“Rafayel, p-please,” you begged in a raspy voice, desperately trying to pull your weak body up until he stopped you. “W-We’ll find another way.”

He shook his head, his eyes soft as he looked at you. His gaze was the only warm thing he could offer against the cold. “This… this is enough. Just stay there… please.”

Tears began to blur your vision, but they froze on your cheeks before they could even warm them. Still, you held his hand tightly, your fingers gripping his as if you could tether him to life itself. “All y-you did… since the d-day we met… was s-save my life.”

“A-And I’ll s-save you again,” he struggled to speak as his body shook from the cold, his jaws clacking with every shiver. “I’ll save you again a m-milion times, okay? Y-You will live, Y/N. This isn’t where y-you’re supposed to b-be.”

Holding his hand, you pressed a kiss on top of it. “I love you.”

“I love you.”

The watch on your left wrist said it was already past 2:00 am, yet time passed by in an excruciating crawl.

By this time, screams around you had long faded, replaced by the chilling silence of the dead and dying. You didn’t think there was anything more terrifying than the Titanic sinking, but this deadly silence was all and everything that would traumatize you for years to come.

Your fingers were already benumbed, the cold penetrating deep into your bones, but you didn’t let go of Rafayel’s hand as you held onto him and prayed for a miracle. While staring into the clear, starry skies, you imagined how your life would become after this night. Perhaps, once the boats come back to rescue you both, you could truly start fresh with him.

You could imagine Rafayel pursuing his passion for art by starting off as a small artist. You could imagine his paintings being celebrated again, and how you’d be by his side during his exhibits, proud of how far he had come without the help of anyone but himself.

You could imagine your own bit of success too, having the chance to perform at Broadway, even as a mere extra, and being able to bring your mother and sister with you to live in the beautiful New York City.

You could imagine all the beautiful kids you’d raise with Rafayel. Those mini carbon copies of his running around the house, playing around as carefree as their father.

“Rafayel?” you whispered after a long silence, turning to him and shaking his hand lightly. “Where do we go after this?”

But his eyes were closed now, his face unnaturally still, his body half-submerged in the freezing water. His skin had turned a pallid blue, his lips white and cracked. No… You shook him harder, panic rising in your chest as his face was as solid as a block of ice. “Rafayel!” you called out, your voice trembling at the suggestion of his current state. “Wake up! Please… wake up!”

Silence. Nothing but heartbreaking silence. The lack of response made you sob, but you still managed to pull his hand closer to your chest, feeling your heart being torn asunder as you looked at him. “No, no, no… please, no…” You clutched him desperately, feeling the weight of his cold, unmoving body against the wood. “Rafayel, please. Please. Open your eyes. P-Please… You said you’d n-never let go.”

Along with your quiet tears, the ocean around you had become lull as if a deathly silence fell over the waters. The shrieks and cries were no more, replaced by the soft lapping of the waves and the distant creaking of the lifeboats.

And the Titanic, once called the unsinkable ship, was nothing more than a myth.

If not for the faint voice carried over the water, you would have passed out. But someone was calling out, a beam of light flashing your way, forcing you to stay awake. You turned your head, blinking away tears, and saw a lifeboat finally coming back. After what seemed like eons, the crew shone their lights around, searching for survivors, hoping to save anyone at all.

But for the most part, they were too late.

“Over here!” you screamed, waving your hand frantically as your voice wasn’t loud enough for anyone to hear. “Please, help us!”

The beam of light turned toward you, and you heard the oars slicing through the water as the lifeboat approached. Relief may have flooded through you, but then you looked back at Rafayel, his face still and peaceful, like he was sleeping.

“Miss, let him go,” one of the men in the lifeboat carefully said, reaching out to you. “He’s gone… you have to let go.”

“No!” you protested, holding onto Rafayel’s hand tighter, eyes filling up with tears again. “I can’t. I can’t let him go.”

“Please, miss,” the man urged, his voice softening into a pained tone. “You have to let go… or you’ll go down with him.”

Your chest tightened with agony, every fiber of your being screaming to hold on. To never let go. You promised him. You made a vow to him that you would figure everything out together. But as you looked at Rafayel’s face, so serene in death, you knew he was already gone. He had left long before you could say goodbye.

Tears streamed down your face as you leaned down, pressing a final kiss to his cold, unresponsive lips. “I love you,” you whispered, voice breaking into a sob. “I’ll never forget about you.”

With trembling hands, you released your grip on his hand, watching as his body slowly slipped beneath the icy water, sinking into the heart of the ocean. Your heart shattered as you watched him disappear, Rafayel, the love of your life slipping away forever.

Strong hands soon pulled you up into the lifeboat, and you collapsed, your body numb and cold, but nothing compared to the emptiness in your chest. It was as though someone carved a massive hole in your chest, excavating your heart out, only to leave a hollow space. The men wrapped a blanket around you, their voices were barely registered in your mind as they asked if you were okay.

But you weren’t. You would never be the same again. You stared out into the endless, dark sea, where Rafayel had disappeared, knowing a piece of you had gone with him, lost forever in the cold, unforgiving waters of the Atlantic.

The room was quiet and still, filled with the soft light of the morning sun glowing through the windows. Meanwhile, you stood in front of the mirror, smoothing down your dress and your fingers trembling slightly as you adjusted the hem. The reflection staring back at you seemed almost foreign—older, wiser, yet with the same eyes that saw the tragic event that had happened in the years since that fateful night.

A soft knock on the door broke your reverie. Then, Zayne’s gentle and patient voice came from the other side. “Are you ready, love?” he asked, his tone careful, knowing this wasn’t easy for you. “We don’t have to do the interviews if you’re not feeling up to it. I’ll tell them you’ve changed your mind. No one can blame you.”

You turned around to meet his warm, olive eyes as he entered the room. His presence had always been a comforting, steady anchor in the storm that had been your life since the sinking. Beyond being your husband, he had been your rock, your safe harbor, ever since that day. He never pressured you, never pushed for more than you could give. He had simply been there, and over time, you had found solace in him.

“I’m okay,” you spoke almost inaudibly, though he could recognize the uncertainty in your voice, worried that you might not be able to go through an interview as a survivor of the most tragic maritime disaster in history. “I’m fine. I just… It’s surreal to me that it’s been ten years.”

Zayne nodded, coming closer and taking your hand in his, letting his thumb brush over your knuckles in a soothing motion. “I know,” he said softly. “But you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. If you do, I’ll be right by your side.”

You smiled faintly, the warmth of his hand reassuring you. But before you could respond, a younger voice suddenly cut through the room.

“Mom? Dad?” It was your son appearing in the doorway, his purple hair catching the light, and his eyes a striking kaleidoscope of indigo and magenta. “Can we go now?”

Your heart clenched as you looked at him—so young, so full of life, and yet a constant reminder of the man who had given him that life. The same man who had given you so much more than he ever realized.

“We’re coming, sweetheart,” you assured him, reaching out to smooth your son’s hair. He looked at you with a curious tilt of his head, and for a moment, you saw Rafayel’s mischievous grin, his playful personality shining through in the child you had brought into the world.

You exchanged a glance with Zayne, who offered a small, understanding smile. He had never asked about your traumatic past, about the love that you had lost to the cold depths of the Atlantic, because he knew that part of you would always belong to Rafayel. And he accepted that. He accepted you and loved you despite it.

Taking a deep breath, you stood up with a more determined mien. “Yes, we’re ready,” you said, more to yourself than to anyone else.

The world deserves to know who he was, what he did… and his story.

As the three of you walked out of the room, your son chattered excitedly, blissfully unaware of the history you were about to share to the world. But as you looked at him, you saw Rafayel’s spirit through his eyes. Instead of it being a haunting image, you felt warmth spreading through your chest.

Because Rafayel had given you so much more than a son—he had given you a story of a lifetime, one that was worth telling.

#rafayel x reader #rafayel x you #rafayel x y/n #rafayel angst #rafayel smut #rafayel fic #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace x you #lads x reader #lads x you #lds x reader #lnds x reader #lads smut #lads angst #lads rafayel #l&ds rafayel

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jina1028 · 27 days ago

Text

Beautiful nuisance

Sunghoon x fem!reader

Word count: 11k

Part 2 -> Monday coffee (Park Jisung x fem!reader)

Categories: enemies/rivals to lovers, lowkey possessive Hoon, alcohol consumption (no one gets drunk), dom!Sunghoon, sub!reader, CEO Lee Heeseung, mentions of men being shitty to women, smut (duh), handjob, blowjob, kissing, marking, thigh riding, finger sucking, fingering, cunnilingus, penetrative sex, mirror sex, creampie, barely there anal play (no actual penetration), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, praising, both are whipped, mentions of aftercare, let me know if I missed anything

As always 🔞 MDNI 🔞

A.N. this is my first Sunghoon smut, let me know what you think! English is not my first language, so feel free to correct my spelling and grammar, or suggest anything to make everything sound more natural!

Enjoy 💕

~♡~

In your life there were a few things you could say you were proud of: a nice apartment in one of the wealthy areas of your city, the way you managed yourself between family, friends, self care and career, and indeed your job which you worked and studied hard for years to obtain.

You managed to obtain the important position of commercial manager for one of the most renowned international cosmetic brands. You were really proud of the position you worked hard to reach, and your name even began to gain fame and attention between the rival brands, you had the ability to attract many new clients and offer the most interesting contracts.

You were one of the best in your area.

The other commercial manager who was one of the best was Park Sunghoon.

You initially didn't think much of it, sure he was good at his job, but nothing to be afraid of. Then he started to snatch your potential clients from under your nose.

Park Sunghoon was annoying. He acted cool around men, and he turned into prince charming around women in order to obtain what he wanted.

He was annoying. And handsome.

And the fact that he was handsome was annoying itself because you were afraid it would affect the hate you had for him and his stupid charming eyes, his perfect lips always curving into stupid smiles whenever he was about to steal your potential clients, whenever you had the misfortune to be around him, whenever there was some kind of event in which you tried to do your job and promote your brand to stipulate new contracts.

These next few days were about to be the same old story. Your company sent you to an overseas convention to do just that: find new clients.

And Park Sunghoon was going to be there too.

Your mission started awfully from the airport: Sunghoon had to take the same flight, he spotted you sitting in the waiting area next to your gate and approached you, plopping down beside you with a slight huff.

"Y/N, I thought it was you, I was not mistaken! It's nice to see you again."

"Mr. Park..." you acknowledged him with a nod, your eyes barely lifting from your phone to make the shortest possible eye contact.

He acted taken aback by your coldness "Oh, should I address you with your last name too? Sorry, I thought we were a bit more than acquaintances by now, my bad..."

You didn't reply and turned your attention back to your phone, Sunghoon dropped his attempt at making small talk and just sat there in silence, eventually taking his phone from his leather jacket to pass the time, glancing at you now and then.

Finally the gate opened and you proceeded to board the plane avoiding Sunghoon, just wanting to put some distance between the two of you. You wanted to keep your contempt for him intact, not risking letting his stupid handsome face play tricks on you and letting your guard down. He was your rival and you planned to play all your cards to beat him at his game.

Whatever it takes, I'll win this time.

You sat in your seat and sighed, fixing your purse and getting comfortable, glancing at the passenger about to sit next to you. You had to make a double take, fixing your eyes on Sunghoon, him once again.

He sent you a small tight lipped smile, at which you diverted your gaze to look outside the window, stifling an annoyed groan.

Despite Sunghoon's attempt at being polite during the flight, you tried your best to ignore his presence and proximity, stiffening every time your arms or legs would come in touch, tension rising more and more. At some point you could swear Sunghoon was so tense next to you he stopped breathing for a while, you weren't sure if it was because of the slight turbulence or because of your own tension getting to him.

Eventually he must've been so tired that he fell asleep, his head slightly slipping on the headrest towards you, startling you, ready to tell him to move, until you noticed his eyes were closed and his lips agape, breathing softly.

You couldn't help but awe at his beauty, his long dark lashes fanning on his cheekbones, his plump pink lips parted, his pretty nose with that cute mark on the side and his thick eyebrows furrowing now and then when his dreams would be disturbed by some noise or by a turbulence.

You found your own cheeks warming up, realizing you were staring, eventually diverting your eyes at his signs of waking up, mentally slapping yourself for letting your guard down.

Park Sunghoon was a really beautiful nuisance.

He straightened his posture realizing he slid down towards you, clearing his throat and blinking the sleepiness away.

When the plane landed you hurried to go and take a taxi to the hotel where you would stay the next three days and where the convention would take place. You would hear Sunghoon politely call your last name to send you off "See you there!" at which you turned your head towards him waving a hand, deciding that being rude would be no use. It wasn't even in your character to be honest, Park Sunghoon wasn't worthy of you acting differently than your usual self, right?

Wrong. You would see that soon.

The night passed smoothly, you fell asleep as soon as you touched the bed. You couldn't even remember what you dreamt of when you woke up, but you had the feeling of deep brown eyes looking at you in your dream, soft lips on your skin and big, strong hands between your legs, leaving you flustered and with an annoying wet spot on your panties.

Damn, guess I need to get laid, it's been too long.

You had no time to think about your lack of a love or sex life, this morning you had to give your best.

You knew at the convention would be present the CEO in person of an important modeling and acting agency. Getting his attention would mean your company would benefit from working with many famous people and so being able to advertise your products with the faces and charisma of said models and actors, gaining more attention from the general public and selling more.

The fact that the CEO was young and good looking would hopefully make your mission easier. If Park Sunghoon used his beauty and charm to lure new clients towards him, you would try and play his own game this time.

You weren't used to utilizing those kinds of weapons to obtain what you wanted, but this was the most important opportunity in your entire career, you would do all it took.

And with that determination in mind you spotted Lee Heeseung, the famous CEO, in the well illuminated, spacious hall of the convention and approached him sporting the most attractive smile you could muster up, politely greeting him and introducing yourself and your company, asking for him to let you offer a drink and take a bit of his precious time to talk about some interesting offers.

He focused on you and you noticed how elegant and charming he looked, with his soft eyes and bright smile.

"Well, it would be a pleasure to be entertained by the company of a charming woman like you, just let me pay for both our drinks, will you?" Heeseung eyed you up and down, resting his hand behind your shoulder and guiding you to the bar.

Sunghoon watched the scene unfold from afar, furrowing his eyebrows and glaring at the man who was still casually resting his hand on your arm while you explained the plans of your company.

Oh, she doesn't know what she's gotten herself into, does she?

Sunghoon patiently watched as you tried to make Lee Heeseung pay attention, noticing how his eyes would occasionally land on your lips or lower, until he finally decided to approach the two of you.

"Your offers seem really interesting but we'll have to carefully consider all the pros and cons for both of us before I agree to anything... How about we continue this conversation elsewhere? I need a quieter place, let's have dinner in my suite tonight so we don't have to worry about others hearing our conversation."

Were you hearing right? Lee Heeseung inviting you to his suite to have dinner and talk... You weren't that naive, but you wondered if you wanted to take that path in order to obtain his favor.

Your voice caught in your throat as you tried to extricate yourself from this situation, feeling Heeseung's eyes scanning your face in search for a positive reaction.

"Lee Heeseung, am I right?" a deep, charming voice saved you from a panic attack "Park Sunghoon, nice to meet you."

Sunghoon introduced himself and his company, grabbing a stool and placing it between you and Heeseung.

"I'm not interrupting anything, am I? Let's drink something together!" Sunghoon gestured for the bartender to come and he ordered his drink.

Heeseung glared at him but in a blink of an eye he was smiling, shaking Sunghoon's hand and making space for him to sit more comfortably between you two.

His intrusion allowed you to release the breath you were holding and get your gears to start turning properly in your head.

You took a long sip from your drink, making up your mind.

"Mr. Lee" you called for his attention again, "I have to decline tonight, but let me invite you to the spa tomorrow. I've heard about a nice jacuzzi, let's relax together for a bit then we could talk again about my offer, alright?"

"I see..." Heeseung pondered his options for a moment observing you, before clapping his hands together and agreeing to your plan.

You shot a quick glance at Sunghoon, his features stiff, jaw clenched while swallowing a sip from his glass.

You smirked to yourself, whatever Sunghoon's plan was, you apparently managed to ruin it.

You took one last sip from your glass and got up from your stool, excusing yourself.

"Let's meet here at 9 p.m. Goodnight!" you smiled in Heeseung's direction and walked away, missing the way he kept looking at your back as you gradually disappeared in the sea of people.

Sunghoon cleared his throat, and Heeseung shifted his attention to him "do you know her?"

Sunghoon hummed affirmatively.

"Is she... you know... open to different types of negotiation?" Heeseung inquired.

Sunghoon clenched his jaw once again, taking another sip from his glass.

"Not that I know of, I don't think she's the type" he replied coldly.

"Oh, we'll see, you never know... Right?" Heeseung patted Sunghoon's back with a wide smile, earning a little fake chuckle from Sunghoon.

"Just be careful not to get your hopes too high" Sunghoon stood up and excused himself as well, leaving Heeseung to think about what he meant.

The next day you spent most of the morning and early afternoon promoting the new line just launched by your brand and signing a couple of contracts with new clients. You managed to eat a few snacks from the bar, knowing you wouldn't have much time to have a proper dinner.

You noticed Sunghoon casually wandering around your area, occasionally talking to potential clients, and sometimes looking in your direction as if to check on you.

You thought it was just so he kept track of the people you were talking to so he could steal them from you later, but something about his gaze was different than usual.

Sunghoon would usually look at you with smug eyes, smirking and chuckling to himself. But right now his eyes were dark, almost frowning and his lips curved downwards, slightly pouting. He would keep eye contact, eventually making you flustered and look away from his deep eyes.

What's wrong with him...

As you walked to the elevators, going to your room to get ready for the spa, Sunghoon approached you, expression unreadable, leaning in to murmur in your ear "Be careful with Lee Heeseung."

You stiffened at his closeness and his enigmatic words, but as soon as those words left his lips he withdrew, people approaching to take the elevator with you. And like that you missed the chance to get a proper explanation from Sunghoon. You told yourself that he was just trying to play his tricks on you, in order to make you lose the opportunity with Lee Heeseung and take advantage of the situation. But something was off with Sunghoon, he looked too serious for it to be a bluff, you were starting to doubt everything at this point.

When you got back downstairs, you found Heeseung waiting for you at the bar, this time dressed more casually. He greeted you with a pretty smile, getting up to follow you to the spa where you reserved the jacuzzi the previous day, then going separate ways to the changing rooms.

You checked yourself in the mirror, wondering if you were daring too much, stripping yourself in a skimpy bikini, isolating yourself in a small jacuzzi with a man you barely knew, who looked like he was waiting for the perfect opportunity to have you for himself, and possibly drinking some alcohol in the meantime.

But that's what you planned once you made up your mind after your first encounter with Heeseung, to obtain his favor with the help of some alcohol and the promise of sex, right? After all you were adult and single, so why not use sex as a way to reach your goals once in a while? That didn't mean you were actually having sex after all, what if you just used it as bait to lure horny men into signing a few contracts?

You wrapped your hips in a towel before exiting the changing rooms, scanning the area and spotting Heeseung already sitting in the hot tub in a corner of the large pool area. The small tub was kind of isolated, hidden from most eyes by some plants and foliage, the lights in that corner were a bit dim, making it look more private and somewhat sensual.

You approached the hot tub, noticing how Heeseung's eyes traveled up and down your body, a small smirk creeping up on his lips.

You felt an uneasy sensation in your guts but decided to shake it away, you wouldn't cower back from your plan right now, so you finally sank in the hot bubbly water in front of Heeseung, letting the temperature relax your stiff muscles.

Heeseung wasted no time and scooted closer to you "it's so nice here, at this hour there's barely anyone around, we can relax undisturbed..." He spread his arms and legs, grazing your own, resting his head on the edge of the tub, turning to look at you from under his lashes.

"Yeah and look at the view, what floor is this, like 25th? Look at the city lights!", you were genuinely amazed, the proximity of the hot tub to one of the large glass panels provided a great view of the city underneath you.

Heeseung glanced outside for a moment "It's beautiful... But honestly I'm more interested in you", he grazed his fingers on your thigh under the hot water, shortening the distance between your faces, lowering his voice "I bet you have a lot to offer, I'm really curious."

Your breath caught in your throat and you instinctively stiffened and closed your legs before his hand could travel further up your thighs. Your plan was threatening to get out of your control.

Heeseung noticed your reluctance, an annoyed sigh slipping out his nose, lips tight, but he quickly turned his lips into a gentle smile "what if I go and grab something to drink, I think you need to loosen up a bit."

He got up without waiting for you to agree and climbed out of the hot tub, reaching for his room card in his bag.

You called for him to wait, getting up and taking your card from your own bag "wait, put it on my room, you paid last time!", Heeseung declined with a smile and left you to go to the bar on the floor below.

You just put your room card beside your bag next to the tub and sank back down, trying to clear up your mind. You didn't really want to sell your body, you just wanted to seduce Heeseung in order for him to let his guard down and agree to your business offer. But he seemed adamant in not signing anything before getting between your legs. You couldn't see a way out of this without your company losing one of the best opportunities that ever happened to it, or you letting Heeseung do whatever he wanted to you.

The sound of footsteps brought your thoughts back to the present, making you lift your eyes on a tall figure approaching.

"Sunghoon, what are you doing here?" surprise and annoyance both transpiring from your voice.

"Hello to you, Y/N", he greeted you in response, "just wanted to see for myself if the jacuzzi up here is as nice as they say."

He stripped out of his bathrobe, placing it next to your bag, while you couldn't help but stare at his toned back and shoulders hoping he wouldn't notice. You diverted your eyes just in time as he turned to climb up the stairs and into the hot water of the tub, sitting in front of you.

"Heeseung will be here soon, what do you really want? Are you trying to make him hate me by hanging out with me every time we try to be alone? I think he's gonna hate you more though, he's not gonna sign with you..." you spat out, tired of Sunghoon's antics.

He just shrugged, resting his elbows on the edge of the tub, a plain expression on his face "I don't care."

"What?" you scoffed.

"I don't care, I have something else on my mind right now."

You were about to inquire more about it but you saw Heeseung approaching from the corner of your eye. He paused for a moment when he saw Sunghoon, who waved greeting him with a wide smile, fangs on display "Heeseung! We can talk casually, right? Sorry for intruding, I like to swim at night so I came here and noticed Y/N. She seemed lonely so I joined her..."

Heeseung kept his composure and handed your drink to you, keeping one for himself and taking a sip "if I knew you would've joined us I would've bought one more drink for you... Here, take my card and go grab something, it's on me."

"Oh I can pay for myself, thanks. I'll be right back..." Sunghoon started getting up but you pushed a hand on his shoulder, taking him by surprise and making him sink back down.

"You know what, I need to stretch my legs a bit, just give me your card and I'll get your drink for you", you smiled stiffly, just wanting to escape from both men even just for a few minutes.

Sunghoon quirked an eyebrow, eventually taking his room card from his bathrobe "a gin-tonic, I like it sweet. Thanks" he locked his eyes with yours, handing you his card.

You quickly took it from between his joined index and middle fingers and scurried away from both men, adjusting your towel around your torso to make yourself presentable enough for the bar downstairs.

As soon as you exited the pool area Heeseung dropped his smile, sitting opposite Sunghoon.

"What are you doing? Why do you keep intruding? Do you just want me to sign with your company? Or is it because of her?"

Sunghoon looked at Heeseung coldly "I just don't want her to hurt herself, she's my best rival and I don't want to lose her like this. I just want her to regain her reason before she does something she'll regret later."

Heeseung scoffed "what are you, her dad? She's an adult woman and she can decide for herself."

Wait, he's got a point... Am I being... Selfish? Am I lying to myself about the reason?

"Yeah she can, but I know how you treat women and she doesn't..."

"Watch your mouth" Heeseung glared at the man in front of him, "you don't want to accuse me of things you don't even know..."

Sunghoon brought up his hands in mock defeat "I'm just informing you of the rumors about you, I just wouldn't engage with you if I were Y/N."

"Whatever the rumors are about me, they're false."

Sunghoon interrupted him, bringing up a hand "I don't know if they're true or false, I just want you to stay away from Y/N, the reason is not important.”

Heeseung chuckled, sipping from his glass "straightforward, are we... Why should I care about what you want?"

Sunghoon gathered all his courage, knowing he could risk it all against a powerful man like Lee Heeseung, CEO of one of the most rich and influential modeling and acting agencies.

"I don't know, said rumors could start spreading around... What if they reach the wrong ears?" Sunghoon noticed the bitter expression on Heeseung's face and added "look, I don't really know the truth, but I'd like to keep my friend safe, so the least I could do is warn her."

He firmly kept eye contact despite Heeseung's menacing stare. Just when Sunghoon felt a shiver run down his spine, despite the hot temperature of the water, the automatic doors slid open and you unknowingly came to his rescue with his drink in hand, easing a bit of his tension.

You reached the hot tub "thanks, Y/N" Sunghoon grazed your fingers while taking his drink and room card, tossing it next to his bathrobe.

"No problem" you climbed back into the tub, feeling two pairs of eyes on you, not to mention the tension you could cut with a knife.

Something happened while I was gone.

You sat down, grabbing the drink you left unattended and finally taking a few sips, switching your eyes between the two men in front of you.

You suddenly felt extremely conscious of the situation you were in: half naked, with two equally naked, attractive men, sipping alcohol, in a very hot, very tight tub. The tension between these two men was palpable, even if you weren't fully aware of the reason why, but maybe your lack of sexual life, maybe the temperature, maybe the alcohol or everything together made you hot and bothered.

You felt blood rushing to your face and ears and pressed your thighs together trying to relieve some tension, obtaining the opposite result. You caught yourself staring at Sunghoon's broad shoulders, your bottom lip between your teeth, just in time before he turned your attention to you "how about we listen to some music, I feel like it's suddenly too quiet" he chuckled, taking his phone and opening a random playlist on shuffle, soon the notes of a song you recognized as 505 by Arctic Monkeys starting to play.

You closed your eyes, listening to the guitar and the lyrics, sipping your drink, and your feet started tapping to the rhythm without you noticing.

You found yourself slightly swaying to the music, your mind randomly going back to Sunghoon, showing you flashbacks of the moment he slid out of his bathrobe, the way his muscles flexed while he lowered himself in the warm water, the way his shorts clung to his toned body when he got up to give you his card, the damp strands of hair falling on his thick eyebrows on one side, showing his forehead, his deep eyes and plump lips, curving into a smile and revealing his teeth and cute fangs...

Then Sunghoon accidentally brushed his foot on yours, making you yelp in surprise, startling the two men.

"Sorry, did I hurt y-"

"I gotta go!" you interrupted Sunghoon's apology, shooting up from your seat, hoping the music masked the low moan that escaped your lips just before the little incident.

You quickly made your way out of the hot tub, grabbing your towel, bag and room card before fleeing to the changing room.

You took the quickest shower you ever took, barely dried yourself up, getting dressed in a minute and almost running to the elevator, hastily pressing your floor number.

When the doors opened to your floor you hurriedly walked to your room and held your card against the lock, wanting nothing more than to go to bed and erase your inappropriate thoughts about Sunghoon.

Though your door didn't unlock.

You tried and tried again to no avail, blowing your cheeks out, already thinking of going to the reception and asking for help.

You were trying one last time, failing yet again and throwing a kick at the door, when you heard footsteps turning around the corner in your direction. When you turned around you were met with the sight of Sunghoon walking straight to you, his damp unstyled hair falling on his eyebrows, dressed in simple gray jeans and a black graphic tee. You barely recognized him, as you were used to his more elegant work outfits. Your dumbstruck expression tugged an amused smirk on his lips.

"What are you doing out here in the hallway kicking that poor door?"

"W-what are you doing here?"

"Came to the rescue" Sunghoon winked at you, closing the distance between your bodies. You leaned against the door, looking up at him, heat creeping up to your cheeks because of the close proximity.

Sunghoon lightly rested his hand on the middle of your back, barely touching you, yet the feeling of his fingers hovering on your clothed skin made you arch your back, allowing him to slip his other hand behind you, unlocking the door with your badge.

“You're lucky these cards have the room number on it, or you would've slept outside if I couldn't find you.” Sunghoon teased you.

You regained a bit of your composure and slid your hands behind your back to pull the door handle, still facing Sunghoon, the gesture creating contact, your chest slightly pressing into his in order for you to make room for your arms behind you.

"Thanks..." your voice came out feeble.

"Anytime..."

You pushed the door and started walking backwards into your room, dropping your bag on the floor, silently hoping for him to follow you inside.

Sunghoon chased the warmth of your body as you did so, but stopped on the doorway leaning against it, sighing as he restrained himself, not wanting to invade the privacy of your room without permission.

You took note of this gesture, he may seem smug and annoying because of your rivalry, but right now your heart throbbed at how sweet you thought he was, holding back waiting for your invite, almost gentlemanly.

"You wanna come?"

Sunghoon's eyes sparkled and widened in surprise, yet he found himself stepping inside your room and closing the door behind him without a second thought, dropping his own bag next to yours.

Suddenly you felt shy, you weren't used to this kind of situation, inviting a man in your room, let alone your annoying (and oh so handsome) rival Park Sunghoon. What if he thought you were easy? What if he was gonna use this situation against you in the future?

"Y/N", Sunghoon's voice calling your name brought you back to the present "I have a confession."

He what now?

You listened carefully, not sure about the direction this encounter was taking.

"I admire you.”

You held your breath.

“This may sound strange but as a woman it must be difficult for you to be this successful. Don't get me wrong, I don't think men are better than women, at all! I mean in this world it's difficult for women to be respected and valued, so I think you're really strong and smart for not letting anyone get in your way. That's why I admire you."

Hearing those words made you feel a pang of guilt, you were about to throw away your work ethic for Lee Heeseung, and the possibility of losing Sunghoon's respect strangely hurt more than you expected. Losing his respect would automatically mean losing as a rival, and that was the last thing you wanted.

You sat on the foot of the bed, letting his words sink in, as Sunghoon took a seat on the padded desk chair, spinning it to face you.

"Y/N, look at me" his voice was strong and gentle at the same time, and you did as he requested, meeting his eyes as he rested his forearms on his knees to lower himself to the same eye level.

"I often couldn't beat you even using my charms with women..." he briefly paused. "Just because I tried that way doesn't mean you have to do the same. You don't need it."

You felt your heart throbbing from his words and his intense stare.

"I know what you tried to do with Lee Heeseung. And I tried my best to interfere. Honestly I'm not sure why I did it. Maybe for multiple reasons... I was scared to lose respect for my rival, the one who motivates me to work harder, I was selfish..."

Sunghoon lowered his gaze, then continued "I've also heard rumors about how Lee Heeseung treats women, he blackmailed many of them, some lost their jobs or maybe worse..."

You swallowed the lump that formed in your throat at the thought of having your life ruined like that.

"The third reason why I didn't want you to be with Heeseung is because I like you." he lifted his gaze to look deep into your eyes and you felt like you couldn't escape the fire deep inside of his dark ones.

"I want you to be mine, no one else's."

You shifted on the bed, biting your lower lip, Sunghoon's intense eyes fixating on your mouth as he got up from the chair. He reached for your cheek, stroking it with his thumb.

You stayed silent once again, so affected by his words and presence that you seemed like you lost your voice.

"That's all I wanted to tell you... See you tomorrow, Y/N..."

You panicked, already missing his touch on your skin "Wait!" you almost shouted.

Sunghoon halted while straightening himself as you continued "stay a little bit..."

You felt blood rushing to your face at your own words, you'd never been so straightforward in such a situation, Sunghoon was really capable of making you act like a different person.

He hesitated, biting his own lips, unsure of how to refuse your invite "we both drank alcohol, don't make me stay... I don't think I'll be able to hold back for long..."

His words only made you want him more "I'm fine, I barely drank half of my glass... Don't you wanna hear what I have to say?" you insisted.

Sunghoon sighed, a hand flying to his forehead to stroke his dark locks back, only for them to fall back into place on his forehead.

"Please..." you begged.

He sat back down on the chair in front of you.

"Alright…" he furrowed his brows deep in thought as he watched your expression go from troubled to relieved, excited?

Looking back to the past, he always had the feeling there was sexual tension between the two of you, but neither ever acted on it, your rivalry prevailing in your "relationship". But now you seemed to be warming up, maybe his words softened your heart. Or maybe your heart was always warm and soft and you just decided to let him in now.

Either way Sunghoon wanted to see how far you would go now that your true feelings started showing, but he didn't want to push you and scare you back away.

He leaned back on the chair and spread his legs, observing you and waiting for your next move.

You looked at him with warm cheeks, fidgeting with your hands on your lap, unsure of what you really wanted to say.

"Thank you for your support... I don't know what got into me wanting to try and let someone use me like that, just to obtain his favor. It wasn't my smartest move... I guess I was lucky you were always obnoxiously lurking around me all the time these days" you chuckled, thinking about the way you found his intrusions annoying, while the truth was that he held you back from doing something deeply regrettable.

"Yeah, sorry about that, I think you started hating me a little more these days." Sunghoon's comment was lighthearted but hid a bit of a concern underneath.

"Nah... I still hate you a normal amount" you replied, making him arch his eyebrows in surprise at your response.

You giggled at his expression, "to be honest I never hated you, I just pretended and convinced myself 'cause I knew I would fall for you if I let my guard down... Couldn't risk that and let you win so easily. That would destroy my pride.”

Sunghoon listened carefully, a question popping in his mind at your words "And now? Will you let your guard down?"

"Now I wanna let you do whatever you want, just for tonight", you were tired of acting like you weren't attracted to him, you deceived yourself for too long.

"Whatever I want?" Sunghoon let out a short chuckle, licking and biting his lower lip as he thought about what that meant.

"Hmm, there's so many things I fantasized about thinking about you, what do I do..." he hummed to himself, almost whining at his own uncertainty, pondering the many possibilities.

You stayed silent, wondering if Sunghoon ever touched himself thinking of you and how he would look doing so.

You looked at his torn expression trying to make up his mind, admiring his harmonious features, when he finally looked up at you with resolution in his eyes.

He leaned back on the chair and patted his thigh with one of his big hands "come and sit here" his voice firm and demanding, dark, penetrating eyes diving into yours.

You quickly obeyed and got up from the bed, making your way in front of Sunghoon as he spread his legs and reached his hands on your hips, guiding you to straddle his right thigh as you lowered yourself on it, your gray pleated skirt riding up your thighs in the process.

The warmth of his firm hands seeped through your clothes, and as soon as you sat on his thigh you slightly hissed at the warmth and pressure, your hands timidly reaching for his shoulders in search of support. You lodged your right knee right against his groin as you fixed your position, earning a barely audible groan from Sunghoon, who helped you sit comfortably, placing a hand behind your left knee and positioning it on the chair beside him, luckily wide enough for you to not be awkward.

He kept a hand on your hip and brought the other up to your nape, pulling your face towards his, stopping just in time to leave a small gap between your lips.

"This is what I want" his voice barely anything more than a whisper, his warm breath fanning on your lips, luring you in.

"You sure you want it too?" his soft lips now brushed against yours as he spoke.

You experimentally pressed your crotch down on his thigh, clenching your own thighs around his muscles at the sudden wave of pleasure that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Yes" your answer, even though whispered, was loud and clear to Sunghoon's ears, and that's all he needed to press his hand behind your nape and crush your lips together, hungry, raw and fervent, molding them into each other. He swiped his tongue on your lips, slipping it inside your mouth as you gladly accepted him.

Your hands roamed between his shoulders and neck, eventually finding purchase in his thick hair as the kiss got deeper.

A whimper left your mouth as Sunghoon pressed his thigh up into your clothed cunt.

"Ride it" he punctuated his simple order by grabbing your hips and grinding them on his firm thigh, a stuttered sigh escaping your lips at the feeling of your clit rubbing against his muscles, some juices gathering on your panties, eventually creating a damp spot, growing more and more as you started gyrating your hips on his leg by your own.

"Yeah, like that" Sunghoon encouraged you, gripping your hips with both hands, increasing the force and speed of your movements, occasionally making his thigh jump up hitting your clit.

You soon started panting and whimpering, chasing your high, Sunghoon's thigh providing so much pleasure, yet not enough.

At a particularly hard hit of his thigh on your clit you moaned loudly, at which Sunghoon brought a hand from your hips to your mouth, watching you with lust in his eyes as you parted your lips to take his thumb into your salivating mouth.

"Do you want the whole hotel to hear? I'll need to stuff your mouth somehow" he smirked as a muffled moan vibrated through his thumb, your tongue licking and swirling as you sucked on it, hips rocking back and forth as you kept grinding, your clit swelling and arousal seeping through, creating a damp spot on Sunghoon's jeans.

You kept sucking at his thumb, so nicely and lewdly his mind couldn't help but imagine his dick in place of his finger, how much your pretty lips would stretch and how much you would strain your jaw to accommodate his size.

Sunghoon pressed his thumb down on your tongue as he watched you gradually lose yourself in pleasure, enraptured by the sight in front of him, the wet sensation of your tongue and your delicate moans and whines.

Your eyes started to lose focus as you kept riding his thigh, his left hand pressing you down and leg rocking up into you to help you reach your high.

"Keep going, you're doing so good." Sunghoon's breath hitched as he felt your teeth close on the base of his thumb, not hurting him but taking him by surprise, the effort making you clench your jaw until finally your first orgasm crashed on you, your jaw slacking and allowing Sunghoon to take his thumb back and place both his hands on your tired hips to help you ride it out, until you slumped against his chest, chin on the crook of his neck.

He gently pressed a kiss on your neck "you did so good", he cooed at you, stroking a hand on your back to soothe you as you tried to calm your breathing, your pussy still quivering from your climax.

You nuzzled into his neck, inhaling the body wash on his skin, gently pressing your lips and working your mouth on it licking, sucking and biting your way up to his earlobe, gently nibbling on it, eliciting little gasps and groans from the man below you.

Your hands slowly traveled down his chest, feeling and massaging the muscles on your way down to his abs, finally reaching his belt to unbuckle it, fumbling with the button and zipper of his jeans.

When you managed to tug them down a little and slide your hand on his clothed erection you were so surprised at the feeling of his size, gently squeezing your fingers around what you could reach, stroking along the shaft from base to head above his gray boxers.

Sunghoon involuntarily bucked his hips into your hand as he impatiently grasped your wrist to guide you and stroke himself with your hand. A gasp caught in his throat and you felt his dick twitching under your touch, your eyes traveling down his face and torso to take the sight in, spotting a small wet patch where the imprint of his tip was.

Sunghoon noticed how your hungry eyes focused on his dick even though you couldn't properly see it, smirking at your lustful expression "you wanna taste?", his voice sweet and taunting as he stopped your movements, wrapping his fingers on yours and making you press on his tip, twitching one more time.

You wasted no time, getting up from your straddling position on his thigh, to immediately kneel down between the man's spread legs, helping him tug down his jeans and boxers just enough to finally free his swollen cock.

"So eager..." he chuckled, watching your eyes sparkle at the sight of his girthy, veiny shaft resting on his pelvis.

You marveled, observing the veins that adorned it, so pale, the tip was pink and swollen, a bead of precum just above the slit threatening to roll down the length.

Sunghoon bit his lip as he rested his right hand on your head, caressing it and slightly pushing towards him.

You took the hint and let him push you until your lips were close enough to wrap just under the head, massaging the underside with your tongue and lips, suckling on the flush skin while making eye contact with the man above you, who hissed at your teasing, eyebrows forrowed and lips red and swollen from all the kissing and his own biting.

You caught the beam of precum with your tongue as it rolled down, tasting his essence, manly, slightly salty, so good you wanted more, so you started putting more effort into it in order to milk all the precum he could give you before he actually came.

So you wrapped your lips on the tip, sucking and sinking down on it as much as you could, only to come back up and swirl your tongue around the head and suck again, collecting drop after drop, as you helped yourself with your hand, pumping what your mouth couldn't reach.

Sunghoon just looked for a bit, whispering a few compliments between his hisses and groans, his hand still resting on your head, mindlessly massaging your scalp with his fingertips.

"You're so good at this, baby... Wanna cum in your mouth so bad, keep going like that..."

His dirty words egged you on and you felt more arousal wetting your panties as you tried to take Sunghoon deeper, his tip brushing the back of your throat, eliciting a moan from him and causing his fingers to tighten their grip on your scalp.

Sunghoon couldn't help himself anymore and started bucking his hips into your mouth as he kept you steady with his hand on your head. He really tried to be gentle and not to push too far, but as soon as he accidentally pushed a little further down your throat he lost it, the feeling of your muscles clenching around him as you gagged clouding his mind, eventually ending up face fucking you with little to no mercy, only letting you up occasionally to let you breath through your nose, still keeping his dick in your mouth.

You breathed as much as you could, struggling to maintain eye contact, tears rolling down your cheeks (at least you used waterproof mascara, you mentally thanked yourself), before Sunghoon pushed your head down again, purposefully making you gag on his cock.

"This is all mine" he growled, looking between your teary eyes and his shaft disappearing into your wet mouth, drool and precum dribbling down your chin, which Sunghoon collected with his thumb to push back in your abused mouth along with his dick.

"Gonna come in this pretty mouth, you better swallow everything so we don't make a mess, yeah?" he smirked as your moan of approval came out broken by his relentless thrusting, as you braced yourself digging your manicured nails into his waist.

With one last thrust and a deep groan Sunghoon pushed your head against his pelvis, keeping you in place as your throat convulsed around his throbbing dick, thick white spurts of cum painting your throat as it threatened to escape your mouth because of your gagging.

As he came down from his high he retreated a bit in order to let you breathe, still keeping his dick in your mouth, making sure not a single drop of his cum escaped while you calmed down.

Finally Sunghoon slowly withdrew his dick from your mouth, smearing a bit of cum on your lips with his tip while breathing heavily.

"Swallow" he nodded at you.

The order was simple and you did as he said, feeling his thick cum coating your throat and leaving a tingly sensation on your tongue, which you proudly stuck out for him to see.

He smiled at you, caressing your cheek, wiping a tear away "good girl, you did great".

Sunghoon took your chin between his fingers, lifting your face to kiss you.

You didn't expect his tongue to wipe your cum stained lips clean and enter your mouth, tasting the mix of your saliva and his own release, yet you pressed your thighs together as he did so, pure lust taking the best of you as you tangled your tongue with his and your fingers brushed through the dark hair on his nape.

It felt like Sunghoon had casted a spell on you, making you his, completely at his mercy. He made you feel vulnerable and safe, he was dangerous and tender.

Sunghoon held your waist with his free hand, lifting you up on your feet as he kept kissing you and nibbling at your lips and started walking you backwards until your calves hit the fluffy white covers of the bed.

You fell on the mattress with a slight huff, lifting your gaze on Sunghoon who was now stripping with deliberate slowness as you took the sight in, devouring him with your eyes as soon as he lifted his shirt, stretching his arms above his head in the process of removing it. He tossed it on the floor, feigning annoyance, his eyebrows furrowed "why am I the only one getting naked?"

You wasted no time, grasping the hem of your baby blue shirt and lifting it above your head, exposing your lacey lilac bra, a hum of approval vibrating in Sunghoon's throat "so pretty... I bet you're wearing matching panties, let's see.”

You giggled at the accuracy of his guess, lifting from the bed to slowly shimmy out of your skirt, letting it drop to the floor revealing the matching thin, lacey panties you chose to wear tonight.

"Beautiful" Sunghoon bit his lip as he scanned your almost naked body "too bad you didn't plan to wear it for me" he pouted, slowly approaching you, hooking his index finger under the strap on your shoulder, only to pull and let it slap back on your skin, the sudden sting making you yelp.

"Knowing you planned it for someone else makes me kinda jealous, you know..." he lowered his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent and exhaling his warm breath on your skin, making you shiver.

"You're the one in my room with me, though..." you then lowered your voice, teasing in his ear "it's your cum I swallowed just now, it tasted so good..." you stroked your way down his stomach to his still exposed cock, which you noticed was starting to stiffen again.

"Good point..." Sunghoon traced the lace of your panties with his fingertips, slightly grazing your swollen clit, at which you bucked your crotch into his hand, still sensitive from your orgasm.

He shot you a wicked smile before pushing you again on the bed, quickly getting rid of his jeans and boxers and crawling on top of you as you moved back up the bed to rest your head on the pillow.

Sunghoon trapped you between his arms, sustaining his weight on your head's sides, and he lowered himself between your legs, resting his pelvis on yours, as his lips caressed your jaw, increasing the intensity of his ministrations the more he traveled down your neck.

He found a sensitive spot, making you mewl louder than you expected, and he attacked it, licking, sucking and biting.

"Gonna-" he sucked on that spot "mark-" and sucked again "this-" he nibbled "pretty neck" he bit hard, his pointy fangs almost piercing your skin as a high pitched whimper escaped your mouth.

Sunghoon soothed your skin with his tongue and plush lips "you're mine, yeah?" his face hovered over yours, his nose stroking yours as he grazed your lips with his.

"Yeah, yours... only yours" you exhaled against his lips, fingers caressing his nape.

“Good” he commented before he locked your lips together, his tongue claiming your mouth in a possessive, passionate kiss.

You felt one of his hands going to your breasts, groping and teasing your nipples, sending shivers down your spine as he started grinding his now fully erect shaft onto your clothed cunt.

You tried to match his movements, bracing yourself around his neck for support as you lifted and humped your hips against his crotch, in search of more friction on your throbbing clit.

“Be patient, we're just getting started…” Sunghoon reprimanded your greediness with a light bite on your lower lip.

He locked eyes with you as he lowered himself down and down between your spread legs, the lukewarm air of the room suddenly feeling cold as his heat left your body.

Sunghoon broke eye contact to finally look at your pussy up close, loving the new point of view, as he experimentally glided his index finger on the lace of your panties, pressing on your clit and dragging it down to your hole, then back again dragging it to your sensitive bud. He repeated the slow movements over and over, the fabric bunching up between your lips in the process, more wetness seeping out as Sunghoon used your panties to collect it and spread it up and down between your folds, slightly pressing into your hole, the fabric preventing his digit from slipping in.

Your lewd wet sounds and little moans filled his ears as he was on the verge of losing control, almost hypnotized while he finally pulled your panties to the side to fully reveal your glistening cunt.

As he held the fabric with one hand he reached his fingers between your folds to collect your juices, and as your heart was about to burst from anticipation, Sunghoon slowly pushed a finger inside, watching carefully as your cunt slightly clenched around his digit, unable to stop a groan from escaping his throat at the sight and feeling.

He eased his finger halfway and experimentally twisted and curled it until a loud whimper from you signaled he found the spot he was looking for, so he targeted it mercilessly, pressing and dragging his digit on your most sensitive spot, gradually increasing the speed while thrusting the heel of his hand on your swollen clit.

Your legs started shaking uncontrollably, shockwaves of pleasure coursing through them as you tried not to crush Sunghoon between your thighs, moans and whimpers flowing from your throat until you felt a burning sensation in your lower abdomen, threatening to burst.

“Sunghoon… Sunghoon wait I'm-” you didn't even know what you were trying to warn him about, but it was too late anyway.

Something snapped inside of you and you felt a hot wave overflowing and crashing like a tsunami as you let go and allowed the unbearable pleasure to numb your mind.

Sunghoon gasped and groaned as he slowed down his ministrations “fuck, that was so hot…”, he resurfaced from his position between your legs to hungrily look at your face, making eye contact as you realized what just happened.

You didn't even know you were able to squirt, but the clear liquid wetting Sunghoon's nose, lips and chin confirmed your suspicions about the flood like sensation you felt moments before.

Sunghoon kept his deep eyes on yours as he lowered his face again to finally taste you and your release, lazily lapping and sucking on your clit, basically making out with your cunt as he kept slowly thrusting his finger inside of you, delicately taking care of your spent pussy.

“You taste so good… can you do that again? On my tongue this time” Sunghoon demanded more than asking, speeding up once again and resuming his make out session with your pussy, doubling his efforts to make you come again.

He added a second finger, stretching you nicely, heightening your pleasure as he started curling and thrusting again to try and trigger another orgasm, his lips wrapping around your over sensitive bud, tongue drawing figures as he relentlessly pushed you to the edge.

You mewled and sobbed, finally finding purchase in his dark locks with your wandering hand, grounding yourself as another tide crashed through you and flowed in Sunghoon's eager mouth, obscene slurping sounds filling the dimly lit room until he was sure he lapped every last drop of your nectar.

Sunghoon eased his fingers out of your pussy while rising from his prone position, pure satisfaction on his features as he inspected your face, licking his fingers clean as you watched them disappear inside his mouth.

He smirked at your empty expression “Hey, did I make you go dumb already?”, he teased you as he reached for your drenched panties, tugging as you obediently lifted your hips the best you could with your weak limbs.

“Do you want me to stop?” he worried for a second since you struggled to find your voice and reply to his teasing, relieved when you shook your head.

“No please!” you felt your ears burning hot with embarrassment “it's just… I’ve never felt this good I guess, I feel strange… I feel too good”, you tried to explain yourself as Sunghoon chuckled at your sheepish voice and expression.

“Let me make you feel even better now…” he caressed the underside of your thighs as he pushed his hands upwards towards your knees, angling your pussy just right for him to grab his shaft with one hand and stroke it between your folds a few times to collect your juices.

Sunghoon finally aligned his tip with your hole and slowly pushed in, watching your pussy swallow his flushed head, disappearing in your tight, wet hole.

He stopped for a moment to let you adjust as he studied your reactions, every little sound and expression, slowly thrusting in and out just an inch at a time to better spread your wetness and make it easier for you to take his size.

He patiently pushed inch by inch until he bottomed out, letting himself drop on his elbows on top of you, tired from the effort of holding back from roughly fucking you dumb.

After a few moments of deep breaths and gentle neck kisses and bites, Sunghoon hooked his arms under your knees, almost folding you in half as he started rolling his hips deeper into yours thanks to the new position.

Your overstimulated pussy fluttered around Sunghoon's cock with every stroke as he repeatedly pressed his pelvis on your clit while stretching you open to accommodate his size.

As soon as Sunghoon felt you relax more he sped up, thrusting deep and hard at a perfect angle as you unconsciously tried to lift your hips to meet his powerful strokes, your arousal starting to splatter on his pelvis and drip down your cunt and inner thighs, both your uncontrollable moans, whimpers and groans creating a filthy harmony in the room.

“God you're so wet… Wanna fill you up so bad, make this pussy drip with my cum…” Sunghoon growled in your neck, biting down as the pleasure got to his head, eliciting a high pitched moan from you, both of you struggling to breathe evenly.

Sunghoon's dirty talk was like ecstasy to you and with a few more deep thrusts he pushed you over the edge once again, feeling your cunt gushing on his dick as its walls spasmed, almost making him reach his own climax.

But he was quick to pull out and clamp his strong hand around his shaft to restrain himself from shooting his load then and there, too greedy to let the fun end yet.

Sunghoon gasped and growled as he managed to push back his impending orgasm, his veins even more prominent on his arms and flushed dick. When he was sure it was safe to remove his hand, he grabbed your arms to abruptly pull you up, handling you like a doll and shifting your positions.

Sunghoon made you stand up on your wobbly legs and guided you to the light wooden desk in front of the bed, making you face the wide mirror on top of it. He pressed his chest to your back as he held a hand on your hip and the other one crawled up your chest and throat to lift your face and make you look at the image in the mirror in front of you.

“Look how pretty you are while I blow your back”, Sunghoon looked into your eyes reflected in the mirror as he positioned himself, his hand on your hip shifting to the small of your back to make your ass stand out for him and properly fuck you in this new position.

He effortlessly pushed in your sopping cunt as you let out a whimper, still too sensitive from your numerous orgasms, pleasure bordering into overstimulation, still feeling too good to even think of asking him to stop.

Sunghoon pushed all the way in, almost making you lift your feet from the floor with the force of his thrust, and he took his hand from your chin to push his thumb between your lips.

“Open up”, you did as he told you and let him push his finger into your mouth as you both watched your reflections.

“Suck. Make it nice and wet”, he instructed as you obediently sucked and swirled your tongue on the digit, wetting it as best as you could.

Sunghoon watched with half lidded eyes, a dejavu of his dick in your mouth presenting in the mirror before his eyes as you took his thumb, and he started to shallowly rock his hips into you, enraptured by the sight.

When he was satisfied with your work he took his thumb from your mouth, a string of saliva connecting it to your swollen lips. He spread your ass cheeks with his other hand and brought his wet thumb in between them, gently rubbing and slightly prodding your butt hole as his thrusts gained more intensity, his balls slapping your clit every time.

The new unexpected sensation made you yelp in surprise and confusion, and you tried to turn a little bit, grabbing Sunghoon's wrist as he kept teasing your entrance, chuckling at your reaction when he noticed you actually enjoyed it, your yelp turning into little moans as you relaxed, gradually loosening your grip on his wrist.

“Please” you managed to form an actual sentence in your blissed out state “just don't put it in” a moan interrupted your train of thought as Sunghoon kept slapping his hips on your cheeks and you started struggling to keep yourself up from the desk.

“Don't worry, just wanna play a bit…” he assured you, but you later would have to admit the extra stimulation felt strangely nice. The thought of Sunghoon possibly claiming every hole in your body made your head spin into a subspace you've never experienced before. The feeling of totally letting your body and pleasure at Sunghoon's mercy made your heart flutter with both excitement and contentment, knowing he would take care of you when you completely lost control.

Sunghoon noticed your head lolling forward and your eyes closing as the arm that wasn't grasping at him threatened to give out on the desk. He took both his hands to embrace you and keep you up against his chest as you opened your eyes to meet his gaze in the mirror.

“Are you still with me?” Sunghoon was amazed by the effect he was having on you, but he still felt the urge to check on you.

“Yeah” you struggled to answer between harsh breaths and moans “please, I'm close…” you begged for him to make you come, the pleasure so intense at this point you couldn't understand if it was just the longest orgasm of your life and the little lucid part that was still in you wondered if that was actually possible.

Sunghoon picked up his pace again “if you ask so nicely… keep looking in the mirror” he demanded, pounding into you, his left hand grasping your hip to keep you in place, his right hand traveling down your body to reach your clit and rub in circles as you clenched down on him.

You angled and pushed your ass against his pelvis with newfound energy, bracing yourself on the desk, his pounding repeatedly pushing it against the wall, not caring about the noise complaints that would come the next morning.

You listened to his instructions and focused on the pornographic view that the mirror was offering. You were barely keeping yourself up, moaning and panting, while the man behind you mercilessly fucked his thick cock into you, his muscles flexing in the effort to keep you in place and occasionally push your hips back to meet his, his right hand collecting your mixed arousals to use as lube as he massaged your clit.

When you met Sunghoon's gaze you were mesmerized, flushed cheeks, his plush lips parted as he panted and moaned, fangs peeking out, brows furrowed, his half lidded eyes focused on you, traveling from the point where your bodies connected, to the expanse of your back, to your reflection in the mirror, meeting your eyes as he aimed at you sweet spot over and over.

You felt so overwhelmed, tears started to well up in your eyes, stroke after stroke making you burn from within, wet sounds and moans filling your ears until you finally snapped and your pussy convulsed around his cock.

“Look at yourself” Sunghoon ordered, his voice thickly laced with lust as he chased his own climax, reveling in the sensation of your pussy sucking and clenching rhythmically.

You looked in the mirror to see your blissed out expression, lips parted and eyes struggling to stay open and focused as you moaned loudly. Then you shifted your gaze on Sunghoon, who snapped his hips a few more times before stilling with a groan, thick white cum spurting out from the tip again and again, filling you up.

He gently rocked his hips into yours as your pussy kept clenching on his dick, milking him as he rode out his own climax, his jaw slacking, eyebrows relaxing and eyes going back into his head as he closed his eyelids, his head lolling back with one last moan.

His shallow thrusts came to a stop as he let out a shaky breath, finally taking his softening cock out of your pussy.

Sunghoon sat down on the desk chair after moving it behind you, making you bend forward on the desk to admire his thick cum slowly seeping out from your spent cunt as he grabbed and groped your cheeks to spread your lips and let more cum drip from your folds.

You dropped your upper body flush on the desk, not trusting your legs to keep you up, and suddenly tiredness started to seep in as you closed your eyes, barely hearing Sunghoon's appreciative hums as he squeezed his cum out of you, letting it drip on the floor in a small puddle.

You suddenly realized you briefly passed out on the desk as you felt yourself being lifted and laid carefully on the bed. You vaguely took note of the wet cloth that soothed your swollen folds and felt a pair of warm lips on your forehead as the sheets were lifted to cover your naked form.

“Sweet dreams, Y/N…”

You remember just vaguely humming in response as you drifted off to sleep.

You woke up to the sound of your alarm ringing from somewhere around the room and you scrambled out of bed to get it, following the sound to its place inside your black bag tossed on the floor next to the door.

You rubbed your eyes and face, stretching your sore body as the memories from the previous night flooded your mind.

That was the most intense sexual encounter you've ever experienced your whole life.

After inspecting your image in the bathroom mirror, cursing at the darkness and amount of hickeys and bite marks on your neck, you stepped into the shower and let the warm water relax your sore muscles as you recalled your heated unexpected session with who you considered your enemy, Park Sunghoon. You surely had to redefine what kind of relationship you had with him, you both were a bit too friendly to each other last night.

You stepped out of the shower and dried up with too many thoughts in mind as you started to collect your discarded clothes. You rummaged around, shifting and turning the sheets, even checking under the bed but you couldn't find your panties.

When you tossed the pillow on the bed next to the night table you noticed a piece of paper fluttering because of the air movement you caused.

You picked it up from the floor where it just landed and saw a note written in nice calligraphy along with a phone number.

I have your panties, if you wanna see them again call me…

Sunghoon

////////////////

Taglist: @toodeloosoo | @hoonics

#fanfic #kpop smut #smut #enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #dom sunghoon #park sunghoon #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon smut

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mostlysignssomeportents · 7 months ago

Text

Antitrust is a labor issue

I'm touring my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me SATURDAY (Apr 27) in MARIN COUNTY, then Winnipeg (May 2), Calgary (May 3), Vancouver (May 4), and beyond!

This is huge: yesterday, the FTC finalized a rule banning noncompete agreements for every American worker. That means that the person working the register at a Wendy's can switch to the fry-trap at McD's for an extra $0.25/hour, without their boss suing them:

https://www.ftc.gov/news-events/news/press-releases/2024/04/ftc-announces-rule-banning-noncompetes

The median worker laboring under a noncompete is a fast-food worker making close to minimum wage. You know who doesn't have to worry about noncompetes? High tech workers in Silicon Valley, because California already banned noncompetes, as did Colorado, Illinois, Maine, Maryland, New Hampshire, North Dakota, Oklahoma, Oregon, Rhode Island, Virginia and Washington.

The fact that the country's largest economies, encompassing the most "knowledge-intensive" industries, could operate without shitty bosses being able to shackle their best workers to their stupid workplaces for years after those workers told them to shove it shows you what a goddamned lie noncompetes are based on. The idea that companies can't raise capital or thrive if their know-how can walk out the door, secreted away in the skulls of their ungrateful workers, is bullshit:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/02/its-the-economy-stupid/#neofeudal

Remember when OpenAI's board briefly fired founder Sam Altman and Microsoft offered to hire him and 700 of his techies? If "noncompetes block investments" was true, you'd think they'd have a hard time raising money, but no, they're still pulling in billions in investor capital (primarily from Microsoft itself!). This is likewise true of Anthropic, the company's major rival, which was founded by (wait for it), two former OpenAI employees.

Indeed, Silicon Valley couldn't have come into existence without California's ban on noncompetes – the first silicon company, Shockley Semiconductors, was founded by a malignant, delusional eugenicist who also couldn't manage a lemonade stand. His eight most senior employees (the "Traitorous Eight") quit his shitty company to found Fairchild Semiconductor, a rather successful chip shop – but not nearly so successful as the company that two of Fairchild's top employees founded after they quit: Intel:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/10/24/the-traitorous-eight-and-the-battle-of-germanium-valley/

Likewise a lie: the tale that noncompetes raise wages. This theory – beloved of people whose skulls are so filled with Efficient Market Hypothesis Brain-Worms that they've got worms dangling out of their nostrils and eye-sockets – holds that the right to sign a noncompete is an asset that workers can trade to their employers in exchange for better pay. This is absolutely true, provided you ignore reality.

Remember: the median noncompete-bound worker is a fast food employee making near minimum wage. The major application of noncompetes is preventing that worker from getting a raise from a rival fast-food franchisee. Those workers are losing wages due to noncompetes. Meanwhile, the highest paid workers in the country are all clustered in a a couple of cities in northern California, pulling down sky-high salaries in a state where noncompetes have been illegal since the gold rush.

If a capitalist wants to retain their workers, they can compete. Offer your workers get better treatment and better wages. That's how capitalism's alchemy is supposed to work: competition transmogrifies the base metal of a capitalist's greed into the noble gold of public benefit by making success contingent on offering better products to your customers than your rivals – and better jobs to your workers than those rivals are willing to pay. However, capitalists hate capitalism:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/18/in-extremis-veritas/#the-winnah

Capitalists hate capitalism so much that they're suing the FTC, in MAGA's beloved Fifth Circuit, before a Trump-appointed judge. The case was brought by Trump's financial advisors, Ryan LLC, who are using it to drum up business from corporations that hate Biden's new taxes on the wealthy and stepped up IRS enforcement on rich tax-cheats.

Will they win? It's hard to say. Despite what you may have heard, the case against the FTC order is very weak, as Matt Stoller explains here:

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/ftc-enrages-corporate-america-by

The FTC's statutory authority to block noncompetes comes from Section 5 of the FTC Act, which bans "unfair methods of competition" (hard to imagine a less fair method than indenturing your workers). Section 6(g) of the Act lets the FTC make rules to enforce Section 5's ban on unfairness. Both are good law – 6(g) has been used many times (26 times in the five years from 1968-73 alone!).

The DC Circuit court upheld the FTC's right to "promulgate rules defining the meaning of the statutory standards of the illegality the Commission is empowered to prevent" in 1973, and in 1974, Congress changed the FTC Act, but left this rulemaking power intact.

The lawyer suing the FTC – Anton Scalia's larvum, a pismire named Eugene Scalia – has some wild theories as to why none of this matters. He says that because the law hasn't been enforced since the ancient days of the (checks notes) 1970s, it no longer applies. He says that the mountain of precedent supporting the FTC's authority "hasn't aged well." He says that other antitrust statutes don't work the same as the FTC Act. Finally, he says that this rule is a big economic move and that it should be up to Congress to make it.

Stoller makes short work of these arguments. The thing that tells you whether a law is good is its text and precedent, "not whether a lawyer thinks a precedent is old and bad." Likewise, the fact that other antitrust laws is irrelevant "because, well, they are other antitrust laws, not this antitrust law." And as to whether this is Congress's job because it's economically significant, "so what?" Congress gave the FTC this power.

Now, none of this matters if the Supreme Court strikes down the rule, and what's more, if they do, they might also neuter the FTC's rulemaking power in the bargain. But again: so what? How is it better for the FTC to do nothing, and preserve a power that it never uses, than it is for the Commission to free the 35-40 million American workers whose bosses get to use the US court system to force them to do a job they hate?

The FTC's rule doesn't just ban noncompetes – it also bans TRAPs ("training repayment agreement provisions"), which require employees to pay their bosses thousands of dollars if they quit, get laid off, or are fired:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/08/04/its-a-trap/#a-little-on-the-nose

The FTC's job is to protect Americans from businesses that cheat. This is them, doing their job. If the Supreme Court strikes this down, it further delegitimizes the court, and spells out exactly who the GOP works for.

This is part of the long history of antitrust and labor. From its earliest days, antitrust law was "aimed at dollars, not men" – in other words, antitrust law was always designed to smash corporate power in order to protect workers. But over and over again, the courts refused to believe that Congress truly wanted American workers to get legal protection from the wealthy predators who had fastened their mouth-parts on those workers' throats. So over and over – and over and over – Congress passed new antitrust laws that clarified the purpose of antitrust, using words so small that even federal judges could understand them:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/14/aiming-at-dollars/#not-men

After decades of comatose inaction, Biden's FTC has restored its role as a protector of labor, explicitly tackling competition through a worker protection lens. This week, the Commission blocked the merger of Capri Holdings and Tapestry Inc, a pair of giant conglomerates that have, between them, bought up nearly every "affordable luxury" brand (Versace, Jimmy Choo, Michael Kors, Kate Spade, Coach, Stuart Weitzman, etc).

You may not care about "affordable luxury" handbags, but you should care about the basis on which the FTC blocked this merger. As David Dayen explains for The American Prospect: 33,000 workers employed by these two companies would lose the wage-competition that drives them to pay skilled sales-clerks more to cross the mall floor and switch stores:

https://prospect.org/economy/2024-04-24-challenge-fashion-merger-new-antitrust-philosophy/

In other words, the FTC is blocking a $8.5b merger that would turn an oligopoly into a monopoly explicitly to protect workers from the power of bosses to suppress their wages. What's more, the vote was unanimous, include the Commission's freshly appointed (and frankly, pretty terrible) Republican commissioners:

https://www.ftc.gov/news-events/news/press-releases/2024/04/ftc-moves-block-tapestrys-acquisition-capri

A lot of people are (understandably) worried that if Biden doesn't survive the coming election that the raft of excellent rules enacted by his agencies will die along with his presidency. Here we have evidence that the Biden administration's anti-corporate agenda has become institutionalized, acquiring a bipartisan durability.

And while there hasn't been a lot of press about that anti-corporate agenda, it's pretty goddamned huge. Back in 2021, Tim Wu (then working in the White wrote an executive order on competition that identified 72 actions the agencies could take to blunt the power of corporations to harm everyday Americans:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2021/08/party-its-1979-og-antitrust-back-baby

Biden's agency heads took that plan and ran with it, demonstrating the revolutionary power of technical administrative competence and proving that being good at your job is praxis:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/18/administrative-competence/#i-know-stuff

In just the past week, there's been a storm of astoundingly good new rules finalized by the agencies:

A minimum staffing ratio for nursing homes;

The founding of the American Climate Corps;

A guarantee of overtime benefits;

A ban on financial advisors cheating retirement savers;

Medical privacy rules that protect out-of-state abortions;

A ban on junk fees in mortgage servicing;

Conservation for 13m Arctic acres in Alaska;

Classifying "forever chemicals" as hazardous substances;

A requirement for federal agencies to buy sustainable products;

Closing the gun-show loophole.

That's just a partial list, and it's only Thursday.

Why the rush? As Gerard Edic writes for The American Prospect, finalizing these rules now protects them from the Congressional Review Act, a gimmick created by Newt Gingrich in 1996 that lets the next Senate wipe out administrative rules created in the months before a federal election:

https://prospect.org/politics/2024-04-23-biden-administration-regulations-congressional-review-act/

In other words, this is more dazzling administrative competence from the technically brilliant agencies that have labored quietly and effectively since 2020. Even laggards like Pete Buttigieg have gotten in on the act, despite a very poor showing in the early years of the Biden administration:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/11/dinah-wont-you-blow/#ecp

Despite those unpromising beginnings, the DOT has gotten onboard the trains it regulates, and passed a great rule that forces airlines to refund your money if they charge you for services they don't deliver:

https://www.whitehouse.gov/briefing-room/statements-releases/2024/04/24/fact-sheet-biden-harris-administration-announces-rules-to-deliver-automatic-refunds-and-protect-consumers-from-surprise-junk-fees-in-air-travel/

The rule also bans junk fees and forces airlines to compensate you for late flights, finally giving American travelers the same rights their European cousins have enjoyed for two decades.

It's the latest in a string of muscular actions taken by the DOT, a period that coincides with the transfer of Jen Howard from her role as chief of staff to FTC chair Lina Khan to a new gig as the DOT's chief of competition enforcement:

https://prospect.org/infrastructure/transportation/2024-04-25-transportation-departments-new-path/

Under Howard's stewardship, the DOT blocked the merger of Spirit and Jetblue, and presided over the lowest flight cancellation rate in more than decade:

https://www.transportation.gov/briefing-room/2023-numbers-more-flights-fewer-cancellations-more-consumer-protections

All that, along with a suite of protections for fliers, mark a huge turning point in the US aviation industry's long and worsening abusive relationship with the American public. There's more in the offing, too including a ban on charging families extra for adjacent seats, rules to make flying with wheelchairs easier, and a ban on airlines selling passenger's private information to data brokers.

There's plenty going on in the world – and in the Biden administration – that you have every right to be furious and/or depressed about. But these expert agencies, staffed by experts, have brought on a tsunami of rules that will make every working American better off in a myriad of ways. Those material improvements in our lives will, in turn, free us up to fight the bigger, existential fights for a livable planet, free from genocide.

It may not be a good time to be alive, but it's a much better time than it was just last week.

And it's only Thursday.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/25/capri-v-tapestry/#aiming-at-dollars-not-men

#pluralistic #labor #antitrust #trustbusting #noncompetes #indenture #ftc #matt stoller #david dayen #tapestry #luxury fashion #capri

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cumikering · 8 months ago

Text

Neighbour Ghost x reader 4

2.4k | fluff Simon liked the way you looked at him (part 1) (part 5)

“Why was the strawberry crying?” Simon asked, casually buttering his toast that Saturday morning.

“Why?”

“’cause it was in a jam.” He looked too proud of himself as he took a bite of his toast.

You laughed, looking up from the near empty jar you were trying to clean out with your butter knife.

He loved seeing your bright smile as you sat there across the small table. Even that this was his first breakfast with you, it was better than dinner. In the gentle sun, your eyes were even lovelier, wisps of hair around your face like a halo. The building was far quieter at the hour and you felt closer, like you were all his in this quiet corner of the world.

“Luv, I was wondering if you could teach me how to bake? If you don’t mind.”

“But I’m not a very good baker.”

“Bollocks. Your pie was mint.”

You chuckled. “Okay, that one I can.”

After breakfast, you laid ingredients on the counter next to the recipe - your handwriting distinct, pleasant. Were you ever going to write something for him? A little note would be more than enough, but if he could ask, he’d prefer a letter, maybe, for when he’s away thinking of you.

“Would you like an apron?” You held yours up, with a cat print peeking out of the pocket.

He chuckled, looking over as he washed his hands. Would you like him more in one? “If you reckon I need it.”

You tied it around his waist and let out a small giggle at the sight. “So you want to cut the butter into smaller pieces,” you said, working the butter into the flour with the back of a fork before handing it over to him.

Simon pressed the fork onto the butter, but the sheer force of it made flour fly out of the mixing bowl.

“Shite,” he said under his breath.

“Gently.” You placed your hand over his, pushing it down. “This way.”

He took a breath as he watched how you did so easily, but most of all, revelled in your touch. You’d already held hands, but this was something else. He wished you didn’t let go. And you didn’t, instead wrapping an arm around his waist, watching, as he proceeded with the job you assigned.

He peered at you and you nodded approvingly.

“Now tip that out and fold the dough over itself until it comes together - no dry flour left.”

He dumped the lumpy, powdery mess onto the board and brought it together with his large, awkward hands. But a few folds in, the dough started to transform into a cohesive ball. His brows rose in amusement.

“Look at that, you’re a natural!”

He chuckled to himself as you beamed at him proudly.

Next came the filling. You placed the peeler in his palm - the very same one from last week - his fucking nemesis. He picked up one of the apples, dwarfed by his hand, hoping he had better luck with rounded objects.

He didn’t. He was taking off chunks off the pitiful fruit. He should have come prepared and asked his mum how to peel apples without looking like he was about to stab someone. They certainly didn’t teach you how to use a peeler at the butcher.

“I like to do it this way.” You lightly took the tool from him and demonstrated with another apple. “Hold it here and pull away, like this. Even pressure for the thinnest peel.”

Thanks for not calling me daft.

Following your advice, the assignment didn’t turn out to be that hard. You put on some music as he cored and cut up the apples. At least he was far better with traditional knives.

“Quality control,” you said, popping a piece in your mouth.

Simon chuckled, placing the knife down as he turned to you. “Any good?”

“Mhm. Sweet, but tart enough.” You reached for the mixing bowl again, but he caught your wrist, making you look up at him.

“Would you please let me kiss you?”

You blinked and his heart stalled in those few silent seconds, but you stepped towards him, clutching the front of his black shirt. He sighed as he leaned in, arm around your waist, finally tasting your lips - perfect just like he’d always imagined them to be. The apples were indeed sweet.

You pulled away and bit down your smile, eyeing him from under your lashes before looking away. He too couldn’t stop the grin that crept up his face, nor the thumping of his chest. He picked up the knife and continued the task at hand while you stood next to him measuring out the rest of the ingredients.

On the occasions he looked over to make sure he was following your directions correctly, your gazes met and you turned away, hiding your face behind your cup of jasmine tea. He found it endearing.

The crust he rolled out looked mangled but you reassured no one would be able to decipher the patchwork when it was all done. As he brushed the top of the pie with egg wash, he nodded when you asked if you could take a photo of him.

You gave him a little peck when he finally closed the oven door, just like you had each time he finished a step. He felt like a dog, getting a treat for every good behaviour. The pie felt like a chore now. Could he not dive into all his treats already?

You sat on the couch as the pie baked.

“I’ve always wondered how far your sleeve goes. Does it extend to your chest?”

“Just a sleeve.” He pulled his shirtsleeve up revealing the entirety of his monochrome tattoo.

Your lips pursed. Did he look that good that it flustered you? You were adorable. He liked the way you were looking. Could you never look away again?

“Would you believe me if I told you I had a nipple ring?”

You laughed, tearing your gaze away from his arm. “No way.”

“It was a stupid bet I lost shortly after I enlisted.”

“What was it?”

“It’s too embarrassing. Maybe next time.”

Simon wrapped his arms around you, pulling you to him as he leaned back. With your hand on his chest, you closed the gap and he just wanted to melt into a puddle against your soft lips. Your breath hitched as his fingers ran down your spine.

You lay on top of him, and his wary fingers toyed with the ends of your hair. The both of you remained silent in each other’s embrace, kissing occasionally, until the timer on the oven went off.

“What do you want for dinner?”

Simon took another bite of his pie that he had to admit tasted far better than he expected it to, perhaps even as good as yours if he was generous (if he closed his eyes anyway). No soggy bottom, at least. Merry Berry would be proud.

“I’m going to the soup kitchen, so I’ll get something nearby after.”

How could he forget? It was the first Saturday of the month.

“You need to pick up loaves from the bakery, yeah? Need me to drive you?”

You smiled. “I’d really like that if you don’t mind, actually. Oh, I need to text Ben, in case he forgets.”

“Ben?”

“Your mums’ boss. We pickup leftover bread there at a discount.”

As you buckled up in his SUV, he realised he never got to hand you your gift last night. He reached for the bag in the backseat.

“For you.”

You pulled out the grey fabric and that beautiful smile bloomed across your lips again.

“Oh, Simon, that’s lovely.” Your fingers traced over the little patch on the left side of the chest. A slice of apple pie. You looked up at him. “Thank you so much.”

It was impossible for his heart to not skip at such a sight.

As you settled the payments with Ben, Simon helped you haul the crates of bread into his car. He was glad he was around this time to help you out otherwise you’d have to take a taxi all by yourself like you always did.

“Ben, mate?” As Simon carried the last of the crates, he stopped at the door which the older gentleman was holding open. “You reckon you’ve got anything to do with how the bastard found out my mum works here?”

He shook his head. “I don’t even know him.”

“Did you contact the coppas? Ran a background check on her perhaps?”

Ben’s eyes widened. “Oh, I had no idea-“

Mr. Riley must have played the worried husband and reported her missing back home to have been notified.

He sighed. “No worries, Ben. It’s not your fault.”

“R- really?”

He felt bad about how the old man gripped the door, still looking up at him with wide eyes.

“I’m just glad you were there with her. Oh-“ He fished out a wad of cash from his back pocket and handed it to Ben. “To cover the discount. See you around, mate.”

Still in disbelief, he flinched at the pat on his arm.

At the facility centre, the lieutenant effortlessly carried the load into the kitchen, but he lingered at the building’s entrance.

“You reckon there’s anything else I can help with inside?”

You smiled. “Always.”

Perhaps Simon should have asked what the menu was before offering a hand, but he was glad it was the humble garlic bread and that his slicing and buttering skills were decent. You introduced him as a friend to the other volunteers, who were polite (or scared) enough not to question how close he stood by you. But was it bad if he wanted more, if he wanted them to ask who he really was to you?

At 6, people started pouring into the hall. Some knew you by name, greeting you with a grin that faltered when they laid eyes on the stony lieutenant next to you. It must have been comical how the both of you looked behind the small table handing out garlic bread, his frown a stark contrast to your bright self.

But he was having a grand time simply being close to you, seeing you and your friends making people smile. His pinky trailed down your hand.

You looked up at him, shoulder bumping his arm. “You keep our country safe. That’s why we get to have nights like this.”

He smiled when you held his hand. He supposed he was a tiny, tiny bit responsible for this. Your reassurance gave him a new sense of pride, that he was doing something.

After a late dinner you insisted Simon pick, the both of you headed home. When he made it to your flat in the baggiest shirt he owned, you were on the couch, freshly showered just as he was.

You should be kicking him out for bothering you even at this hour, so why did you take him by the hand and lead him to your bed instead? He didn’t resist when you lay next to him, your hand propping your head up.

His heart raced with you this close, watching your soft eyes travel over his face that he didn’t feel deserved to be mere inches away from your beautiful one.

“Simon Riley,” you said quietly, your thumb tracing his lower lip.

“Hm?”

“You’ve got a pretty name.”

Even my last name?

Your gaze flicked up. “Your eyes are really pretty too.”

His eyes fluttered close as he let out an uneven breath.

“You’re beautiful.” Your fingers trailed down his scruffy jaw.

He was certain now his chest was about to explode. Were you high? What did you see in him?

He’d never been touched so carefully before, gazed at so softly. Not even by his first and last love, his childhood sweetheart, whom the thought was the one before duty got in the way. It had been so long ago that he’d forgotten what it felt like to have a bit of peace, to just be - if things were ever this pleasant.

Each ‘a little more’ of you carried him further and further, and he’d floated a little too far from shore - the shore which had thinned into a distant line in the horizon, foreign from where he was as he threaded.

Wasn’t this only going to end one way? He was playing with fire, going down a slippery slope, to be in involved with you as this mess of a man. He did terrible things for a living. He wasn’t good enough for you, couldn’t you see? Or were you too compassionate to understand? It was all the more why he shouldn’t be here with you, in your bed, under your touch, even when he didn’t ever want to leave this flat of yours.

But you let him stay anyway, even after the shameful admittance of his past. Could it be that it didn’t matter to you, that for the first time he was alright as he was, despite his shortcomings? Perfectly loveable, as you were in his eyes?

Hope glimmered in him. I want to be good enough for you.

“Why are you so… nice?”

You took a moment to reply. “It’s easy to be. Being nice is free.”

It was not. Nothing was, but who was he to break your heart?

“Have you not been hurt from that?”

Your lips quirked into a resigned smile. “Unfortunately so, but sometimes it’s worth it.”

He pulled you in, his fingers tangled in your hair as you let out a soft giggle against his lips. When he eventually let you out of his grasp, a little breathless, you flicked the bedside lamp off.

You yawned. “If you’re heading back, please slide the key under the door.”

He didn’t want to. He scooted behind you, a heavy arm around your waist.

“Okay, I’ll tell you what. The bet was that Arsenal was going to lose to Man U. Well, they didn’t, but my left nipple did.”

Your body shook with laughter. “Of course it was a football bet.”

He smiled into your hair. “Goodnight, luv.”

“Night, Simon,” you mumbled.

Pressed up against you in your soft bed, so cosy with your scent surrounding him, his eyelids soon grew heavy.

His worst demons could visit in his dreams again, but nothing was going to take him out of your bed that night. Maybe, this time, things really could be alright for once, and not only in his favourite flat in Hereford.

@tiredmetalenthusiast @shadofireshinobi @keegansshark @two-gh0sts @eve-lie @astraluminaaa @luvecarson @jaguarthecat @knight4xmas @unwrittenletter @nocturnalreader106 @sparrowgalaxy @lyenera

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madamechrissy · 17 days ago

Text

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- oral sex (fem recieving) semi public sex, public play, a lap dance for the reader, basically them being cute and freaky lol

♡ ♡ Word Count ♡ ♡ this chap- 9.6k

♡ ♡ 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 12 ♡ ♡ Masterlist ♡ ♡ Playlist

Chapter 13

Satoru’s parents do not open the door, no it’s a snobbish looking butler, who looks at you with disdain, then looks at Gojo and rolls his eyes. Gojo snorts, pulling you against his side and shoving past him, walking into the insanely decadent manor. If you thought Gojo’s place was fancy, this was ridiculous, paintings worth more than your life everywhere, and sleek white marble everywhere.

Chandeliers hang above your head, you look up in awe, and Satoru is chuckling as he walks you through. “Pretentious as fuck, aren’t they?”

You giggle a bit, looking at your handsome fiancé , grinning at you with those pretty straight teeth of his, lowering his blue shades with a wink. “Indeed they are. You grew up here?”

“Nah, mostly boarding schools. Thank God.” You hold onto him then, realizing there was still so much more to learn about your soon to be husband, you open your mouth but soon his parents walk in. His snobby mom and snobby father look so prim and proper as they walk to you all, Gojo waves. “Hey, parental units.”

“Is that what you call us now?” His mom asks, and you shiver as she comes near you, assessing you up and down, as if searching for a flaw. You remember what she said, what she did, it makes you sick.

“Well could call you a fucking bitch if you want.”

“Satoru!” His dad hisses out.

Satoru rolls his eyes, then they narrow on his father, as Satoru lets you go, cracking his knuckles, and you tense, surely he wouldn’t-

“Since I don’t hit women, you get two for threatening my fiancé.” Satoru Gojo punches his dad then, right in the stomach, and his father gets furious, going to swing on his own son, for Satoru to duck, scowling and punching him in the face. Satoru’s mom is flipping her shit, screaming out.

“Satoru stop it!” She demands, as you watch on in shock and awe, mouth wide open as Satoru glares at his mom.

“Well I can’t hit you, mom, so he needed to take your hit. That second one is for slapping her pretty face.” He says, through gritted teeth, as the butler has ran up an ice pack for Satoru’s father.

“You’re such a little shit, you always have been.” His dad says then, only for Satoru to grin, shaking out a hand that already has blood on the knuckles, throwing his head back as he laughs.

“I guess I really am. So, let me properly introduce you to my fiancé.” He says your name, pulling you to him and kissing your hand, as Satoru’s dad sits in one of the fancy seats of the dining hall, where they clearly had prepared some sort of meal for you all. “Show em the ring, shnookums.”

“Oh… um, it’s beautiful.” You say softly, as his mom snatches your hand, looking at it, then at Satoru. “We’re getting married tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow!? Satoru stop this, we already called the college, you have your job, and she has her position at the school-”

“We’re getting married regardless. Sorry, no invite for ya. Ooh, looks yummy!” Satoru starts popping the fancy macaroons and tarts in his mouth, moaning, as his mom assesses you. You hand her the envelope with the money then, she blinked in surprise. “Oh yeah, can’t buy her off. Plus that wasn’t shit for money, cheap asses.”

“Well we figured since she’s so poor-”

“I was poor. I am not anymore.” You correct, and his mom sighs, tossing back her silvery hair and gesturing for you to sit.

“We are… sorry that we…” His father can’t even finish his sentence, instead slamming back a whiskey. “Ow.”

Satoru snorts. “Can’t even finish your bullshit, huh father? Oooh yum.” Satoru now is stuffing cream puffs in his mouth, and yanks you onto his lap, causing his parents to scowl, affronted as you sit on a long leg. Satoru shoves a cream puff in your mouth, and you bite into the sweetness, moaning. “Fuck you’re hot.”

“Satoru, really?” His dad demands, and he just grins, licking whipped cream off his thumb, as you marvel at how fucking strong he is, how he gives just no fucks, your crazy Toru.

“Anyway, we’re getting married, and she will own part of the company with me, fuck I won’t do a pre nup even, because I know she’ll run you all into the ground even if she leaves me.” He chuckles deviously, sipping on some juice and pouring you a glass.

“I’ll never leave you, silly man.” You say softly, and Satoru exhales, kissing you right in front of his parents, earning his mother smacking the table.

“Enough of this! How much do you all need to not marry? A hundred thousand, two hundred thousand?”

You smile then, looking right at her. “No amount of money could make me not marry your son.”

“Thatta girl.” He pinches your hip with a charming smirk, and somehow even his parents’ cold manor is comfy, when Satoru has you. Satoru is your home .

You’re so lucky.

“A million?” His father asked, and you giggle now.

“No amount in the world. Despite you all being some of the worst parents I have ever seen, and that’s saying a lot from a foster kid, I absolutely adore the man he’s become, no thanks to you.”

“You insolent little bitch.” His father says, and Satoru grins psychotically, as he studies his dad and his swelling face.

“I’ll add two more hits for that.”

“You will not! Stop it.” Satoru’s mom scowls at her husband, and he grumbles, holding his glass out for another drink. “Let’s be rational. I fixed the situation, the one you both caused with recklessness!”

“The one you caused, putting money in pockets. You always have had a silver spoon in your mouth, but that’s going to change soon.” Satoru says, and his mom narrows her eyes.

“What do you mean?”

Satoru grins “It means that when we marry, we’re going to own fifty one percent of this shit show, and guess what? You can’t buy me, you can’t bully me, and you can’t lie to me anymore. If you dare come near her again, I will make sure your reputation is ruined and I will have you fired from your own company. I have enough dirt on you both to do just that."

The silence in the room is deafening, and you look at Satoru curiously, sensing he has more up his sleeve, it’s as if he’s in full lawyer mode, and fuck if that isn’t always the most attractive thing. His hand is gripping your waist tightly, the other grabbing his cell phone, as he shoots you a little wink, and you’re wrapping your arms around his neck, kissing his cheek, to his parents dismay.

Satoru's mother's hand flutters to her chest, her eyes wide with shock, while his father's hand trembles as he holds onto his drink, trying to keep a firm grip. The air is thick with tension, and you can almost taste it on your tongue, you can sense their fear of their own son, who has become so strong away from them. What must it have been to have lived with them you shudder to think of it.

"What... what are you talking about?" His father finally stammers, playing dumb, but you know better. You've seen the way they've treated Satoru, heard the whispers, felt the coldness in their eyes every time they look at you, for them to suddenly put on some innocent air is hilarious.

Satoru's smile turns into a full-blown grin, a wicked glint in his eye. "Oh, come on, dad. You didn't think I'd just let you get away with this, did you? Either of you, oh and you’re both such whores and so easy to trail." He pulls out his phone, swipes through some messages, and holds it up for them to see.

“What on earth!” Satoru’s mom gasps as she looks at the image, and Satoru chuckles, showing you his father with what appears to be a… lady of the night?... your eyes bug out nearly, as his dad sputters.

“Well, that’s not me!”

“It sure looks like you!” His mom shoves at his father, and Satoru is wickedly smirking, wiggling his thin white brows, as you marvel silently.

"You see, I've been keeping tabs on your little... indiscretions. And I've got enough evidence to ruin your ‘Gojo’ reputation, oh and your marriage. But Mother , you’re also so slutty!"

“What, I never!” She glares, but Satoru’s shoulders are shaking with laughter as he pulls up another photo, and you flush as you see it’s his mother and a pool boy, before he shows them, and Satoru’s father stands angrily. “That’s not me!”

“That’s Antonio, the pool boy, and you , my god!” His dad shouts, and his mom stands then, slapping his dad in the same cheek Gojo punched.

“You’re cheating too!”

“You’re both horrible, but that pool boy seemed so nice when I spoke to him. He’s down to say all sorts of interesting things, as is your hooker, Father. So…”

“Satoru, please stop this! We’ll leave you alone.” His mom says then, sullenly, and you watch Lawyer Gojo just smash another case as he taps your thigh and you stand, holding his hand, which he kisses with a wink.

“We will… not bother her again.” His father grumbles, as you see them seething, wanting to kill each other, clearly.

“Yeah, keep Naoya the fuck away too, he’s a goddamn murderer, what is wrong with you two? Their money that good?”

His mother's face pales, and she opens her mouth to protest, but no words come out. You squeeze his hand, your heart racing. “Naoya is sentenced tomorrow, so likely he will be in prison for life.” His mom says, and Satoru looks down at you, as you smile up at him.

“Killed that case.” You whisper, and he purrs, kissing you, as his parents watch quietly.

"Now, I suggest we sit down and have a civilized conversation about this. Unless you'd rather I start making some calls and sharing your scandalous behavior? God what will the church say you two sinners!" He says, his dramatic, a hand to his chest, and you barely hold in your snort of laughter.

The room is a flurry of movement as they both scramble to sit back down, desperation etched on their faces. The power dynamics have shifted, and you can't help but feel like you're watching some damn snake charmer in action, like Satoru can control the vipers his parents are, and he’s pretty damn happy, you feel it radiating everywhere.

"Alright, let's talk," his mother says, her voice shaking slightly. "What do you want?"

Satoru leans back in his chair, pulling you back down to his lap, their lips terse as they watch you both, but they say nothing as you nuzzle him, so madly fucking in love with this man who gives no fucks. This man who will do anything for you, and you can’t believe just how lucky you are. Satoru Gojo has investigated his own parents to keep you safe, to be with you.

Satoru speaks now, as you brush back his silky hair, as you study this amazing man you’re to marry. "I want you to leave us alone. I want you to accept that we're getting married, and we're going to run this company together. And if you so much as breathe a word of disrespect towards my fiancé again, I'll make sure you never see the light of day in the corporate world, and are dirt fucking poor, ruined."

There is a quiet moment as they look at each other, then they sigh, literally at the same time. You watch Gojo preen like a peacock, so proud, and you’re proud of him too. "Fine," his father says, his voice gruff. "But we expect you to behave like the Gojos you are. No scandals, no drama."

"No worries, there. We're just going to live our lives, make some babies, and run our own law firm." He touches your tummy, and you can’t stop the heat from radiating from his touch, from his little wink as his blue eyes look at you under those shades.

A baby.

It sounds more and more like something you want the more he teases you, perhaps not yet, for you have to finish law school, but you see babies in your future, you see a few babies. Maybe a little boy with white hair like his dad, mischievous and smart, and a sweet little girl like you, a feisty smart cookie.

That idea makes you ache, do you have baby fever now!? Damn Satoru Gojo makes it hard not to. You try to focus. "Law firm?" His mother echoes, looking at you with renewed interest.

You nod, feeling a surge of courage. "Yeah, we're going to help people who can't help themselves. Make the world a better place, one case at a time, aren’t we Toru?" You ask him with a big grin, and he nods at you, grinning right back.

“Sure the fuck will. Gonna have little lawyer kids, family firm.”

“If they want to!” You say, and he kisses your neck, hands firm on your waist as he shamelessly nuzzles you.

“If they want to, we won’t push our kids to do what they don’t want.” He glare behind his shades is right back on his parents. Satoru's parents exchange a look that you can't quite read, but you suspect it's a mix of shock and disbelief. "So, we're clear, yeah? You'll stay out of our personal lives, and we'll run the company like the adults we are, fairly."

“We think we can do that. Could we at least plan a big wedding, you’re the heir of the Gojo family-”

“No, and you’re not invited. But, you can send her a generous gift.” Satoru says, as his mom’s face falls, you’d almost feel bad if you didn’t know how horrible of a woman she was, pretty as she was on the outside.

His father sighs. “Fine, we’ll send a gift.” He says.

"And one more thing.” Satoru says. "If you ever, and I mean ever, try to bribe, blackmail, or otherwise manipulate my fiance again, I will take you down."

“We got that, Jesus Satoru. You’re clearly infatuated.” His mom grumbles, sipping on a mimosa now, as you feel their defeat, and it makes you way too happy.

"We're going to be happy, you know. Me and your son.” You speak up finally, and they both look at you curiously. “I will be a good wife to him, and a good mother to any children we have, I will never abandon him, I will be by his side, whether I fit your ideal for a wife or not. Our happiness is not something you can control or take away."

Satoru's mom looks at you, her eyes narrowed, but you see a flicker of something in them, something that might just be a hint of respect. Or maybe it's fear of Satoru, but either way, you feel Satoru’s warmth under you, and see the emotion on his face, which he quickly controls. You know he can’t let others see him, especially his vulture parents.

“I think we have an understanding?” They nod. “Good deal, knew you two were smart… somewhat.”

They roll their eyes, but you smile.

“We have a lot to do, it’s a bachelor party tonight you know. Bachelor and bachelorette? I don’t know, we have a strip club to go to, oh and so much fucking to do, you know. Gonna make babies.” He chuckles as he stands, and picks you up bridal style, to his parents’ horrified looks. “Nice seeing you all again.”

Satoru walks you right out then, in his arms, through the extravagant halls of the Gojo mansion, and you’re wrapping your arms around his neck, kissing his cheek over and over. Soon he has you in the back of the car, as his driver Ijichi smiles at you both, looking tired.

“How did it go, Mr. Gojo?” He asks, and Satoru grins, tapping his shoulder and tipping him hundreds. “Oh, that well?”

“So well. That’s to ignore her moans, she’s so loud.” Ijichi blushes as much as you do, as you’re dragged into the back of the limo, and he’s pulling you on his lap, grinning so pretty at you.

“Satoru Gojo, you’re amazing. Beyond amazing.”

"You were incredible," he whispers in your ear, his breath hot against your skin while he kisses it, firm lips pressing on delicate skin, and your hands shake as they cling to his shoulders. "So strong, so brave."

“Me brave, you! Fuck you did an investigation!” He chuckles, as his big hands grip your hips over your pretty blue dress he bought you this morning.

“I’m Satoru Gojo baby, what did you expect? Fuck them.”

“Do you ever think they’ll change?” You whisper, stroking his cheek, and he shakes his head.

“They’ve always been that way. I don’t have any hope they’ll change, my only hope is now they know they can’t touch you.” You blink back emotions, as tears threaten to spill, Satoru sighs as a couple escape. “God you’re pretty crying.”

“God you’re pretty all the time.” He smirks.

“That’s you baby girl.”

“We’re both pretty.” You murmur, leaning forward, as now you feel his excitement pressing between your thighs, and you heat up, tension pooling in your lower tummy, as you feel his breaths against your ear.

“I love you, baby girl. I need you, now, please.” He pleads so sexy, sliding your panties to the side and slipping two fingers in, making you moan, your head falling back for his hot kisses. “You’re so wet for me, baby.”

“Need you, need you too.” You whisper back, and he loses it, hurriedly unsnapping his belt with a click, and you’re unzipping him, revealing his hard cock straining against his boxers, which you shove down, almost falling. He catches you with a nervous laugh, as he takes the sight of you in.

“You’re so fucking cute.” He says softly, then he’s sliding his length, stretching you out so much, so full, you gasp, wincing at that stretch, and he’s exhaling, his breath cool against your breasts, hands sliding to your hips. “Oh my god so tight.”

“You’re so thick… fuck…” You whimper, and he eats it up, with his hungry kisses, allowing you to adjust before he moves, and you’re riding Satoru Gojo’s cock in the back of a limo, soaking his length as you roll your hips, watching his pretty face contort in pleasure. His hands grab you everywhere, taking over your entire body, leaning back in his seat, watching you.

“God, you’re pretty.” He says softly, yanking your dress down, your breasts bouncing out for his hungry eyes. “Fuck.”

“Fuck!” You cry out a moment later, as he’s kissing around an areola, sucking it into his hot, wet mouth as you’re bouncing up and down, his hands on your ass, those swirling blue eyes looking up at you.

“Mmm, that’s it.” He whispers, little strings of saliva dripping from his lips as he sucks on your other nipple, hands gripping your ass as it shakes from your thrusts, as you hear your skin smacking his. “Ride me so fuckin good, pretty girl, don’t you?’

“Toru!” You’re a mess, thigh muscles struggling as you sit down on his cock so deep, his tip leaking and grinding on your cervix. “Can’t move.”

“You’re weak, little brat.” He teases, but you whine, nodding, as he starts moving you, lifting you up and down his length with ease, pistoning his hips so his cock is wrecking your pussy now. You feel him so deep, fucking in your stomach, deeper, as you feel yourself closer and closer. “That’s it, baby girl, cum for me.”

How can you not cum for Satoru Gojo, as his thick length is stretching you, as his eyes are locked on yours, as he’s urging you on. You fall apart, pussy throbbing around him, and he hisses at how good it feels, as you’re gushing wetness down his pants, all down to those fancy leather seats of the limo. You hear your squishing, how wet you are as he pounds up into you.

His brows are drawn together, his pale cheeks flushed with pink, his pouty lips parted as he gasps, and holds you up, leaning further back into the seat, as he pumps your pussy full, as you look down and see your slickness pooling around the white hair on his pelvis. You brace yourself on his hard chest, feeling his heart thudding against your palm, as you lean forward, and he captures your lips.

You drink in his moans, as he sips up your cries, and you’re holding yourself up as much as you can so he can fuck into you harder, your lips breaking apart, eyes rolling back as he’s kissing up your jaw. Satoru’s moaning in your ear is far too sexy, that husky deep sound as he slows, rolling his hips and pulling your hair.

“Miss Brat, your pussy is far too good, I’m gonna sue you for… misuse of… kegals.” You giggle breathless, as he slows more, and you ease down on him, trying to move, all sweaty despite the cool air in the limo, looking right into his bright eyes, lidded with desire.

“I only do kegals as - fuck! Toru…” He’s pushing you down, his hand sliding between you to roll a circle on your clit with his thumb, and you’re falling apart all over him again, crying out as you cum harder.

He smirks, biting his lower lip between those sharp teeth, raising a brow as he watches as your orgasm hits you. “Can’t even… mmm… finish an argument, huh Miss Brat? Under… pressure…”

“F-fuck! Okay… I use kegals for you and to make you cum fast- ah!” Satoru is scowling as he smacks your ass, and you’re giggling breathlessly, but it dies when he’s got you laid out on the long limo seat, laying on top of you, as you’re a trembling mess under him.

“Objection.” He huffs, and you can’t laugh, he’s shoved his cock to the hilt, dragging the tip on your g spot, overstimulating you as his heavy balls are smacking against your ass.

“Objection to what!? Fuck, Toru, there, there!”

“No. Sustained.” You laugh again, and earn a scowl. “You can laugh, huh, not fucking you hard enough, baby.”

“I-what- ah!” Now Satoru is fucking you so hard it’s brutal, mean cock bullying into your entrance over and over, as his long fingers wrap your throat, squeezing and making everything fuzzy. “You’re rusty, Professor, sustained- ah- doesn’t… fuck, doesn’t apply!”

“Fucking brat, swear to-” He’s slamming harder, raising your thigh up to where your feet are on his shoulder, then you can’t take it, you’re a writhing mess, as he’s whining out softly, kissing up your ankles, even the tops of your feet as he pounds you, such a contradiction.

Your pussy is struggling to accommodate him, as he’s slamming that cervix at a bruising pace, unrelenting. You’re losing oxygen as he squeezes your throat tighter, as he takes over everything you are, igniting that insane heat in your core that is about to spill over. Your tits bounce with every thrust, and he moans as he watches.

“Play with em, law student. Now.” He orders gruffly, releasing your throat and bracing himself on the seat, and you eagerly oblige, grabbing them and squeezing, earning his moan, and his cock twitching inside of you. “You’re so sexy, oh my god, yes baby, pinch those nipples.”

You cry out as he’s rolling his hips inside you, as you’re a slick mess, your cunt sucking his thick length in over and over, head falling back into the seat as you pinch your nipples for him. Satoru’s leaning lower now, kissing your throat, biting it so hard it hurts, but fuck it feels good, you take your hands off your breasts to cling to his muscled back over his suit jacket, pressing into the expensive material.

“Toru, Toru, baby!” You whine out, as he licks a trail up your throat, cupping your face with one hand now, tilting your chin up.

“Look at me, pretty.” You push yourself to focus, as he’s gone blurry with all your pleasure, and he exhales, kissing you deeply, you taste his sweetness, his essence, maddening as his cock finally slows. “I love you.”

“I love you so much Toru.” You whisper back, kissing him desperately as his weight is on you, and he’s grabbing your hips, your dress hopelessly scrunched up around your torso. “Cum in me, please, please.”

“Need me to fill you so bad, slutty brat?” He asks, and you just nod, brow furrowing as he’s caressing your face so lovingly, breath tickling your lips. “Beg for it, pretty girl. Let me know how bad you need it.”

“Oh please, Toru. Please, cum in me. Put your babies in me.” You say hoarsely, eyes locking on his, and you watch him fall apart, and feel his thrusts go hard, so hard he’s fucking you deep into those seats, jerking your entire body.

“Gonna fill you so full, so full, put so many kids in you. You want em, don’t you pretty girl?” You nod at his soft, pleading words, then Satoru makes that little sound you love so much, that whine from the back of his throat, as he pumps you full, and he cums so much, more than usual. You’re shaking as you take it, as he’s crying out, gripping you and kissing you over and over.

You’re both gasping for breath as he eases finally, studying your face and brushing your hair back gently, thumb stroking your cheek. “Toru, I love you. I can’t wait to marry you.” You whisper, tears falling from the overwhelming sensations of cumming, of his love, of his touch, of him .

Satoru’s own eyes go glassy, as he gulps, kissing you softly. “And I love you, Miss Brat. I can’t wait to marry you.”

You both struggle to come to as you kiss over and over, as he’s gently adjusting your dress, as he’s stroking your body, as you cling to him, sitting up now, and he’s rubbing your back. You fall into him, loving him so deeply it’s physically painful, not imagining a life before Satoru Gojo, before your home. He notices you sobbing and peers back, concerned.

“Baby girl, was that too much?”

“No, it was perfect. Oh Toru I just…”

“What is it Shnookums?” You giggle through your tears, making him smile as he holds you, as you touch his face, as he brushes your tears.

“I fall deeper every day. It’s so hard to handle, my heart just aches, as I love you more and more.” He kisses you fervently, then, pulling you so close, like you two couldn’t get close enough, and he has you back in his lap, but sitting to the side, cradling you, looking at you deeply.

“Making me a fucking baby.” He grumbles, making you laugh finally through your tears. “I fall deeper every moment, even when I watch you sleep, like a little snoring angel.”

“Hey!”

You’re both laughing then, and you sigh. “I couldn’t be happier. Fuck I never imagined this.”

“Neither did I. Y’know we got anything together. Yeah?” You grin, nodding.

“Yeah we do. Toru, are we really going to a strip club?”

“Sure are, I wanna see you get a lap dance. Plus dragging serious ass Nanami will be so fucking awkward. Oh, that Yuta kid too. It’s gonna be good.” Satoru’s grinning deviously, and you roll your eyes at him. “C’mon, you’ll love it. I won’t really look at any of them, I have you.”

“Oh I don’t care if you watch a girl dance, silly. But… it does sound kind of fun, I’ve never been. I can’t believe we’ll be married tomorrow!?”

“I know, it’s crazy. We could wait, if you’re scared, chicken.”

“Am not, jerk!” You stick your tongue out and you both laugh as you head home to get ready, you’re not even sure what to expect.

The neon lights of the strip club are glowing different colors, casting a sultry glow over the elaborate decorations that adorned the walls. This was clearly some fancy club, the servers were topless wearing little plaid mini skirts, and the bars had gorgeous bartenders, smiling and ready to get you all whatever you want.

“Gojo! You’re getting married!” The owner comes up to Gojo, shaking his hand enthusiastically, then smiles down at you, you instantly recognize him.

“Sukuna!?” He laughs, coming to give you a kiss on the hand and winking at you. “No wonder we drove so far for this club!”

“It’s the best, I’ll have you know. Fuck I can’t believe you’re getting married, you better not have a divorce, I’ll snatch her up.” He says with his grin on his tanned, handsome face, and Satoru scoffs, rolling his eyes and putting an arm around you.

“Not happening, you know it. She gets fucked too good.” You’re blushing under the lights as Sukuna’s dark brows raise.

“Oh, a challenge?”

“Not a challenge, Toru, don't just say that!” You hiss, but he’s smirking. “Did his hoe ass frequent this place?”

“How dare you assume that!” Satoru scowls, and Sukuna chuckles.

“Nah, not really, but he’d come every now and then to just throw money on the stage, the girls loved him. Don’t think he ever got a dance. Ya gonna get one on your last night?”

“Nah.”

“You can!” You say, and Sukuna sighs.

“She’s perfect, I’m really fucking jealous.”

“Of course she is. But no, I wanna get her a good dance later.” He whispers, as if you can’t hear, and Sukuna hums, rubbing his chin.

“That sounds hot. I can do that, but can I watch.”

“Fuck no.”

“Tch, you’re no fun Gojo.” He glares at him, as Gojo glares back, and you wonder if these two idiots will fight again, but Suguru and Nanami are there, along with Maki and an embarrassed Yuta, who hands you a drink.

“Thank you!” You smile at him, leaning close. “Are you nervous?”

“Never been to one!” He says, his tired eyes looking even more tired, you wonder if Maki’s even letting him sleep, she’s all horned up lately she says. You giggle at the thoughts, earning Yuta’s pout.

“Is she letting you sleep?”

“No, she’s a fiend. Fuck don’t tell her that!”

“Tell me what?” Makin grins as she steps close, leaning forward, that emerald hair falling over her bare shoulder. Yuta blushes, and you can’t stop your smile.

“Yuta was saying he wants to fuck you more , Maki. Like he needs more and more-”

“I’m dying!” He screams out, and you’re laughing as Maki attacks him with her kisses again. Nanami and Suguru step up to the dancers, Nanami looks so awkward it’s adorable, where Suguru seems perfectly comfortable you notice.

Satoru’s arms wrap around you now, and you peek up at him. “So baby girl, you’re getting a lap dance lesson.”

“Am I now?”

“Mmhmm, the only dance I want is from you.” You melt at him then, peering up at his cerulean depths, twinkling with mischief, as you cup his face, thumb running across his stubborn chin. He nuzzles your hand so sweetly.

“You’re perfect.”

“I know.”

“Hey!” He’s chuckling, and you love feeling his chest shake as he does, god you love everything about him. You keep falling deeper into the abyss that is your white haired, lawyer fiance. “Let’s have fun with them first!”

“Oh fine, brat. I guess we should. But…” He leans forward, whispering into the shell of your ear, as his hands grab your ass, pulling you against his hard, lithe body, and you’re reminded of that night at the club, where you met. “I wanna fucking lick you in a bathroom again.”

“You’re so pervy, no!” He’s chuckling, and you heat up at the thought, he can tell when your lashes lower, when you bite your lip.

“You’re so slutty for me, you want to.”

“Uh-uh!”

“Uh-huh. C’mon, let’s go party baby girl, last night before you’re officially my wifey.”

“I can’t wait to be Mrs. Gojo.”

“Mrs. Gojo, fuck that’s hot.” He’s kissing you right there, as strippers, clients, servers all walk by, many awwing and oohing at you two lovers. “C’mon, let's corrupt the rest of that innocent nature.”

Soon you are up towards the stage, where beautiful dancers are swirling around poles, doing splits, so flexible you’re enamored, all in glittery outfits covering basically nothing. Satoru is shoving Nanami up and beckoning the women over to him, making the tall, buff professor Nanami a blushing mess. Maki is with you as you all tip the dancers and Yuta is looking at anything else.

“Yuta come tip them, you chicken?” Maki teases, sticking her tongue out, and he is groaning as he slinks up.

“Don’t be mean, Maki. Yuta only wants to look at you.” You say with a wink, and then Maki looks at him, for Yuta to nod, brushing his black hair back.

“Aww fuck, that’s cute. C’mere.” She’s smacking kisses on him again, and you imagine Yuta isn’t going to get that sleep, as Geto saunters up to you, scooching a seat right next to you.

“Last night of freedom, you wanna spend it with me, love?” Geto teases, and you snort in laughter, shaking your head and smacking at him playfully.

“Oh you’re so full of it!” You snort, sipping your cosmopolitan as you all watch one of the performers. “Holy fuck, how do they bend that way?”

“I’d throw my back out.” You both laugh again, and you put a hand on Geto’s thigh then, making him wiggle his brows. “Are you reconsidering the offer?”

“Shut it! I just wanted to say how much I appreciate you all, especially coming tomorrow for us.” He sighs, slinging an arm around your shoulders and popping a kiss on your cheek.

“Of course, Satoru is my family, now you will be.” You get emotional in the middle of a damn strip club, smiling tremulously at him then, and he taps your nose playfully, smiling. “Don’t you cry at your bachelorette party.”

“It’s my party, I’ll cry if I want to.”

“Oooh, you have the best song lyrics, Shnookums.” Satoru says then, pulling his seat next to you and slinging an arm around you, crossing his ankle over his knee. You lean over and kiss him, giggling.

“I love the eighties. Remember that song that played out in the first dance?” He grins.

“Of course I do. Take Me Home Tonight.” You melt then, giggling, as Suguru watches you two with a smile.

“You all are sickeningly cute.” He says then, and Satoru is brushing your hair back gently, as you look up at him with glittery eyes.

“You really remembered?” You whisper, making Satoru sigh, cupping your face now, and it’s like there’s nothing else in that room, like that night, it overwhelms you especially when his firm lips press on yours.

“Of course I remember, Miss Brat. It was Eighties hour or some shit, but how wouldn’t I remember that song? Miss ‘I can’t dance’! Whatever. Excuse for me to ‘teach you’.”

“Was not!”

“Mmhmm, sure. Sugu, are you trying to give her a wild night or what?” You gasp then, scowling at Satoru’s grin, then looking at Suguru who is tipping a stripper, smirking back at you both.

“Sure I’m down. We're just gonna share again?” Your mouth is dropped open again, eyes darting back and forth.

“Already has her mouth open, what a good girl.” Satoru says, hand on your thigh, sliding up, you smack at him then.

“You stop fucking with me, both of you! You would never share.” You’re glaring at Satoru, and he snorts then, leaning far too close.

“No, I wouldn’t, but you thought about it, slutty brat.” He whispers, earning your shove at his hard chest.

“You’re so full of shit, Toru. You two are the worst! Maybe you both should get married instead.” You stand, crossing your arms, for them to both drag you back down to your seat, and you huff.

“I love to tease you, it’s too fun. Suguru, you notice her thighs shifting?” You about smack your fiancé, but Suguru stands then, laughing as he holds up an empty drink.

“You do have those legs, how do I not notice?” Suguru teases, chocolate eyes squinting and crinkling at the corners as he laughs.

“You stop encouraging him!”

“I’ll go get a drink, you can use me as bedroom talk, I don’t mind.” You throw an empty cup at his back then, only for him to laugh, bending down and picking it up, bonking Satoru in the head, who’s laughing so hard he has tears in his pretty blue eyes.

“Fuck you both!” Suguru’s shoulders shake as he goes up to the bar, flirting with the pretty bartender, whispering something in her ear. “He’s a hoe.”

“He really is.”

“So are you!”

“Reformed, brat. Remember? All reformed, now you really gonna say you wouldn’t do it?” He teases, brushing your hair back and whispering in your ear, as the alcohol warms your tummy and the club music is pounding like your pulse thrumming under your skin, as you realize how turned on you are in the atmosphere. “Can feel that heat from here.”

“From the… environment… that’s my alibi.” You whisper, and he chuckles, nipping your earlobe with his teeth, slipping that hand higher under your little skirt, thumb so close to where you’re wet it’s ridiculous. “Satoru…”

“Fuck.” He whispers then, as his thumb feels the damp spot forming in your panties. “You are so slutty, Miss Brat, want two professors?”

“Maybe… maybe kiss you both.” You tease, and he laughs softly, biting your neck as you nervously close your thighs.

“Just kiss, nothing else huh?” You giggle breathlessly, as you feel your body overheating everywhere, leaning close and kissing him, his free hand turning you so he can rub your folds over your panties unnoticed. You struggle to hold in your cry, as he watches you intently. “Not us both drinking you, huh Niagara?”

“Fuck off, Satoru!” You hiss quietly, but you whimper as the spot grows, until you’re sticky and soaked.

“Mmm, I’m using this as evidence for my case.” You roll your eyes, shaking your head and leaning back, hips bucking up involuntarily, making him grin like mad.

“What case, Professor?”

“The case you wanna fuck all the professors.”

“Only the white haired one, thank you.” You kiss him softly, arms wrapping around his neck, as his fingers press that material between your lips, pulling at it and pressing on your clit. It twitches in response, as you try to keep your sounds in, as he’s so shamelessly touching you in secret at the club.

“The white haired one? The prettiest one?” He whispers.

“The prettiest one there ever was. The prettiest Princess Satoru.” You tease with a grin, but it’s cut off when he slips under the side of your panties and finds you naked, moaning softly, his lips just barely against yours, hovering. “Ya like that, being my Princess Toru?”

“You’re the Princess, Brat, I’m just a little frog.”

“Handsome prince frog.” He slips his finger away, sucking on it then and shutting his eyes, and you damn near jump him in a room filled with strippers, patrons, people all in various stages of undress, and Satoru’s eyes are on you .

“Fuck you taste so good, always. How am I gonna make it through a dance I’m hard as fuck.”

He winces, adjusting himself into his waistband, and you’re blushing as you watch your effects on him, how his thick length shows even in his dark blue jeans. “Fuck.”

“Yeah, fuck. Brat.”

“Me, you did it!”

“Fuck I want you now, I can’t handle it, bet she’s so wet I could drink her.” You whine out loud, earning his lidded gaze, as he’s got his hand entangled in your hair, kissing you over and over, tongue swirling in your mouth. “Let’s do this dance now before I can’t stand not fucking you. I’ll be right back.”

You kiss him over and over, and then peer to see Maki dragging Yuta into a room for a dance, you give her a thumbs up and she blows you a kiss, then you see that Suguru is… well, he’s making out with that bartender in the corner. You roll your eyes, realizing he’d have to take over Satoru’s sluttiness now, and then he shoots you a wink, earning your laugh.

You walk up to Nanami, who is looking a little less uncomfortable, but is not approaching the stage, instead studying his glass. You sit next to him and he smiles softly at you. “Mr. Nanami, you should get a dance. I’m getting one.”

“Are you now?” He asks, sipping his whiskey as he crosses his legs, clad in a fancy three piece suit. “This isn’t my atmosphere. I’m a little more conservative I suppose.”

“Mr. Nanami, you give freak energy.” He sputters and you’re shaking with laughter. “It’s a good thing!”

“Oh dear God. I am not sure what that means.” You sigh, patting his shoulder, stiff from him being so tense.

“I see all the ladies checking you out, you know.”

“Yes well…”

Satoru comes up with two women, and he gestures to Nanami, who’s blushing on his strong cheekbones. “What’s the meaning of this?”

“You’re getting a dance, now be a gentleman and let the lady work.” Satoru says with a wink, as a pretty blond drags Nanami away, who finishes his drink quickly, letting her yank him by his cheetah tie.

“Good call, Satoru.” You say, and he grins at you, as he introduces you to the pretty brunette in front of you, dressed in a G string and a tiny little silver bikini top, and nothing else, making you a little nervous of where to look. “Hello!”

“Hello beautiful, she is so pretty, you’re right!” She says to Satoru, and he grins, his hand on your waist.

“Oh you’re so sweet.” You say shyly, as the lady takes your hand gently in hers. “Are we…”

“You’re getting a dance, bachelorette. And of course your fiancé is going to watch. Are you comfortable with me touching you?” She asks then, as you’re now led into a huge VIP room, with burgundy and red plush seats, it’s super dark in there aside from red LEDS lighting up from the ceiling.

“Um, touching me?” You look at her in confusion, and then at Gojo, who’s helping you sit on the plush seat, sitting right next to you.

“With girls I tend to be a little touchy if they like. But only if you’re okay with it.” She says softly, and she makes you feel comfortable, clearly a professional, and you look to Gojo again.

“It’s fine with me, baby girl, it’s up to you.” He says, as she now spreads your thighs, slipping your skirt up, and you gasp at just that, Satoru’s eyes are hungry as he watches you. “I just want to watch you.”

“Just watch huh?” You say, but he nods.

“I love seeing a devoted fiancé, it’s so rare.” She says, and you melt as you realize that really is what Satoru is. He’s had eyes for you all night, like you’re the most beautiful girl in the room, in a sea of naked women, he’s all about you. It makes you melt more and more for him.

“He is, but so am I.” You say then, holding his hand, and he brings it to his lips, brushing a kiss on your knuckles and winking.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m gonna enjoy a girl on you. I’m still a hoe.” You snort, and the dancer laughs, as she bends low now, kissing your thighs, making you tense, as you’re clinging to the arms of the chair, and she bends down, her eyes looking at you, hands sliding up and down your thighs. “Jesus I won’t make it.”

“It’s your idea!” He sighs, swiping a hand on his face as he turns, staring intently at you as the dancer turns, bending over and rocking her hips between your thighs, taking your hands and putting them on her hips. “Can I do that!?”

She laughs softly. “Yes, you can. Relax, sweetie, it’ll be fun. Maybe you can learn some moves for your fiancé?” You bite your lip nervously, looking back at Satoru as your hands grip her firm waist, toned from dancing, and then she’s turned again, straddling you, her long legs on either side of you. “My prettiest client ever.”

“Oh stop!” You’re a mess, blushing everywhere if that’s possible, as the music from the club thrums quietly in the room, and you feel the heat and the energy taking over, her body sliding against yours, as Satoru is sipping his drink and his eyes are sliding down your body. “You’re pretty too.”

“Thank you, you’re so sweet. Most girls are not so nice.” You frown then a bit, and she shakes her head. Gojo smirks a bit, knowing you’re so fucking sweet you feel bad anyone was mean to her. Fuck he loves you. “Ah-ah you have fun! Here.” She leans forward now.

She’s running her hands down the sides of your breasts, before taking down your straps, revealing your breasts, and you watch them bounce out, as Gojo audibly groans. “I’m gonna die. I really am gonna die.” He grumbles, and you both laugh.

But he really feels like he can’t take it, his cock is straining in his boxers, he was already so hard just feeling your heat, and now he’s looking at your beautiful body, the girl above you is of course pretty but fuck you’re everything, your perfect tits at attention, begging for his mouth. You’re a cute little nervous mess, but clearly you’re enjoying, your eyes are lit up, you’re biting your lower lip.

The dancer licks one of your nipples, and you squeak, and Gojo would chuckle at how cute it was, but he wants to rail your perfect pussy right now. He’s clinging to his chair, shifting to try to adjust himself but it’s too hard, so hard it’s painful. She licks your other nipple and your eyes flutter shut, a little hum of pleasure from the back of your throat, your hands brushing her hair back softly.

“Fuck you’re so hot.” He whispers, earning your eyes opening, and looking at him, they’re so dilated they’re almost black, your lips glossy as you wet them.

“You are, such a pretty body.” She says to you, and you’re blushing even harder, as she slides back to her knees, her long thick platform heels clicking on the floor, and he watches her lick you over your panties. You let out what sounds like a squeak, and the stripper licks her lips and grins. “And yummy.”

“Oh my god.” Your head falls back, your hair cascading like a waterfall along the back of the chair, your hands over your face.

That’s it, he can’t stand it. Satoru can’t take it, seeing a girl fucking lick you, he’s about to cum in his pants like a teenager. “Holy shit.” He grumbles, and the stripper looks at him then, and gestures for him to come over to you, putting him on his knees with a satisfied look.

“I’ll let you two continue, yeah?” Satoru digs in his pants for a wad of hundreds, handing them to her. “Oh, you already paid-”

“Extra, you’re amazing.” He gruffly says, as he stares up at you, and the dancer brushes your cheek, giving it a kiss, watching you with a smile.

“It was my pleasure. You two have fun, love birds, twenty minutes left in here you know.” She saunters out, the door shutting with a click, and he watches your bare breasts heave up and down as you whine softly, and he yanks you by your hips, leaning up as you lean down. Your lips capture his, and he tastes your sweetness mixed with your drinks.

“Mmnh, Toru I think I like strip clubs?” You whisper, and he laughs, smiling so big his cheeks hurt, as he slides up under your skirt, pulling your soaked panties down your shaky thighs.

“I had a feeling you’d enjoy that. You’re so sexy, god.” He’s got your glistening pussy in his face, and you’re arching your back, hips bucking up as his breath hits your clit, as he parts your lips and his mouth salivates at how fucking gorgeous you are. He slides a thumb, feeling your dripping wetness, sticking to his fingers, making you cry out now louder.

“Need you, Toru, please.” You breathe out the words, and he licks his lips as he pulls your hips up, pressing your pussy in his face, inhaling you as he buries himself in your soppy entrance with his tongue, nose bumping your clit as you gush down his mouth. “Toru, fuck, fuck… fuck!”

“Mmm, shh, Miss Brat.” He whispers, watching your tiny clit twitch as he spreads you so wide, a thigh over his shoulder, your calf dangling across his back, his cock so hard he starts stroking himself for just some relief. “Want to cum on my face?”

“Please, please Toru.” You’re begging, little tears in those pretty eyes that glimmer under the red lights. You’re pulling at his hair so hard as you grind your pussy against him, and he’s close to cumming from it, from how hard you pull, from how good you taste, from watching your brows scrunch together in pleasure. “There, there, oh my god please .”

You’re dripping down his tongue, and he’s sipping you up, hands both now gripping the plush of your thighs, as he devours you, as you’re cumming all over him, and he moans as he drinks it up. You’re weak now, but he’s not done, he lifts the hood of your clit now, swirling the tip of his tongue on that clit, and now you’re trying to pull him off you.

You’re so cute, his wife.

His Wife.

You’re like a dream, as he drinks you in a club just like the first night you met, and he is dying to fuck into you, but he wants to make you cum over and over with his mouth, make you a mess, just like that night.

“Satoru, too much, fuck!” You’re trembling as you’re yanking at his silky white hair, but Satoru is unrelenting as he’s devouring you with that tongue, and now he’s sliding a finger in your entrance, looking up at you, face glistening with how much you’ve cum. You gasp as he hits your spot, as he works you until you feel so much pressure you can’t take it.

“Cum again for me, yeah? You’re so pretty when you do.” Satoru’s husky voice along with him licking your clit again, and looking at you with those blue eyes ruins you, and your orgasm hits again, shoving a hand against your mouth as you scream into it, blacking out in the red room as it’s so good. “Mmm, good girl.”

You’re listless from your back to back orgasms, nearly fainting when he relents, kissing your thighs and nipping them, you weakly reach down to kiss him. “Toru, too much… can’t move.”

“I got you baby girl.” He picks you up then, with ease in his arms, as he smiles down at your face. “You tapping out?”

“No, I wanna make you cum.” You whisper weakly, kissing him back, hands entwining behind his neck, brushing against his undercut. “Let me suck you.”

“Wanna suck me off, don’t you wanna fuck?” He presses you against the wall now, holding your thighs in his hands, and he’s kissing down your neck, as your breasts press against his hard chest.

“Both yes, please.”

“You’re a mess baby.”

“Your fault, fuck.” He’s moaning then, as he rubs his tip along your lips, between them, bumping you overstimulated clit and making your head slam into the wall as you cum again from that. “Too much, fuck, fuck…”

“She’s so sensitive hmm?”

“Put it in me, please.” You look up at him pleadingly, and Satoru groans, shoving his cock in to the hilt, and you both moan together as he fills you, as he’s resting his forehead against yours, hands now gripping your ass. “S’big, Toru, s’good.”

“You’re so tight, made for me, aren’t you baby?” You nod eagerly, as he begins slowly moving, and you’re both kissing messy, saliva dripping from your tongues, as he fills you so goddamn good. But it’s beyond the pleasure, it’s so much more, like he’s constantly filling that missing piece. “You’re perfect, perfect.”

“I love you so much, so much.” You’re both whispering your love, as he’s fucking you on a strip club wall, but it’s as if it couldn’t be more romantic, as you both devour each other, him bending low to kiss your breasts, sucking your nipples, rolling his hips. You’re clenching around him, thighs on his slender hips, rocking your own hips against him for more.

Satoru begins fucking harder now, and your tits are shaking with each thrust, his blue eyes drink you in, as one hand leaves your hip to cup your face, stroking the apple of your cheek. You’re crying softly, at how beautiful it is, how good it feels, while Satoru kisses your tears away, breathing softly into your lips.

“I love you, pretty girl.” He says, and you’re a mess, truly, clinging to him as you drink in his cries, as you feel yourself higher and higher. “So pretty, so so pretty. Aren’t you?”

“Th-thank you, you… so handsome I… cumming!”

“Cum then, baby, lemme feel you. Ah!” He’s tense when you convulse, dripping down the length of his cock, wetter and wetter as you pulse around him, and Satoru finds his release then with you, moaning his pleasure into your lips as he pumps you full, with short bursts of so much cum. “Oh my god, baby…”

“Toru… oh my god… yes, yes, push it in me.” You beg, earning his groan as he’s kissing your lips so possessively, and you both cling to each other.

“You took it all, you're such a good girl, aren’t you?” You nod between kisses, and finally he eases you down carefully, your head falls back as you look up at him, and he’s got you barred against the wall.

“That was insane. Fiancé.” You tease with a giggle, and he smirks so goddamn charming, tilting your chin up, brushing little kisses on your nose.

“You were so hot like that. I’ll have that in my brain, a stripper licking you, I almost had a coronary.”

You’re tucking your head against his chest, inhaling his cologne then. “It was so fun, my god I can’t believe we’re doing this can you?”

“I wanted to marry you when I first saw you, but that would have sounded crazy. But I knew then you were special, something about your energy.”

“Oh, Satoru, I knew something was special too.” You’re hugging him so tightly, Satoru is stroking your hair, as the song changes. You both laugh then, grinning at each other as you pull away, taking several breaths, and he’s helping you get back dressed quickly. “Is that…”

“It sure fucking is. C’mon brat, let’s dance.” You eagerly follow him out, where your friends are gathered together taking shots, they wave you over but Satoru has you in the center of the club now in his arms. He turns you to where your back is against his hard body, his hands on your hips.

“I’m not so good at dancing, could you show me?” You ask him teasingly, and he’s bending down, fingers pressing into your hips.

“I can show you, just loosen up. There, now move your hips.” You wriggle your hips to the silly eighties song you all had first danced too, you look behind and up at him, cupping his face as he kisses on your neck. “Look, you’re a natural.”

“I had a good teacher. Or, professor.” You’re both kissing then, as he picks you up, and your legs dangle off the floor, and Satoru is spinning you. You’re at a strip club but you might as well be at a ball, in some fancy mansion, dancing a waltz, the way he holds you, the way he makes you feel.

He eases you down now, hands on your waist as he hums the tune, now bopping his head and being goofy, your friends are all enamored watching you both, even the dancers have paused, in fact everyone is looking at you. As you both sing the song quite terribly, as he’s spinning you around in little pirouettes, dipping you over his arm like you’re in a tango.

You’re breathless and giddy as you now rock gently with him, brushing his hair back, seeing a beautiful future between you both just over the horizon. Seeing everything in his beautiful blue eyes, that swirl and dance and glitter brighter than anything there was, the way his grin is so bright it illuminates his pretty face. You see everything with him.

“I can’t wait, Toru.” You say with a grin marveling his own. He exhales, leaning down and holding you close, big body taking your little one over, making you feel so safe and so secure.

“I can’t wait, either, to make you my wife.”

Taglist: @jjknanamin @chiyokoemilia @marie-is-in-the-dark @seeing-stars-alt @maskedpacific @aldebrana @toffeebrat @antisocialinlw @trishiepo0 @jkslaugh97 @makingtimemine

Chapter 14

#gojo x reader #jjk smut #satoru x reader #jjk x reader #gojo smut #gojou satoru x reader #jujustu kaisen #lawyer gojo #take me home tonight #gojo fluff #gojo fic #jjk x reader smut #jjk fluff #gojo x reader smut #gojo x you #gojo x y/n

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written-in-flowers · 2 years ago

Note

Do you think you could write something where Aegon fingers future sister wife (sister betrothed?) during their lessons with a Maester or Septa 💚💕

Pairing: Aegon ii x Targ!reader

Words: 1k

Warnings: vaginal fingering, dry humping, underage sex stuff, hand-jobs.

Lessons are Boring

You’d always been the attentive one during lessons. Maester Ryle oversaw the education of the prince and princesses of House Targaryen for two or three generations. A wrinkled old man with a few thin white hairs on his head, his maester’s robe hung loosely on his body and his chains clinked together when he walked. Due to his bad knees and hips, Maester Ryle often sat during the lessons and pointed at things on his board with a walking stick. This meant, he could hardly see over the other side of the table where the children sat in front of him. This meant, while Aemond, Helaena and you took notes and answered his questions, Aegon’s hand could slide onto your lap without him noticing.

"-The Faith of the Seven and the High Septon have often been at odds with House Targaryen and The Crown as a whole. It was only upon the ascension of King Jaehaerys that these bonds were finally mended,” said the old maester from his seat, “Can any of you tell me how this was achieved? Ah, Prince Aemond, yes.”

“King Jaehaerys refused to reinstate the Swords and Stars of the Faith, and removed the bounties King Maegor put on the heads of Warrior’s Sons and Poor Fellows. He then gave a white cloak to Ser Joffrey Doggett, who’d been part of the band of Warrior’s Sons, and he accepted it,” Aemond told him. “He swore to The Faith that The Crown will always protect and defend them from then on. It has been such ever since.”

“Indeed,” Maester Ryle nodded in approval.

You’d been listening to Maester Ryle go on about the history between their family and the followers of The Seven when a warm hand touched your knee. Looking over, you saw Aegon smirking. You stared down to see his hand sliding up and down your thigh slowly. Due to the tablecloth, Maester Ryle could not see the prince’s hand lifting your skirt inch by inch over your knees. You bit back a gasp as his bare fingertips grazed your flesh, smoothing over the curves and dips. The gentle touch made your toes curl inside your shoes; your thighs tensed at the sudden brush, and a warmth spread between your legs. Fingertips lightly dragging up and down your inner thigh, Aegon waited until you’d bitten your bottom lip to slide further up. The side of his hand pushed right up to your naked sex, he gripped the side tenderly to make you whimper.

“-Now, Queen Alyssa and her husband feared the marriage of Jaehaerys to his sister, Alysanne, might cause-Princess?”

He’d heard her. Damn the man. Aegon snickered softly but you merely stammered, “N-N-Nothing, Maester. Please, go on.” You turned your head and said low as possible, “Aegon…”

“What? This is boring,” he replied, doing the same.

You turned your attention to the lesson, while Aegon’s fingers made their way to your sex once more. His index finger sliding between your folds, his other two fingers kept them open while he used his index finger to tease the pearl they covered. The direct contact and unrelenting friction had you clenching your jaw and doing your best to stay firmly planted in your seat. Helaena, far too busy watching an ant crawl across her book, didn’t notice what was going on. Maester Ryle continued going on about history while Aemond listened and wrote notes. Soon, wetness began pooling there and Aegon took the chance to spread it over your lips and the hood of your clitoris. He let his fingers grind into your entrance, feeling your walls starting to flutter at their touch and making you grip your own book. It reminded you of the other day when you’d slipped your hand into his breeches during a ball, stroking him to completion and sending him into euphoria in a room full of people. You should’ve known he’d try getting back at you. He continued languidly rolling his two fingers around your clit, tracing the edges of the folds and dipping right beneath the nub to make you squeak. Any other time, he’d have you falling apart, especially if he used his tongue which he’d gotten so much better at. But now, you needed to keep yourself together or your mother will be hearing about it.

She still hadn’t forgotten what you’d done on the window ledge.

"-Can any of you tell me which house is closest to the Faith? Princess Y/N, would you care to guess?”

“Yes, dear sister,” Aegon smiled at you, “Which house is it? I forget.”

“Well, dear brother,” you replied without moaning, “It’s House Hightower, our mother’s family.”

“Ah, right. Yes, of course.”

“That is correct. House Hightower has maintained a very healthy relationship with the Faith for many generations…”

You didn’t hear how they maintained that relationship because once Aegon slipped a finger inside you, you nearly let out a moan which you disguised as a cough. His palm continuously rubbing against your clit while his finger pumped into you, you felt every single shiver of pleasure course through you. You wished more than anything you could drag him somewhere private in the library and let him finish you as he should. You already knew everything you needed to know about the various religions of the world and their importance to people. When Aegon added a second finger, you knew you were doomed. The boy had a way of making you weak without trying too hard. Not that you didn’t have the same effect on him in return.

He kept the pace slow and almost lazy, withdrawing his fingers slowly and pushing them back in tenderly. He couldn’t go much faster without the old man noticing his arm. It didn’t help that whenever you came close to orgasm, he stopped suddenly. The agony became far too much; the room suddenly felt hot and the need in you became far too ravenous to focus on anything else. Thankfully, the maester ended the lesson after he finished telling you all about The Faith of the Seven. He said they’d all talk about the royal progresses of the Old King and his queen next time. You nodded, and took a cackling Aegon by the hand. You didn’t stop walking until you reached his bed chambers, where you threw him onto his bed. Quickly, you untied his breeches while he worked on unbuttoning the front of your gown. Having access to your breasts, Aegon’s lips latched around them and suckled firmly while you withdrew his cock. You never put him inside, but you enjoyed rubbing your soaked pussy over his length until you both came.

And that’s what you did. You dragged your sex up and down his hard shaft and leaking head while he licked and teased your sensitive nipples. It did not take long for either of you to cum. Your parts exposed to one another and your passion burning hot, you didn’t hold back this time. Clutching the pillows underneath his head, your orgasm hit you hard. Thighs quivering and your body tensing all over, you humped Aegon’s cock until your clit became overstimulated by him. Aegon grabbed your ass and kept you still as he went along with you and came over his stomach. Cheeks red, hair spread over the pillows, and utter satisfaction on his face, Aegon always looked so beautiful after an orgasm. He looked beautiful all the time, even if others thought otherwise. Panting, you rested on top of him for a while, kissing and whispering words of love to one another.

“Thank god Maester Ryle is old and can’t walk,” you said, chuckling, “I’d hate to think of what he’d tell Mother is he’d seen us.”

“The same thing everyone else says,” he put on his best quavering tone as he said, “The young Prince Aegon and Princess Y/N were being rather inappropriate during their lesson this morning, Your Grace. It is behavior unbefitting a noble child. They must be put in proper order right away.”

“That is more or less what he told me.”

Her voice made you both jump apart, and cover yourselves. Your mother stood by the foot of the bed, arms crossed and disappointment on her face once again. She stared at you both for a moment, and shame immediately hit you. You truly should’ve conducted yourself in a more proper manner.

“Just because Maester Ryle is old doesn’t mean he is a fool,” she said, sighing. “Tell me you at least didn’t put it in.”

“He didn’t,” you shook your head. “He never does. I don’t let him.”

“Must you two behave this way? Think about the shame it brings on you both.”

“She’ll be my wife one day,” Aegon said, pulling his sheets over his crotch. “They should be happy the prince and princess show a healthy passion for one another. It implies that we’ll produce children….someday….”

Your mother took these words into consideration, “I suppose you’re right…but please, have some decency and do it behind closed doors. I am sick of hearing from everyone about the things they find you two doing. It is not something a mother wishes to hear.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“Yes, we’re sorry, Mother.”

You watched her leave, then turned to each other as the door closed. Bursting into a fit of giggles, you both fell back on the bed and shared a soft kiss. “At least she didn’t scream this time,” you noted, letting him kiss down your neck.

“At least there’s that, yes,” he said, voice muffled by your skin. “Take off your dress,” he said, coming back up to kiss you, “I wish to see the rest of you.”

“Did you not just hear our mother?”

“Yes, I heard her say ‘do it behind closed doors’,” he then pointed to the door, “It’s closed and we’re behind it.” He knelt between your legs and lifted your leg. Kissing your inner thigh, he started untying the ribbons holding your stockings, “So, if you’ll indulge me, my sweet princess, I’d like us to spend the day drinking and pleasuring each other in any way we possibly can.”

“Hm,” you said thoughtfully, “I suppose you are right, my prince. That sounds like a wonderful idea.”

You slid further down the bed to reach his shirt. Your day was certainly going uphill after a boring lesson.

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii x you #aegon ii x yn #aegon ii fanfic #aegon ii smut #house of the dragon #hotd smut #hotd drabbles #hotd imagines #hotd fanfiction #ty tennant

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warabidakihime · 5 months ago

Text

Rules and Roses Chapter 2

★ characters: kibutsuji muzan x reader x akaza

★ plot summary: Kibutsuji Muzan has finally decided to expand his empire, and the way he intends to do so is by running for the highest political position. With you, his darling wife, at his side, he believes he can achieve and have everything the world has to offer. He is, after all, the Phoenix of Phario.

★ fic playlist: sometimes, same day, as time stops, wolf’s song (this is also the vision board for the fic).

★ content warnings : implied violence and abuse, profanities, toxic relationships, smut.

★ Previous Chapter

a/n:

hello!!!

first of all, i am so sorry for taking so long to update this story. ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

life happened and i got sooo busy. the time i uploaded this fic was when i just started at my new workplace and shortly after a few weeks, i was already preoccupied with work. at first, i was laser-focused on getting used to my new work and the culture. then later on, i found myself playing a more important role in the office that required my undivided attention lol. besides that, so many things happened in my personal life as well that i didn't have the time and energy to write.

btw i'm now a writer by profession as well so oftentimes i would feel drained af after writing corporate write-ups. tbh, i also got hit by writer's block, especially for this fic because the plot i have in mind for it is lowkey intricate, and for the most part, i haven't decided on what route i should take story-wise. so during those 2 years, i was constantly trying to reconstruct the story in my head, and here we are!

i'm back but i'm not so sure about updating regularly as i'm still incredibly busy, but i will do my best! the latest kny seasons inspired me to write again (aka my crush for muzan lol).

hopefully, everyone is still here to read this. ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

as always, comments and kudos are highly appreciated!

happy reading!

"Can you outline your key policy platforms should you be elected President of Phario? Given your extensive background in the human resource industry as well as your rich connections owing to your business ventures in Obelisk Kibutsuji, do you first plan to address the pressing issue of the national unemployment rate?"

"Indeed, that's correct. As President, one of my top priorities will be to strengthen our nation's workforce, which is crucial for advancing our economy. I have a comprehensive plan focused on job creation, vocational training, and support for small businesses. These initiatives will not only reduce unemployment but also stimulate innovation and competitiveness within our economy.

I also aim to implement policies that ensure equal access to education, equipping our citizens with the skills needed for the evolving job market. Healthcare reform is high on my agenda. I'll ensure healthcare assistance is accessible to everyone, public hospitals are well-maintained, and healthcare workers are fairly compensated and protected by the state in any dire situations. Additionally, I'll push for technological advancements and infrastructure development to attract both local and foreign investments.

Addressing social issues is equally important, and as a devoted ally of these communities, I'm committed to fighting all forms of discrimination, especially against women and the LGBTQ+ community. We must ensure everyone, regardless of gender, sexual orientation, or identity, has equal opportunities and protections under the law.

Moreover, I'll advocate for the rights and welfare of people with disabilities, ensuring they have access to the necessary resources and support to lead fulfilling lives. This includes improving accessibility in public spaces and promoting inclusive employment practices.

Animal welfare will also be a significant focus. We need to enact and enforce laws that protect animals from abuse and ensure humane treatment.

Lastly, I'll champion the rights of minorities and immigrants. Our nation is built on the strength of its diversity, and it's imperative we create an inclusive society where everyone feels valued and respected. This includes reforming immigration policies to be fair and humane and implementing programs that support the integration and empowerment of minority communities.

In essence, my administration will be dedicated to creating a sustainable and inclusive economic environment where every Pharian has the opportunity to thrive and contribute to our nation's progress."

Muzan stood confidently at the podium, a modest yet proud smile gracing his face after addressing a journalist's question amidst a room bustling with media personnel.

Today was the day where presidential candidates shared their platforms, which also served as an open forum for engaging with the press and fielding inquiries on a wide array of topics—from current events to personal matters.

With his seasoned composure before cameras and crowds, Muzan navigated the spotlight effortlessly. His articulate delivery drew admiration from all corners as he outlined his plans for the presidency, filling you with pride as you watched from the audience.

Among the attendees, your smile beamed with pride and unconditional support for him. Akaza, who is sitting right beside you, maintained a stoic demeanor outwardly, though inwardly, he couldn't deny a hint of impressed regard. Muzan's comprehensive platform and commanding presence left an undeniable impact on him.

Eloquence had always been Muzan's forte, a skill honed through years of being a businessman and somewhat of a public figure, as among his peers and in the business landscape in general, he is well-revered and widely celebrated.

Beyond his ability to articulate ideas, he possessed a magnetic charisma—an invaluable trait for navigating the intricate world of politics and public service.

Several hours later, the policy speech slash press conference finally ended, and now you were on your way to meet up with Muzan at the lobby of the hotel where the gathering was held when a few journalists spotted you among the sea of people who were also exiting the function room.

Akaza was right behind you and is also on full alert, an important instruction your husband told him when he appointed him as your personal bodyguard a few years back. Committed to his duty, he stood there in a stance where he is ready to take action should anything happen that is out of the ordinary.

Mics were stretched out and placed within just a few inches of your face, and one of them took the liberty to ask you a question: "What are your thoughts on Kibutsuji Muzan's campaign platforms?”

Very much like your husband, you also wore a modest yet confident smile on your face as you held eye contact with the journalist who asked you that question before displaying your own version of eloquence as you answered,

"To say that I am proud while listening to him share and advocate for the causes he wholeheartedly believed in would be the biggest understatement of the decade," you said with a fond chuckle before continuing, "even before he filed for his candidacy and even way before he became the man we all know now, he has always been outspoken about these things. He would always share with me his desire of making significant changes in the world, hoping no more children would have to endure what he did. As many of you know, Muzan, my dear husband, came from very humble beginnings, and unlike me, he has faced challenges far beyond my own. His vision and intuition surpass that of most, and so, as cliché as it may sound, his words and strong convictions carry a weight and authenticity that are strong enough to enable him in doing the impossible and inspire others to believe that a better future is within our grasp."

Akaza listened intently to your answer, finding himself captivated by your words. The way you addressed the press made you sound like a candidate yourself who's also sharing her platform. In that moment, he couldn't help but feel an overwhelming surge of pride as he continued to absorb your statements.

The journalists surrounding you mirrored his sentiment, clearly impressed by your response—no surprise from the esteemed Ballerina Queen of Phario.

It had been quite some time since you last entertained interviews, having retired and chosen to stay away from public engagements.

"Among the plethora of initiatives he wishes to take action on once he's elected, what resonated with you the most?"

You paused, contemplating the list of campaigns your husband had presented earlier. Just as you were about to respond, an arm encircled your waist and gave it a tender squeeze.

It was Muzan.

"Knowing my wife's love for animals, I'm certain she's most excited about what I have planned for animal welfare," Muzan interjected warmly.

You playfully rolled your eyes, eliciting amusement from not only your husband and your respective bodyguards but also the press. "You say that as if it's a bad thing," you quipped.

Muzan chuckled fondly. "Not at all, my love. Your passion for animals is one of the many reasons I fell for you."

The same journalist who had asked you the second question now directed his attention to Muzan, eager for his response. "Based on the most recent public survey, you're likely the most favored candidate to win the elections. What can you say about that, Sir Kibutsuji?"

Muzan smiled bashfully at the reporter, his eyes reflecting a mix of humility and determination. "I'm incredibly honored and thankful that our fellow countrymen have placed such faith and confidence in me. It's a humbling reminder of the trust they have in our vision for a brighter future. This campaign has always been about bringing real change to Phario, addressing the pressing issues our nation faces with innovative solutions and inclusive policies. The support we're seeing reflects not just my efforts, but the collective desire of our people for progress and unity."

He paused briefly, his gaze sweeping across the room, before continuing with renewed conviction, "Though I would like to emphasize that I don't take this trust lightly, it actually fuels my commitment to serve with integrity and purpose, to listen to the voices of every Pharian, and to lead with compassion and foresight."

By now, the press was highly satisfied with the answers both of you had given, granting you the freedom to depart. Clearly spent after the eventful day, you exchanged farewells and well-wishes before going your separate ways.

With Muzan's arm still draped around your waist, he guided you towards the grand entrance of the hotel. Meanwhile, Akaza made his way to the basement parking lot to retrieve your car, preparing to drive you both home. Kokushibo remained close to Muzan, ensuring your security as you awaited the car's arrival.

Turning to Muzan, unfazed by the bustling activity around you, you placed a tender kiss on his lips, smiling warmly. "Great job out there, my love. You did so well today. I'm incredibly proud of you."

Clearly elated, Muzan mirrored your smile and returned your affection with a gentle kiss on your forehead. "Thank you, darling. Your support means everything to me."

"Truly, I was beaming throughout your speech. You were absolutely amazing. Phario is fortunate to have such an admirable leader like you," you praised sincerely.

Right there and then, Muzan couldn't help but raise his eyebrow and playfully smile at you, prompting a confused raise of your own eyebrow.

"What's that look for?" you asked.

Muzan shook his head with a playful smirk before replying, "You're not showing favoritism now, are you, my love? I know you adore me, but let's keep it fair, hmm?" he teased, his tone light-hearted and affectionate.

You rolled your eyes at his playful accusation. "Ha-ha. Very funny, Muzan. I'll take it back, then."

Muzan laughed wholeheartedly, drawing attention once again. "I was just joking!" He then smiled warmly at you, his eyes reflecting pride. "Thank you," he said sincerely. "Hearing that from you means more than any applause, you know?"

You reached out to pinch his cheeks. "You play too much sometimes, you know?" you said with a chuckle before continuing, "But like I said, hearing you speak today—and in all those times you shared your aspirations with me from when we were students up to now, as you finally have the opportunity to make all come true—it's evident how deeply committed you are. Beyond your skills and capabilities, your passion is what makes you so compelling, Muzan. It's what makes me believe in you, too."

Minutes later, while waiting by the entrance, Akaza finally pulled up with the car. You and Muzan bid farewell to those around you before stepping into the comfort of your vehicle.

As the city lights blurred past the windows, you reflected on the day's events.

"You know," you began, glancing at Muzan beside you, "I have a feeling your speech today touched more hearts than just mine."

Muzan smiled softly, intertwining his fingers with yours.

"I hope so. Though the election is still months away, and who knows how things might shift, that's why I don't want to take any of this for granted. I'm in this for the long haul. You'll be there with me, won't you?"

He looked over to you, and in that moment, despite his big words, he looked absolutely adorable, with his ruby eyes shining at you and his lips slightly pouty as he waited for your response, which you gladly provided through the means of placing yet another sweet and passionate kiss on his lips and squeezing his hand reassuringly.

"I'll always be here for you, Muzan, through every challenge and triumph."

"I love you," he whispered lovingly, his expression sincere and heartfelt.

"And I love you," you replied with equal affection.

With a comforting squeeze of your hand, you nestled against Muzan's shoulder, feeling a sense of contentment as the car navigated through familiar streets towards home.

Meanwhile, in the driver's seat, Akaza's face remained unreadable. He was outwardly indifferent to the tender exchange between you and Muzan, but inwardly, he was seething with rage.

You think you're so clever, spouting all those promises and pretty words, playing the saint for the public eye. But I see through you. You're nothing but a manipulative snake, a liar wrapped in a facade of righteousness.

His gaze hardened and his grip on the wheel tightened as he stared ahead, the streetlights casting shadows on his determined expression.

One day, your mask will slip.

I will fucking rip it off your face, even if it's the last thing I do.

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octuscle · 5 months ago

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Browth Spurt

Martin, Michael and Christian were interns at promaxx, one of the fastest growing venture capitalists. promaxx specialized in biotech, and the board's dream was to find the first unicorn capable of bionically optimizing humans.

"If they were able to do that, they hadn't done a good job on themselves," Martin whispered to Michael. He had to stifle a laugh. There were indeed a couple of rather ridiculous-looking nerds in the "growth spurt" presentation. They were talking about a combination of pills and autogenic training, which was supposed to unleash undreamt-of powers in men. There was actually a pile of CDs and a few packets of pills on the table in front of them. Images of men screaming "Alpha" from every pore flickered across the projector.

The promaxx product manager had either heard Martin or read his mind. In any case, he asked why the young men didn't look like the ones whose images had just been projected onto the wall. One of the start-up nerds, who weighed a maximum of 70 kilograms at around 200 cm tall, began to stammer that they weren't quite sure yet what the side effects on the psyche would be and that their minds were, after all, the company's greatest asset. Christian, who has always been a bit cheeky, laughed and said that this might not be a good starting point for entering the market. The product manager gave him a high five and added that he was not interested in hearing more, he was sure that everyone present could do better with their time, the meeting was over.

The start-up entrepreneurs from "growth spurt" stood there with their mouths open. They had expected everything, but not such an early termination. The product manager left the room without saying goodbye. Martin and Christian followed in his footsteps. Only Michael stayed for a moment, tried some comforting small talk and then left. The nerds packed up their things in disappointment and left the meeting room.

"Why were you still talking to the losers? "Christian asked Michael. Christian opened his jacket and took out a pack of tablets and three CDs. "That's why," he said with a grin. "We'll see what this stuff is worth now. And if it can become a unicorn, we can say we've discovered it."

That evening, the three boys lay in their beds. The tablets with a glass of water on the bedside table. The CD inserted in a player. They had all had to search a little to find something that could play this ancient media. The three of them chatted on their chatroom.

Michael: Have you already Martin: Nope Christian: Nope Michael: I've put the CD in, but I can't hear a thing. Christian: Same here. Martin: I've swallowed the pill! Michael: Okay, me too now Christian All for one, one for all! …

Christian fell into a deep sleep relatively quickly. His boner built an impressive tent in his bed. At some point during the night, he had a wet dream and blew an incredible load. And then once again. And then once more. And then he woke up.

Christian: Shit, are you awake? Christian: Shit, shit, shit! Michael: Bro, it's 05:00. A bit early for the gym. Martin: You say, weakling! I've been up for half an hour doing push-ups and squats.

Christian sits up. He burped. Must be from the pills. Like the puddle he had slept in. And that body that had torn his pyjamas to shreds. Martin sent a photo of a monstrous bicep with the comment "Then I'll see how I can get it to burn." Something was different. But Christian didn't know what…

Christian: Bros, I must have overdone it a bit, I don't fit into my clothes anymore. Michael: Same here, bros, had to train naked. Shit, my cock rubs against the floor during the push-ups and doesn't get limp at all. Martin: I was just at my brother's. His clothes fit me reasonably well. I'll pick you up and bring you something.

Christian went into the shower. His three-day beard went perfectly with his dark complexion. No need to shave today. His parents were still closing up when Michael and Martin pulled up outside the house. Christian opened the door, naked as God had made him. "You're a fucking statue, bro," Martin said as he handed him a pile of clothes. Christian posed. The light from the hall lamp cast his shadow on the early morning street. The milkman gawked. And almost had an accident.

"So, bro! We think you should think again about the nerds from yesterday," Michael said to the promaxx product manager. He just looked at them. He didn't notice any change. The three junior managers looked impressive as always. The fact that they called him "bro" flattered him. "Sorry, big boys, but the rejection is already out."

Christian looked at his bros and asked, "Do you think what I think?" "Shit, when I see you, I always think the same thing, stud!" said Martin. He obviously wasn't wearing any underpants. And he was leaking plenty of precum. "Michael grabbed his crotch and said "Let's fuck the guys from "growth spurt". Christian grinned. "At least there's one here who hasn't fucked his brains out or swapped them for brawn."

The three of them had quite a problem getting into the Uber. The driver said that with three guys that big, he would definitely need a gas surcharge for being overweight. The three boys laughed uproariously as if it was a good joke. They liked it when people admired them. And they were indeed admirable. "Stop, Taxi-Bro," yelled Mike. They had just passed a store selling gym gear. "We need to get in there quickly," he added. "Dude, you're a lifesaver," said Chris and gave him a fist bump. Martin's brother's suits were just too tight. And you couldn't show them off. And the sun was shining. Sun's out, guns out. Their motto is college days. Hehehe, they didn't do much other than hang out in the sun on campus. They were living proof that you could build a career on good looks alone.

"Damn, don't you think you should at least cover your nipples?" asked the Uber driver. "And what the hell is so smelly here?" Martin let his pecs dance in the back seat. "Bro, don't talk, drive! In tank tops, my monster pecs are like prison!" And in the passenger seat, Mike crossed his arms behind his head in such a way that the driver almost fell into the bush in his armpit. "Stink? All I smell is man musk". Christian farted a huge protein fart. "Not only musk, bro." The three bros laughed. The driver stepped on the gas, hoping the tip would compensate for at least some of the pain this ride was causing him.

The CEO and CFO of "growth spurt" looked helplessly at the three men, who could barely get anything past their lips apart from "dude", "bro" and "sick big muscles". The guinea pigs they had experimented with so far had also developed a powerful sex drive and tyrannized all the other reference animals. But at least they hadn't been tattooed and had smelled like a gym locker. Mike, Chris and Martin would make great advertising characters after all. Maybe they'd be able to collect equity that way. And they would need it. At least now they had three extra mouths to feed with a massive appetite for cum and protein.

Pics made @ki-kink

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #inked man #ai image #age progression #bro tf #broification

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mystichistoria · 1 month ago

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Post brought to you by: a local business reposting their ad every fucking day on the job bank and not even glancing at or giving any kind of response to applicants who are qualified for the position.

I really think there should be some kind of limit on how many times a company posts an ad for a position they're allegedly hiring for before it gets marked as spam on the job boards. Especially if they aren't using an actual human being to review applications and resumes and are using ATS or some form of AI scanning of applications.

#theyre not the only ones that do it #indeed has been an absolute shitshow but this particular place is the only one to do it on the actual government run job bank #so its keeping their job ads at the top of the page and burying any actual new job listings #like fuck off for one for two fuck off again and for three fuck off ive applied for three different positions across this year #all of which i have been more than qualified for and you pricks cant even tick the little box on whether or not youve seen my application #literally fuck off because some of us are actually looking for work and some employers are actually looking for workers #stop wasting everybodys fucking time trolling the goddamned job boards like wtf

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animeomegas · 11 months ago

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The Quest for a Second Life - Part 7 - 50 Shades of Audacity (3)

KAKASHI X ALPHA!READER

Summary: The Autumn Company Party. It had been the centre of the storyline for reasons unknown, and now it was upon you. Whatever happened though, this was sure to be your last night in Kakashi's pocket universe, and a difficult decision was right around the corner. At least you had one final attempt to get your dick wet. GN!Dom!Alpha!Reader x Multiple

Word count: 10k

Warnings: N-sfw content, talks of collaring, alcohol consumption, Kakashi's abandonment issues. All alpha have dicks, fyi.

A/N: The final major part is done!!! Gosh, it's been such a journey and it's bittersweet to see it coming to an end. Happy holidays to everyone and I hope you enjoy this final part. @omeganronpa has a tough choice for the epilogue, which will be released on Christmas day :D Direct all arguments, begging and bribery here! May the best omega win! <3

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Epilogue

Despite your best attempts, you never did get an explanation of Kakashi’s strange behaviour during that phone call. Kakashi had remained tight-lipped in the face of every strategy you used to weasel the information out of him. You fully believed that, if you had been given the appropriate amount of time, you would have eventually extracted the information, but unfortunately, time had been something of a rarity over the last few weeks.

The Autumn Company Party had approached like a speeding train, and you had been forced against your will to do your job and aid in the planning. You had lost track of how many times the importance of the event had been explained to you at this point, mainly to justify your massive and ever-growing workload.

“Every important investor and stakeholder will be in attendance!” You didn’t care.

“The board of directors will be there!” You really didn’t care.

“This will be your debut as the CEO’s secretary, if you don’t make a good impression, you could be fired and blacklisted!” You especially didn’t care about that one. Don’t threaten people with a good time.

No, the part itself wasn’t something you particularly cared about. It was going to be a boring work party, like every other one you’d attended in your life, that would be partially saved by the fact that you got to be the one to design the menu with the catering company.

No, you cared about whatever the other ‘thing’ at the party would be. This was the climax of the story, and that was putting you on edge. Even James didn’t know what would happen, but she seemed completely convinced that something would.

And so, it was with a weird combination of foreboding, fatigue, and excitement that you were putting together the finishing touches of your outfit, ten minutes before Kakashi was scheduled to pick you up and take you to the party.

It felt weird, standing in a still unfamiliar flat, looking in an unfamiliar mirror, to see a done-up version of yourself that you didn’t recognise. Because really, that had been the only thing you had carried with you from your real life. You had always been you, in body and mind, even as reality melted and reformed around you.

And you still were you, of course, just a version of you that was wearing more expensive clothes, had styled hair, and donned with more jewellery than you normally would. It just made you feel strange.

You straightened, brushing down imaginary creases in your outfit, and pointed at your own reflection accusatorily. “Get over yourself. You’re wearing nice clothes, stop being dramatic.”

There, that should fix it. You were just nervous about the unknown ‘thing’ that would be happening tonight, and it was bleeding into everything else.

Your phone buzzed on your desk, almost certainly a text from Kakashi telling you that he was outside. With one final glance in the mirror, you left the flat, wondering vaguely if you’d be back to see it before the demo ended. If this party was indeed the climax of this story, then you might never return.

You gave the flat a little goodbye wave, just in case.

As you exited the building, the chill of the Autumn wind caught you off guard. You wrapped your arms around yourself, already regretting the decision not to bring a coat, and hurried towards the sleek, black car that was waiting for you.

Kakashi stepped out of the car as you approached and held open the door for you.

You grinned, “What a gentleman, thank you.”

“Of course.” He followed you back into the car and shut the door behind him, leaving you enclosed in the glorious warmth of Kakashi’s heated car and its heated seats. “You look beautiful.”

You knew it was a standard thing to say in a situation like this, but Kakashi just had a way of making compliments sound so genuine. Maybe because he wasn’t the type to keep his negative opinions to himself. Either way, you were flattered.

“Thanks, Kakashi, I appreciate that. And you paying for the outfit, of course.” You took a moment to study him, in turn. He was wearing a well tailored suit like he always was, but to match the celebratory feel, he’d gone for a dark green colour scheme as opposed to his usual monochrome. Although the lighting inside the car was dim, it was easy to see how well the colour suited him. “You’re looking incredibly handsome, yourself. What a pair we make.”

“A very attractive pair indeed,” Kakashi agreed, taking one of your hands in his. He gave it a squeeze, so you gave one back.

Silence fell, and for a moment, you focused on the way Kakashi’s thumb was rubbing on the back of your hand. This was the first time you’d been properly alone for a while now, and you found your mind drifting back to that weird phone call. You decided to ask him about it again now, seeing as he had nowhere to run.

“Kakashi—”

“I—”

You had both started to speak at once.

“Sorry, I didn’t—” You started to apologise.

“No, I’m sorry, what were you going to say?”

“Oh, it was nothing, you go first.”

Kakashi looked like he was going to argue, but he clearly decided against it and said what was on his mind.

“At the party, we can’t behave as we’d normally do at the office,” he said. “Our relationship isn’t compatible with our jobs, and while the people in my office are friendly and mostly discreet, stakeholders and board members have a track record for being less so.”

Kakashi looked guilty, so you gave his hand another squeeze to show that you didn’t hold this against him. It made sense that an important work party wasn’t the right place for making out, but you wondered if he thought that you thought he was ashamed of your relationship or something.

“I understand. Old, rich people are terrible at keeping their noses out of other people’s business.”

“That’s certainly putting it lightly,” Kakashi muttered. He seemed more frustrated that you’d expected for what was objectively a minor issue.

Granted, you had kind of been expecting some kind of action at this party, this being the climax of a porn universe narrative, but you’d live if it turned out that the ‘thing’ was something non-horny. Honestly, you’d be happy if you got through the night without any more spontaneous stripping.

“Hey, it’s only one night, right? We can manage.�� Kakashi looked at you consideringly, before a small smile bloomed on his face.

“One night,” he repeated, voice soft. “I can do that.”

“We’re five minutes away, sir.”

You took a deep breath. No matter what this party threw at you, you could handle it!

…

Apparently, what this party was throwing at you was extreme boredom.

Admittedly, it wasn’t an entirely lost cause. The venue was dazzling and incredibly fancy, and you knew you’d never stepped foot in a hotel so expensive before. Walking through the front doors with Kakashi, dressed to perfection… well, it had felt a little like you were royalty. It was incredibly good for the old self-esteem.

Once you had actually entered the party though, it was a whole different story.

While your coworkers were quick to compliment you, which was lovely, it was clear that they were too on edge to be having fun. The music was quiet, which was better for talking and networking, but didn’t exactly encourage dancing. And whenever you did try to speak to new people, they wanted to ask about your professional qualifications and experiences working under Kakashi. The cherry on top of this awful cake was that the only alcohol offered was champagne, which wasn’t your favourite, nor did it numb the boredom of the party very well.

You had barely even seen Kakashi, bar a few quick flashes in passing as he schmoozed his way through the hall like a pro. His serious warning about not behaving like a couple seemed a bit dramatic now, seeing as you hadn’t even had the chance to make eye contact.

‘Are you sure it was just a warning, human?’

You jumped at James’ sudden interjection. You furtively glanced around you to make sure that none of your coworkers had noticed your seemingly out of place reaction. Thankfully, people seemed too busy to care.

‘What do you mean? What else could it have been?’

‘…’

‘James?’

‘Perhaps it was an explanation, human.’

‘An explanation? An explanation for what? Surely that means the same thing as a warning in this context.’

James didn’t respond. How bizarre. You didn’t much care for having a riddle added on top of your evening. Honestly, if it were just a boring party, you would have found someway to have fun, but you knew that some kind of event would be unfolding here, which was putting you on edge. Every second that ticked by completely normally felt like it was building to something big. And James’ riddles weren’t helping assuage the anxiety that sensation was creating.

Between the stress, the lack of alcohol, and the enforced networking, it was an exceptionally mid party, even if it was pretty.

The only saving grace was the buffet table, that you were slowly weaving your way back towards for probably the tenth time that night. This time, you decided to just remain lingering by the food in the hopes that it would stop people from asking questions about a degree you didn’t actually do.

You loaded up your plate was as much as you could and then found an empty section of wall to lean on. You popped one of the mac and cheese balls in your mouth and almost moaned at the flavour sensation that followed. They were heavenly, salty and creamy, and the breadcrumbs around the outside had just the right amount of crispiness. Like everything else on the buffet, it had an impressive depth of flavour. You weren’t ashamed to admit that having access to this catering company was on the pros column for staying in this world.

Consumed in your world of cheesy goodness, you almost didn’t notice when what you thought was a member of waitstaff leant against the wall next to you. He was carrying a tray of hors d’oeuvres, and you wondered if he was just taking a break or if you were somehow in his way.

“How are you holding up?” Hearing a familiar voice come from what you thought was a stranger had you doing a double take. You were met with Iruka’s charming grin. He was dressed in a standard black suit that obviously wasn’t tailored the way Kakashi’s were, but somehow, he pulled off the ‘slightly too big’ look with a level of a scampish charm.

What you had originally thought was a tray of hors d’oeuvres was in fact a plate that Iruka had stacked full of shot glasses, each one filled with a mini ramen. As he waited for your response, he grabbed one of the glasses and poured the ramen into his mouth with a satisfied hum.

Ah, you thought, amused, he’d wasted no time finding them.

“As well as can be,” you said, answering his original question. “How about you? Enjoying the food?”

Iruka, who was in the middle of eating a second ramen shot, paused for a second, his ears going slightly red. You snorted, averting your eyes for a second to allow him to finish the ramen shot in peace.

“Thanks,” he muttered, referring to your insistence that the catering team create a ramen hors d’oeuvre. “Makes this ridiculous party worth it.”

“No, thank you,” you countered, referring to his substantial help with the planning and paperwork for this event when your duties got a bit overwhelming. “I couldn’t have got everything finished without your help.”

“Too busy running around with Kakashi?” When you didn’t defend yourself, he rolled his eyes fondly. “You two are menaces. Actually, speaking of Kakashi, shouldn’t you be getting ready with him to go on stage about now?”

“What?” That was the first you’d heard about any obligation to go on stage. If this turned into a cheesy scene where you had to do something ridiculous like sing a duet with Kakashi, you were going to riot, possible retaliations from porn logic be damned. You did not sign up for High School Musical shenanigans. “Why would I have to go on stage?”

“Oh, you don’t know? Sorry, I thought Kakashi would have explained it to you.”

“Okay, fine, but he obviously didn’t, so could you please tell me why I have to go on stage?” Was this what James meant by the big ‘thing’ that would be happening at the Autumn Company Party?

“Of course.” Despite his positive response, Iruka then proceeded to eat another one of his ramen shots, and only after he was done, did he continue with the explanation. “Every year, Kakashi gives a speech around halfway through the party. Normal stuff, just summarising the last year, talking about new projects, thanking all the generation donators and stakeholders. The CIO of the company, Tsunade, stands by him for the speech, and for the first few years, his personal assistant stood behind him too. He hasn’t had one for a while, but now you’re here, you’ll need to stand behind him with Tsunade.”

You squinted your eyes suspiciously. “And I won’t have to speak?”

“Nope,” Iruka said, brightly. “You just have to stand there.”

Huh, that wasn’t so bad. It was slightly annoying that you were being taken away from the buffet table, but you would live.

‘You are being very brave, human.’

‘Thanks, James.’ Again, you had no idea if she didn’t know what the concept of sarcasm was, or she deployed it with skill on a never-before-seen scale. It was definitely either or, but which one, you would never know.

“Wait,” you said, suddenly remembering what Kakashi had told you about your interview with him. “Kakashi used to have a personal assistant? He said he didn’t want one because he worked better alone.”

Iruka hesitated. He looked left, then right, and when he saw that you were as alone as you could be, he leant in close and whispered.

“His old personal assistant is why he didn’t want a new one,” he explained. “At first, it didn’t seem like anything was wrong with him, but it turned out he had been placed there by the board to spy on Kakashi and relay information back. Kakashi fired him as soon as he found out, but he never accepted a personal assistant again, until the board forced him to hold interviews, and he hired you.”

“Seriously?” Iruka nodded, lips tight. “That’s crazy.” You wondered briefly how many of the people you were sitting with in the waiting room were plants from the board.

“We don’t talk about it, but everyone who was working there at the time this went down knows about it. That’s one of the reasons we were so surprised, not only when you were hired, but when you and Kakashi seemed to be having a personal relationship outside of work. I’m surprised he trusted you at all.”

Goodness. You leant against the wall as you considered what Iruka was saying. It was wild to think about how much resistance and betrayal Kakashi had faced from within his own company. You’d bet that they hadn’t been too happy when Kakashi turned 18 and decided he wanted to lead his company, and when they couldn’t take it from him, they kept tabs and put pressure on him as much as possible.

This information also contextualised your interview differently. Kakashi had claimed that he hired you because you were funny. You had theorised that you had awoken his submissive side, this being an erotica and all. And maybe both of those were true to some extent, but you now believed that it was far more likely that Kakashi had decided you were too rowdy, rude, and unprofessional to have been a plant from the board of directors.

It clicked his initial suspicions about your motivations into place, too. He hadn’t trusted your reasons for asking him to dinner, not at first. When you had demanded to spend time with him, you’d bet he was wandering if you were there to spy on him.

“Poor Kakashi…”

Iruka nodded solemnly, and then downed another ramen shot. You scanned the room while he did, hoping to catch Kakashi’s eye, wherever he was. It took you a moment, but then you found him, standing at the base of the stage, standing next to Tsunade. Ah fuck.

“I think I have to go, thanks for keeping me company, Iruka.”

Iruka waved his hand, “Good luck. I can look after your plate for you if you want—”

“No need.” You shoved the last handful of mac and cheese balls into your mouth, dumped the plate on the table, and then chewed furiously as you worked your way to the stage.

“There you are,” Tsunade said, two glasses of champagne in hand. She quickly downed them both and then shoved them into the hands of a poor waiter as he passed by. “Let’s get this over with.”

You tried to catch Kakashi’s eye, but he was too focused on walking to the stage. You and Tsunade followed after him, and you resolved to talk to him after the speech was finished.

Kakashi went up to the mic and you and Tsunade stood at his side, a few paces back. You spotted a few board members in the crowd, and you felt the urge to stick your tongue out at them. You just about managed to resist.

Kakashi used the knife against the champagne glass he was holding, and a sharp ting echoed through the microphone and around the room. The spotlight on the stage turned on, and suddenly you were bathed in a bright, white light. Everyone quieted and turned to face the stage.

The lights were hurting your eyes and making your skin feel hot, but at least your only job was to stand there and look pretty. You were good at that.

“Good evening, everyone,” Kakashi said, sounding effortlessly comfortable speaking in front of so many people. “Thank you all for coming tonight, and I hope you’ve been enjoying yourselves thus far.”

It was weird to hear him speak like this; he sounded very different when you two were alone. That was to be expected, you supposed, but it didn’t make it feel any less jarring.

“I won’t keep you long, but I thought it prudent to take a moment to thank everyone who has made this last year as successful as it was. To our staff, to our stake holders, and to our board members, I say thank you.” He raised his glass in a toast. “We would not have a company without you.”

This was an incredibly boring and generic speech. You had been sure that the ‘thing’ that was supposed to happen would happen now, but all that was happening was you struggling not to fall asleep in front of everyone.

“The past year has been a year of perfecting, of tweaking that which was already in place to make it perfect. Among other things, the building work on the new cafeteria was completed this year, and the debut of our first international branch went smoothly and successfully.”

Ugh, as Kakashi’s personal assistant, you knew all this stuff already. You just wanted to go back to the buffet, was that too much to ask?

“However, following the stage of perfection will always be a stage of change. We must now introduce new projects that will grow and be perfected over time, like the projects that came before them. And there is one major change that will take effect going forward.”

Confused whispers spread across the hall. You noticed a few members of the board looking specifically irritated, and you’d bet that Kakashi had not informed anyone in advance of whatever this big change was.

Even Tsunade was watching him warily from the corner of her eye.

“I’m resigning,” Kakashi announced, paired with his signature eye smile.

The room was silent enough that you could have heard a pin drop.

What?

Chaos erupted. People were shouting questions, making exclamations of disbelief, and loudly assuming this was a prank that wasn’t very funny.

Kakashi ignored the noise and leant back into the mic. “I nominate Tsunade as my successor.”

Tsunade sputtered, “Eh?! Like hell you are, brat!”

He had resigned. Kakashi had resigned as CEO of the company he had been a part of his entire life. James had said that whatever happened at the party would be a direct consequence of how you had acted in this demo. So, presumably, this was your fault, but how?

Our relationship isn’t compatible with our jobs, that’s what he’d said to you in the car. You had thought he was warning you to tone things down for the evening, but James had suggested that it wasn’t a warning, but an explanation. You hadn’t understood what she’d meant, but now you did. He was explaining to you, in his own way, why he was about to resign.

The strange phone call fit, too. He had mentioned thinking about the Autumn Company Party, and whatever was on his mind had made him seek your number for comfort, but he refused to tell what he was thinking about. He was likely thinking about whether he should resign.

While you put the pieces together, the room around you was still very much in a state of chaos. Kakashi, however looked completely calm. He put the microphone back in the stand, handed his champagne and knife to a raging Tsunade, and then turned to you.

You watched as he approached you. You could feel how wide your eyes were. You thought he was going to say something, but he got closer and closer until he was right in your personal space, where he looped an arm around your waist, pulled you tight against him, and kissed you.

He was kissing you. Kakashi was kissing you in front of his whole company. You had kissed Kakashi before, many times, but there was something about this kiss that overshadowed all the others. It took a moment for your brain to catch up to what was happening and remember to how to kiss, but you eventually found your footing.

Your lips and tongues danced together serenely, driving out the chaos of the background noise until you two were the only people that mattered. You could feel and taste the longing pouring out of Kakashi, begging you to understand him and stay by his side. You wound your hands around his neck to reassure him, and in return, he squeezed your waist affectionately.

You were quickly running out of air, but you didn’t want this moment to end.

Regardless of your wishes, however, the kiss did end. As Kakashi pulled away slowly, the bubble burst and the noise from the party came rushing back in. Questions were still being shouted, and while some people were displeased by Kakashi’s display, others cheered.

You felt like you were trapped in a daze. You half expected to topple over when Kakashi let go of you to lean back to the microphone.

“We have paid for the venue until 1am, so please enjoy the rest of the party. Goodnight!”

And with that, he grabbed you by the hand and pulled you through a stage door and out of the party. You let him, still completely stunned at what had just happened.

You walked out of the venue in silence, through a back exit for somewhat obvious reasons, and Kakashi’s car was already waiting for you both. You both slid into the warmth of the car, and the second the seatbelts were on, the car pulled away from the hotel and into the city. The bright lights filtered into the car as you drove, but the outside world had never felt so far away.

“Are you… okay?” Kakashi asked, voice nervous.

You wanted to answer him properly, really you did, but your mouth and brain weren’t quite in agreement yet, so the only thing that came out was, “I was going to fill the Tupperware in my bag with more mac and cheese bites.”

Kakashi blinked at you for a moment, before he sent you nervous smile. “I’ll order you some more, as many as you want, I promise.”

Through your embarrassment at you lacking filter, you nodded, and silence fell in the car again. Unlike the normal, comfortable silence that you shared with Kakashi, the awkwardness was palpable. You wanted to break it, but you didn’t quite know how, after everything that had just happened. When your phone buzzed, you grabbed for it desperately as an escape from the weird silence. It was a text from Kurenai.

‘Sorry for not warning you in advance what Kakashi was planning. I feel pretty guilty now, Asuma too. He says the apology is from him too.’

Right, so some people did know in advance. Honestly, you were a bit annoyed that no one had warned you. You were halfway through writing a slightly snarky text back, when she sent another message.

‘We were planning on telling you, but we had to focus on convincing Kakashi out of his idea to propose to you this evening.’

You immediately forgave them both, deleted the previous message, and instead thanked them profusely for saving you from a very awkward conversation. Oh, Kakashi.

Speaking of Kakashi, he was sitting awkwardly in his seat, staring out the window. His shoulders were incredibly tense. You couldn’t just leave him sitting there.

“So, are you really resigning?”

Kakashi swallowed heavily, “Yes… I was thinking about what you said, about having my own dreams, and I still don’t know what those dreams are yet, but I know they aren’t in that company, not anymore.”

You nodded slowly. Kakashi was watching your reaction like a hawk.

“I’m not going to leave completely, I don’t think I could,” he hastened to add. “I can’t abandon my father’s company completely, but… I need time.”

“I understand, Kakashi, it’s okay.”

“You do?” He sounded so vulnerable and lost. You undid your seatbelt and slid into the middle seat instead, before clicking the belt back on. From there, you were able to wrap your arms around Kakashi.

It was slightly awkward in the car, but you didn’t let that stop you. Kakashi fell into your arms gratefully and braced his head against your shoulder.

“I do, darling. You’ve been working your entire life at that company, Kakashi, you deserve a break. I’m already tired of working, so I can’t imagine how you feel. I’ll support whatever pathway you choose to take.”

Kakashi sagged onto you, breathing harshly and clinging onto you with desperate hands. You shushed him, and gently ran your fingers through his hair.

Poor Kakashi, you thought, holding him tightly. You could tell that he was so incredibly burnt out, but he hadn’t even noticed until someone had forced him to see that other choices existed. And once you had pulled the curtain back and showed him reality, he couldn’t bare to continue the way he had been for even a second longer.

Now that the shock had subsided, you were filled with pride for him. It wasn’t easy to leave something life-defining behind, even if you wanted to. But he had done it, and now you were going to be here to make sure he could handle the emotional backlash.

You pressed a kiss to Kakashi’s gravity-defying hair and gave him an affectionate nuzzle. If you chose this world, and your fictional family became real, you were dragging Kakashi into it.

“I want to do up my childhood home properly,” he said, pulling away and rubbing at his eyes. “I want to modernise it again, fill it with new photos and unrestrained laughter. I want to walk my dogs; I don’t want to hire a dog walker anymore. And…”

“And?” you pressed your forehead against his.

“And I hope you’ll be there with me. Because that’s one thing I do know. I love you, and I want you with me wherever I go.”

“Oh, Kakashi,” you cooed softly, pecking him on the lips. “I love you too, and I’ll follow you wherever you go, my darling.”

He sighed, relieved, “And you aren’t angry at me for not telling you that I was resigning?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that. I would have appreciated a heads up, I won’t lie.”

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. He dropped his head onto your shoulder. “Maybe… maybe you should punish me…”

It took a moment for his unexpected words to sink in, but when they did, heat rushed downwards.

Oh.

…

You had expected to end up at Kakashi’s penthouse, but his chauffeur had pulled up in front of your flat instead. It had given more credence to your theory that Kakashi preferred your flat to his. You didn’t mind, so you didn’t comment on it.

You could have done without the flat look Kakashi’s chauffeur had given you both when he said that he wouldn’t be needing a lift home until tomorrow though.

The warmth of your flat was a welcome change from the Autumn chill, but it was the hot, electric tension fizzling through air that really captured your attention. You both kicked off your shoes and put down your bags, but the second you were done, the tension snapped, and you slammed Kakashi against the door with your body, pressing your lips against his in an aggressive kiss.

Kakashi met your sudden kiss with no hesitation and just as much aggression. You could feel the clack of your teeth knocking together, but you couldn’t hear it over the door shaking in the frame. You sent a half-hearted apology to your neighbours for the kind of noises they were about to hear.

You kissed with urgency. Kakashi moaned into your mouth and his hands pawed at your waist. There weren’t any undertones of dominance or submissive yet, only passion. Your lips tangled with his as you pushed through the burning need for oxygen.

When you could hold out no longer, you pulled away and instead took the opportunity to nuzzle at Kakashi’s neck, inhaling his heady scent, and undo the buttons on Kakashi’s shirt.

“Your shirts still have too many buttons,” you panted against Kakashi’s skin. “I think we should burn them all.”

“If you want me naked, you just have to ask,” he said, chest heaving.

“Maybe I will.” You finished the last button, leaving Kakashi’s shirt to hang open. He was still wearing his tie and suit jacket, which framed the newly revealed sliver of skin. “Now that you’re not a big, fancy CEO, I can keep you as my naked butler.”

Kakashi snorted. “Of course, you’re into that.”

You pulled away from his neck and grinned, “How do you feel about cat ears?”

Kakashi didn’t seem to find your idea as amusing as you did. “You wish.”

You hummed in amusement, loosening his tie and throwing it behind you somewhere. His jacket quickly followed, crumpling on the ground at the base of the front door, leaving Kakashi in only his open shirt and trousers.

Kakashi, sensing the unfair differences in dress, attempted to liberate you from your shirt, but you caught both of his wrists in your hands and pinned them against the door.

“I can’t touch you? That’s hardly fair,” he pouted, playfully tugging at your restraint.

You slipped a knee in between his legs and ground it up against his crotch. Kakashi gave a hoarse gasp and folded forward slightly. “This isn’t supposed to be fair, Kakashi. Was it fair that you didn’t tell me of your resignation in advance? This is a punishment, darling.”

Kakashi growled lightly. You knew how much he loved to touch you, which is exactly why you denied him the honour. You growled back at him and to your delight, he immediately submitted, baring his neck. You nipped at the newly presented flesh, trying to keep yourself from getting too close to mating mark territory.

Maybe one day he would wear your mating mark, but today was not that day.

“Come on,” you said, pulling him forward by the belt. “I think it’s time we move to the bedroom before someone complains about the banging on the front door.”

“Do you have to tug me by my trousers?” Kakashi asked, although he didn’t do anything to stop you.

“Hmm, you’re right, this would be much easier with a lead, and a collar, of course.” You grinned at him with heavily lidded eyed. “Would you like me to get you your very own collar, ‘kashi?”

You were just testing the waters with that particular kink. It would be easy for him to write it off as a joke, like the cat ears, but if he liked it…

Kakashi’s pale skin lit up in a brilliant pink. Well, that answered that question.

“Figures. You’d look hot in a collar, puppy.”

“Shut up,” Kakashi mumbled weakly, still following you obediently.

On the way to the bedroom, Kakashi lost his shirt, his trousers, and his underwear, creating a trail of clothes to the bedroom like a strange R-rated version of Hansel and Gretel.

You entered your bedroom and flicked on the lights. Kakashi went to stand by the bed, seemingly waiting for your next instruction. Having a naked omega in your bedroom really was the best way to end a night.

Honestly, it was a shame you couldn’t have a naked Kakashi and naked Itachi here with you. That impossibility was far more tragic than your own untimely death.

“Now, what should I do for your punishment, Kakashi, hm?” you asked, tilting your head consideringly. “Should I replicate Makoto’s punishment? You seemed to enjoy that.”

You delicately rested your hands on his throat, teasing him with featherlight touches. Kakashi shuddered, and his eyes fluttered closed. You used both hands to complete the full collar effect around his neck, just as had been described in the Icha Icha book.

“It makes sense that you like collars, considering the amount of time you spend reading about Makoto wearing one. Is that why you like Icha Icha, Kakashi?”

“I told you, I read it for the story. It’s a masterpiece of—"

You gently applied a little more pressure to the sides of his neck and his weak argument went silent. You felt powerful watching him fold at your feet.

As much as asking him for his opinion on his punishment was a method of teasing him, you really did have to figure out what his punishment was going to be.

You hadn’t had much time to plan, and your flat was tragically empty of things like toys or bondage. You resolved to fix that if you ended up in this world, but that didn’t help you right now.

For anyone else, you might have considered just denying him pleasure while he pleasured you, but Kakashi was a service sub through and through. No, he wasn’t going to be allowed to touch you, but you weren’t going to touch him either. He needed to focus on his own pleasure, and just like that, the perfect idea sprang to mind.

“Get on the bed and present to me; I want to see that sopping hole of yours.”

You watched with rapt attention as Kakashi climbed onto your bed on all fours. He let his shoulders fall to the blanket and then, resting his weight on his shoulders, he reached behind him.

“That’s it,” you mumbled, almost drooling. “Show alpha that needy hole.”

Kakashi used his hands to bare his hole for you, holding it open for your scrutiny. And what pretty picture he made, just for you.

His hole was indeed sopping wet, glistening in the warm lighting as his fingers struggled to retain a grip on the slippery skin. His dick swung proudly downwards, framed by the A-line shape Kakashi had created with his thighs. It dribbled a few clear beads of precum onto your sheets, but the idea of having to grab a towel for your activities was quickly dismissed when you realised you couldn’t bare to take your eyes off your omega for even a second.

Kakashi’s muscles strained as he kept up the presenting position for you. Confidence practically oozed from every pore in his body, exemplified no better in the challenging grin he had on his face. Kakashi knew he was sexy, and he was willing to weaponize that against you as much as possible.

Once again, you were struck by how different he was from Itachi. Sex didn’t make Kakashi bashful, emotions did. Sex didn’t make him feel like a different person, it amplified his traits. Itachi had been the opposite in both.

Honestly, if an outsider had seen your two dimension choices, you wouldn’t have blamed them for assuming that two different people had been involved.

You sat on the edge of the bed and leant forward so that you face was eye height with his hole. It twitched under your scrutiny, and you couldn’t help but coo.

“What a pretty hole you have, omega.” You blew some cold air on it to watch it flinch. As it clenched, a drop of slick began to run down to his thighs. It was practically drooling for you, begging you to fill it with something.

Although the rest of Kakashi was very pretty indeed, his hole had to be one of his best features. Tragically, you hadn’t had much time to spend with it recently, with all the work you’d had to do. It was probably lonely without you, and that wouldn’t do.

Except… you studied it closely, noting the slight gape and softness that you didn’t expect. Maybe his hole hadn’t been as lonely as you’d thought, because he was far too stretched considering it had been more than a week.

Oh, you realised, smirking, big, bad, genius Kakashi had been touching himself. He had been lonely and horny as work kept you both apart, and he had decided to take matters into his own hands. You imagined him for a moment, splayed on the massive bed in his penthouse, one hand fucking himself and the other pressed over his mouth to keep himself from waking his dogs.

“Have you been lonely, Kakashi?” you asked, deciding to call him out on it.

“No?” You could hear the question in his voice; he didn’t know where you were going with this, and that made it sweeter.

“I only asked because, well,” -you paused for effect- “your hole is looking very ready right now. I wonder if perhaps you’ve been touching yourself without my permission.”

The pink flush crept down Kakashi’s back, and he turned to hide his face in your duvet; you’d caught him red handed.

“Ah, what a slutty puppy I have, hm?” Kakashi whined, and some more beads of pre cum splashed against the blanket. “Tell me, did you use a toy, or did you use your fingers?”

“Is that any of your business?”

“Kakashi…” you said, warning clear.

“…Fingers,” Kakashi said reluctantly, his voice muffled by your blanket. “I used my fingers.”

Perfect. “Show me.”

“What?”

“Show me how you fingered yourself, Kakashi. What position did you use? Show your alpha how you placated that slutty hole of yours.”

Hesitantly, Kakashi turned over so that he was laying on his back, legs splayed wide for your viewing pleasure. He then grabbed one of the decorative cushions and slotted it under his hips so that his hole was easier to reach. Kakashi held his lips between his teeth and brought a hand down so that his fingertips were resting on his hole.

“I did it like this…”

“I see,” you said, tilting your head at him. “And how many fingers did you use?”

“I started with one.”

You waved your hand at him to go ahead. “Show me how you did it.”

Kakashi slowly sunk his middle finger in, making an obscene squelching noise as he did. Clear fluid dripped out around his finger, and you were once again incredibly grateful for the immaculate horny imagery that the porn logic provided for you.

Idly, you wondered if he really had started with his middle finger, or if it was some kind of subtle ‘fuck you’. With Kakashi, you could never bee 100% sure.

He pumped the finger in a few times, obviously finding no resistance. His angry cock stood proudly, but Kakashi ignored it for the time being.

“But one finger didn’t satisfy you, did it? Your greedy hole needed more.”

Kakashi rolled his eyes but nodded, “I used two fingers next.” He didn’t need to be asked to show you this time, and his pointer finger soon joined his middle one.

Now he had two fingers, Kakashi picked up the pace and began periodically curling his fingers in search of that wonderful bundle of nerves. The wet noises increased, but Kakashi didn’t seem to be having much luck.

You watched as he got progressively more frustrated at his inability to find his prostate. He tried to hike his legs up further to get a better angle, but no luck. He tried switching hands, but it didn’t help at all. He even tried holding his breath at one point, just in case it had some kind of effect, but nothing.

His face scrunched up and he bared his teeth, but it wasn’t like his own body was going to somehow be intimidated into giving him what he wanted, so that didn’t work either.

You watched, baffled and slightly amused, as the wet patch underneath his hips grew larger and larger, completely soaking your decorative pillow, and yet Kakashi still couldn’t seem to get close to his orgasm.

For a moment, you wondered if something was wrong, before you realised what forces controlled the universe you were currently in. This was a punishment because Kakashi took an action without you. It only made narrative sense that he couldn’t find his own prostate and needed you to do it for him.

The lecherous grin that blossomed on your face would have likely scared more delicate omegas away.

You let him finger himself for almost ten minutes, at which point you could tell his hands were starting to cramp, and his face was bright red from exertion. His thighs were trembling, and he was sweating, but his release had escaped him the entire time.

You figured fifteen minutes of frustrating edging was enough punishment for now. You gently rested your hand on top on his, ceasing his frantic fingering. Carefully, you extracted his fingers with a wet plop. Kakashi whined, but you shushed him, putting his hand down on his stomach.

“It’s not going to happen on your own, darling, don’t you understand?” Kakashi peered up at you, panting. His eyes made it clear that he didn’t understand. “You need me to do it for you. I can make you feel so very good, but you need to learn to trust me. I know what you need, I can deliver what you need. You just” -you slipped two of your own fingers inside him- “need” -you pumped them slowly- “to trust” -you curled your fingers, immediately finding his swollen prostate with the power of porn logic- “me.” You pressed down on the bundle of nerves as hard as you could.

Kakashi gasped, his entire body lifting off the bed as he finally got a taste of the pleasure he had been desperately chasing. His cock was weeping, and you rolled his balls in your free hand, but stopped moving your fingers.

“Right there,” he panted, sounding close to tears. “Hit there again.”

You stared him down, pointedly not moving your fingers. “Why are you being punished, Kakashi?”

“What?!”

“Why are you being punished?” He glared at you, but you only raised an eyebrow at him, the same way he did to you so often when you first met.

“You’re playing this game now?” You refused to budge, and quickly, his desperation outweighed his pride. “Because I didn’t warn you that I was going to resign.”

“And why is that bad?”

Kakashi growled, “Because it concerned you and you deserved to know.”

“Apologise.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice desperate. He rocked his hips down on your fingers, muscles shaking. “I’m sorry, I won’t do it again, just please, get me off!”

It was hardly the most articulate or heartfelt of apologies, but you were happy to let it slide this time. You pumped your fingers in and out a few times and Kakashi relaxed. Now, you just had to curl your fingers just right, and— There!

You grinded your fingers into his prostate mercilessly. Kakashi’s eyes rolled backwards and the noise that escaped him was one of pure, toe curling, ecstasy.

“This feels better, doesn’t it, ‘kashi.” You didn’t phrase it as a question because you knew you were right. “That’s because I’m doing it. You’re so used to being the one in control, the one everyone comes to when they need help or advice, but deep down, you just want someone else to deal with everything, don’t you?”

Kakashi whined as you picked up the pace with your fingers. His prostate was so swollen that you caught it every time. When you used your other hand on his cock, his whine transitioned into an open-mouthed moan as Kakashi writhed on your bed.

You set a fast pace, but when you saw his balls tighten, you withdrew your hands completely. Kakashi thrashed in frustration, his swollen cock bobbing in the open air.

“Why’d you stop?” he asked, panting. His tongue was lolling out ever so slightly.

“Because you’re loose enough to take me now, Kakashi, why would I continue?” You maintained an innocent façade that Kakashi could obviously see through but couldn’t question. “Your punishment may be over, but my pleasure still outranks yours.”

Kakashi scoffed, but he was too far gone to successfully pretend that he was aching for your cock, so he remained quiet.

You decided it was time to strip. Your clothes were feeling a little tight in some key areas, and while the contrast between yours and Kakashi’s states of dress was sexy, you had had enough of wearing them.

Kakashi’s stare was red hot as it lingered on every piece of newly revealed skin, as your outfit was slowly shed. It was flattering how much pleasure he seemed to gain just from seeing you strip, and you couldn’t resist blowing him a little kiss as the final article of clothing fell to the floor. Like the utter dork he was, he mimed catching the kiss and then held that fist to his chest.

You crawled over him, giggling at his antics, as you settled in between his still splayed legs. You hummed, running your hands up and down his chest, your fingers catching on his pebbled nipples. “While this view is delectable, I was thinking about a slightly different position for the grand finale.”

“And what position would that be?”

With some difficultly, you pulled Kakashi up and slid yourself into his previous position, kicking the soaking cushion off the bed as you did. When you were finished, Kakashi was now the one hovering over you. You took advantage of your new position and stole a quick kiss from him.

“I think that it’s your turn to make me feel good,” you said, grabbing a hold of your cock and pumping it slowly. “How do you feel about riding me?”

You had a front row seat to the way Kakashi’s eyes dilated at your suggestion. He drew back, and his eyes flickered down to your dick. With obvious physical agreement, Kakashi straddled you, one knee either side of your hips, and replaced your hand with his own on your dick.

He sent you a sultry look, and then dragged the head of your dick back and forth against him, until the head caught of his loosened hole. Kakashi hovered there for a moment, until a drop of his slick ran down your dick.

“Tease me and I’ll edge you until you cry, Kakashi.”

He considered your challenge with a head tilt and eye smile. “If you say so.”

He slammed his hips down all at once, skin hitting skin with a wet slap. You choked at the sudden onslaught of sensations as his wet heat wrapped around you.

“Fuck, you are such a brat, you know that?”

“Me?” He put a hand against his chest in mock offence. “Never.” To emphasise his point, he drew his hips up until you almost slipped out, only to then drop his hips down all at once, again.

“Just get to it, pretty, before I go soft from boredom.” That was entirely a bluff, of course; you were incredibly hard and that wasn’t changing any time soon.

Kakashi did as you’d asked. At first, the pace of his hips was fast, but not particularly rhythmic. His thighs were incredibly muscular and had no trouble holding his weight as he bounced up and down, but you could tell that he had never done this before, so you settled your hands on his hips to help him.

“You don’t have to go all the way off every time,” you explained, holding him still. “Here, try moving your hips backwards and forwards for a bit, like you’re grinding.”

Kakashi tried what you were explaining, and you could tell immediately that it felt better for him, because his face screwed up in pleasure as his slid backwards and forwards on your hips, painting them with his slick.

From that point onwards, he alternated between powerful up and down riding, and sensual rocking. He seemed to delight in avoiding a noticeable pattern, so you could never quite predict when he was going to switch between them.

His gooey insides were your favourite place to be regardless, so you let him play how he wanted to. To retain some of your power, you took to plucking at his nipples whenever his pace flagged. While it was probably incredibly rude to compare two omegas’ nipples, you couldn’t help it. Itachi did have cuter nipples, it had to be said, but Kakashi had better pecs, so it evened out.

Again, you desperately wished James would tell you who created these drop dead gorgeous omegas, but extracting information from her was worse than pulling teeth.

As Kakashi continued to ride you, the squelching was so loud that you were certain that at least one of your neighbours was cursing you right now. Or maybe they were into it; it was a porn world.

The rhythmic slapping felt like a countdown to your impending orgasm, as something burning bubbled underneath your skin. You loved being more sensitive in porn worlds, but it did make it harder to last.

Kakashi was getting more desperate, too. Although his thighs were starting to slow from exertion, he was relentless in his riding. He moaned unabashedly as your knot started to inflate and catch on his rim.

Your instincts screamed at you to knot him. You felt delirious with pleasure, and you needed this pretty omega to take your seed. You needed to mark him, so that no one else, no clients, no colleagues, and no board members, would ever even consider touching him again.

You looked up at Kakashi as he hovered above you. His skin shined in the light, although it had nothing on the way his slick shined against your skin. “Good boy, you’re such a good boy, Kakashi, my good boy.”

Kakashi seized, and with a cry, he shot white ropes of cum all over your stomach and chest, while clear liquid forced its way past your dick and out into the open air. With each shot, Kakashi’s insides tensed and pulsed, and you couldn’t hold on any longer.

You came too, knot locking into place inside him, as you painted his insides white. You came so hard that you almost blacked out. You were more used to the increased number of cum shots now, but it still felt insanely good to ride the high of a good 50 seconds of orgasm.

Kakashi slowly fell forward, breathing harshly, until his face was resting beside yours. He was making a valiant effort to keep the majority of his weight off you, but that wasn’t what you wanted.

“Come here,” you said, tugging him down until his entire weight was resting on you. “That’s it, I’ve got you, you don’t need to worry about stuff like that, remember?”

Kakashi chuckled tiredly, “If you insist.”

You pressed a loving kiss to the side of his head, basking in the after glow as you both waited for your knot to deflate.

“Thank you,” Kakashi muttered, pressing a kiss against your shoulder.

“For what?”

“For staying with me.”

Guilt spiked inside your chest as you remembered the choice you were to have to make.

And of course, right at that moment, your vision faded out from the edges, dousing your vision in black. When light bled back in, Kakashi was nowhere to be seen. James was there instead, and you were back to standing in the middle of the library. You swallowed heavily as your final moments with Kakashi swelled up inside you as grief and longing.

You felt pretty rough.

“Welcome back, human,” James said, sounding quieter than normal. Her voice wasn’t really soft, but it was what you imagined she believed that soft was.

“Thanks, James.” Wow, even your voice sounded rough.

Like last time, James reached out to tap you on the head, but unlike the relief that had followed when your emotions were supressed, this time only made you feel worse as all the emotions from Itachi’s pocket dimension came flooding back in too. It made you feel like you were wearing a head several sizes too small.

You took a deep breath and tried to compartmentalise as much of what you were feeling as you could.

“I know you must be feeling overwhelmed, human alpha, but I must remind you that you will kill us both, along with many others, if you do not make a fast decision on which pocket dimension you wish to use the rest of your life energy in.” She straightened out both books in front of you on the library table. ‘Potions and Magic and Sex, Oh My!’ was on your right, while ’50 Shades of Audacity’ sat on your left.

“Fuck, James, how am I supposed to choose?” You slumped into one of the library chairs and put your head in your hands.

“I know this must be a difficult choice human. You performed remarkably in both worlds, and I am certain that both omegas love you dearly.” Ugh, that did not make you feel any better. “However, one of them will feel right in a way that the other doesn’t. Use your instincts, human, I trust that they will not steer you wrong.”

Your instincts? It felt like they were in a mess. You felt conflicting messages flood through you as your instincts screamed at you for even considering leaving either omega. But you had to leave one of them.

You closed your eyes and allowed your instinctual reaction to guide you. It was a mess in your head, but you didn’t have time to untangle anything.

“When you’re ready, put your hand on the book that you wish to enter.”

“James?” You opened your eyes and stared down at the weird Curator that had been guiding you all this time.

“Yes, human alpha?”

“Thank you for everything,” you said earnestly, sending her a smile. “I’m going to miss you.”

James seemed taken aback, but she eventually returned your smile. “I will miss you too, human. I will request to be the Curator to meet you here after your life energy is gone, so that I may escort you onwards.”

“Thanks James.” You kind of felt like crying, but you couldn’t delay this anymore. “I think I’m ready.”

Quickly, so that you couldn’t agonise over changing your mind, you slapped your hand down on world that you wanted, and everything went dark.

Next chapter

#the quest for a second life #kakashi #kakashi hatake #reader #reader insert #kakashi x reader #a/b/o #omegaverse #omega kakashi #sub kakashi #omega!kakashi #sub!kakashi #dom reader #alpha reader #alpha!reader #dom!reader #n-sfw

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