#or just really high attention to detail?

[mortegas]

Here's some really trivial trivia:

One of these things is not like the other.

In the episode, Ortegas recognizes the symbols from a set someone wanted to trade. The Ready Room trivia card says she received it as a gift. Which came first? What changed?

Also, I find it most impressive that she recognizes the symbols from something she saw once, years ago, that she wasn't even interested in.

[seilon]

kpop is. a really really fucked up industry man. it really is

[eats-the-stars]

Consider Machines Over Customers

don’t know how useful this is, but for people who hate the customer interaction part of their jobs, like, if you think that is the worst part of your job, consider looking for a job that does not involve you interacting with customers. the hard part is that all the “basic job that you don’t need a college education to get” kind of jobs that I could think of to look for on job sites were like call center work and waitress and hotel staff and front desk work and retail and, you know, customer service positions. so I was searching job sites with those key words and did not know about a lot of other options. namely...machines. yes, that’s right. turns out there are so many machines out there and they all need people to operate them. there’s also warehouse stocking jobs but i haven’t tried one of those so I can’t endorse or diss them. BUT...I am working a machine operating job right now and I actually love machines. they are great. they also have yet to yell at me about an expired coupon. i mean, sometimes they do complain about thread breakage or refuse to read a positioning mark that is RIGHT THERE, but still...I love machines. I also do not have to see customers at all. like, I know the orders go to customers eventually, but I do not need to help them place the orders or receive the calls when their package does not arrive on time. I just need to fill the order and I’m done. whatever happens next is out of my hands. actually...the delivery workers might be another “customers are not my problem” option. they pick up orders from us and I think they just need to whip those at the front doors of customers, but they don’t actually need to talk to them.

just...the main point is that I spent a long time stuck thinking that all the “non-career” jobs I could get required customer interaction. unless you were, like, a cook in the back or stocking jobs, and i can’t cook or lift that much. so my advice is...just try getting creative with the keywords you plug into job sites. I hit on my current job by pure chance, no idea why it showed up when I was typing in stuff like “front desk” and “call center representative.” If you want machine stuff, try typing in “manufacturing” or “assembly” or “operator” or “production.” I am mostly just throwing this out there into the void in case it helps anyone. I spent way too long doing customer service and hating how draining it was and how much I would dread going to work. but now I am shocked that I actually do not mind going to work. it is tiring, but only physically, and otherwise actually enjoyable. so...consider machines over customers.

[ybklix]

the project

★ pairing: softdom!bangchan x inexperiencedfem!reader

✦summary: Just when you were a little upset about being assigned to a partner on an important project because you felt he was not very competent, you gradually discovered how much he can help you, more than you could have imagined.

♡ genre - warnings: MDNI 18+, smut, college au, cunnilingus, dry humping, fingering, clitplay, marking, pet names, slight praise and corruption kink, multiple orgasms, slow burn maybe

word count: 7.7k

request ⭑.ᐟ (sorry if it took so long babesss ly)

masterlist - taglist ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

miniplaylist: earn it by the weeknd / motive by ariana grande / fetish by selena gomez

notes: reader wears glasses

“Alright, before you go, I posted in the announcements who you will be doing the project with, please check well who you were assigned with” sentenced the teacher, taking his stuff.

You sighed, you had completely forgotten to check your notification tray for any notice from the app assigned by your professors for your subjects. You quickly grabbed your cell phone, unlocking it to look for your name next to another of your classmates to work together, you wanted to check it now so you wouldn't let go of whoever you were assigned to on a project of high importance to you.

And there it was. Bang Chan. You didn’t have any expression, you didn’t know him very well, but his face sure was quite familiar to everyone. You looked up in search of your partner, reflexively adjusting your glasses, and looked around the room until you found the guy, who was also sitting there checking his cell phone, and looked up to look for you, exchanging glances.

Chan was quite popular, charming, he was attractive and athletic but he also had a taste for complicated subjects, after all he was in a career where merely numbers and physics were required. And your project was something you were not going to take lightly, besides you had a short time period, it was just Thursday and the professor wanted the most perfect project on Monday and, you knew he was secretly hoping for something extraordinary as you were the best in his class.

You saw Chan approach you, and you couldn’t help but judge him at first sight, he was popular, he was part of a fraternity, and he had a reputation among women; deep inside you felt that he was not the perfect candidate to pair in an academic project but you tried to relax and not stress too much, it would only be a quantum model of which you already had your objective and ideas of what to do, the problem was a bit of paperwork where you had to explain in detail perfectly every part of the model, followed by a few long equations that made your head hurt just thinking about them.

You couldn’t help it, school and your major were never something you joked about, you were there to study and excel if at all possible, you loved to retain information and be complimented on your hard work, and you were always an overachiever from day one.

Finally, after years of sharing the same major, for the first time you observed Bang Chan up close and in detail. You looked up as he was standing and you were sitting. He really was handsome and you recognized him instantly, he had a face in perfect harmony with the rest of his muscular body, he was wearing all black, black combat boots, black jeans slightly tight on his thick athletic thighs and a plain black cloth shirt, highlighting more his tanned ivory skin. You suddenly felt nervous, after all you weren’t a robot and you were still a young woman, stressed out and a college student spending more time on campus than anywhere else; so your brain instantly processed that he was one of the most handsome and popular men on campus, near you, paying attention to you.

“Y/n, you’re my partner, for the project,” he said, with a tender smile revealing unusual dimples beside his smile.

You nodded being a little surprised that he knew who you were instantly, also thinking that you had never heard his voice before, the class wasn’t that interactive anyway, in fact almost none of them were, so you rarely heard him speak in the four classes you shared. You didn’t know what exactly you felt inside you… but you liked it, you were starting to recognize Chan’s hype, from what commonly many other girls thought, yes he was attractive and he took advanced physics classes with that face? It seemed unreal.

You suddenly thought that to take advanced physics classes was for a reason, it seemed criminal to have that face, body and reputation but in the mornings to take hard subjects.

“Mmhum” you hummed coming out of your trance, concentrating on the main thing, the project, “I have an idea of what to do, I can divide what materials we would occupy, to work together and do it, if you want to discuss what it is, we can go outside and talk…”

“Okay, let’s go but I’m sure I’ll agree with you” he suddenly interrupted you, leaving you with the words unfinished in your mouth and this one slightly open.

You nodded again and stood up abruptly, finally walking out of the room.

Chan saw you with tenderness, the truth was that for a long time you had caught his attention and he had his eye on you. Since last semester, in one of your final projects before leaving for summer vacation, since then Chan has not stopped thinking about you, since you spoke so clearly and confidently, like a little know-it-all, you were like a challenge for him, something so unreachable and difficult to achieve; since then he did not associate with more women and lived his day to day with the satisfaction of seeing you far away from the classroom. It seemed like he wasn’t, but he really got shy when it came to you, as he had you on a pedestal where you were a beautiful girl, intelligent, worried about her grades and made proper use of the university campus, genuinely studying. Chan had this innocent crush on you —at the beginning—, you had a nerdy, innocent and docile appearance and your voice was so unique, from one day to the next you drove him crazy and, when he found out that by fate you would work on a project and that there was a perfect excuse to get close to you, his heart wanted to burst out of his chest and he almost went running to give head to his professor for choosing such a perfect match, finally, after months of just seeing you.

Chan sighed, following you and listening attentively to you speak, completely fascinated in you and finding it difficult to retain the information you were telling him about something extremely important and which you spoke passionately about, all his mind could see was you, moving your lips, while the wind moved your hair gracefully, for him you were just saying blah blah, Chan; he only retained information when you pronounced his name. Chan licked his lips, absorbed in your eyes and then your lips, leaning towards you, causing you a little nervousness. Chan frowned softly, his hands clasped behind his back, nodding, pretending to be listening to you. He hadn’t felt like this in a long time, the excitement and innocence of liking and being interested in someone; before you, he lived from one-night stands and on the edge, trying every girl, until he was satisfied, but you, there really was genuine interest.

“Ammh, can you text me everything anyway to my number?” he said, absolutely lost on the topic as he focused on your sudden closeness.

You nodded with a smile that made him melt, he liked you way too much and immediately handed you his cell phone so you could take down your number.

“Mm, how about if we start working on this from tomorrow? I think it will take some time and if we do it sooner is better” you commented, to which Chan nodded frantically at your slightest request.

Then he thought, he had to tutor students in grades below him, go to the gym and then he had a birthday party for one of his dorm mates; but he couldn’t say no to you, he could cancel everything if possible to spend the whole day with you, plus of course, the project was important.

You bit the inside of your cheek somewhat nervously, feeling kind of silly that the only times you invite a cute guy to meet and see each other is only for college work.

“How about tomorrow at 5?” you said again.

Chan felt so fulfilled, it wasn’t a date but he would finally see you outside the classroom, close up.

“Sure! There’s a coffee shop around here two blocks from campus, let’s go tomorrow to work on the project and if you want to eat I’m buying, it doesn’t matter” he smiled at you.

Now you were the one who was somehow captivated by his smile.

“Yes…”

“I’ll send you the address to meet us there.”

Chan was more than excited to at least spend more time with you.

[…]

You were particularly nervous for some reason, since yesterday you kept thinking that genuinely Chan looked like a nice guy, he was kind, attentively answered your messages and easily understood every single thing you told him about the topic for the assignment. Plus he was quite attractive. And your friends started to bother you a little bit too, making you rethink the whole situation…

In your time in college you only concentrated on your classes, you did have the occasional crush on the occasional guy, but no one worth your valuable time. So you got over it right away and went on with your quiet —and stressful— college life, however… that had led you to be completely inexperienced. The issue never bothered you, until you were about to meet another attractive man whom you had a concept that he was absolutely the opposite of you, partying, sociable and charismatic.

But once you arrived and found him there, you realized the similarities you shared, after all you were both studying the same major. You got to know him a little, relaxing the atmosphere, you learned that he had studied to please his father but that somehow he was great at mathematics which softened his studies. That he tutored and that he played a lot of sports. He really seemed nice and his eyes sparkled when he talked to you, an inexplicable fact for you, a reality that he was talking to his crush, for Chan.

And then it was time to meet you. You didn’t quite know what to say, more that your major choice was a matter of enjoyment and you were happy studying what you had been chosen to study. You felt slightly silly since there wasn’t much to say, or at least you thought so at the time.

Then between the pleasant conversation and a cup of coffee for you, and three for Chan, you continued working on the written work, both concentrated and absorbed that the time passed so fast for you, giving you 10 o'clock at night, just the closing time of the coffee shop.

You both picked up your things in sorrow, you had made enough progress, but there was still quite a bit left to do and that made you uneasy somehow, you couldn’t help it, you were going to be quiet until it was finished or almost done, so you suddenly blurted out:

“You live in a frat, right?”

“Mmhu, yes” Chan replied somewhat embarrassed.

He suddenly felt pathetic to be part of such an outdated tradition system.

You sighed, you both carried all the stuff to make the model and had to assemble it as soon as possible. Once again the cool autumn wind hit your bodies.

“We can go to my apartment to… continue” you added, looking him in the eyes and avoiding using the word finish so Chan wouldn’t be forced and feel it tedious.

Chan nodded softly when in reality he was more than excited to meet your place. The two of you took an app ride to your building just a few minutes away from campus.

You weren’t a big fan of college dorms and you weren't interested in joining a sorority either, so a quiet apartment in a neighborhood in the middle of the busy city was more than enough for you.

Chan didn’t think he was able to contain his excitement, watching you fondly in the night light as you made your way to your apartment; until finally arriving where he naturally asked you:

“And do you have roomates?”

He found it a bit impressive that you live a bit far from campus in a decent building on your own.

“Umhm, at the moment I don’t have any but I’m looking and I have candidates.”

Chan nodded in understanding and inwardly thinking that it would be more than a treat to be able to see your apartment. You really were looking for a roommate, living alone and being a college student paying for everything could be stressful.

“You can leave things on the table” you said, also leaving your laptop there.

He listened to you and slyly looked around the place. It was a nice place, with just enough room for you and someone else, with a big window reflecting the lights from the building across the street. You a little, not uncomfortable, but strange to have a man in your apartment looked so out of the ordinary, if you were even sharing time with another man was something abnormal, let alone a handsome and popular guy like Chan was.

“Well…” you spoke, somewhat nervously, lifting your glasses to rest the bridge of your nose for a second, rubbing it gently, suddenly you looked into the kitchen and were embarrassed to realize you hadn’t eaten and he would probably be hungry, “God, I never asked, do you want some dinner? I tend to forget about food when I’m under some pressure.”

Chan looked at you tenderly at first as you spoke, then his expression changed to one of concern.

“Are you skipping meals? Are you stressed now?”

His sudden answers surprised you.

“Oh, no, it’s just that… I usually work and do homework continuously that it’s very common that from time to time, I don’t eat, but if you want to do it we can order something, it’s kind of late” you answered somewhat nervously, the tiredness and Chan’s attractive image in your apartment were starting to be a certain kind of effect.

“Alright. Let’s order something” he smiled, Chan wasn’t that hungry but hearing that you used to skip meals he wanted you to be fed well instantly, besides if you were going to finish the project, he wanted to have all the energy he needed.

You smiled nervously and soon after you started your activity, you typed fast in your essay, Chan was in charge of assembling the model without difficulty. Then dinner arrived, both of you were already tired, your only time to stop was in the small talk in the coffee shop and when you headed to your place.

“Can you pick up dinner? I’ll go change” you blurted out suddenly, in a deep tone of voice as you were tired, a little more relaxed with Chan.

He saw you, he was surprised, since you had not spoken to each other for minutes since you were both concentrated in what you were doing —unlike him who also paid attention to you from once in a while—, your tone of voice seemed to him suddenly and somehow, something so captivating and seductive that he kept watching you, who you, without taking any notice of Chan standing in front of you on the other side of the table, took off the oversized cardigan you were wearing, somewhat exhausted in search of something more comfortable to be in your own apartment, leaving you only with the thin white tank top you were wearing underneath that garment.

Chan couldn’t believe it, he was transfixed and completely hypnotized by your action, absorbed seeing every detail, slightly exposing your chest through the circular neckline of the blouse, your shoulders, your arms and your figure tightly wrapped in the fabric. Chan swallowed nervously clenching his fist, he felt so pathetic going crazy just because you showed so little of your skin. His eyes traveled quickly all over your body, not wanting to miss any detail.

You noticed it, you felt his gaze on you and saw him confused, you felt so watched and analyzed, you could only say:

“I’ll go to… put on something more comfortable.”

Chan reacted instantly, letting out a nervous chuckle and nodding, turning to pick up the food left at your door. You didn’t know exactly how to feel, his gaze was so new to you, you had never felt such expressive eyes glued to you from another boy…. or probably they used to look at you like that, but you never paid attention to them, but with Chan, it was inevitable not to pay attention to him, he was with you, alone, in such a nice night; your mind was spinning, thinking about the infinity of things that usually means when two young people are alone and attracted to each other but, did you really like Chan or were you already losing your mind because of tiredness and stress, you didn’t know well, you were ridiculously inexperienced that your concept of attraction was maybe based on movies or experiences told by your friends.

Still you decided to ignore the thoughts and wanted to get comfortable at home, you had been wearing jeans for hours and you were dying to take them off, you would take off your bra if you could but you didn’t feel confident enough, so you left that tank top on and put on the comfortable shorts, your body was starting to heat up and you knew exactly why, but you didn’t want to accept it. You returned, finding Chan preparing food on the small nightstand between your living room, greeting you with a smile and gently asking you if it was okay to eat there to which you nodded.

Once again, Chan ran his gaze over your body, he had never seen you like this before, the sudden exposure of your body drove him crazy and made him feel sick, nor did he want to feel this way as it seemed unhinged and depraved, but he couldn’t help it, there was no turning back. At first it was a cute crush on you, then it involved a couple of desires and dirty thoughts that wouldn’t leave his mind. Chan, like any interested guy, casually asked among his friends if they knew you to which none of them knew how to answer, only a guy a year older than him, who was also in the same faculty, saying that you were very pretty but that there was no record of you dating on or off campus, that you were so reserved and that he wouldn’t be surprised that you were probably just studying, in the end he revealed that he had confessed to you and you had rejected him without giving him any reason. Chan’s silly and immature friends joked that you might still retain your innocence and that girls with a certain nerdy appearance used to be somewhat transcendental in sex, that they were shy and innocent at first but once you give them your trust to give them pleasure they were…

Chan refused those thoughts outright, dismissed them as misogynistic and was upset for days. He did get to see your innocence but it wasn’t something he fantasized about sexually, in fact, he never fantasized sexually about you, until that comment fucked with his head.

Because it was true, your private life was so private, you were not known to have had or dated anyone on campus and he found you so fucking interesting suddenly overnight, two intentions merged, Chan could desire you so purely by holding your hand and filling you with kisses, at the same time he could desire from you to fill you with his cum and fuck you to exhaustion. At the moment he was balancing the situation so well, he was doing so well that he had learned to stay away so long, as he didn’t know how to handle it, until now when the opportunity to be with you presented itself.

Chan was thinking about the fact that he hadn’t fucked a virgin woman since high school, when he lost his virginity to his first girlfriend too… but you had him all messed up and he could promise to be just as sweet to you if you give him the chance.

He cleared his throat and tried to come out of his trance, but when you approached him it was his dream and doom, looking to him so beautifully carefree in your shorts and tank top; still Chan did his best to behave himself and not want to ruin what he felt was just beginning.

You both started to eat sitting on the floor, close to each other, at first a little awkward, but quickly Chan knew how to soften the atmosphere, saying the right words and bringing up conversation topic after conversation topic, just to take your thoughts away a little, otherwise an incredible tension would have formed, as you were already starting to look at him closely and by the end of the night, you finally recognized how much you could get to like him, he was funny, handsome and you shared the same interests academically, you thought he could even be almost perfect. When you finished and cleaned up a bit, Chan watched you, so determined towards the project, going quickly towards it, ready to finish it, the truth was that you didn’t know exactly how to react, what would be the next move and you just got distracted escaping towards the project. He, somewhat frustrated, continued with you, just to keep breathing your sweet scent and to see your body in your comfortable home clothes.

Half an hour later, the meal instead of lifting Chan’s spirits did quite the opposite, relaxing him and making him tired and sleepy, plus the continuous hard work was beginning to stress him, but being with you rewarded him for everything except the tiredness in him, unfortunately. Chan watched you carefully, working non-stop, talking to him about the project with your deep and slightly tired tone of voice that seemed to Chan so seductive, he was beginning to lose himself, he was between drowsiness and desire, looking boldly at you, without thinking straight, he was about to hush you, take you and put you on his lap so you could both rest and, if possible, he would take you to bed, telling you how hard you work and that you should rest, that college matters, but not as much as yourself.

You once again noticed his heavy gaze on you, you saw how it was so likely that this time he was not paying attention to what you were saying, how he licked his lips and you became more nervous, more than the previous times, there was something so heavy in his presence that you had never felt before, you did not complain but you felt that at any moment it could get out of control… you thought if this was the sexual tension that you had only heard about.

Chan carved his eyes tiredly, he didn’t know how to stop you or tell you no, but your voice was stimulating him more and more, in a way to put him to bed and not exactly to sleep. Chan could only think of how suddenly he wanted to almost kiss you to shut you up and make you feel good.

You had already noticed his behavior, at times he looked tired, at times he looked at you in a way that made your hair stand on end.

Finally, he called your name, so serious, with a tone of voice that surprised you, made you stop talking about equations for a moment and look him straight in the eye. His gaze was dark and penetrating, you had never been seen like that before. You were both sitting next to each other, working close, so Chan leaned towards you, so ready to say what he felt from the start, he didn’t know exactly what he would say but he’d make sure he had you tonight; he was in agony, he couldn’t take it anymore with the sudden tension that escalated quickly and with your particular voice that was starting to excite him to stratospheric levels, and having him there in misery, unable to do anything, that wasn’t exactly what he was looking for.

He licked his lips and every part of you saw it coming, you knew it so deep down, you weren’t that dumb, his look and little actions spoke for themselves, you knew Chan was lusting after you and you panicked slightly not knowing what to do.

“You can take a nap if you want” you suggested kindly with a smile, hiding your nervousness at having him around, “You look tired, it’s okay.”

Chan was about to protest, he saw you confused and got caught in your captivating but hard to read gaze, your glasses reflected his tired body and unsweet intentions, so he decided to take a step back and agree, somehow he felt embarrassed and decided it was still better to keep his distance, even though that wasn’t specifically what he wanted.

He nodded, with a smile and somewhat embarrassed, “Really? You’re okay with that? I don’t want to leave you..”

He did get tired, but now he didn’t know if it was from the continuous work or from not being able to do anything with you.

You didn’t know why you did it, but you grabbed his shoulders and nodded, eyes shining, feeling so good to touch his strong body. You hadn’t touched him, maybe you just wanted to play a little and decided to kill your curiosity, how a man like Chan felt.

Chan subtly saw your hands on his shoulders and lost his mind again, but he sighed, calming down and getting up from his chair to rest his body on the couch. You no longer said anything, again the tension returned, with a silence. As much as Chan didn’t want to think about it, he thought of your smile, the way you spoke to him and of your gaze suddenly meaning so much to him, your bright eyes, almost asking to be touched by him, he could feel it, but he felt paranoid for a second, to which he only let his body fall on your couch, with his forearm on his forehead, the other hand on his abdomen and his head leaning back on a cushion, slowly closing his eyes, shutting off every one of his thoughts for a moment.

But it was true, you didn’t know how to say it, but being touched by Bang Chan just now didn’t sound so crazy to you. You were so ready but so not ready at the same time, you wanted to do it, you didn’t know how to tell him, it scared you since you didn’t know how to do it and you were in a continuous internal battle. You were slightly insecure, he was handsome and popular, with much more experience than you and, maybe it was something typical that you like Chan, since everybody likes him, but you were dying to try him even once…

Fifteen minutes later, of which you found incredibly stressful, as you continued to work on the project, chasing away every thought and more than okay with Chan staying quiet and napping on your couch, as you liked him incredibly well, you checked the time and became a little alert when you saw that it was almost one in the morning and you had no notion of time, you understood that Chan’s tiredness was justifiable and almost necessary and you were already starting to feel more stressed, as well as embarrassed by the fact that you had kept Chan working on the project so late. You reproached yourself, debating whether to wake him up and tell him that you could continue tomorrow, that it was almost done and you were missing something so minimal… or if you should let him stay over just for tonight since it was late.

You didn’t think so much about it though, as you suddenly felt large hands on your shoulders, massaging you and scaring you slightly. Chan giggled, he had woken up, more energetic and with the great intensity and willpower to try with you, something in him told him so and it was something he couldn’t ignore, so, without you noticing, he came up behind you, finding you still in the same position, working.

“God, Y/N, you need to relax, okay? It’s late you should rest, you’re really working hard on this.”

Your body tensed incredibly more, you really didn’t expect it, much less that he was touching you, with a slightly thicker voice than usual. You raised your gaze, his long fingers were still resting on your shoulders, magically he looked better than a moment ago, more energetic and with a flirtatious expression on his face.

“You’re awake already…” you replied nervously, not wanting to scare him away, like a few minutes ago.

“Just like you, it’s late. Has anyone ever told you how hard you work? Are you usually this demanding of yourself?”

You didn’t understand what was going on, it was as if he had suddenly changed but at the same time he was still the same and there was something that pleased you so much, like the sudden touch towards you.

You nodded, somewhat submissive with your head spinning not knowing how to react properly. Chan took the chair with agility, sitting down in front of you, stopping touching you and leaving you perplexed, blinking slowly letting you think that you were so tired that maybe you fell asleep deeply and that all this was just a dream. But it was so real and suddenly you were so awake.

“Leave all that for a moment…” he whispered slowly, gently removing the pencil from your hand and placing it on the table, “Let me take care of you.”

“What?”

Chan didn’t touch you again, he just stared at you, long and determined seconds that made you feel the lack of him in you. He leaned back in the chair, enjoying your tender expression of confusion. He had enough, he would try, he would do it for the incredible, heavy tension between you, and if you didn’t want to, he was going to understand but he already knew that was so unlikely. So he was direct, he always was, there was just something about you that kept him shy, but not anymore, he wanted you, he needed you, it was almost as if the night was asking for it too, something in the air drew you to each other irrevocably.

“You deserve to relax. I want you. Just tell me what you want, whether you want it or not, I won’t be weird about it afterwards, I promise, I just… can’t get you off my head, I need you.”

“How?” you mumbled, still in disbelief.

Chan smiled sideways, chuckling softly. “You know how. Want me to show you, sweetie?”

You nodded softly, wanting to put all shyness aside but you couldn’t control it, you were turned on and it was your first time in a situation like this, with intense tension that you even heard every breath and loud heartbeat in your ears.

You had done it before, kissing boys but the experiences were so insignificant that you hardly remember it or count it as experience, since you had learned nothing.

Chan moved dangerously close to you, resting his big hands on your bare thighs, stretching slightly and attractively his neck detonating little veins, his big straight nose so close to your face, with a smug smile, he said again:

“Can I kiss you?”

And it took only a small push of your yielding body to touch his lips, feeling at first the softness and plumpness of his full lips at the impact. Your body temperature rose madly, new sensations were taking over your body, it wasn’t the same ones that you had done before, his kisses were deeper, steady and passionate that it was hard to keep up with him and you were in between enjoying and thinking you wanted to do it right.

You let yourself go but you were still tense and Chan noticed it in the instant, with your body slightly trembling, he just wanted to make you feel good so he gently pulled away from you, leaving you missing the feel of his lips.

“Do you want me to stop?” he whispered, squeezing your thighs, feeling your muscle tense.

But your face reflected something else, your eyes were shining seeing every detail of Chan’s face up close, you were so ready but you had the tingle of wanting to get it right. He could see your nervous body, your countenance begging, still he didn’t want to continue if you were going to be nervous and almost resisting, he couldn’t read you clearly, he was really turned on, the slightest interaction with you made his body very blissful.

You denied, you knew you were so stiff and situations like these needed two relaxed bodies giving themselves, you were nervous but decided to confess it:

“It’s just… I want to do it right.”

Chan’s smile widened, your kiss was so tender and shy that thoughts of your innocence came back to his mind, he wanted to try so many things with you and make you explore, but he didn’t want you to feel insecure so he would patiently teach you step by step if necessary.

“It’s okay, baby, let me handle it” he whispered, with an endearing and understanding tone, still close to you, everything about him made you pleasantly uneasy, “I can teach you, just for your pleasure, okay?”

You nodded, lost in him, you noticed he looked genuinely interested and patient. Chan moved away again, leaning back in the chair, rubbing and patting his thigh with his veiny hand that was having an effect on you.

“Come here, to teach you how to do it better, although I was already loving the way you were doing it, princess.”

Chan ran his tongue over the bottom of his front teeth, waiting for you, and for you, every sentence of his almost made you sigh, you were so turned on, you knew exactly the feeling, you needed Chan now. You were a hot mess, you wanted and needed him so quickly and without much thought, you sat on his lap, trying to put your embarrassment aside, you sat down facing him, with your legs in the air on either side of the chair, Chan was surprised and felt so delightful your weight on his erection, he didn’t think you were going to position yourself like that but you left him absolutely charmed.

“I’m going to kiss you, try to keep up with me and move your sweet lips over mine, relax and let yourself go, beautiful, okay?”

He again took hold of your face with one hand and the other held your waist, you felt his sweet kiss at the same time you were dealing with the bulge between his pants pressing against your pussy. He was so hard, you could feel it if only through the slightly thick, rough denim of his black jeans. Chan was dressed so attractively, in a plain white shirt and leather jacket that he left on the rack in your entryway, with long silver chains decorating his collar and thick bracelets on his right wrist. You could feel how big he was, despite having clothes on, the thought of seeing a cock for the first time made your skin bristle with excitement, just imagining Chan, as something in yourself told you he should look so fucking good naked.

“Open your mouth wider” he whispered, panting and over your lips after a loud crash of your lips, as you parted almost non-existent inches apart.

You obeyed him and agilely he took you again, this time introducing his tongue and making the act slower and more sensual, so captivating that he even managed to relax you, you only lived from the sensation of letting yourself be carried away by him and with your face leaning on his hand. They had never made you feel this way that you slowly resented your throbbing pussy in desperation, suddenly so wet begging for attention.

“Mmm, I love your kisses, fuck” he mumbled senselessly as he pulled inches away from you.

You kept kissing, his face colliding with your glasses, but you didn’t want to take them off as you didn’t want to miss any tiny detail every time you parted for seconds. Chan, sesually and panting moved his kisses down your neck, filling your body more with euphoric and new sensations, his lips brushed your neck, giving soft and small sounding kisses until he subtly licked it, to suck your sensitive skin, using his teeth, causing you a pleasurable and short sting that reached every corner of your body, making you moan and leaving a mark on you.

His hands went down to your torso, to lift your blouse and finally feel the brush of his hands across your soft skin, he squeezed of your body, slowly lowering his lips, resisting the urge to fuck you hard, enduring the pain of his throbbing stiff cock trapped in his pants and being pressed against your body and you continued to feel his lips and the brush of his nose and heavy breathing across your skin going lower and lower, as well as constant little nibbles, leaving fresh new hickeys on you, Chan couldn’t help it, he was going crazy with the idea of you just being his, leaving reddish marks on you and biting your sensitive skin and it just turned you on so much. Reaching your chest, you twitched your body a little, moving it sharply and surprising Chan by the pleasurable friction of you on his cock. He grunted and pulled his lips away from your skin for a second and, almost as if an imaginary light bulb lit up above your head, you understood that being on his erection also made him feel good, as much as it made you feel good, since his erection was rubbing against your pussy, covered only by your wet panties and thin shorts; so you moved, stirring on his cock and intentionally grinding it harder.

Chan moaned, letting out soft, sonorous “A-aah, mmm” and then he raised his gaze, staring into your eyes, causing you to shiver at his lustful stare.

“Fuck, you want to move for me? Go ahead, baby, go fucking enjoy my cock with your clothes on, fuck, are you a little horny? Unable to wait and fucking me with your clothes on. Go ahead, enjoy and cum for me like this” he licked his lips, leveling his face with yours, talking to you in such a sultry tone that it made your cheeks burn.

You were so uselessly horny that you were enjoying to the fullest bouncing on Chan’s cock under the hard denim, pressing all over your pussy, your labia, moving them nimbly that it made you blur your vision.

“Yes-Keep moving, baby, you’re doing so good, beautiful.”

His voice aroused you more and more bringing you so close to your orgasm, you were so concentrated in the sensation of your movements on his cock, you couldn’t stop, you moved your hips and Chan helped you with his hands squeezing your waist; you felt so hot and trapped, so desperate to get your clothes off but you didn’t want to stop, you weren’t going to stop until you were tired, it was as if you had no choice but to climax right now, just like this. Chan watched with desire and tenderness your very focused and excited expression, sighing and straining to make you feel good at the same time you were making him feel that effect on him, squeezing his cock so hard, expelling precum and not so far from his ejaculation.

He admired the marks on your skin, witness and proof of what was happening, the top girl in the class, all aroused rubbing herself on her classmate’s cock, seeking pleasure and her climax. Chan bit his lower lip and caught your lips again, touching your restless and desperate body, he was about to cum. You were starting to get tired but it was a tiredness inexplicably so hot, your chest was burning from the constant strong heartbeat, you were at your limit and you were doing almost nothing, but both of you were a mess of heaving breaths, Chan didn’t want to change anything about you either at that moment, he just squeezed you tightly enjoying every movement until he cum inside his underwear, in a gasp, throwing his head back, feeling one pressure release pleasantly but another coming so abruptly and quickly not wanting to finish yet with you. You held onto his shoulders tightly, pressed your legs into his body, Chan knew you were close so he encouraged you, with a kiss on your mouth half open and words that warmed even your ears:

“Go on, cum, princess, let yourself go… Cum for me.”

You gasped in despair and a little high-pitched moan, you cum all over your panties, leaving you flushed, breathless and with your pussy sticky. Seconds later you wanted to catch your breath, you still felt immobile before his big hands squeezing your body, you were at levels of agitation you didn’t think you’d reach in the near future with another guy.

Chan also had his breath hitching, yet the thought of still not even remotely finishing with you came back to him, reflecting a smile on his face.

“Let me take care of you, okay?”

You looked at him with big pitying eyes which drove him crazy. Chan thought about the idea of your pussy a little battered from being in constant motion with the hard friction of his clothes, he wanted to treat and tend to your sensitive center, now, he needed it.

“Yes, Chan.”

“That’s my good girl” he said proudly, shuddering every inch of you, you felt so good he said little things to you, “Where are you most comfortable, baby? Huh.”

You looked at him for only short seconds, you were so excited and filled with the accelerated feeling not knowing what his next moves would be on you, you were more than willing for anything, for him to take you and fuck you, you just wanted to be filled with that sensation again and more with someone like Chan, who looked so sure of what he was doing and looked so fucking good doing it and in a mode of excitement and pleasure, every part of him was transpiring sex and you were losing your mind little by little.

“In my room, in the hallway of…”

You weren’t even finished, when Chan stood up, carrying you, grabbing your ass and carrying you to your room where he left you sitting on one of the edges of the bed, your feet touching the floor, he positioned himself on his knees in front of you.

“Do you want me to make you feel good, pretty girl?” he said again, once more so excited, about nothing short of taking your clothes off.

“Yes, Chan, p-please.”

You were so needy again, you wanted to be filled with the extreme sensation that seemed to have no end. He smiled.

“I’m going to take off your tiny shorts and panties, yes sweetie?”

You nodded, excited and nervous that he is about to see your private part, but it was throbbing intensely, it was again getting more lubricated and wanted to be treated with attention. Chan tugged at your shorts and panties at the same time, impatient to taste you and merely seeking your pleasure.

He slid the garments down your legs until they were off and admired your wet, glistening pussy, somehow it looked slightly swollen, begging to be attended to and touched.

“You try hard and work hard, you deserve to get your stress off, let me do it…”

Chan said it, in such a thick voice so lost in the image of your pussy. You were so nervous, almost wanting to shiver but you moaned as you felt his lips on the skin of your mons pubis, giving you kisses and leaving little hickeys, nibbling the area, until his mouth took your clit, making you squeal; you were beginning to relax and let yourself be carried away by the tingling of the tip of his index finger caressing your soft, moist vulva, playing with your wetness, until two of his fingers teased your entrance until he inserted his fingers, while his mouth never let go of your sensitive spot, licking and sucking it gently, causing you pleasure and the beginning of trembling in your legs.

Chan fucked you gently and deeply for a few moments, teasing you and reaching sweet places inside your tight pussy, but he withdrew his fingers from you, positioned both his hands on your thighs, squeezing them gently and began to move his mouth all the way down your vulva, licking the right places, sucking delightfully on your labia and filling himself with you, from his chin to his nose, so focused working on you. You felt so hot, somehow he looked so good eating you out while you were a panting mess, arching your back and being pleasured.

He stroked your clit again and sucked gently but with moderate intensity, humming mmm, that caused a sweet vibration in you, you were feeling so good you could feel your second orgasm again. Chan parted your folds so he could rub his mouth better inside them, you were so satisfied you thought of the myth that college boys didn’t know how to eat pussy, but no one like Chan, doing it so expertly he had you soaking wet, whimpering and shivering just with his lips, tongue, and mouth. He moved inches away from your pussy, to spread your entrance with his hand and insert his tongue deep. At the same time, his finger again caressed your clit, bringing you to orgasm, contracting your legs, being careful with him between them, arching your back, and in a loud moan calling out his name, the great sexual tension built up was released with his mouth on your pussy.

Chan didn’t stop working on you until he stopped feeling your last intense trembling and stopped watching your body collapse until it became softer tremors and he smiled. He didn’t think he could leave you alone for now, let alone finish the project now that you were just starting, but right now, his satisfaction was to fulfill his goal, by making you feel good and de-stress a little because you were worth it and deserved it. He was there to give you a good time.

-------------------------

𐙚TAGLIST: @khandzilla @rylea08 @hann1bee @iovecb97 @armystay89 @bubblebisk @lolareadsimagines

[slasherhaven]

Slashers with a significant other who is a cam girl and wants them to be in one of their videos? 💃

2 posts in 2 days who do I think I am? See ya'll in a year! /j

CW: NSFW

You do Cam Work and Ask the Slashers to be in your Videos:

Thomas Hewitt

Thomas is pretty conservative when it come to sex and such, but he's come around to your cam work, especially since you let him help with the details.

You like when he picks what you were or what scene you might do. You made Thomas feel like a part of it and that made him comfortable with it.

Still, he's very surprised when you ask if he wants to do a video with you. He refuses immediately and you respect that.

You ask again a while later but with more details. Like nobody would know who he was, you would keep his face out of the shot, and the two of you will do whatever he is comfortable with.

Your first video with him is of you riding him. His head isn't in the shot but the rest of his frame is. The size difference goes hard and your audience agrees.

Thomas is a flustered mess when you sit to read with comments with him. Everyone is talking about the new man in your video, gushing about how big he is and how attentive he is. Even with his size it seems your audience could sense his gentle soul, commenting on the chemistry you both have and how they would love to see him again!

Thanks to all the lovely comments, Thomas agrees to do another video even if he doesn't see himself putting his face on camera any time soon.

Michael Myers

Michael honestly does not care that you do cam work.

When you first ask him to be in a video, he pretty much ignores it.

But when you ask again some time later he doesn't see why not.

As long as his face isn't in the video or anything, you can film it, he doesn't really care.

The videos you make with him afterwards are pretty similar to your first video with him.

Usually you bent over while Michael fucks you to tears.

Michael is barely in the shot most of the time. Sometimes it just a close up on you, other times it includes Michael but only ever getting at high as his chest.

Everyone is obsessed with your mystery man. Where did he come from? What was that scar from? Can we see more of him please!!!

Jason Voorhees

We all know that Jason's comfort levels with sex is extremely low and it takes a while for him to become comfortable with physical intimacy. So cam work is certainly going to take some time for him to come around to.

And once he's become more comfortable with that, it's going to take a whole lot longer before he feels comfortable being in a video.

When he does decide to give it a go, he is a real hit!

He refuses to show his face on camera and you do whatever it takes to make sure he is as comfortable as possible.

Before Jason says you can use his name in videos and descriptions, your audience referred to him as 'the gentle giant', which is completely accurate!

No matter your usual content, Jason is nothing but gentle with you when he's in a video.

Brahms Heelshire

Watches your videos over and over again, he loves them. He'll watch you record them and watch them later once you've posted them. He can't get enough.

He's already got his pants off when you ask if he wants to be in one of your videos. You end up fucking even though you're not filming it.

He actually doesn't have much of a problem with having his face on camera. He's still a little insecure about his facial burns but you have alleviated most of that by this point.

And after the first video and he reads all those positive comments. Some are as horny for him as they are for you.

Fully embraces his new pornstar identity. He's insufferable.

He'll be in any video you want and your audience love watching you take care of your needy brat.

Bo Sinclair

Bo is in fully support of your work, it brings some money in and he gets to watch your videos. Even if his possessiveness still often gets the better of him. Whenever he reads comments of people praising you, Bo has an insatiable need to bend you over something just to prove a point.

Gets all cocky and arrogant when you ask if he wants to be in a video.

Needless to say, he agrees to do it.

And he takes to it pretty easily. He knows how to get all of his favourite reactions from you, how to get you pleading and begging for him, and he wants everyone watching to know.

Bo is arrogant and always smirking when the camera is on but it performs well.

He likes to how the camera and film himself entering you. He really does have a terrible ego.

Vincent Sinclair

It gets Vincent flustered, he could admit that, but he appreciates the artistic side of it all. It takes more effort and consideration than one might think!

He likes helping you get ready for a video and taking care of you afterwards.

He's hesitant when you first ask if he wants to be in a video. A part of him wants to do it with you but he's not confident enough in himself.

But he loves making you feel good and at this point he knows he's good at it, so he gives it a try. You can film them without posting them after all, like practise runs.

He may never show his face but he doesn't mind having his body on camera. Sometimes he even just hides his face with his hair instead of keeping his head out of the shot completely.

On Vincent's more self-conscious days, he'll film close ups of him fingering you instead.

He's very good with his hands and your audience agrees. They are very jealous of you.

Lester Sinclair

Lester is pretty neutral on your work, but of course he absolutely loves your videos.

He's mostly just surprised and flustered when you first ask if he wants to be in one of your videos. He thinks you're perfect so he understands why people would want to watch you, but he doesn't really see why people would want to watch him.

But he still agrees to it because he's your biggest supporter!!!

Your audience love the chemistry and intimacy between you both, leaving comments about how real your videos feel.

The videos that perform best are usually the ones where the two of you forgot you were even filming, just giggling together and enjoying each other. Lester gets all nervous and shy when the camera turns on, which is adorable, but forgetting that the camera is there really does help him perform better, the sweetheart.

Your audience love your more thought out and planned videos but appreciate the occasional more relaxed video with your sweet boyfriend.

Bubba Sawyer

Super flustered by your work but he's supportive.

Is super surprised and nervous when you ask if he wants to be in a video.

He agrees to give it a try once you explain that you can always delete it and nobody has to see it if he changes his mind or doesn't like it.

Bubba is just a big sweetie really, and you know just how to turn him into a squirming, blubbering mess.

And your audience love to watch you do it!

In later video's you do, you use the viewers' comments to fluster him even further. Using all the kindest and sweetest comments that say how lovely he is .

Come on, Bubs, they love you, they're being so nice. Why don't you say thank you?

Billy Lenz

Billy loves watching your videos and when you ask if he wants to be in a video with you, he is so excited!

He's completely down to make some home videos but he's a little unsure about putting it online for other people to see.

So you make it so his face isn't visible and let him watch the final edit before uploading it. He thinks it's so hot, he can't say no.

Honestly, you could do really well with just audios alone though. People will go wild for it. Billy unable to keep his mouth shut, all those desperate moans and whines and noises, the sticky wet slapping of skin. Honestly, a video element is just a bonus at this point.

And who gets off to the video the most? Billy obviously!

Asa Emory (The Collector)

Asa monitors your accounts anyway, even if you don't know it. He wants to know what you're posting and how people are responding. Don't want any bullies or trolls, right?

He's probably tried to manipulate you into suggesting it anyway.

He doesn't have much of a problem with your cam work, he's just a possessive bastard and would love to claim you in front of your entire audience.

The mask stays on!

Okay, he designs a new mask to avoid any chance of self criminalisation but whatever.

You two can make it big in BDSM communities.

Ties you up, blindfolds you, gags you. Whatever he feels like, but often seems to focus the camera on your reactions rather than on what he is doing to you. Studying his favourite little specimen.

Your audience already adored you of course, but they also love this new Dom you brought it.

There is no doubt as to who you belong to now.

Jesse Cromeans (Chromeskull)

Obviously Jesse has no problem with being on camera and he already has a pretty big ego, so he'll probably even wear the Chromeskull mask. It's his signature whether it's for his snuff films or your cam work.

Like Asa, you do absolute numbers in the BDSM community. Everyone is very pleased with his fully suited up, masked Dom that you brought in.

He already has his Chromeskull persona all fleshed out so he just brings that energy to your videos.

He's a sadistic Dom and you might have to upload an Aftercare video at some point just to reassure your more loyal audience that you're alright and always well taken care of afterwards.

Otis Driftwood

Is obviously a fan of your videos and isn't going to stop you from making them. You aren't actually fucking anyone else, so he's cool with it. And if he feels particularly jealous or possessive at some point, he knows he's the only one who can actually pin you down and have his way with you.

Oh yeah, he's down to make a few videos with you. He's probably got some old tapes of his own somewhere, long forgotten. He's not shy.

Says the filthiest shit, it kinda becomes his think on your platform.

Otis can be absolutely disgusting but, fortunately, there is an audience for that and they flood to your videos.

Calls you all sorts of names, asks you if you get off on knowing everyone is going to watch him fuck you. That everyone is going to see all the things you let him do to you.

Baby Firefly

Baby loves that you do cam work, she loves performing. She happily does your hair and makeup, she helps you pick out costumes and which toys you'll use in that video.

Hell, she's even filmed a video or two for you!

She's your number one supporter so of course she jumps on camera as soon as you ask if she wants to be in a video.

The two of you are all dolled up and she's magnetic, the audience love her as much as they love you.

The two of you are absolute menaces if you decide to do a livestream, pulling in huge donations because Baby is going to pout and taunt. Why should the two of you put on a show if they're not showing their appreciation properly?

Baby is the type to respond to very low donations with "it's alright, you can just say you're poor". She never promised to play nice and she just thinks you're worth more than that!!!

You end up apologising for her.

People are into it though.

Yautja (Predator)

Your mate doesn't quite get it but he's cool with it.

Is hard as soon as you ask if he wants to be in a video. Yautja's aren't very conservative or prudish when it comes to sex and nudity, so you weren't too surprised.

He loves the thought of taking you, of claiming you, and everyone knowing that you're his mate. That he's a worthy mate for you.

Even when he's a regular feature in your videos, he doesn't completely understand it, he just knows he's into it.

Everyone loves to watch you try to take him fully, the struggle, the determination, the satisfaction when you manage it.

You have cornered the Monster Fucker market. They don't know if it's real, if it's a very elaborate costume, or very realistic animation, either way they are eating it up.

All the other performers who use alien dildos and such are super jealous, obviously.

[yanwonnies]

ꜜ : 𝑺𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝑺𝒆𝒍𝒇𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔 ﹙ 희승; 제이 ; 정원 ! ﹚

↝ At the MAMA awards, Y/N's dangerously short dress intensely catches the attention of Jungwon, Heeseung, and Jay, sparking tension and desire in the dressing room.

⠇↴ Pairings: poly!ot7 x added member!reader ﹙ l.hs, p.js, y.jw centric. ﹚ ⠇↴ Words: 3.4K

Warnings ‎⸝⸝⸝ suggestive, ass grabbing (l.hs part), throat grabbing (p.js part), making out session?? i don't really know, just a lot of kissing, enha' a bit dominant and possessive, insecure!reader as well as anxious!reader, a little angsty, ending a little short and boring to be honest. I think that's all… if I missed something, let me know!

Wonnie’s note ‎⸝⸝⸝ english is not my first language, so I apologize if there are any typographical errors or if the text loses meaning in some parts. I appreciate your understanding and patience. I hope you enjoy the reading, and thank you very much for taking the time to read my work.

𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘦𝘴 2024 © 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘥.

The hustle and bustle in the hallways backstage at the MAMA Awards was almost deafening. The atmosphere vibrated with palpable anticipation, a whirlwind of adrenaline and excitement enveloping every corner of the staging area. Artists, stylists and production staff moved with frantic urgency, each focused on perfecting the details for the big event. In the midst of all this excitement, my only point of focus was the reflection of my own figure in the dressing room mirror.

The dress I had been assigned for the presentation was not simply a costume piece; it was something that brazenly defied the rules of modesty. The tight, shiny fabric clung to my body with a precision that was almost unsettling, highlighting every curve and contour with an intensity that made me feel exposed. What really bothered me, however, was not just the tight material, but the way the dress cinched around the safety shorts.

The hem, which ended dangerously high, barely covered the essentials, letting the edges of the shorts peek out shyly and accentuating the feeling of vulnerability. Every little movement was a reminder of how close I was to unwanted exposure. The shiny fabric seemed to dance to the rhythm of my body, revealing more than I wished to show.

The tight fit of the dress and the visibility of the shorts created a palpable discomfort. Every breath became an act of discipline, a conscious effort to maintain a graceful posture while dealing with the restriction the fabric imposed. The heat and pressure under the dressing room lights added to my discomfort, making every movement feel like a constant challenge. I knew it would be complicated to move fluidly on stage, and that certainty only added to my anxiety.

In the midst of this internal whirlwind, the sound of the dressing room door opening interrupted my thoughts, bursting the bubble of my self-analysis. Instantly, I shrank back a little, instinctively seeking to hide my unease. Jungwon entered, and as our gazes met in the mirror, I noticed something that made my heart skip a beat. There was concern in his eyes, yes, but what surprised me most was how his pupils dilated and his eyes, normally filled with a warm glow, seemed to have darkened.

His gaze lingered on my figure, with a flash of curiosity that soon turned into something deeper. His expression changed, a touch of seriousness I hadn't seen before. -Is that… what you're going to wear? - he asked, his tone evoking a sense of tension.

Instead of responding with words, I simply nodded my head, unable to articulate a more coherent response. My throat felt dry, and nervousness prevented me from formulating a clear explanation. I looked down to fiddle nervously with my hands. The feeling of being watched so closely made me look for any distraction that might help me manage the growing nervousness.

The room seemed to have shrunk to an intimate space, and the bustle outside faded to a distant whisper. Jungwon approached slowly, his movements deliberate and calculated, like a predator studying its prey. His every step seemed to echo in the silent room, and his presence seemed to fill everything.

When he stood in front of me, the closeness was overwhelming. I was cornered between the makeup table and him, my back pressed against the edge of the table. His legs were strategically placed in between mine, leaving barely any space between us. His proximity was so palpable that I felt his warmth almost like an extension of my own body.

With a gesture that combined firmness and gentleness, he placed his hand on my waist; the pressure of his fingers was sure but not aggressive, as if he was trying to balance control with an almost intimate subtlety. The contact was enveloping, his every movement causing the warmth of his hand to transmit through the material of the dress.

The sensation of her fingers pressing against my waist, while his legs were so close to mine, intensified the feeling of confinement. The pressure of his body against mine and the brush of his hand on mine created an atmosphere charged with tension. His gaze rested on every detail of my figure, his piercing eyes revealing a concern that seemed to merge with a palpable attraction.

He bowed his head with an almost imperceptible gesture -You look…- he began to say in a whisper that vibrated with a captivating depth. -You look… absolutely amazing- The way he articulated each word, slurring the syllables, conveyed not only admiration, but a possessiveness that made me shudder. His tone charged with burning desire caused a searing heat to rise in my cheeks, and my skin tightened under his penetrating gaze.

Before I could react, Jungwon further reduced the distance between us and kissed me. It was a kiss that unfolded with an intensity that took my breath away. His lips, warm and demanding, met mine in a contact that was both demanding and delicate. The pressure of his mouth was firm, but the touch of his tongue, as it slid between our lips, was surprisingly gentle. His tongue moving with a confidence that combined desire and subtle dominance, caressing and exploring every corner of my mouth.

The kiss deepened with a palpable urgency. I felt his hands cling to my waist, firm and dominant, but at the same time careful, as if trying not to lose himself in the maelstrom of his own desire. Every caress of his tongue, every exploration, was a testament to a need that could not be contained. The outside world faded away, and there was only the warmth of her lips and the touch of her body.

When he finally pulled away, his lips left a trail of warmth on mine. He placed his forehead against mine, a gesture that sealed the moment with overwhelming intimacy. His eyes, still fixed on mine, reflected a mixture of desire and almost palpable concern. The closeness of our foreheads made our breaths synchronize, creating a space in which every inhale and exhale felt shared.

The feel of his warm, soft skin against mine, combined with the intensity of his gaze, created an emotional connection that transcended the physical.

-You can't use this, Y/N. Not like this…- said Jungwon in a low, firm whisper that resonated with authority, his voice laden with a depth that seemed to penetrate my essence. The words, though soft, carried a weight that contrasted sharply with the fervor of the kiss we had just shared. His gaze remained fixed on mine, his eyes brimming with a mixture of desire and concern -You can't move or dance like that, and that's not something you can ignore.

The certainty in her voice and the firmness of her statement brought me back to the reality of the moment. The discomfort and restriction of the dress became more apparent, and the genuine concern in her eyes merged with the intensity of her desire.

-I'm too selfish to let anyone else see you like this-Jungwon said, and his tone, charged with a possessiveness that made me shudder, seemed to further accentuate the heat rising in my cheeks.

Jungwon slowly pulled away, his forehead parting from mine with a gentleness that contrasted with the intensity of the moment. He walked out of the dressing room with a palpable determination, leaving me alone with a sense of emptiness and confusion. Minutes later, he returned accompanied by Jay and Heeseung.

As the door opened, Jay walked in first and his reaction was instantaneous. His eyes instantly darkened, surprise reflected in his face. His eyes, which normally sparkled with a playful sparkle, turned serious, almost as if they were absorbing the shock of what they saw. The intensity of his gaze swept over every detail of the dress, making it clear that he was affected by the sight.

Heeseung entered shortly after, and a shaky sigh escaped his lips. -God… -His eyes roamed over every line of the dress with a mixture of awe and suppressed desire. The exclamation, though softly spoken, was charged with a fascination she could not conceal. The way his eyes dilated and his expression hardened clearly showed how shocked he was by the sensuality of the outfit.

Instinctively, I pulled the hem of the dress down a little, in a desperate attempt to cover myself further, though I knew it was a temporary and ineffective solution. This simple movement seemed to bring all three of them back to reality.

Jay removed his leather jacket in one purposeful motion and tied it around my waist. The gesture, while practical, carried with it a sense of closeness and protection that I had not anticipated. As he leaned toward me, the intensity of his gaze and the determination in his movements created an atmosphere of security that counteracted my growing anxiety.

The jacket he tied around my waist provided additional coverage, but the real comfort came from his closeness.

-There's no way you're going out like this- Heeseung said, taking a step closer to me, his voice tense and laden with a concern that was evident in every word. The intensity of his gaze swept over my figure with a firmness that left no room for doubt.

-It's obvious- Jay added, his tone now firmer and more determined. -Where's the stylist?- he asked, looking around with palpable trepidation. The search for an immediate solution was evident in his tone, and his concern for my well-being was undeniable.

Nervously, I looked at Jay, trying to remain calm -No, it's really okay…- I said, as I tried to convince them and myself that I could handle the situation. -I don't want to slow us down or upset the staff… It's fine like this.

Jay paused for a moment, and his expression softened. Without another word, he leaned toward me and placed a soft kiss on my lips. His lips moved over mine with an intensity that made me shiver, and the way he held me by the neck gave him a sense of protection and dominance. The kiss was a reminder of his commitment and how deeply he cared for me. His touch, at once gentle and commanding, spoke of a desire to protect me and keep me safe.

-No, I'm not going to let anyone see my girlfriend like this- he said in a deep voice charged with determination, as he slowly pulled away from the kiss. His expression was a reflection of the intensity of his feelings, and his words were an affirmation of his unwavering resolve.

With palpable determination, Jay left the dressing room in search of the stylist, with Jungwon at his side, insisting on accompanying him to ensure that everything was resolved in the best possible way. The door closed behind them with a faint click, leaving me in the dressing room with Heeseung.

The tension in the room was thick and palpable, and the silence that followed Jay and Jungwon's departure was filled with the soft murmur of my gasping breath. Heeseung approached me with a calming presence. The way he moved, with a mixture of assurance and tenderness, contrasted with the intensity of the moment before. He wrapped his arms around my waist, his hands resting gently on my belly. The feel of his warmth and the comforting touch of his fingers brought me a slight relief, and his close whisper in my ear gave me a breath of relief.

-Calm down- Heeseung said to me, his voice was soft, almost like a whisper, laden with an affection that wrapped around me like a warm blanket.

I turned in his arms, feeling the comfort of his nearness. His eyes, ever so warm and understanding, reflected a mixture of concern and affection. It took me a moment to appreciate every feature of his face, with none of the stern grimaces I had seen on Jay.

-It's just that Jay looked really stressed- I told him, seeing Jay lose his composure like that and the seriousness on his face had added an extra layer of unease to my already agitated mind.

Heeseung looked at me with deep understanding. -It's okay- he said, his tone comforting. -Although I personally think the dress is… pretty- his voice carried a tinge of sarcasm, hinting at the hotness of the outfit -I understand that not everyone has the right to see you like this.

A spontaneous smile appeared on my face at Heeseung's boldness; his response was a relief in the midst of the tension. His lighthearted attitude, even in the midst of such an intense situation, was a source of comfort.

Heeseung bowed his head slightly, his gaze fixed on me with a mischievous glint in his eyes. -I'll find a way to bring this dress to the dormitories- he said with a smile that hid a mixture of defiance and tenderness.

I couldn't help but laugh at his comment, giving him a playful pat on the arm. My laughter was a welcome respite, a release of the tension that had built up. However, as soon as my laughter subsided, Heeseung leaned toward me and kissed me passionately on the lips.

The kiss began slowly and playfully, his lips moving over mine with tantalizing softness. Heeseung's lips were warm and firm against mine, and his hand began to slowly roam my waist. The pressure of his touch was a constant reminder of his desire and presence, adding a layer of sensuality to each caress.

I tried to maintain control, not allowing his tongue access to my mouth. His hands, which initially caressed my waist with tantalizing tenderness, slowly descended down my hips. Each movement was deliberate, each caress carefully measured to intensify the desire we shared.

My attempts to maintain dominance over the kiss became more difficult as his hands moved down my thighs, moving with an assured confidence. The feel of his fingers exploring the surface of my skin made me feel vulnerable, and his touch became a promise of what was to come. His hand finally reached my ass, squeezing it with a firmness that made me let out an unexpected gasp.

The sound escaped my lips unintentionally, and at that moment, Heeseung took the opportunity to slide his tongue into my mouth with determined sensuality. The warmth of his tongue met mine, and the kiss deepened with an intensity that made every fiber of my being stir. His movements were sure, every touch and every caress charged with a loving possession that enveloped me completely.

Heeseung began to slowly pull back, his body moving with an innate confidence. Finally, he leaned back against the table, his hips flush against the cold, solid surface. His hands, which previously explored my body tenderly, had now focused on my ass, squeezing it with a firmness that made each caress feel even more intense.

My hands, moving instinctively, found the nape of Heeseung's neck. I began to stroke his hair with a gentleness that was a mixture of affection and desire. The touch of my fingers on his scalp elicited a low moan that escaped his lips, and I felt his body tense against mine with renewed desire.

Suddenly, footsteps sounded in the distance, approaching rapidly. I broke away from Heeseung quickly. As he wiped the residual gloss from my lips with a quick, subtle gesture, I tried to compose myself, adjusting my breathing and arranging my dress with trembling hands. Jay's jacket, still tied around my waist, shifted slightly as I tried to give it a final touch to disguise the slip.

My heartbeat echoed in my ears like a frantic drum as I spun around to face those who were entering. I watched Jungwon, Jay and the stylist cross the threshold, and felt a surge of nervousness course through my body.

Jungwon, with his imposing bearing and a determined expression on his face, waved his hand at me. The concern in his eyes was palpable; he knew well that, as the only woman in the group, my position was especially vulnerable.

-She can't wear that- Jungwon said, his voice ringing with a firmness that left no room for doubt.

The stylist, upon hearing the statement, turned to me with an expression of surprise that quickly morphed into a silent exclamation of understanding. Her lips formed an "O" of surprise and concern as she connected the pieces of the puzzle.

-Ah, this? - She said, pointing to the jacket still tied around my waist. -Yeah, this jacket is Jay's, so this isn't supposed to-

Jay, in a low but determined tone, interrupted immediately -The jacket stays unless T/N changes this piece of fabric that you call a dress- his voice was low and direct, and his displeasure was palpable.

Jay's statement was a reality check that made me feel even more aware of the situation.

Jungwon, noticing the growing tension, tried to calm the atmosphere. -Hyung...- he said in a tone that sought to moderate the situation -we need T/N to change. She can barely move with this on. - He explained, addressing the stylist with a mixture of firmness and calm. Her words were clear: the dress did not allow any free movement, and a solution was urgently needed.

The stylist, with an air of resignation, replied in a tone that made her discomfort clear. -The company chose the clothes, and I really can't do anything about it at the moment- she said.

Jungwon, with a determination that brooked no objection, insisted. -Then the jacket stays.

The stylist sighed, clearly frustrated. The combination of the jacket with the dress was not ideal, and the effort to match it correctly seemed to be reaching its limit. -I'll see what I can do- she said in a tone that promised action, and hurried out of the dressing room in search of a solution.

As the stylist walked away, with hurried steps, my attention was drawn to Jay.

Jay was standing near the door, his figure imposing and his expression filled with palpable concern. The intensity of his gaze was a reminder of how much he cared about all of this. I approached slowly, feeling the tension in my muscles begin to loosen with each step I took toward him. The closeness of his presence brought me a breath of relief, as if the weight of the situation was eased by his proximity alone.

When I was finally close enough, I gently leaned toward him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. My touch was a mixture of gratitude and nervousness, a gesture that sought to express all that I could not say in words. I felt the warmth of his skin under my lips, a warmth that was comforting and reassuring. -Thank you, Jay- I murmured in a voice that tried to remain calm, but hinted at the emotion and gratitude I felt inside.

Jay, upon receiving my kiss, showed a slight smile that spoke of relief and satisfaction. I then turned to Jungwon, who was watching the scene tenderly. I approached him with purposeful steps, seeking his support in the midst of the chaos I had been experiencing.

I offered him a kiss on the cheek, and in that instant, the warmth of his body and the firmness of his embrace became a refuge in the midst of my emotional storm. His embrace was enveloping and protective. -Thank you, Jungwon- I said in a voice full of sincerity and gratitude.

At that moment, the tension in the air began to dissipate, and the atmosphere was filled with a brief breath of relief. Jay, watching Heeseung with a smile that mixed amusement and satisfaction, let out a low chuckle, which broke the tense silence in the dressing room. -Hyung, are you all right? -he asked in a playful tone.

Heeseung, still leaning back from the makeup table, let out a sigh that was a mixture of relief and amusement. The little scuffle between Jay and Heeseung, accompanied by jokes and comments, brought momentary relief to the tension that had been so palpable earlier. As I listened to their banter and bickering, I felt comforted by the solidarity and love they were offering me.

I leaned toward Jungwon once again, feeling the warmth and firmness of his embrace. -Thank you again- I said in a tone full of affection. He smiled slightly, and his expression softened even more. -I had already told you. We are too selfish to share you.

[thebibliosphere]

I was just playing gotham knights again and noticed some passive dialog regarding Babs having a back brace, which is at least acknowledging that there was damage done, but I'm a little sad for the loss of some really cool disability representation. What are your feelings on her (and on a similar note Batman's) miraculous recovery from paralysis in DC?

I think Gotham Knights handled her disability fairly well, considering this is a universe where magic, nanobots, and puddles of evil green goo that can heal the dead exist. All things considered, it would have been very easy for them to either erase it entirely or just handwave and say, "She worked really hard and got better," as previous iterations of the canon have done.

Because she did work hard and get better, but the hard work is ongoing because they depict her issues as chronic.

She's got a limp (it's the most obvious in her Talon suit with no cape in the way), which means she can't rely on speed or high kicks like the others can (I mean, she can kick, but it's her slowest motion, and until you max out her suit, it's the most liable to get her thrown to the ground), so she falls back on precision and her tech.

Jason punches for maximum pain, Dick moves with dizzying speed, and Tim's gonna sneak up on you and drop you like a rock, but Babs is going for the pressure points with ruthless precision. Not to mention her drones.

The conversation with Tim, realizing she might need help boosting her suit to compensate for her pain/strength issues, is a nice little way of making the player aware that she's got these ongoing problems because, honestly, a casual observer could mistake her back brace for athleisure wear if they didn't recognize the shape of it. It's also a good way of throwing in some exposition about how she's still going to physical rehab and that her PT would like her to "wean off" her back brace, but because her PT doesn't know her actual job as a vigilante, Barbara admits she can't and is essentially finding ways to manage her own care and create her own accommodations. Accommodations which they are all shown to be willing to help with.

It's a nice little touch when superhero narratives tend to revolve around self-sacrifice to the point of self-destruction. Alfred giving Dick into trouble for pushing himself too far and hiding injuries is a nice touch, too, even if it's like trying to bail water on the Titanic with a teacup.

I also like that not only do you see her wheelchair lurking around the Belfry—along with the disability adaptations they put in place, like the ramps, the wheelchair elevator, and the desks that move up and down to wheelchair height—but that she also still uses her chair from time to time.

[ID a screenshot from Gotham Knights showing the Belfry. Light streams in through a giant clockface, showcasing a bank of computer screens. In front of the screen, Barbara Gordon is using her wheelchair as Dick Grayson stands behind her, probably making a bad pun.]

Whether she's using it because she's tired or simply because it's more comfortable than the computer chair is never revealed. Nor is it brought up or commented on. It's just something that's normal for Barbara to do, and I like that. I like that it's normal. It's not a part of herself she's trying to erase. She works with it, not against it.

Is it perfect? No. Do they outright erase her disability like so many of the comics are guilty of? Also, no. I'd argue that, in fact, they kept her disability. They just changed the nature of it.

Barbara now has a dynamic disability, one which fluctuates and requires different management based on her day-to-day (or night) activity. She's in active treatment for it and will be for the rest of her life. Are some of the physical feats she achieves realistic for someone with an injury of her nature? Not really, but again, this is a world where nobody stays dead, and there are zombie assassins coming out of the walls. I'll take the attention to detail and care they put into her story any day over the "Willpower Fixed My Spine" narrative we could have gotten.

As for Bruce getting healed by magic, again, it's Batman. Comic book logic is wibbly-wobbly at the best of times, and realistically speaking, they couldn't leave Batman paralyzed. His whole deal revolves around being stealthy and punching the shit out of people. He wouldn't be Batman anymore, and frankly, I don't trust the comic writers as far as I could throw them to handle that right.

By contrast, the Gotham Knights writers handled Barbara with much more care and nuance than I ever expected. And I'm thankful for that.

---

*I also like that both Dick and Barbara are often shown wearing joint braces. Dick's are especially reminiscent of the way gymnasts and people with hypermobility tape their joints to reduce pain and prevent injuries. It's a nice little touch. They're not invincible. Their bodies hurt. They're just like me but with money and much bigger problems like giant killer robots and zombie assassins.

[quasi-normalcy]

What really stood out in watching Jenny Nicholson's review of the Star Wars hotel is just that...Disney really can't do *anything* right anymore, can it? Objectively one of the most successful corporations ever in history, got where it was through legitimately high-quality product, visionary engineering, and obsessive attention to detail, and now...they just can't do anything. Guess that's oligopoly for you.

[uglypastels]

the Special | Sanji x reader

a/n - my first One Piece fic. absolutely terrifying but definitely a needed change of scenario to get out of my writing block. please be kind; I'm taking all my inspo from the live-action as that is what I am currently the most familiar with. but, well, we just have to see how it goes. bon appetite

Shoutout to my dear @mydearzero for encouraging my newfound obsession with this show and this character, as well as generally encouraging me to write. this is all your fault. And to everyone else who had been expecting me to finally post one of the other million fics I had promised... I'm sorry

And kind reminder that reblogs is what makes tumblr work. Please, if you enjoyed the story, reblog

word count: 9.9k

warning: 18+ only. MDNI. smut. piv sex. oral sex (f!receiving). unprotected sex [wrap up your eggplants yall]. semi-public sex. several FDA regulation code breaks, probably. afab reader. swearing. little bit of angst. shitty and fat-shaming [oc!]boyfriend/date. fist fight. alcohol consumption.

“Look at your waiter's face. He knows. It's another reason to be polite to your waiter; he could save your life with a raised eyebrow or a sigh.”

― Anthony Bourdain, 

The first thing you saw was the red, bright sign spelling out the restaurant's name.

Baratie. You had no clue what it meant but could only hope that “the best restaurant in the East Blue” was somewhere down the list of its definitions, especially after the months that they had kept you on the waiting list and the tumultuous trip that it took to sail there. Next, as your ship approached, you saw the… fish head. The sight of the sculpture at the front of the ship structure buried some worry in the pit of your stomach, but surely, if so many people had given it such fond reviews, the exterior was not to speak for what awaited you inside. 

‘Believe me, baby, you’ll love it here.’

‘I really hope so,’ you smiled as you got off your boat. Your legs shook at the knee as you stepped onto the sturdy dock planks. Days at sea, which had never been your friend, had clearly done more damage than you expected. You would have been on the floor if it wasn’t for the pair of arms holding on to you.

‘Thanks, Chosi,’ you said towards your boyfriend as he helped you steadily get back onto your feet. 

‘Can’t have you faceplant the second we get here,’ he brushed some invisible dust off your shoulder, and with his arm entwined with yours, he led you to the entrance of the establishment. You grabbed at the skirt of your dress to keep it down as the wind blew by.

As you walked, you looked at all the other ships harboured on the… was this an island? Was the entirety just one large ship? Was it anchored to something then, or was it drifting around the seas constantly? You couldn’t quite comprehend the logistics of it all. But you could tell that humans and other creatures of all walks of life–royalty, commoners, marines, pirates—were unbothered by each other's presence and enjoying the outing. Once inside, the shushed sound of the waves was exchanged for a whisper of swing music, as well as the chatter of the restaurant’s patrons and the clinking of their cutlery on plates. The walls were lined in crimson wallpaper as well as painted depictions of sea battles, accented in gold and bronze details matching the furniture placed spaciously around the room and the two stories above it that lead the eye to a beautiful aquamarine ceiling that gave the illusion as if one was looking up at the bright sky from underwater. 

The maitre’d, a Fishman, stood to attention at your entrance. 

‘Good afternoon, how may I help you?’ he asked kindly. 

‘We have a reservation. Name is Chosi,’ Chosi stated with his head held high. Despite you doubting that anyone knew his name in these parts of the world, he never ceased to pronounce it with a level of expectation to it. It was commendable, as well as disappointing, when nothing happened afterwards. The maitre’d simply nodded and glanced down at his long list of names, searching for the one he had just heard, ready to cross it off.

 ‘Ah, yes, right here. Please, do follow me to your table.’ And so, you did just that, walking down the grand staircase onto the restaurant's main floor, where you seated at one of the smaller tables, perfect for a romantic dinner for two. ‘Your waiter will be right with you.’ The Fishman bid you farewell just like that and returned to his position at the door. 

‘So?’ Chosi looked at you with a raised brow as you looked around.

‘It is quite stunning.’ You must admit that you did not expect this kind of splendour when looking at the carved fish that gaped at you outside. Something about that just did not exude the same essence as the timeless and classy beauty of the interior. You barely even felt the shake of the waves beneath you. 

Maybe your response wasn’t sufficient, for Chosi had opened his mouth to respond, something in the angles of his face announcing displeasure, but he was interrupted by a new presence at your table. You looked up at the tall figure towering over you. 

‘Welcome,’ the man spoke, his accent clearly indicating his origin if only you had been aware of where that was. Simultaneously, he put down a plate of bread rolls, perfectly and meticulously positioned atop it. ‘...to Baratie. My name is Sanji; I will be your waiter this afternoon.’

‘Took you long enough.’ Chosi mumbled under his breath, giving you an immense urge to kick him underneath the table, but you knew better than to do that, especially when he did not seem to be ready to stop any time soon. ‘Trying to convince my girl this place is worth visiting, heh.’ You could feel your cheeks burning up in embarrassment. Nevertheless, the waiter—Sanji, he said was his name—did not seem to give the comment much thought as he looked down at you with a curve to his thin-lined lips.

‘My apologies, madame; I hope my service will not give you the false impression of this establishment being worth any of your precious time.’ The smoothness of his voice almost concealed the true meaning behind his speech, leaving you, as well as your date, speechless. However, you felt your speaking ability to be taken away by more than just his words as you spared a second to take your waiter in properly. You just could not help but notice how his suit wrapped around his arms, and although one was covered by his blonde hair, his eyes had a glint of something that excited you despite not even knowing the root of that excitement. 

Like nothing had happened, Sanji continued, ‘Would you care to see the menu? Hear the specials?’ That is when you noticed the menu cards he was holding in his hand. And he must have been ready to list the special items, but Chosi was a step ahead. 

‘Actually, I think we are ready to order.’ That was the first you had heard of it, but you stayed put as he continued. After all, Chosi had eaten here before. He knew what was good, and you could trust his judgement. 

‘Prime rib, medium rare,’ as your boyfriend spoke, you kept your eye on the waiter, noticing the appearance of the smallest of flinches in his face at the sound of the dish, but never faltering his picture-perfect appearance, ‘and my lady will have the salad.’

Another twitch, right below his visible eyes, followed, but Sanji’s professional facade stayed on as he inquired: ‘We offer quite a variety of salads; which would madame prefer?’ And with that, he turned to you, that smile plastered on like a sticker, but he had trouble keeping it on as the answer to his question did not come from your mouth.

‘Whichever is the best, of course.’ Chosi rolled his eyes, and you wished you could do so as well. The waiter glanced between you and him, turning back to you momentarily. Long enough for you to give him a reassuring smile. It would be in everyone’s best interest if he just moved on from the matter. 

‘Drinks, then,’ Sanji again spoke with an unphased essence about him, as if nothing from the past few minutes had ever occurred, or at least tried to emulate this. ‘Madam, anything I can get you?’ The way he emphasised that word didn’t require any pointed glares. 

‘Uhm,’ you hesitated as he kept his full attention on you, completely ignoring the man sitting opposite you at the table, making Chosi stare at you just as, if not more, intensely, for all the opposite reasons. Out of panic, you just blurted out the most straightforward order. ‘Just water, thank you.’ It being the first words you said in the waiter's presence, they came out soft. Nothing like your regular voice, which startled you slightly. 

‘Still, sparkling or mineral?’ Sanji pursued. 

‘Still please,’ you smiled shyly, unsure where that actual shyness derived from. 

‘Ice? Cubed or crushed?’ He fired the questions at a rapid pace.

‘A bit of ice is fine. Thank you,’ you repeated yourself, looking down at the table and letting the waiter move on to the rest of the order. He didn’t say anything else but looked at Chosi with anticipation. 

‘I’ll have your finest brew.’

‘Coming up,’ his voice had a sudden coldness to it as he walked away, back to the kitchen, leaving the table to a thick silence. 

‘I could have ordered for myself, you know,’ you said, with that same soft tone you had spoken with earlier, although this felt much more familiar seeing who you talked to. 

 ‘And have you stuff yourself with some useless carbs? C’mon, you know I’m just looking out for you, here.’ 

‘I know.’ You straightened out a fork in front of you, suddenly feeling uneasy at how far away from the plate it was positioned compared to the knife on the opposite side. You were straightening out a crease in the tablecloth when Sanji returned with a silver tray in one hand. He placed the pint glass full of golden brew in front of Chosi before turning your way and setting a glass beside your plate. With a pair of tongs, one by one, he let ice cubes fall to the bottom of it, the clinking against the glass almost deafening. Then, he followed up with another pair of tongs and reached for a little tray but stopped himself to ask you: ‘Care for a slice of lemon, madame?’

‘Oh, uhm, sure,’ you shrugged, unable to look away. This process of pouring a glass of water felt rather extensive, but you could not deny the fact you were enjoying it all. As he grabbed the large pitcher to pour the water, you were unsure how he had carried all of these items with one hand and did so seemingly effortlessly.

‘There we go,’ he smiled, ‘your food will be with you shortly, but do let me know if you require anything else.’ And just like that, he was gone again, but not without leaving you feeling that he had meant his parting words especially for you and that that sentiment had undoubtedly not escaped your date.

‘I don’t like the look of that guy.’ Chosi glared at you as he took a sip from his pint, slurping up the top layer of foam with it. 

‘I think he’s quite sweet.’ You straightened out the fork again and reached for a bread roll to tear it apart piece by piece. 

‘Of course you would,’ he rolled his eyes, which made you look up from your little snack.

‘What is that supposed to mean?’ You put the bread roll down as the pit in your stomach hollowed out your appetite. Right, making space for that damn salad.

‘Nothing.’ Chosi shrugged, ‘Just that it's typical that somehow I’m the only one to notice when some guy is trying to cop a feel.’

‘He was doing no such thing.’ You had to bite your tongue not to raise your voice as his insinuation, despite being on the waiter's actions, seemed to be brutally judging yourself. ‘The poor guy is just doing his job. I’m not bothered by it, and neither should you be.’ Usually, you would attach some sweet nickname at the end of that sentence, but this was one too many times you had said a variant of the confirmation, and you were growing tired of just the thought of it.

Somewhere in the distance, a table erupted into a shouting match that had to be broken up by a handful of waiters. While usually, you turned away from such brutalities, never having been fond of violence and not particularly having a necessity in seeing people getting their teeth punched out minutes before eating a meal, this time you stretched your neck out to glance across the room, secretly hoping to catch a glimpse of the white-blonde hair among the rousing heads. Someone had pulled a pistol, but the weapon was kicked out of the man's grip before they could shoot or even alarm people enough to hide beneath their tables. Just like that, the restaurant resumed its normal state of pleasantries, and you got back to your abysmal date and hoped it was still worth saving… or that saving was still even an option to begin with. 

‘From what you had told me about the place, Chi, it is much grander than I had expected.’ You smiled, and he nodded to your affirmations.

‘Well, I didn’t want to raise the expectations too high, but you know I don’t do anything but the best for you, sweet cheeks.’

‘Of course—’ you were interrupted by the footsteps nearing your table, and the weight nearly lifted off your shoulders at the sight of Sanji carrying too large plates. 

‘Hello there,’ he grinned slyly, ‘hope I don’t interrupt anythin’.’ 

‘Not at all,’ You moved your glass aside to make space for your dish, but Sanji put Chosi’s plate down first, announcing the food.

‘Prime rib, medium rare, for the gentleman.’ Like everything else, he precisely placed it so the gold details on the plate faced the diner exactly right. The roast glistened in the restaurant's dim light, and the smell hit you right at the nerves that reminded you of your hunger. But that was for the gentleman, and the gentleman had ordered for you the—

‘And for the madame,’ Sanji put a plate in front of you, ‘what I like to call the Sanji Special.’

You looked down at your plate of food with a stunned expression and then looked back up. Just in time, you caught the slight wink that your waiter had sent you before stepping back to then, with a nod, say, ‘Bon appetite.’ 

He got to take about three steps and had just turned his back towards your table when Chosi called out to him, clearing his throat. ‘Ehem, excuse me, Sonny.’ 

‘Is there a problem?’ Sanji returned with his hands behind his back, but you didn’t need to see his fists to know he was clenching them. It was all visible in the strain of his upper arms and jaw as he restrained himself to keep up a polite smile. 

‘I am pretty sure we had ordered a salad?’ Chosi tried to play it off with a casual laugh, but it turned out to be anything but. Sanji leaned forward to grab the plate, but then your boyfriend exclaimed, ‘No, not for me; for her.’ before the waiter got his hand on his prime rib.

With a satisfied smile, Sanji glanced at your plate and stated: ‘That is a salad.’

Not that you did not appreciate what was in front of you, but if it was a salad, it was the loosest interpretation of the definition possible. You had to keep your laugh in as he explained that the dish was a “twist on kensui salad with steamed components, egg, and pork” or, in your simpler terms… the most delicious-looking pot of ramen you had ever encountered in your life, but no, definitely not a salad in the traditional sense. You smiled at the food, not daring to look up at Sanji while your boyfriend’s head seemed to be boiling alive, but the waiter was a step ahead of you. 

‘Ah, almost forgot, for the lady,’ almost out of nowhere, he made a pair of chopsticks appear for you. 

‘She will not be eating that,’ Chosi grunted. 

‘I think that is for her to decide,’ Sanji didn’t even bother to look at him, keeping his sweet smile on you, which, in turn, rushed a hot flush over your cheeks. 

‘Chosi, don’t be like that; this looks delicious.’ You spoke, hoping he would calm down and let you finally sink your teeth into this gorgeous meal. After a tense second, Chosi finally huffed out and sank back down in his chair, making you realise he had been on the verge of getting up for whatever reason. Either way, his intentions could not have been good. In the meantime, Sanji excused himself once more to finally leave you to eat. 

You had perhaps taken half a bite when Chosi, his food untouched, spoke up again. ‘Why do you always do this?’

‘Do what?’ your throat tightened around the pork you had just swallowed.

‘Embarrass me like that?’ He sighed, a vein in his forehead looking more prominent than ever.

‘I didn’t—’

‘Cut the shit, you know what you’re doing.’ Chosi slammed his fist on the table, startling you and the few people sitting at the nearest tables to you.

‘Please, can we not do this now,’ you kept your head down, ignoring all the pairs of eyes that must have started catching on to what was happening. Chosi had turned red from anger by that point. 

‘What, am I being too much for you? Imagine what it’s like going out with a slut—’

‘Chosi!’ you snapped, immediately covering your face with your hand as if you had not meant to shout and grab the attention of even more people. 

Deep breath in. 

Out. 

‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’ You hissed at the man across the table from you. 

‘With me? You’re the one that has been eyefucking the waiter this whole time, and now you disrespected me like that in front of him? Do I mean so little to you?’

‘I did no such thing.’ You rolled your eyes, catching glimpses of the room you were in. The people that sat around, the employees. Of course, Sanji stood only a few tables away, taking an order. Could he hear what was happening? Most likely, the idea of that burned you in a new, much more unpleasant manner. Chosi must have said something, but you had been too occupied by your surroundings and too tired to even listen to what other vile things he had to tell you. The only thing that kept you at that table was the food, but no matter how good, it wasn’t worth enduring him. ‘You know what,’ you grabbed your napkin and slapped it onto the table, ‘I can’t do this right now. I’ll see you on the boat.’ The chair shrieked as you shoved it back.

‘Where the hell do you think you’re going,’ Chosi growled practically, and despite you having already turned your back to him, you heard his own chair scrape the deck floor. You had your eyes squeezed shut as you got ready for what was coming. He reached out, but nothing happened. 

You looked over your shoulder to see Sanji pulling Chosi in by the sleeve. 

‘Believe me, we don’t wanna do that, mate.’ Sanji said, his eyes filled with a new rage that made you take a step back.

‘Let go of me, you sleaze.’ Chosi suddenly reminded you of a feral kitten, how he tried to wriggle himself out of the waiter’s grip. ‘I’ll make you regret ever touching me. Do you know who I am?’

‘Do I look like I give a shit?’ he let go with a laugh, almost pushing Chosi to the ground. As your date dusted off his sleeves, Sanji took a step forward, pressing himself against him. Now that both men were standing face to face, did you only realise how much taller Sanji was than your boyfriend. How much bigger and, most likely, how much stronger. With a hushed and reserved tone yet somehow full of intimidation, the waiter said, ‘Don’t you ever try to touch or speak to a woman like that again, you hear me? Or I’ll make you regret you were ever born.’ 

Chosi could only nod with his eyes blown wide open. The restaurant was dead quiet, unable to pull their eyes away from the scene unfolding before them. No one said anything or moved, and yet, somewhere, a stack of plates fell. The crash of porcelain echoed through the space, and Sanji turned his attention toward the kitchen’s double doors for a second. That quick moment was enough for Chosi to find his moment and attack.

Or at least make an attempt at it. 

Sanji was still looking toward the kitchen, and Chosi’s fist was in mid-air, but the waiter flawlessly manoeuvred around it, swinging himself back and letting Chosi fall forward. To make matters worse, Sanji supplemented the fall by kicking him over. If it wasn’t for the fact that your boyfriend’s chin had smacked against the table, you would have missed the entire thing, as Sanji’s movements were so elegant that it seemed as if he had not moved at all. He might as well have been refilling your water, ignorant of the groaning mess of a man he had kicked down to the ground with such ease. 

Chosi got up shakily. A nasty cut was already dripping blood from the underside of his face, but the redness didn’t compare to the rage on his face. He looked around until his eyes caught yours. ‘What, you’re just gonna stand there like some dumb–’

‘What did I just say?’ Sanji said, this time much louder, not trying to hide the row from the rest of the diners. But before he could make another move, Chosi reached for the nearest thing he could reach, which in his case was your dish of ramen, and threw a fistful of noodles Sanji’s way, hitting him square in the chest. 

Silence. 

He must have been too stunned at the audacious strike to move out of the way for it. Everyone must have been watching the noodles unstick from his navy jacket and slowly fall to the ground, then watched as Sanji raised his head back up, his expression unamused and cold, but his eyes filled with a passionate and furious fire. One that was enough to live up to the promise he had made the man you had come to the restaurant with. And so, just like that, without another word needing to be said by anyone, you watched Chosi back away—one, two, three steps, whimpering and mumbling some comments that could almost make up an apology, before he sprinted up the stairs to the exit. 

‘Ridiculous,’ you heard Sanji mutter under his breath. ‘Fucking waste of food.’

Before you could think any better about it, you walked up and knelt down, as he did, to reach for the spilt noodles. ‘I am so sorry,’ you started apologising. ‘I swear normally he–’

  ‘Is exactly like that,’ Sanji chuckled with a rasp. You looked up at him, a bit dumbfounded. He had managed to scoop most of the food before you had and was already getting up. ‘You have nothing to apologise for.’ One of his colleagues had been quick with bringing over cleaning supplies. ‘If anything, I should be the one saying sorry. Let me make it up to you—a drink in the bar, on the house.’

‘No, that is really not necessary.’ You couldn’t accept anything for free after your boyfriend pulled off such a scene and… had run off without paying. The realisation hit you like a brick on the head as you cursed under your breath with a strong sense of panic, which Sanji caught on to immediately. 

‘Please,’ He reached gently for your arm. ‘I insist.’

You stuttered for a moment before actually answering in defeated agreement. With a satisfied smile, Sanji led you to another exit, leading to the bar deck. ‘Right this way, madame.’

The bar deck, located in the mouth of that giant fish head, was moderately empty. Except for you and the appointed barman behind the counter, only a handful of others were sprinkled across the couches and futons. You chose a seat overlooking the sea and the setting sun that coloured the sky and waters an array of warm colours. 

You understood that you had to go up to the bar to order, but you felt no particular need for it, just enjoying the breeze that brought over the calm sea air towards you. 

It was unclear how much time you spent sitting out there, looking at the waves splashing by and the clouds above you and the people around you. Only once the sun had set entirely, darkening the sky completely, and most people had left the area, you decide to finally walk up to the bartender and place an order. The man nodded and proceeded to make your drink with only a few attached flourishes to the craft, but the result was charming and tasted delicious.

‘I hope I had made it clear that that was one drink on the house,’ you heard from behind you. 

‘Don’t worry, this is my first.’ You said, turning around to see Sanji standing behind you. 

‘You might just be the slowest drinker I have ever met,’ he said as he took the spot by your side.

‘Jeez, do your manners flush away the second you’re off the clock?’ You smiled, taking a sip of your drink, most likely also proving Sanji his point as the sip you took was particularly small. 

‘For what it’s worth, madame, I was about to tell you that your bill has been taken care of.’ He leaned against the bar countertop with his forearms. ‘But I will make myself scarce now.’

‘No, wait,’ you stopped him before he could push himself back. ‘What do you mean it was– I would have happily paid. At least let me leave a tip.’ You were ready to pull out your purse when he took his turn to halt your movements. 

‘I will not be accepting any tips for my service today. And honestly, you barely had a meal to eat, let alone to pay for. It is all taken care of. I promise.’

You looked up at him apprehensively, but something about his–not necessarily laidback–but how he was so comfortable with the situation put you at ease, too. But something was gnawing at your conscience. 

‘Alright then, but I disagree with the review of your service. You most certainly need something for it in return.’ How could you repay the man who had just gotten you out of your horrific relationship? You doubted anything in the world could match your actual gratefulness. Although, maybe the smile that pulled at Sanji’s lips said something different.

‘Let me cook for you.’

‘What?’ You blinked slowly, making him smile even wider.

‘You haven’t eaten anything proper in hours. Let me make you something in the kitchen–an exclusive guest experience.’

‘That doesn’t sound much like a gratuity for you.’ You pointed out, but he did not seem to mind.

‘Indulge me,’ was all he responded with. Feeling giddy at the prospect, you glanced over at the bartender, who was definitely listening in on the conversation. Understanding what you meant with your look, he simply shrugged while wiping the glasses. 

‘Ok then.’ This entire thing felt utterly ridiculous, and you didn’t hide the amusement you felt from it as Sanji opened the door to the kitchen for you. That is when your smile lightly faltered, only to be replaced with a fallen jaw as you looked around in amazement. Like the dining area, this room had a high ceiling but wasn’t decorated as much as simply visually enhanced by all the bronze pots and pans hanging around, and the pipes leading from the ovens and stoves up to the chimneys. There were long lines of prep stations, behind which one Sanji comfortably made himself at home as he immediately got started on something.

The first few minutes, after you watched him exchange his suit jacket for a white chef’s uniform, you were occupied with the kitchen itself, but once you had gotten used to the environment, you wondered where you could make yourself equally comfortable as not a nuisance to him as he cooked. 

‘Make yourself at home, sweetheart,’ he said while chopping some ingredients at a speed that made your heart skip a beat in fear. Or did that come from the new nickname that caught you by surprise? 

‘What happened to “madame”?’ you walked closer to his station. Sanji just looked up briefly, eye covered by his hair but his smile evermore present. Your smile lasted longer as you forgot you had meant to look at what he was doing, not to stare at him. Noticing he was not planning on answering your question, you asked another. ‘So, what exactly are you making?’

‘Since I’m sure dinner did not turn out entirely as you had planned, I thought maybe dessert would be a good pick-me-up. Rose and chocolate meringue tartes, how does that sound?’

  ‘Makes me wonder what I did to deserve it,’ you laugh it off while speaking the question that had been on your mind this whole time. 

‘I like to show a lady how she’s meant to be treated,’ he said as he poured several ingredients into a glass bowl and began wicking at a pace that should have stopped him from looking so effortless long ago. ‘It’s all part of the special package deal.’

‘Right, the Sanji Special, was it?’ You looked around at the countertop next to him, which seemed free from ingredients and anything you could set on fire. You glanced his way, and he swiftly nodded your way. With that permission in mind, you pushed yourself up on the counter, swinging your legs lightly back and forth. ‘So what exactly does this special indicate?’

‘A nice meal, a little surprise, a few kind words, nothing too crazy. I would like to think that, with it, I have perfected the recipe on how to eliminate shitbag boyfriends like that prince charming you came here with.’

‘My knight in shining armour.’ You rolled your eyes, hiding how much you appreciated all his actions from that day. ‘Must have worked on quite a few girls then?’

‘Can’t say it has,’ he said as he pushed the oven open to prebake a few tartelette frames. The speed at which he worked truly was otherworldly. 

‘Can’t because of a bad success rate or because you hadn’t actually tried it before?’

He appeared next to you from beside the oven; tiny droplets of sweat were forming at his temple, but his energy was still burning like the fire under the pot where he was melting the chocolate. ‘Let's say the latter. For both our dignity’s sake.’ It did not come as a surprise to you that he was a flirt and most likely tried these tricks out on the entirety of the female clientele, and yet, for reasons unknown, you did not mind one bit, and it still did not seize to make the smallest of his advances work on you with tremendous effect. 

‘Don’t think I have much more of that left after  everything that happened out there.’ You cringed at the memory of the shouting, the mess, and just how many people had been sitting there watching you. 

‘There’s been much worse out there, believe me.’ Sanji lowered the fire under the pan lightly.

‘I hardly believe that. He threw noodles at you. That is absolutely revolting behaviour.’ And somehow, you managed not to get kicked out of the restaurant along with Chosi but even got to hang out in the kitchen after hours as a special dessert was being prepared for you… by the waiter that your boyfriend had tried to assault— no, that your ex-boyfriend tried to assault. That felt much better, but still didn’t let the whole situation make any more sense.

‘And that wouldn’t even make the top ten of shit that’s happened around this place.’

‘I… am not sure wether to be relieved or disappointed.’ For an inexplicable reason, you thought you would be more memorable to him. However, would you have wanted that, seeing the actual circumstances under which that would be? Ugh.

As if he could read your mind, Sanji added in. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not planning on forgetting you anytime soon.’

‘I bet you say that to everyone.’ You rolled your eyes, to which he just smiled. ‘But really, I am sorry for what happened—especially to your suit.’

‘I care more about the noodles, honestly, don’t like seeing food go to waste—’ he drifted off with his thoughts before coming back up to the surface with another question, ‘speaking of noodles, where’d you meet this guy anyway?’

‘It’s complicated,’ you sighed, not wanting to burden him with your story, but from the eager attitude he was conveying as he managed his ingredients, he did not hold the same sentiment over it. ‘We had been friends for ages—out dads worked together—and it seemed, to everyone, apparently, like the natural progression of events that we would end up together.’

‘Everyone… except for you?’ he assumed, looking up at you from the counter space.

‘No, I mean, at first I thought so too, but over time… well, you saw it yourself. But by the time I had realised what a mess I had gotten myself into, it felt like I was already too late.’

‘How so?’ You heard the gentleness in his question like he was treading the topic lightly, not wanting to put any pressure on it or on you to answer. 

‘Heard people talking he had been planning to propose.’ You shrugged it off. ‘But I doubt that will be happening anymore.’

‘What are you going to do now?’ The question came with that same carefulness but perhaps a bit more intrigue. You simply shrugged again.

‘Will probably have to find another ship to get back home on, as I can’t imagine he would want me on board with him.’ It was crazy you had not bothered to check but assumed that he had already taken off hours ago, leaving you behind to fend for yourself. ‘And then, if I see him again… well, not much else I can do but officially dump his ass.’

‘So I shouldn’t feel bad for what I did?’ He stopped what he was doing as he waited for an answer.

‘Absolutely not. I can’t thank you enough for doing that.’ 

The both of you shared sheepish smiles before you watched him work silently for a few more minutes. The tarte frames came out of the oven in a beautifully crisp golden tone, and he mixed the chocolate into a thick mousse while the rosy syrup lay back to cool off. While the two of you remained quiet, the kitchen was anything but that as his utensils clinked around the pans. You thought back to a few hours ago and how the silence at your table had been anything but this. You had sat in a cold dread, waiting for something to snap until it inevitably did. However, you sat back comfortably here, happily watching as Sanji focused on his work. 

It really was his element. While you thought the man had been exemplary at waiting tables, it was nothing compared to the ease at which he performed here. Each move he made seemed like second nature to him. 

‘Do all the waiters here know how to cook like this?’ you inquired, leaning in to see how he filled the pastries up, hands in a tight grip on the piping bag. 

‘The ones that are cooks do,’ he chuckled. 

‘You’re a cook?’ you blinked, ‘then what were you doing out there earlier?’ 

‘Ah, the old shitbag that runs this place likes to torture me and send me off to do the waitin’.’ He readjusted his hold on the piping bag, briefly stopping to wipe his hand on the towel tucked between his belt. 

‘Doesn’t that bother you? I’m sure you’d much rather work here.’ You certainly would. Some people could be real assholes to serve… your former date being a prime example. But Sanji simply laughed it off.

‘Nah, not when beautiful women are out there waiting to be served.’ He stopped to look up at you with a shit-eating grin, and the unseriousness dripping off of it made you blush, smile along with him and push him back by his shoulder before you would do something else much more irrational. Perhaps a bit too hard, as he lost his balance, only finding it on the counter, exactly where the piping bag had been left behind. His palm fell right over the ending, bursting out the mousse in an unfortunate mess, spilling all over him and the counter.

‘Oh no,’ you said, covering your mouth but not the giggles from it, ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘You think it’s funny, don’t you?’ He couldn’t keep his smile, but you shook your head harshly. ‘You’ll pay for this,’ he pointed his hand, covered in chocolate, at you. Several thoughts ran through your mind initially, but you managed to suppress most of them, opting for simply running your finger over the back of his hand where most of the mousse had spilt and giving it a taste. 

‘That is really good.’ you hummed at the sweetness. Sanji stood back, somewhat frozen at what you had done, but quickly thawed out with a few blinks.

‘Well, what else did you expect?’ He wiped the rest of his hand on the towel at his side, ‘and I’ll have you know it’s rude to eat the food before it’s done. Takes away from the experience.’

‘I’m sorry,’ you pouted, ‘but I promise you I am still very much enjoying this whole experience.’

‘You better.’ Sanji said, taking the baking tray and putting it back in the oven for the last few minutes. With the oven door shut, he sighed and leaned against the counter opposite you. ‘Now we wait.’

‘How long exactly?’

‘In a rush, are we?’ He glanced at you from behind his hair, and the question made you heat up in the face. Because how could you explain to this practical stranger that you were feeling the opposite of what he insinuated. That you did not want this night to end at all. That being here with him, even if you were just waiting for a damn tart to bake, you were having more fun than you had had in weeks, if not longer. So, all you did was simply shake your head again. 

‘It will be just a few minutes, and then gotta let it cool for a bit.’ He reassured you. That is when you noticed the bowl he had mixed the mousse in, mostly scraped clean while filling up the piping bag, but even the best chef can’t always scrape every last ounce out. Now, you might not have had any particular urge to leave any time soon, but you certainly were hungry, and having tasted just how delicious Sanji’s food was, you couldn’t help but lean in to get another little taste. 

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ He said, bemused, reaching to stop you from taking another swipe of mousse onto your finger. His hand gently grabbed your wrist, but he had been too late. When he caught you, you had your hand directly over your lips, looking up at him. He glared down at you in a daring manner. 

You licked the chocolate off yourself as innocently as possible without bursting into laughter. 

‘I can’t believe you’d do that.’ He took a step forward, nearly closing the gap between you. The presence of his body, so close to yours, almost touching, reverberated off of you with warmth, and suddenly, you felt the breath you had taken to be stuck in the back of your throat. ‘Did you not listen to anything I just said?’ His breath was hot against your skin, and if you didn’t know any better, you would have thought it was a direct source of the skip in your heart. 

‘Of course I did.’ You ignored the fast beating of your heart and the feeling like it might just burst out of your chest as you took him by the arm to give you some space and let you slide down the counter back onto your feet. ‘Something about experience and…’ you slid out from between him and the counter, and as you did so, swooped by the bowl of mousse with your finger one last time. ‘I forgot what else.’

‘You are unbelievable,’ Sanji reached for your hand, but you were quicker and manoeuvred around him and from his arm’s reach. Taunting him with the mousse, you walked around the work counters, and he, happily playing along, followed suit. 

Like children, you ran around the kitchen, with him not far behind you, trying to catch you until he finally did, picking you up by the waist. Unintentionally, a squeak of a shriek came out of you, followed by both your laughs. You kept on laughing until you heard something outside the door. Heavy footsteps, freezing you both in your place until they moved on by. That is when you noted the time. Hours past midnight.

‘Are we even allowed to be in here at this time?’ You whispered as if the person who had walked by would suddenly be able to hear you.

‘Of course,’ Sanji said with confidence, but his expression juxtaposed this with signs that you could only read as “absolutely fucking not.” chances were that if you were caught in the kitchen at this time of night, you would be shot on the spot by, what did Sanji call him, the old shitbag.

But before you could run away in fear of getting caught, it was Sanji’s turn to take you by surprise. As you stood in his arms, he leaned in and wrapped his mouth around your finger, sucking all the chocolate right off. You could feel his tongue move down your knuckles and back up until he released it, leaving you stunned and wide-eyed. 

‘I thought it’s rude to eat a dish before it’s done,’ you managed to sputter out. 

‘So you did listen,’ he smiled, ‘but you might want to know that a good cook always tastes their dishes in the process, and that… was delicious.’

‘Are you always this humble about your cooking?’ Your heart was basically in your throat at this moment.

‘Wasn’t talking about the food,’ his tone was deep, sultry, as he leaned closer. ‘But care to give me another taste?’

Your breath was officially hitched in your throat, unable to breathe properly, as you stared at him, body flooding with heat and need for him. As words escaped you, you nodded lightly and leaned in as he did the same, meeting your lips in the middle with a kiss.

As soon as it happened, his arms found their spot on your side as you fastened yourself on his shoulders. It was nothing like you expected it to be. For a man spending his entire nights and days in the kitchen, he felt nothing like it. You could smell the cologne, taste the cigarettes and the fresh mint he used to conceal the former. His tender but firm touch held you in your place as he pressed closer.

There was a force to it, but nothing that you didn’t feel in yourself to copy as the need for him boiled deep inside you. 

Your hand moved slowly up to his cheek, over to his hair at the nape of his neck.

One of his hands, in the meantime, had found your thigh, pulling it up over his leg as he squeezed your soft flesh, but before giving you a chance to even react to this new position and all its implications, Sanji moved.

Pulling apart, leaving your lips to be the last piece he detached from as he kept your bottom lip between his teeth lightly, he apologised, ‘Excuse me for a moment.’ because while you might have forgotten all about the world around you, he had still been keeping track of the tartelettes that were baking down in the oven. 

He pulled the tray of pastries out with a white tea towel, practically throwing it down on the counter, discarding it with a metal clang.

‘Now we wait for them to cool,’ he explained as he got back to you.

‘And what were you planning on doing in the meantime,’ you pulled him back in by the blue ascot tie. 

With his lips ghosting over yours, he half-whispered, ‘I might have a few things in mind,’ and with it, kissed you again. While the kiss itself was not much different, with that same intensity and passion running through both of you as before, now you were very much aware of what was to follow. If it wasn’t your need that spurred you on, then it was Sanji and his eagerness. Despite his chef’s uniform and the navy apron, you could feel him grow harder against you as the kiss continued. A moan escaped you as his lips travelled down to your neck, leaving sloppy kisses one by one until he reached a spot that was more sensitive than others. The simple touch sparked a fuse inside you.

As he continued playing with your sensitive skin, he led both your bodies to one of the empty tables at the side of the room, pressing you right against the edge and locking you in between it and him.

Without needing him to say a word, you understood exactly what you needed to do and climbed on top of the table, spreading your legs to make space for him right in the middle. 

Your dress might have hiked up slightly over your thighs, but it wasn’t enough for Sanji, who took it upon himself to pull it up. 

‘I hope you don’t mind me saying’,’ he smiled as he kissed the corner of your mouth and as his hand reached the top of your leg, ‘but I had been thinkin' about this ever since I saw you.’

‘Me too,’ you exhaled deeply, letting the confession sink in. Maybe Chosi was right after all. Now, with him out of the picture, you could admit that something had been there from the start, from the moment you caught a glimpse of the waiter cook. And if it wasn’t for all the shit that occurred that day, maybe you would have felt a twinge of guilt as you guided Sanji’s hand between your legs. If you had not shut that chapter behind you, perhaps you would have felt bad, but any insecurities of that disappeared as Sanji began to toy with your core. His slender fingers grazed slowly over your slit, putting enough pressure on it to make you arch your back in need of more. 

‘Already so needy,’ he smirked. ‘And I barely touched you.’

‘Touch me then,’ you said with gritted teeth.

‘Don’t need to tell me twice.’ His fingers moved up in pace and barely went any deeper, keeping you on the edge of satisfaction. ‘And what would madame like me to do?’ He threaded his movements, and you were growing impatient with the teasing.

‘Fuck me,’ ready to hear his next question, you added, ‘I don’t care how.’

His grin only grew wider at your words. Much to your dislike, he pulled his hand away to place both at your thighs, pressing his fingers into your skin and using that as leverage to make more space for himself in between.

‘As madame wishes.’ He spoke softly right below your ear as he descended onto his knees. 

The kiss he left over your panties already invoked a tremble through your entire body, and it only got worse from there, in the best sense. He pushed your underwear aside and took his time giving you all his attention and care. Kissing your core deeply until his nose pressed up against you. His tongue licked up your juices like a starving man until your eyes rolled back, and you felt weak. 

The table you were perched on was empty, so you only had Sanji to hold on to. At first, you reached for his shoulder, but it was just not high enough for you to find support. As you tried to look for it, Sanji reached for your hand and brought it up to the side of his head for you to tangle your fingers in his light locks. Before you even managed to grab onto them, simply letting your nails trace over his hair, you felt the vibrations of his moans strike you. Another deep blow to your senses pulled you further down to the edge. Closer and closer until you couldn’t take it anymore. Your grip on his hair tightened as your breath grew sporadic. 

‘Fuck, fuck,’ you moaned, voice filled with desperation for a release, and one that Sanji would be more than pleased to give you… just not quite yet. As he pulled away from you, you deflated with the feeling of a ruined climax and the urge to pull him back to finish what he had started, but all you could do was whimper in protest. 

‘Don’t worry,’ he kissed your knee softly, ‘all in good time. I promise to take good care of you,’ and with that, he rose back up to his feet, untying his apron.

‘That was good,’ your chest still moving up and down heavily as you caught your breath. ‘Really good.’

‘It pleases me to hear that,’  he said as he threw the apron aside onto the ground. ‘And believe me, I would love to go back for seconds—’

‘Does all your pillow talk stem from restaurant jargon?’ you interrupted jokingly. 

‘You laugh, and yet you’re the one begging me to fuck you.’ God, he was so cocky, with the way he stood there in front of you, his head tilted sideways, and his lip turned up in a grin that told you he knew he was right. ‘So, please, let me.’ His hand was already on his belt buckle. 

There was no time or need for either of you to undress. With your dress hiked up to your hips, he already had easy enough access, and once his belt was loose, it only took a few sharp pulls for you to release him from the material restraints. 

‘You ready?’ he asked.

‘For the love of god,’ grabbing him by the arm, you pulled him in, ‘stop talking and just take me.’ You knew he was about to respond, but before he got the chance to make another absurdly silly but nonetheless flirtatious comment, you shit him up with a kiss. Just like that, the two of you melted into one another. Sanji made himself comfortable between you and let his lips wander down to your neck again, to that one spot he found that drove you crazy. 

He kept kissing your neck as he finally slid into you. The two feelings made your body go weak, melting you into a puddle of burning nerves as he spread your walls and filled you up perfectly. 

First, he moved slowly, but with each thrust, he sped up more and more, putting more force into it until you were both shaking with ferocity, and the table underneath you scratched over the planks it stood upon. The sound of the tortured floor was the only thing covering up both your moans and that of the messy skin-to-skin contact. 

While he practically pounded into you, you reached for his hair again. There was just something about it: how messy you managed to make it with a few tugs and brushstrokes. All of it, how he acted and reacted, it was all in response to you. Just how he made you see stars with each move he made. 

‘Feels so good, fuck,’ he groaned over your shoulder as you grabbed for his, pulling him closer if possible. He had your legs pressed against his sides. He shook his head quickly, letting the hair flick out of his sight, but the attempt was poor as the lock quickly fell back over his eye despite his efforts. 

‘San–’ you moaned, ‘Sanji–’ 

‘That’s right,’ he might as well have been kissing you, so close were his lips to you, but instead, the only thing you truly felt was his hot breath on your skin as he kept going deeper and harder. ‘Gonna come for me? His voice got even deeper the longer he kept going. At the sound of it, your nails dug into his back, his striped shirt being the only thing saving him from possibly some nasty scratches, but it seemed to only spur him on more. ‘I–’ you gasped out as you felt him hit the deepest part of you.

‘Yeah?’ 

‘I’m close, fuck.’ the pit in your stomach tightened, your muscles strained as you tried to hold on to that feeling of pleasure he brought over you. The tension built up like a band being pulled tighter and tighter, ready to snap at any moment; he had you in his grip, waiting to let go of you at the exact right time. All you needed was that touch, just the right one in the right spot. 

You could feel it all. Could feel just how close he was himself as his thrusts got sloppier, and his breathing grew heavier and rougher between his words. ‘Yeah, c’mon. I know you can do it. Come all over my cock. ‘’s gonna feel so good, I promise you.’

The encouragement might not have been necessarily what did it. It was more like a concoction of things that all led to this precise moment when ecstasy overtook your body and washed over you like a hot flash. Sanji was not far behind you, riding his high as he ensured you got to yours. His movements slowed down as you felt the cum slick down your thighs. While you both caught your breath, it became quiet once more. 

It took you a bit longer to catch up on air in your lungs, and so while you closed your eyes and focused on your breathing, you heard Sanji zip his trousers back up and lightly walk across the aisle between the workstations. When you opened your eyes again, he was making his way back to you already, a handful of paper towels in his hand. 

Despite the burn you already felt in your sore muscles, you spread your legs one last time to give him access to clean you up. His soft touches to your sensitive core now were in stark contrast to what he had been doing to you moments ago, but the cold of the damp towel brought a nice sense of comfort. 

‘You think you can stand up for me?’ he asked gently, and the little words in that tone were enough to make your heart flutter. 

‘Yeah, I think so.’ You said, but that was quickly proven wrong when your knees buckled almost immediately when your feet touched the ground. It was only because of the way that Sanji held your arm that you had not completely toppled over. 

‘Woah, alright.’ He smiled, never letting go of you, ‘How about we just sit for now.’ Slowly, he guided you to sit on the ground, back against a cabinet. ‘Water?’ 

You nodded in agreement. The question had made you realise just how parched you were.

‘Still, sparkling, mineral?’

‘Surprise me.’ You said through a tired smile at the reference to how he waited on you earlier, but moments later, you reminded yourself of your preference, ‘just not sparkling! It just tastes foul.’ 

‘Anything but sparkling water, coming right up.’ He moved around the room to pour you some surprise water, and while he did so, you pressed your face into your hands, laughing at the absurdity of it all. Less than 12 hours ago, you had been walking up the deck, arm in arm, with your good-for-nothing boyfriend, soon-to-be fiance. Now you sat on the ground of a restaurant kitchen, with no idea where said–now ex–-boyfriend was in the world, coming down from one of the best orgasms you had ever received… all by the hand of a stranger. A handsome stranger at that. One that you could imagine seeing much more of in the future, but it was all just too silly. 

And you were tired. And hungry. 

‘Voila,’ Sanji appeared in front of you with impeccable timing, a large ice-cold looking glass in one hand, filled with ice cubes and cucumber, and two plates in the other hand. The rose and chocolate meringue tartes look particularly inviting. ‘Thought you might finally want to try one,’ he said as he handed you a plate and fork.

‘I swear, you’re a godsend.’ No matter in how much need you were of a drink, the sight of the dessert made your mouth water. 

‘Ah, just a little something sweet for—’

‘If you’re going to say what I think you’re going to say, I will shove this tarte in your face.’ One could only endure so much of this sappy flirting, even if you found it very endearing. Sanji shut his mouth and sat beside you, poking his fork into his portion.

The two of you ate quickly but still took enough time to appreciate the flavours that oozed out of the pastry and its filling. The moan you made as it all reached your tastebuds might have been more pornographic than any sound you made while he had been deep inside you. 

‘Mmm, this is delicious,’ you said through another bite. The praise brought a huge smile to the cook’s lips. ‘Seriously, thank you. For everything.’

‘It’s been my pleasure,’ he spoke in a way that almost made you think he was getting shy on you. That felt unlikely, but you let him process it all for a moment as you kept eating. 

Only once you had eaten everything off your plate did you ask your next question of the evening. ‘How did you know I would like this?’

‘It’s a chef’s best trait,’ he pulled the fork out of his mouth with a pop, ‘to be able to read their customers well. To be able to tell what they like or dislike; to know them better than they know themselves.’

‘But how?’ With intrigue, you moved closer to him. He had been leaning against the same cupboard as you, one of his knees raised up and an arm hanging casually over it. His hair was still messy, falling over his eye. ‘How could you tell I would enjoy this specific dish?’ 

The one unobstructed eye fell over you, looking up and down over your body as his mischievous smile reappeared. ‘It felt fitting.’

‘How so?’ You blinked, confused as to what he meant.

‘Sweet, decadent and hot; what’s there not to like? I mean—’ he leaned in over his arm to kiss you, feather-light. Then, he hummed as he pulled back. ‘It is an absolutely divine combination.’

Your cheeks burned up for what felt like the millionth time that evening, and you could not dare keep looking at him as he stared down at you with that innate hunger. That kind that could only be filled with one thing, and it just so happened to have wholly exhausted you. 

‘Is this still all part of that special of yours?’

To this, Sanji shrugged, ‘Depends.’

‘On what?’

‘On how long you want to keep me around.’ He scraped some leftover mousse from his plate, licking it off his fork.

‘I think for a while,’ you admitted. Yeah, you definitely hadn’t had enough of him yet. 

‘Well, then there’s so much more I can do for you, madame.’

the end

thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed this story, please consider reblogging and commenting-either through the comments, in a reblog or through my inbox <3 to hear your thoughts on my writing means the world to me and really is a huge help in motivation to keep going.

you can find my other writing here

[bbyhellfire]

Eddie has a thing for your thighs.

eddie munson x fem!reader, thigh appreciation, no smut just eddie's smutty thoughts

Well, Eddie has a thing for all of you. The way your brows quirk as you listen to him ramble on about his latest hyper-fixation, the little puff of skin under your eyes, the slope of your shoulders, all of it. When he’s stuck in class, his mind often wanders to you, replaying every detail he can remember. 

He likes everything about you, but more often than not, his attention is drawn to your lower half. 

He’ll watch the way your thighs jiggle when you walk, how they double in size when you sit, or the little jump you have to do to pull up your pants. The sight is tattooed in the back of his eyes, the feeling of you forever seared into his fingertips.

While driving, he keeps a hand resting just above your knee, spreading his fingers as wide as they can go so he can feel every inch of supple flesh. He’ll glance over to you when his pinky nudges against your squished inner thighs. You pretend not to notice, but he catches you biting the inside of your cheek. 

You got your hands on an extra Hawkins cheerleading uniform last Halloween. Showed up to Harrington's party with the skirt flared out so much that the back couldn’t cover your panties from peeking out from under the hem. And the thigh-high socks. The fucking thigh-highs that cut into the meat of your upper legs, elastics stretched so much they curled in on themselves. It was the most erotic image Eddie had ever seen, and he has a hefty Playboy and Heavy Metal collection.

So yeah. You could say Eddie Munson kinda, sorta, maybe, really likes your thighs.

[pearlessance]

Three's A Crowd

Tommy Miller x f!reader x Joel Miller

Summary: Tommy's new girlfriend is awfully sweet. When Joel finds out she's got a big appetite that only he can fill, he decides to satisfy the craving. Warnings: explicit sexual content MDNI, threesome, praise, seduction, age gap(20yrs), size difference, oral sex galore, unprotected sex, photos taken during intercourse, mention of sending nudes, throat bulge, usual smut antics NOTE: i'm not sure if this is actually any good considering it was writen in just a matter of days because i was inspired by the new promo, gabriel luna the man that you are 😵‍💫😵‍💫 !! MASTERLIST [crossposted to AO3]

 Joel Miller knows his brother like the back of his hand. 

Which is why it’s not surprising when Tommy lets him in on the details about his secret new girlfriend. Secret—because you’re the daughter of their most consistent client. 

At first, Joel tells him how stupid it is to risk the company like that. It’s irresponsible to put on the line their biggest cash cow just to fuck around with the only daughter of the man that funds Miller Contracting through the winter. And then there’s the fact that you don't exactly fit Tommy’s type.

A rich girl with an even richer daddy compared to all those wild girls from Tommy’s previous female fixations? It doesn’t line up. It makes no sense in Joel’s head. 

Even as his brother tries to explain, “I didn’t go after her. Not at first. She came onto me.”

Joel’s got one hand on the steering wheel and the other propped on the open window of his truck as they drive home from a particularly exhausting day. He furrows his brows and asks, “Don’t you think that’s a little suspicious? You sure she actually likes you and isn’t just tryin’ to get her daddy’s attention?”

Tommy snorts. “Even if she was, I wouldn't care. You ever met a girl that loves to suck cock before?”

“Jesus Christ—”

“An’ I mean love, Joel. Not like. Love.” There are stars in his eyes and he knows it’s a serious matter but Joel can’t help the laugh that escapes him.

He thinks it must be high praise coming from his brother who goes home with a different girl every other weekend. “That good, huh?”

“Better than good.” 

And he knows Tommy’s got a one-track mind, so there’s really no use fighting it. So he just says, “Be careful. Don’t go gettin’ caught 'cause the business will pay the price.”

Tommy agrees and Joel lets it go. Doesn’t think about it again, even when Tommy cancels their plans to go out that weekend in favor of your company.

Well, not until he’s standing in your kitchen going over blueprints with your father, that is. 

Joel tries not to glance out of the floor-length windows in the kitchen to the backyard. He tries not to look at the movement in the pool that repeatedly catches his eye. And he tries, really fucking hard, not to allow his attention to linger on the way that white bikini rests so snugly against your chest, or the way your wet hair cascades down your back and sticks to your smooth skin, or the way his cock twitches in his jeans when the impressive swell your ass shakes as you pull yourself up and out of the pool.

He understands his brother a little better when he sees you, Joel thinks. Understands why he’s willing to risk such a high-profit opportunity for the chance to see you underneath him. 

Your father leaves the kitchen to find an old set of blueprints to compare to the new ones, and Joel begins to panic as he realizes this is the moment you decide you’re done swimming. 

When you open the door to the kitchen the hinges creak. Joel takes note of it. 

Water drips onto the white tile floor, the same quick rhythm as the thumping of his heart against his sternum. You cross the kitchen and open the fridge door without even looking at him. 

But Joel certainly looks at you. Can’t help but to, really. You’re like some decadent display as you break the seal of an icy bottle of water and begin to take long, slow drinks from it. Your lips are plush and swollen and Tommy’s words reverberate in the back of Joel’s head. 

You ever met a girl that loves to suck cock before?

“Thirsty?”

He nearly chokes. Joel knows you’re likely just being hospitable. Kind, even. But he feels like he shouldn’t be speaking to you, not when you’re close to naked and dripping wet. And if not because of your father upstairs, then certainly because of his brother’s affinity for you. So, despite the way his tongue feels like sandpaper in his mouth, he says, “No, thanks.”

Joel turns his eyes back to his blueprints, folding the corner once, twice, trying to focus on anything but the weight of your stare.

If you notice his unease you ignore it as you slide up to the counter beside him and peer down at the layout of your father’s newest home renovation. You’re so close he can feel the heat of your skin, can smell the chlorine in your hair. “Hm,” you say. “This is for the guest room?”

“Bedroom D,” he corrects.

A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips. You turn away from the blueprints, spine resting against the marble countertop in favor of studying him instead. “You’re Joel, right? Tommy’s older brother?”

There’s no sense in lying, Joel thinks. Though he does consider it for a moment. “Uh…yeah,” he says. And then he clears his throat and nods, repeating a little more firmly, “Yeah.”

Your stare is so hot against his skin, eyes unabashedly roaming down the column of his neck. He shivers as your attention lingers on the small sliver of his chest that’s revealed thanks to his decision this morning to leave one of the buttons on his flannel unsecured. You’re standing so close to him now that a drop of chlorinated water falls from the ends of your hair and onto his arm.

Joel feels the cool liquid slide down his too warm-skin, melting as if it were ice, heating to the temperature of his blood that sings in his veins beneath your scrutinization.

He watches your tongue slide over your pretty bottom lip and his breath catches in his lungs. “Hm,” you say again, the sound a little fonder this time. “I see where he gets his good looks from.”

It’s been a long time since someone flirted with him so openly. Even longer since someone your age even took a second glance at him. And even though he knows, by the rule of his own morality, that you belong to his little brother…Joel can’t deny the giddy feeling it elicits in his chest. Can’t deny that he likes your attention, either.

“Found them,” your father suddenly says, bounding down the stairs with folded blueprints in his hand. 

Joel clears his throat and you take a small step away from him, but otherwise seem unphased by the intrusion. He tries to ignore the lingering buzzing beneath his skin, tries to shake off what remains of the electrified energy you’d created.

You greet your dad with a kiss on the cheek and tell him you’re going out tonight. Your father asks with who, and you glance past him, staring only at Joel as you say simply, “Just a friend.”

And he knows you’ll likely be at his little brother’s apartment within the hour. Thinks about preparing himself for yet another of Tommy’s cancellations of guy’s night but this time there’s no frustration on Joel’s part. 

Because he doesn’t blame his brother at all. If anything, he understands a little better now. Understands why getting drunk with Joel at a bar is a far less tempting activity than spreading those pretty thighs of yours. Understands why he’d rather stay home than go out, especially if you’re there in his bedroom on your knees for him. 

His assumption is confirmed later that night when he gets a text message.

Tommy: Have to cancel again. Sorry, something came up.

Joel knows exactly what ‘came up’ and decides to put on an old western movie to distract himself instead.

But when he lays in bed that night, the image of you in your bikini surfaces in his brain and makes a home there. He tries for an hour to get himself to relax enough to shut it out, to just go to sleep.

Eventually, though, he realizes there’s no fucking point in trying. And even though you’re in his brother’s bed and your father’s blueprints are sitting on the kitchen table downstairs, Joel Miller takes his cock in his hand and has the best orgasm of his life. He thinks about your smooth skin and supple curves, thinks about the way that single droplet of water felt against his skin, thinks about your pink tongue and the way you looked at him with such insatiable hunger.

It’s a secret Joel decides he’ll take to his grave.

He tries not to think of you after that. Tries to keep his distance from you, from your house in general. Joel’s not a man who enjoys technology but opts for emailing your father instead of meeting with him to avoid another post-pool incident.

Tommy finally makes it to guy’s night two weeks later but he’s glued to his fucking cell phone. Joel tries to make conversation, tells him about upcoming projects and opportunities for contracts, and mentions that this summer has been their most profitable yet. But Tommy only nods every so often. Giving Joel a stupid, uninterested, “Yeah, for sure,” or “That’s great, Joel,” or “I don’t know, maybe.”

There’s no salt to his words, no meaning other than oblivious agreement. And it starts to anger Joel because Tommy’s been distracted by girls before but never like this. Never so much so that he can’t sit and have half a conversation with his brother. Eventually, he lets out an annoyed sigh and says, “If you’ve got somewhere better to be you can just fuckin’ go, Tommy. Jesus Christ.”

The irritation seems to finally get his attention. Tommy locks his cell phone and says, “She’s sending me pictures, distractin’ me, I’m sorry,” but there’s a stupid ass grin on his face and Joel can feel the insincerity radiating off his brother.

Joel rolls his eyes and waves down the bartender for the check. 

“No, no, okay,” Tommy insists, setting his phone face down on the bar top. He shoos the bartender away and says, “Okay, seriously, you’re right. I’m sorry.” It’s a little more genuine this time, and so Joel decides to meet his brother halfway.

“You really like her? S’that what this is?”

That smile returns to Tommy’s face, eyes glossing over in a mystifying way. He must, because Joel’s never seen him like this before. “We’re not even together,” he says.

Joel’s brows furrow. “What are you talking about? You spend every weekend with her, you might as well be.”

“Believe me, Joel, I’ve tried, man. She’s…I don’t know how to explain it. She doesn’t want anything serious. Doesn’t wanna be exclusive or nothin’ but isn’t fuckin’ around with anyone but me. I just…” he shakes his head and his eyes widen and Joel can see the awe in them. 

“So she’s acting like you,” Joel supplies.

It makes Tommy laugh. But the more he explains, the more Joel starts to believe it. “She’s so sweet but that girl is insatiable. Just wants to fuck and have a good time and that’s it. Doesn’t care about much else.”

“I’m not sayin’ you shouldn’t have fun, Tommy, but don’t let her consume your whole life. Get some space every once in a while,” Joel says. But he understands the infatuation, understands exactly how enticing your company would be. 

He leans in close, one hand wrapped around his whiskey glass and the other tapping the back of his phone. “Those pictures…she’s taking pictures in the shower, Joel. For me. An’ you wanna know what she just told me the other day?”

Joel knows what’s coming next. Knows Tommy’s about to clue him in on something Joel has no business knowing, but he can’t fight off his curiosity. “What?”

“Said her biggest fantasy is a threesome with two guys. Told me, and I quote, that she wants to get fucked while she’s got my dick in her mouth.” He makes a sound of disbelief but there’s this grin on his face that lets Joel know Tommy’s biggest fantasy is to be with a filthy girl like you.

Joel just shakes his head.

But the image his brother paints lingers in his brain for days.

In fact, he’s still thinking about it during his next meeting with your father. Thinking about the fact that you’re up in your room, fantasizing about getting fucked by two guys at once when your dad suddenly says, “I’ll be out of town for a couple of weeks, I hope you don’t mind I gave my little girl your phone number. Just in case anything goes wrong. It won’t, but I hate being so far away while she’s here alone. I’m sure you understand, being a father and all.”

He doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t know how to respond, unsure how to explain how terrible an idea that is, so he says nothing. Just nods stiffly and begins discussing the renovations for the ensuite of bedroom C. 

Less than a week later, Joel gets a phone call from an unknown number, and his gut sinks because he knows it’s you. He debates on ignoring the call but then begins to worry that something’s actually wrong and puts himself in your father’s position. Thinks he’d be furious, had it been Sarah, if she’d called someone for help and they’d ignored her. 

So, he presses his cell phone to his ear and says, “Hello?”

“Joel? Hi, sorry, I know it’s kinda late. Do you think you could come over really quick? I need your help.”

“Help? With what?” It doesn’t really matter, he thinks. Because he’s already lacing up his boots, phone held to his ear with his shoulder.

“I locked myself out,” you explain. “My dad’s out of town for work and I didn’t grab my key before he left. You have a spare, don’t you? For the renovations and stuff?”

Joel can’t help but wonder where you’ve been for the last few days. Someplace you wouldn’t have needed to come home, it seems. “Uh, yeah, I do,” he says. “I’ll be there in a minute. Hang tight.”

He finds you standing on your front porch with a backpack slung over your shoulder, your phone charger in your hand, and a look of relief on your face. “Thank you so much,” you immediately say. “I swear I never forget my key but I was distracted this time.”

Joel unlocks the front door for you and lets you inside. He lingers on the threshold, saying, “No, it’s fine. No worries at all.”

“Come inside,” you insist, and he can feel the bad decision from a fucking mile away.

“Really, it’s fine. I’ll just—”

“Please,” you interrupt. “Are you thirsty? Hungry? Let me make you something to eat before you go. It’s the least I could do.”

He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t. But he does.

Joel nods, unable to resist you and how pretty the word please sounds in your mouth. He follows you into the kitchen, lingering at the island counter as you drop your bag onto the floor next to the stairs and immediately plug your cell phone into the extra outlet he’d placed into the backsplash per your father’s request during last winter’s renovation. You look over your shoulder at him as you open the refrigerator and ask, “You like grilled cheese?”

“Uh, yeah. I do.” He sits in comfortable silence for a moment, watching the way you move as you prepare the bread and heat up a cast iron pan. Eventually, he finds the courage to ask, “You…uh…were you at Tommy’s?”

He watches as your cheeks redden the smallest bit. But there’s no shame in your voice as you answer simply, “Yes, I was.”

“Figured you’d tire each other out eventually,” he teases.

You laugh softly, and the buttered bread sizzles as you place it into the pan. As you lay the slices of cheese on top of it you explain, “Wasn’t like that. I’m home for the weekend so Tommy can talk to you, actually.”

It surprises him to hear it, in truth. “Me? What for?”

You flush an even deeper crimson. “Uhm…I think it’s better that you hear it from him,” you say.

Joel’s mind wanders to a million places as you dig out a spatula and flip the grilled cheese. But then a terrifying thought strikes him and Joel suddenly asks, “You’re not pregnant, are you?”

“Ew, no,” you say with a laugh. “Believe me, Joel, I like creampies just as much as the next girl but I’m not irresponsible about it.”

This time, it’s his face that warms. Joel swallows hard and sits on the barstool at the island, trying not to think about your inadvertent admission, trying not to imagine it, to imagine how fucking good it would feel to—

“Here,” you say, placing a glass plate in front of him with a perfectly crispy grilled cheese cut diagonally. He’s thankful for the distraction, thankful to convince himself the watering of his mouth is from the food in front of him and not the thought of how you would taste on his tongue.

“Thanks,” he says simply, trying to massage some of the tension from his shoulders. It had been a long day on the job site and he’ll admit to himself only that a grilled cheese and the sight of a pretty girl certainly feels like a treat.

You seem to notice his discomfort and ask, “You okay?”

He nods and takes a bite of his sandwich. It’s the most delicious thing he’s ever had and he tries to hold back his moan to no avail. When he looks over at you, you’re wearing a satisfied grin that only widens when he says around another mouthful, “This is incredible.”

As if it’s the most natural thing in the world, you step up behind him and place your hands on his shoulders. Joel opens his mouth to stop you, to tell you this is wrong, inappropriate—but then you kneed your fingers into the tender muscle, and his eyes flutter closed. 

All argument leaves him as quickly as it appeared, and all he can manage to say is, “Jesus Christ.”

Your quiet giggle is the cutest thing he’s ever heard. And Joel knows he should be thinking of his brother right now, knows he should be thinking of your father, thinking about the fact that you’re just a young woman, twenty years separating the two of you…but all he can focus on is the way your hands feel on him.

They’re warm and soft but clinical in their pursuit, thumbs pressing hard into the muscle that brackets his spine. Your delicate fingers feel like heaven, bringing relief he never realized just how badly he needed.

You slowly massage down his back, pushing against the knots, working them free. When you get to his lower back, he groans when you slip your hands beneath his navy t-shirt. You’re touching him with no barrier and it steals the breath from his lungs.

Never in his life has he wanted to be touched by someone so badly. Never in his life has he enjoyed the feel of another person’s skin against his so much. Your thumbs dig into the sore muscles, working the tension out.

You lean in so close that he can feel the heat of your breath against the shell of his ear as you say, “Will you take your shirt off?”

He’s thankful you’re standing behind him, however. Because it means you can’t see the way his cock stiffens in his jeans.

The words are tempting and seductive and wrong, he knows. He looks back at you and the heat in your eyes takes him off guard. The angle has his mouth so close to yours you’re sharing the same breath.

It’s then he knows just how badly you want him. As much as he wants you.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” you say. While you speak, your fingertips trace soft patterns into the skin of his lower back.

Joel knows it’s a bad idea, but he does it anyway.

You step away from him only long enough for Joel to grip his t-shirt at the back of his collar and pull it over his head, laying it on the marble countertop.

And then you go back to your ministrations as if nothing changed; massaging the tension from his muscles, starting low and working your way back up to his shoulders this time. But it is different, Joel knows. Because he can feel the heat of your skin against his and his heart rate picks up, a different kind of tension filling him instead.

But it feels so fucking good that he doesn’t ever want you to stop.

So, he eats what remains of his grilled cheese. Lets you work the tightness from his bones, trying not to hiss in pain when you touch a particularly tender spot in the center of his back. You lighten the pressure there and begin building back up to it slowly, bringing him to heights of euphoria he’d never known existed.

When he wipes the crumbs from his hands and pushes his now empty plate away, Joel knows he should stop you. But he doesn’t, because he can no longer find a reason good enough to say the words. He lets you dote on him in a way he doesn’t deserve and soaks it up while it lasts.

And when you press a sweet, chaste kiss to the top of his spine, Joel feels the energy shift but doesn’t say anything then, either.

Because he likes the way your lips feel against his skin. Even more so than your soft hands.

You do it again, a little higher this time. You kiss the back of his neck and he shivers. He realizes you can see the goosebumps that break out across his skin, because he can feel the smile on your lips as you press another wet, open-mouthed kiss to the junction of his shoulder.

Joel’s cock has never been this hard, he thinks. He’s never wanted someone so badly, has never been so incapable of making the right decision as he is at this very moment.

His breath comes fast and labored as you press yourself to him. You’re not wearing a bra beneath your oversized t-shirt, and he can feel your pebbled nipples against his back. Your hands move forward, circling his abdomen, sliding up and over his chest. He knows he should stop you now, knows this is the beginning of something he can never come back from.

But the two of you are all alone in this big empty house, and how can he deny you? He doesn’t have the strength. Not then you slide pretty, delicate fingers over his soft stomach, through the dark curls that disappear into his jeans.

Your hand is slow in its pursuit but still adamant as you palm the bulge in his jeans. Even through the thick denim, the feel of your hands on him makes him shake. He cock throbs with each gentle stroke, each small movement. “You can tell me to stop,” you tell him. “Is this okay?”

He can’t bring himself to say anything, but the moan that escapes him is answer enough. He places his hands on the edge of the counter and straightens his spine, getting a full view as you undo the button of his jeans and lower the metal zipper at an agonizingly slow pace.

And then you’re slipping a hand inside his jeans, below the elastic band of his boxers, and all thoughts eddy out of his head. He can think of nothing, nothing as you begin to stroke him. Your hands are small, barely fitting around his cock, but you make do with what you have and it’s more than enough.

You pull him out of his jeans completely, and it’s a sight to behold, seeing his cock in your pretty hands. He tries to catch his breath as you pull one of your hands away for a single moment. And when it returns, your fingers are sticky with webs of spit.

This time, when you wrap your hand around his cock, you’re able to stoke him a little easier, the added lubrication allowing for freer movement. You move slowly at first, hands grazing from base to tip.

He watches with reverence as you familiarize yourself with him. When a bead of precum forms at the tip of his cock, you use your thumb to add it to the sticky wetness already in your hands. Joel can feel the smile on your face as you continue to press desperate kisses to his spine, and he knows he won’t last long like this.

Watching you stroke him with both of your small hands, watching you take care of him like this…it’s too much. It’s too fucking much.

So he closes his eyes. Lets himself sink into the moment with you instead, listens to your pretty whimpers as you press your tits against him. He wants to reach around and slide his hand between your thighs but knows better, knows that this is already bad enough.

You tighten your hands around his cock, squeezing a little harder, and he feels his end begin to build at the base of his spine. “Fuck.”

“Does it feel good?”

He tries to breathe slowly, tries to draw it out. But you pick up your pace, stroking him a little faster, and Joel can’t stop the groan that escapes him.

“You make me so wet, Joel,” you whisper against his skin. “I think about you and touch myself sometimes, thinking about how fucking big you are, how good it would feel to have you touch me…how good you’d feel inside of me.”

Your filthy words bring him to the brink. Joel fights it, doesn’t want to finish so fast he embarrasses himself. He wants to see the look on your face, wants to fuck you right here on this kitchen counter that he built.

Joel clenches his fists instead. Stays stone still because he knows if he moves an inch he’ll be giving into these desires. Knows a single shift in position would have him pulling your shorts down your thighs and licking your pussy until he makes you cry out for God. 

But it’s not his place.

It’s not his fucking place, and you’re not his fucking girl.

So he doesn’t move.

You do, though.

Joel tries to catch his breath as you pull away from him, the absence of your touch leaving him cold and wanting. But then you’re nudging your way in front of him, in the small space between his knees and the island, and then you’re lowering yourself to the marble floor.

You ever met a girl that loves to suck cock before?

Slowly, you run your hands over his jean-clad thighs. You look up at him through your lashes and he feels a little like he’s being worshipped.

And when you lean forward, pretty, soft tongue licking the underside of his cock, Joel can’t keep his hands to himself. His resolve withers, and he threads his fingers through your hair but is careful not to rush you.

He lets you take your time, lets you swirl your tongue over the head, lets you taste every inch of him to your heart’s content. And when you finally take him into your mouth, cheeks hallowed out, creating a tight seal around him, Joel’s head falls back in bliss.

You savor it, relish in it, swallowing him down inch by inch. He hits the back of your throat and still you keep going, choking on him, nose pressed against the hair below his navel. With each pass, you begin to bob your head, tongue smoothing over the sensitive tip. You set an insatiable rhythm, drool sliding down your chin.

It doesn’t take him long. His hands tighten in the hair at the nape of your neck and he breaths out, “Fuck, fuck, sweetheart, I’m gonna-”

Your watery eyes meet his and the adoration in them sends him over the edge. Joel finishes at the back of your mouth, your fingernails digging into the meaty flesh of his thighs almost painfully, but you take everything he gives you and swallow it down.

It’s the sexiest thing he’s seen in all his life.

When he finishes, Joel strokes your hair affectionately and you smile up at him with his cock still in your mouth. It makes him laugh, and he realizes how soft and sweet this moment feels. How easy it is. How he never wants it to end.

Slowly, you sit back and begin to stand to your feet. Your lips are swollen and red and glossy, even when you wipe the spit off your chin with the back of your hand.

You cross the kitchen, grab your phone, and make your way to the staircase. “Thanks again, Joel. Can you lock up on your way out?”

He doesn’t understand how you can feel so casually about this. Doesn’t understand how you’re likely texting his brother as if Joel’s cock wasn’t just in your mouth, as if the taste of his release doesn’t linger on your tongue. 

The guilt doesn’t set in until he’s in bed that night. He can’t sleep, because he knows he has to say something to Tommy but knows, too, he’ll likely pay the price of a right hook in reparation. 

At three in the morning he sends a text to his brother; Come over in the morning. Need to talk. Important. 

Joel doesn’t sleep. He lays in bed and thinks of you, as he so often does these days. Thinks about how uncomfortable it’s going to be to tell his little brother that he indulged himself in the pretty little thing he’s been spending all of his time with. He decides he’s just going to say it outright, tell him the truth without beating around the bush, and immediately apologize for it afterward.

Because he is sorry, Joel thinks. Not sorry that he did it, but sorry that it’s hurt people in the process.

How can he come to regret the most gratifying sexual experience of his life? It’s a comfort, to hear some of Tommy’s words echo in his brain. 

We’re not even together.

She doesn’t want anything serious.

It’s like she just wants to fuck and have a good time and that’s it.

Joel hopes his brother feels a similar way. Tommy’s never once indicated he’s ever wanted to settle down with a woman, but…something sits in his gut and twists up his insides. Because as much as he wants to deny it, Joel knows this…knows you are different. What Tommy feels for you is different.

He’s drinking whiskey by ten in the morning for no reason other than to calm his nerves.

And Joel’s thankful for the liquid courage when Tommy finally pulls into the driveway at noon. He comes barrelling through Joel’s front door with a scowl on his face, and for a second Joel wonders if his brother already knows and is here thinking Joel had every intention of keeping this secret of yours.

But when he speaks, Tommy doesn’t seem angry. Just…concerned. “What’s up, man? Pretty ominous text to wake up to. Where’s Sarah? She alright?”

Joel shakes his head and raises a hand between them. “Sarah’s fine, she’s alright,” he says quickly. “Staying with a friend this weekend. Sorry, I guess I should have mentioned it wasn’t a life or death situation.” 

For Tommy, anyway.

With a slow nod, Tommy’s shoulders slump and he drops himself onto the couch. “Alright, then. That’s good. I was worried, came haulin’ ass over here.” It’s then he notices the tumbler in Joel’s hand, half filled with amber-colored liquid. “You good, Joel?”

He takes a seat next to his brother and tries to recite the speech in his head. But nothing comes out. Joel opens and closes his mouth once, twice, and then finishes off the whiskey in his glass.

Tommy’s patient, for what it’s worth. He lets Joel adjust in his seat three different times, saying nothing while he tries to find the courage he’s been building for the last twelve hours.

“I…I, uhm…I have to tell you something an’ I…” Joel shakes his head and squeezes his jaw. “Alright, look. I…did something.”

A quiet, curt sort of laugh leaves Tommy. “I know what happened last night, Joel. She already told me.”

It surprises him. Not that you told him, Joel can’t fault you for that considering he’s presently trying to do the same thing. What’s surprising is that Tommy seems relaxed about the whole situation. Relieved, even.

A million different questions surface on the tip of his tongue, but only one comes out. “What?”

“It’s alright, man,” Tommy says, laying a comforting hand on Joel’s shoulder.

“You’re not…mad? I don’t understand. I let her—”

Tommy’s mouth stretches into one of the widest smiles Joel’s ever seen on his brother’s face. “It was good, huh?”

Joel doesn’t know if saying yes is a good idea. Doesn’t know if a simple three-letter word is sufficient enough for the things you made him feel with that pretty, pink tongue of yours. 

But it seems his thoughts are written plainly on his face. “Fuck yeah, it was,” Tommy says with a laugh. “She called me right after you left her house last night. Told me everything. She makes a mean grilled cheese too, doesn’t she?”

Try as he might, Joel can’t seem to wrap his head around what’s happening. Can’t seem to process his brother’s ease, his indifference. He tries to put himself in Tommy’s place but knows that if it was his bed you slept in for the last week, Joel would be furious to learn you’d wound up on your knees for someone else.

But if that someone was Tommy? His own brother?

Maybe that’s why it’s different. Because Joel would never do something to hurt his brother intentionally. And he knows, too, that Tommy would never do it to him, either.

He trusts his brother with everything in him. There’s not another soul on the planet who knows him like Tommy does. So, surely, he knows that what you and Joel did wasn’t born of malicious intent, right?

“She’s a sweet little thing,” Tommy says quietly, as if they’re sharing a secret. “But that mouth on her is somethin’ else. She’s a talker, through and through.” There’s pride on his face as he speaks. “Said she felt real bad, runnin’ out on you like that, but she’d gotten so wet from just goin’ down on you that I could hear it through the fuckin’ phone, Joel.”

Though he tries not to, Joel begins to wonder what would have happened if you’d stayed, if you hadn’t disappeared so fast to take care of the ache that had settled between your thighs.

It would have been only fair, right? You helped him. He would have helped you.

“She wanted me to talk to you about something, anyway,” Tommy says.

He’d nearly forgotten that you’d mentioned the same thing last night in all the chaos. It piques his interest, because what on Earth could you need Tommy to ask him?

But his answer comes quickly when his brother says carefully, “You remember a couple of weeks ago when I told you what her biggest fantasy is?”

A threesome.

Joel’s standing from the couch and shaking his head before his brother gets another word out. “Have you lost your fuckin’ mind, Tommy?”

“Joel, just listen—”

“Listen to what, man? You got any idea what you’re askin’ me right now?”

There’s a smirk on his face as he stares at Joel from the couch, looking just as comfortable as if they were having a normal conversation about what they should eat for dinner. “I’m askin’ you to fuck my girlfriend,” he says.

Somehow, the word girlfriend surprises Joel more than the rest. It’s the very first time he’s ever called anyone his girlfriend. “I thought you weren’t together.”

Tommy shrugs. “Call it what you will. Does it really matter?”

“Yeah, Tommy, it does matter. Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t have feelings for this girl. Tell me this doesn’t mean anythin’ to you, that doing somethin’ like this wouldn’t fuck it all up in a minute.”

He shakes his head. “Can’t lie to you, brother. ‘Course she means somethin’ to me. That’s why I wanna give her everything she wants. And she wants you too, Joel. Is that so bad?”

Joel sighs heavily and runs a hand through his hair, pulling at the roots.

For a second, a single second, he considers it. Thinks about how any price is worth it for a single night with you, to hear the sound of your moans, to feel your warm breath against his neck again. He’d bet you sound real pretty, all filled up with him.

“Don’t trust anyone else to take care of her the way I do,” Tommy says. “No one but you.”

It’s too much. It’s way too much to ask of him.

“You’re insane, Tommy,” he says, grabbing his whiskey glass from the coffee table and escaping to the kitchen to refill it. He wishes he had something a little stronger.

He’s not surprised when his brother follows him to the kitchen. Tommy leans against the archway and says, “You can say no.”

“Good, 'cause I’m sayin’ no.”

Tommy laughs, but Joel thinks there’s no joke to be found. “Just wanted you to know the offer’s there and she’d jump at the opportunity. Y’know, if you change your mind, that is. Ask her about it, if you wanna.”

“I won’t.”

He raises his hands in surrender. “Alright, not tryin’ to push it or anything. You know how to get ahold of me.”

And then his brother retreats, leaving Joel with nothing but his whiskey and his thoughts.

Thoughts that run rampant in his brain. Filthy images of you beneath him, back arched in pleasure, pretty mouth hung open just wide enough for Tommy to slip inside.

How terrible would it be, really? Tommy might have impulsive tendencies, but he seems so sure of this. And if there’s not an ounce of jealousy in his brother, so much so that he offers you to Joel like some sort of prize…maybe there won’t be the repercussions Joel’s afraid of.

Maybe it’ll be as Tommy says. Maybe it would just be a good, safe way to give you what you want, to indulge your wildest desires. 

And it would certainly be an indulgence for him. Just feeling your hands on him had brought Joel bliss like he’d never known. He can’t imagine how much higher he’d feel if he could taste you, if he could finish deep inside of you and not at the back of your throat.

It takes twenty minutes of pacing in his kitchen and another ten of shaking the nerves from his hands before he picks up the phone and calls you.

“Hey, Joel. I was just thinking about you.”

“S’that right?”

“Mmhm. Did…did Tommy talk to you yet? He told me he was going to this morning.” 

“Yeah, sweetheart. He did.”

A strange sort of silence stretches on. He can hear your hesitance and realizes you’re just as nervous as he is. “And? What did you…what did you say?”

He doesn’t have the heart to tell you he declined the offer. Not when it was a no mostly out of fear and unease. “You wanna tell me how this is gonna work?”

You snort and he can almost see the playful smirk on your face. “I think you know how it works, Joel.”

“That’s not what I mean,” he says, but can’t fight off the smile that climbs onto his face and makes a home there. “Brat.”

“Hm, I think I prefer the term princess.”

Joel laughs but thinks the name is real fitting. He can see why Tommy likes you so much—can understand why he wants to give you everything it is that you desire. Everything about you is so playful and carefree and innocent. You’re just so sweet. A tooth-rotting confectionary. 

“I don’t know how it’ll work,” you finally say. “I’ve never done something like this before, but I know it’s what I want.”

Your conviction is reassuring. Both you and Tommy seem certain that this is the path you want to take, no unease to be found within either of you. But it’s not the physical that worries him. It’s…everything else. “An’ what happens if it becomes something more? Sex is just sex until it isn’t.”

He can hear the smile in your words as you ask, “You worried about catching feelings for me, Joel Miller?”

“I’m bein’ serious,” he insists. “Tommy feels somethin’ for you. I know it and I think you probably do, too. I don’t want to do this and ruin what the two of you have been workin’ on.”

“You won’t ruin anything,” you insist. “And if…if things do get…complicated, then we’ll just take it day by day. No use in worrying about something that might not happen, right?”

It’s such a naive way of thinking. Joel wishes he wouldn’t have said no so quickly. Wishes, too, that you were a little different. Maybe if you weren’t so sweet, so tempting, he wouldn’t be so worried about ‘catching feelings,’ as you’d put it.

Your voice is quieter as you say, “For what it’s worth, Joel…I like you, too.”

By the end of the phone call, you manage to convince him to consider it. To genuinely give the idea a shot, to weigh all the pros and cons. You promise not to be disappointed with either decision and though he knows the whole thing has been your idea, Joel believes you.

Several days later, Joel stops by with the intent to fix the creaky hinges on the door to the pool. But the moment he steps into the kitchen, Joel forgets all about the task at hand because he can hear your moans echoing through the house.

He follows them like a moth to a flame.

The door to your father’s bedroom is wide open. And in the center of the king-sized bed, covered with gray satin sheets, is you and Tommy.

Tommy’s turned away from the door, but you’re looking right at it. Looking right at Joel, as you bounce in his brother’s lap. When your eyes connect with him, your pace only picks up, your moans only grow louder.

Joel watches, frozen in time, as you chase your release. Tommy swirls his tongue around your pebbled nipple, leaving a trail of wetness in its wake. You thread your fingers through his hair and moan his name but you stare right at Joel.

He can’t breathe. Has suddenly forgotten the process of inhalation. He’s seen you in your bikini but never like this, never completely bare. You’re beautiful, Joel thinks. Beautiful in a godly way; a woman the poets write for, a woman the sculptors display in cathedrals.

You reach a hand between your bodies, circling your clit and arching your back.

The thought doesn’t even cross Joel’s mind that he should leave, that he should give the two of you some privacy. It feels right that he’s here. 

You grind yourself on Tommy’s cock and give Joel the sweetest, most innocent smile as you say, “It’s so big, you’re so deep. God, fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

Tommy grabs at the soft swell of your ass, lifting you just to slam you back down onto his lap. “Yeah? Gonna cum all over this dick, princess?”

I prefer the term princess.

No need to wonder why, Joel thinks.

“Mmhm, yes, yes, right there.”

“Can feel her gettin’ all messy,” Tommy says. “If I knew you’d get this wet ridin’ me in your daddy’s bed I would’ve said yes weeks ago, pretty girl.”

Joel knows the reason you’re all worked up has nothing to do with the location and everything to do with his eyes on you, but he stays silent. Stays still.

Even as he watches you fall apart on his brother's cock and soak the satin sheets beneath him. Even as Tommy does the thing that Joel’s been dreaming about every night for days, filling you up with his release. 

He doesn’t linger. He doesn’t fix the creaky hinges, either.

Joel barely makes it back to his truck before he’s reaching into his jeans to stroke his cock, right there in the driveway in broad fucking daylight.

It only takes a few quick tugs before he covers his hand in sticky ropes of cum. He tries to catch his breath, wiping the mess you’ve made of him onto his jeans and driving home ten over the limit. Before he makes it inside to shower and change, Joel sends a text message to both you and Tommy that reads; Okay. I’m in. My place. Friday night at ten.

He tries not to think about it too much. Tries to go on about his work week like normal, going through the motions of making dinner each night and taking Sarah to school every morning with Tommy in the passenger seat.

They don’t talk about it, though Joel can sometimes feel his brother staring at him a little too long as if there’s something he wants to say. But he doesn’t. They don’t bring it up until after Joel drops Sarah off at her friend’s house for another weekend-long slumber party. 

Tommy says, “I’m gonna take her out for dinner. Do you want to come with us? Could help break the ice a little. Loosen you up.”

He agrees, and instead of going home, they pick you up from your house. You’re wearing a pleated blue skirt that’s a little too short, but Joel thinks you look like something divine. Tommy helps you up into the truck, and everything starts to feel real the moment you’re sitting between them. Joel behind the wheel, Tommy on the passenger side.

You look so small in the center of the cab, surrounded by two brothers who possess nothing but longing for you. Like pretty prey caught in the clutches of two predators.

Joel has to readjust himself in his seat when you lean over and press a kiss to his cheek. Sweet. “Missed you,” you say. “You look good. You both do.”

He doesn’t comment on the fact that they’re both still in their work attire; dirty blue jeans, sun-faded t-shirts, and muddy boots. He’s surprised to hear your appreciation, considering how put together you always seem to be.

But maybe that’s the appeal for you. The blue-collar archetype. Your daddy probably expects you to marry the son of one of his friends, just another rich boy.

If he could see you now…

Tommy slides his hand to the inside of your thigh and squeezes. “You hungry, princess? Let’s get you somethin’ to eat.”

As much as he hates to admit when his brother’s right, dinner works wonders for Joel’s nerves. The three of you talk the entire time; you tell Joel about your friends and the subjects you’re studying in that fancy college you got into on a full ride. It’s not the one your father wanted you to attend, but it’s the one you wanted.

Even though he knows Tommy has heard it all before, he lets you and Joel have this moment. He sits beside you and smiles at you as you speak, eyes glued to the side of your face and full of adoration. Joel realizes then that he thinks his brother might be in love with you.

He gets it. Thinks it must have been a real easy fall.

Tommy slots himself in the conversation naturally. The two of you clue Joel in on some of your inside jokes and it doesn’t feel weird at all. He doesn’t feel left out like he’d worried he might be, and he doesn’t feel jealous when you steal bites from Tommy’s plate because you steal things from Joel’s, too.

It’s easy. Nothing feels forced, no conversation out of place.

Halfway through the meal, you switch sides of the booth and sit next to Joel instead. You lay your head on his shoulder and he holds your hand beneath the table and it feels right. Tommy smiles at the two of you and carries on with his story as if the dynamic you’ve created has existed for years and not just hours.

When it’s time to go home, Joel finds that his nerves have completely vanished.

Tommy offers to drive. And he’s thankful for it because it allows him to focus on just you.

You take Joel’s hand and lay it in your lap, palm open. He shivers as you trace the lines in his hand. You ask him, “How are you feeling?”

And the answer comes to him easily. “Good,” he says. “Better.”

“Told you,” Tommy says, one hand on the wheel and the other on your thigh. “She’s a real good girl, Joel. Always does as she’s told.”

Even though the sun is setting below the horizon, he can see the crimson that stains your cheeks and it brings a smile to his face. “S’that right?” He takes your chin gently in his hand and forces you to look up at him. “You a real good listener, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, she is,” Tommy answers wistfully. “Why don’t you g’’head and give Joel some sugar, princess.”

You lean into Joel’s side, pressing a kiss to his jaw. It feels good just being close to you, holding you in his hands, but when you touch him, it’s something else entirely. An uncontrollable desire, an unfamiliar sort of decadence.

Joel cradles your face in his big hand, thumb stroking your cheekbone, and gently presses his lips to yours. It’s soft at first, a tender curiosity. He kisses you again, a little more heated this time, and when he flicks his tongue across your bottom lip you grant him access as if it’s second nature. 

His tongue explores yours, tangling together, invading your sweet mouth. Joel thinks you taste a little like honey and a whole lot like fortuity. If you had asked him ten years ago if he’d ever imagined he’d be in this spot, tasting the inside of his brother’s girlfriend’s mouth, Joel would have said it was a delusional thought. 

Yet here he was, cock stiffening in his jeans from something as simple as a kiss. Like he’s some teenage boy, experiencing a woman for the first time.

But it is his first time experiencing you, and Joel knows that’s what makes all the difference. 

The kiss turns sloppy and desperate. And when your panting breaths turn to moans, Joel realizes Tommy’s hand on your thigh has disappeared beneath your skirt.

It surprises him, the magnitude of the moment. Joel would have thought he’d feel jealous somehow, envious that his brother’s touching you and he’s not. But there’s nothing but satisfaction to be found. Joel likes to see the dark look in your eye, likes to see your breath hitch in your throat.

He takes your legs and spreads them wide, draping your thigh over his, giving his brother more room to touch you.

“What do you think, brother? Think we should give her what she needs before we even get home?”

Your face is so close to his that your breath fans across his spit-covered lips as you say so beautifully, “Please, Joel.”

A smirk finds its way to his mouth. “You look so fuckin’ pretty when you beg, sweetheart,” he says. “S’that what you want? Hm?”

You nod frantically, eyes pleading.

“Hold your skirt up, baby,” Tommy instructs. And you do as he says without question, fabric bunching around your hips. 

Joel can’t deny the pleasure he finds in discovering you’re completely bare beneath. Even from his spot in the passenger seat, he can see how glossy your pussy is with arousal, desperate to be touched by both of them. “Oh…look at that, Tommy. She wants it bad, doesn’t she?”

“Always does, brother. Needy little thing. S’why she needs the two of us,” Tommy says. His fingers trail lazily over your slit, a teasing caress. He presses his index finger against your clit and makes a satisfied hum, a sound that comes from somewhere deep in his chest. “Can feel your heartbeat right here, princess. Tell Joel what you want.”

“I want him to touch me,” you say, a little bit breathless. “Want him to make me cum while you kiss me. You taste so good, Joel. You make me so wet.”

The words don’t sound filthy or obscene in your voice, despite how vulgar they are. Joel squeezes your jaw in his hand and delights in the way you grin when he says, “Eyes on me, sweetheart. Wanna see the look on your face when he fills you up with his fingers.”

You’re so pretty, Joel thinks. But it’s nothing compared to the way your pupils dilate as his brother stretches you open. Your lips part and Joel takes the opportunity to crush his mouth to yours, to taste the sweetness you possess. 

He drinks up your moans as Tommy sets a steady pace between your thighs. Joel grabs the back of your knee with a rough hand and spreads your legs further apart. He can hear how wet you are, can feel the goosebumps as they form down the column of your throat.

Joel pulls away from your spellbinding kiss only to catch his breath. “How’s it feel, baby? That feel good, hm? Tommy takin’ good care of you?”

“Yes, yes—mmm—fuck. His hands are so big, feel so fucking good,” you whimper. One hand is clutching Joel’s shirt, holding on for dear life, and you move the other to rest on his cock. You gently knead it over his jeans, and he wonders if you can feel just how hard he is for you.

It doesn’t take long until his brother has you trembling. Your thighs shake and a crease forms between your brows as you chase after the relief you seek.

He kisses you again, tongue brushing against yours, and when you breathe Joel’s name into his mouth he knows what you need before you even ask. 

Slowly, experimentally, Joel’s hand on your knee travels upwards. Over the soft skin of your thigh, taking it all in, savoring you—and then his fingers are circling your clit while Tommy’s are shoved deep inside of you, curved to hit the perfect spot, and you come undone within seconds. 

“Oh, God, Tommy, I—”

“I know, baby, it’s okay. Go ahead,” he says, giving you full permission. 

The words are the last thing you need to reach the full height of euphoria. You’re reduced to a trembling mess in his hands and Joel thinks this is so much better than his dreams. Better than standing in the doorway, watching you, wishing he could hold you.

“That’s it,” Joel praises. “There you go. Bein’ so good for us, sweetheart.” Wetness coats his fingers as he continues to circle your clit until your breath stutters in your chest. He kisses you hard as Tommy’s rhythm begins to slow, eventually stilling completely. 

You wince as they both pull their hands away from you at the same time, a synchronized movement. 

Tommy pulls the truck into Joel’s driveway and chuckles as he looks at you, skirt still hiked up around your hips, limbs boneless. He strokes the side of your face and kisses your hair. “You’re alright, princess. We’re just gettin’ started.”

Joel climbs out of the truck and adjusts your skirt, holding you with an arm around your waist to ensure your balance until both feet are on the ground. Tommy comes to your side and slides his hand into yours, handing Joel the keys.

While he works to unlock the front door, Joel can’t help but smile at the sound of your sweet giggles. He looks over his shoulder to see his brother kissing your neck and grabbing your ass, and the two of you look so infatuated with one another that it’s intoxicating. A magnetism he can’t help but be drawn to, a warmth he wants to embrace.

The minute you walk in the door you’ve got your hands on Joel again. You slip them beneath his t-shirt and he’s thrilled to give you what you want. He pulls it off over his head, discarding it on the back of the couch, and lets out a pleased sigh as you begin peppering wet kisses over his chest, down his sternum, fingers grabbing needily at his skin. 

Tommy stands behind you as you lower yourself to your knees between them. He runs his hands through your hair lovingly and says, “Show him what you do best, baby.”

You smile up at him and it takes Joel’s breath away. He’s never seen someone so pleased to please him, never felt this wanted in all his life. The metal of his belt buckle clinks against the button of his jeans as you undo them, pulling down his zipper in a way that’s familiar to you now.

When you pull his cock out, you wrap one hand around it and guide the tip to your mouth. He’s so hard already that he aches, but the feel of your soft tongue on him grants him ease. You lick every inch of him, an indulgent sort of torture. And then you’re swallowing him down, creating a tight seal with your plush lips.

Your mouth feels like heaven, Joel thinks.

“Look at the way she’s got her legs pressed together,” Tommy murmurs, thumb caressing your temple gently. “Gets so turned on with a dick in her mouth she just doesn’t know what to do with herself.”

“We’re gonna take care of that for you,” Joel says, cupping your jaw in his hand. He shifts it a little lower and can feel the outline of his cock through your throat as you swallow him down, gasping for air you never once ask for. “Gonna take care of everythin’ for you, sweetheart.”

Pleasure coils around his spine, a vise-like grip that threatens to end this night well before he’s ready for it.

Tommy grabs a handful of your hair and draws your head back. Strands of spit still connect you to him and drool runs down your chin. It’s the most pornographic thing he’s ever seen. Tommy laughs and says, “I know, brother. S’almost too good.”

Joel knows it should be a strange thing to hear, but it feels innate. He helps you back to your feet and pulls your shirt over your head while Tommy unzips the back of your skirt and slides it down your legs.

You turn and wrap your arms around Tommy’s neck and he lifts you up in his arms like it’s second nature. Joel supposes it is—the two of you have had a whole lot more practice together than he has. Tommy starts towards the stairs, heading towards Joel’s bedroom, but you let out a whine and reach out for him.

He can’t deny how warm it makes him feel, seeing you all wrapped up in his brother but still reaching for his hand. The smile you give him the moment he touches you makes his heart constrict in his chest. It’s such a soft, intimate moment, and Joel can think of nothing but your conversation on the phone last week.

You worried about catching feelings for me, Joel Miller?

He wasn’t a week ago. But now…? Now, he’s not so sure.

Tommy lays you down in the center of Joel’s bed and the sight of it pushes away his anxiety. You’re so beautiful with your hair splayed out behind you, an angelic sort of halo. The thought crosses his mind that you might have always been meant to exist in his bed.

It feels like second nature to crawl over you, to let his hands roam over your chest, your ribs, your hips. Joel follows each caress with a kiss, mouth following the echo of his hands. He sucks a bruise into your hip, ensuring this moment is real with physical, tangible evidence.

When he gets to the crease of your thigh, Joel sits up and spreads your legs wide. “Look at that,” he whispers. Tommy’s pulling off his worn t-shirt and working on his jeans but pauses long enough to appreciate the sight of your pussy, glossy with arousal and what remains of your first release. “She’s so fuckin’ pretty, ain’t she?”

“Yeah, she is,” Tommy agrees. “Taste’s real pretty, too.” He leans over and presses his mouth to yours, a messy, needy sort of kiss. You whimper as Tommy asks, “What d’you think, princess? Think Joel should get a taste? Hm?”

“Yes,” you say without hesitation. “I want it so bad, Tommy, please.”

“Want it, huh?” Joel slots himself between your thighs, his mouth an inch from where that ache resides. “Maybe we should make her wait a little longer, Tommy. Make her wait ‘til she needs it.”

“No, no, please,” you cry. You buck your hips, trying to find reprieve, but Joel’s hands on your waist hold firm. “I do, I do, I need it, Joel, please, please.”

He looks to his brother to make the decision. Tommy’s got a wicked grin on his face as he watches you writhe on Joel’s sheets. “Think you’ve been real good today. But don’t go forgettin’ your manners, princess. When Joel licks that pretty pussy of yours, you better say thank you.”

The moment he slides his tongue through your slit, your spine bends, arching off the mattress. Your shoulders slump and your breath comes fast. “Oh my god,” you moan. “Thank you, Joel, fuck.”

He tries to give you the same tentative treatment you’ve given him; tracing every inch of you with the flat of his tongue, memorizing the sweet taste, sucking your clit into his mouth. He can feel it pulse with need, and Joel understands the fever.

Your thighs clamp down around his head but Joel doesn’t mind. He just presses his mouth against you harder and flicks his tongue a little faster.

“Tommy,” you whimper. Joel looks up to see your chest heave with each shaking breath. You reach out for his brother with trembling fingers.

“I’m comin', baby,” Tommy says softly. “Don’t you worry.” The mattress dips beneath his weight as he kneels beside you. He cradles your head in his hand, supporting your neck while he eases his cock into your mouth. 

It’s the hottest thing Joel Miller has ever seen in his fucking life.

You grind yourself against his face and he supplies the friction you seek. Arousal coats his facial hair, enveloping his senses in nothing but you. Your moans, your taste, your scent—you, you you. He thinks he’ll never want it any other way but this.

Tommy guides your mouth with a hand wrapped in the tangled strands of your hair. He fucks your face and you whimper around his cock like there’s nothing else in the world that could ever compare. He smiles down at you and says, “You’re gonna make her cum, Joel. Can you feel it? Get’s real sloppy when she’s right there, right on the edge.”

Joel groans against you and focuses his mouth on your clit, giving him just enough room to slip a finger inside you to massage that sweet spot.

You stretch your arms above you and fist your hands in the sheets. When you reach the summit, Joel can feel it on his tongue, can feel your pussy tighten around his finger, can feel your thighs shake around his head.

Tommy pulls your head back, giving you a moment to breathe as another orgasm surges through you. Your moans echo in Joel’s room, the prettiest-sounding symphony he’s ever heard. “Good fuckin’ girl,” Tommy praises, just as breathless as you. “Bein’ such a good girl for us, baby.”

Joel doesn’t relent, doesn’t stop licking your clit until you’re giggling and twisting in his hands at the overstimulation. You sound so satisfied, so happy. It pleases him to see the elation on your face. When he finally pulls away, Joel snakes his arms beneath you and pulls you up to your knees. “So good,” Joel agrees. “But she’s gonna give us another one, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

All you can do is nod and it makes both brothers laugh.

“She’s usually got so much to say,” Tommy teases. “Think we’ve got her fucked dumb, brother.”

“That’s alright,” Joel whispers. “We’ll do all the thinkin’ for her, hm? Take such good care of this sweet little pussy. Turn around, baby. On your hands and knees.”

You do as he says blissfully, ass arched beautifully on display for him. Tommy maneuvers himself in front of you and you take him in your mouth on instinct. Second nature, habitual.

Joel positions himself behind you and slides the head of his cock through your slit. “This what you want, sweet girl? This what you dream of?”

Leaning back, you stroke Tommy with your hand and look up at him as you answer Joel’s question. “Yes,” you say. “I haven’t stopped thinking about it since I saw you. Knew I needed you, Joel. Knew I needed you both.”

“Three’s a crowd, princess,” Tommy says. “But I think I like this one.”

Joel’s inclined to agree. He pushes into you slowly, sighing in contentment at the gratifying tightness. You’re so wet, so warm. “Goddamn, baby,” he groans, gripping the supple flesh of your ass to keep himself tethered to earth, to keep himself grounded. 

Tommy holds your face in his hands, smoothing his cock over your lips. “Oh, she likes it, Joel,” he says. “Should see her face. Can I take a picture, baby? So Joel can see how happy you look with his dick all up in your guts? Hm?”

The words are crude but Joel can feel you tighten around him as Tommy speaks. “Mmhm,” is all you can say, sticking your tongue out to lick the underside of Tommy’s cock.

He reaches over to the nightstand where his cell phone sits. Tommy angles his phone just right, and the shutter echoes in the room as he takes his photos.

Joel pushes into you real slow. And when he’s buried to the hilt you let out a gasp and hold onto Tommy’s thigh for support, balance wavering. “It feels so fucking good,” you say.

Tommy takes a couple more photos, tries a couple of different angles. But Joel thinks no image will ever beat the one in front of him.

He watches your pussy stretch to make room for him, watches you soak his cock, desperate for it. Tilting his hips forward, Joel sets a steady pace, easily finding a rhythm that has you moaning out his name. 

Satisfied with his work, Tommy sets his phone back on the nightstand in favor of the filthy exhibit before him. He guides his cock back to your mouth, groaning at the feel of your tongue. 

Joel thrusts into you and feels that coil begin to form around the base of his spine again.

You’re moaning around Tommy’s cock and he’s smiling like there’s no place else he’d rather be. Joel understands that, too—because he thinks you’re the most perfect girl that could have ever stumbled into their lives. “S’this what you needed, princess? Needed us both, hm? Dirty little girl.”

“Our girl,” Joel muses, captivated by the way you squeeze him as he says it. He fits so perfectly inside you, like you were made for him, made for this. “Stretchin’ her out so easy, brother. Sweet little pussy’s just cryin’ for it.”

Tommy’s head falls back and his hips stutter. “Just like that, princess,” he praises gently. “Yeah, shit—gonna swallow it all like a good little girl, ain’t you?” 

You make a sound of approval at the back of your throat. Joel can see you look up at his brother, cock-drunk and starry-eyed, and he feels his chest pull tight with a strange sense of pride.

Joel slows his pace just a little, long enough for Tommy to take what he needs from you, for you to focus on just him. And then he’s breathing hard as he holds your head still, nose pressed against his navel. His shoulders draw tight and then gradually relax as he spills his release at the back of your throat. 

When Tommy pulls out of you, his cock is covered in spit and cum but you do as he says, dutifully swallowing it all up like the perfect girl you are. And you even clean any remaining mess with your tongue, licking it up with sweet reverence.

He’s close—so close it aches, but he wants you to give him another before this is other. Wants to make it worth your while, wants to know how it feels to make you cum while he’s buried deep inside you. 

You arch your back and press your cheek against the mattress, looking back at Joel from over your shoulder.

Tommy moves to your side, smoothing your hair out of your face with one hand, and then he slips the other beneath you and circles your clit with skilled, deft fingers.

The response is instantaneous. Joel can feel your pussy pulse around him, sees the strain on your face as you fight the pleasure. You say his brother's name like a prayer shrouded in ecstasy.

But Tommy just shakes his head. “Nah, princess. Ain’t up to me this time. You gotta ask Joel permission.”

He doesn’t understand at first, this almost silent communication between the two of you. But then you say, “Joel, please. Please please, I need to cum so bad, it feels too good.”

You sound so fucking pretty, begging for him like that. “Been so good…I think you’ve earned it,” he says gently. “Go ‘head, sweetheart.”

Tommy continues to circle your clit as you clench around Joel’s cock, uttering quiet praises in your ear. 

You tighten around him and Joel’s right there, right there—and then you say, “Cum with me, Joel, please. Cum with me, I wanna feel it.”

And it sends him over the edge. His name in your mouth, begging him to fill you up. He buries himself so deep inside you that there’s no telling where he ends and you begin, and it’s the best orgasm he’s ever had in his fucking life. 

You shudder beneath him and Joel leans forward, pressing his forehead to your spine. He thrusts into you until the last drop, giving you all of it, giving you everything he has to offer.

As you come down, Tommy pulls his hand from beneath you and combs his fingers through your hair. He’s got that stupid grin on his face, but Joel’s not sure he’s ever seen his brother this happy before. 

The three of you just lay there for a moment, saying nothing, unmoving, basking in the afterglow. Joel’s not quite sure how he’s meant to navigate this, not sure what he’s supposed to say or how he’s supposed to feel about the fact that the best sex he’s ever had was with his brother’s little girlfriend. 

But he does know how to take care of a woman. So, he does. Joel eases himself out of you and disappears for only long enough to find a washcloth, wet it with cool water from the bathroom sink, and grab an icy bottle of water from the fridge. 

When he returns to his bedroom, Tommy holds you in his arms while you speak to him in a hushed tone. It worries him a little, truthfully.

So when Joel sits on the side of his bed to clean the light sheen of sweat off your forehead and the mess between your legs, he asks, “Everythin’ okay?”

“Everything’s good. So, so good,” you answer easily, giving him one of those honeyed smiles.

Tommy takes the bottle of water from Joel’s hand and breaks the seal. “Drink,” he says, passing it to you. And you do, listening so obediently.

But the moment your hands are free again you say, “Joel? Can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” he says. And he means it. Whatever it is you need, whatever it is you want, Joel wants to give to you. He’s come to understand his brother in this, too.

“Do you think you’d want to…I don’t know. Maybe we could do it again?”

He laughs. Genuinely, truly laughs, because Tommy’s been right this whole time. You’re insatiable.

But you quickly amend your words. Saying, “I mean, not…not now. But maybe…maybe I could stay? For the weekend?”

Joel finds the thought of you leaving at the end of the night an unbearable one. And he knows he’ll likely feel the same once Sunday evening rolls around, and he’s not quite sure what that means for him or you or Tommy…but maybe it’s not something he has to worry about today. 

He kisses your forehead and says, “‘Course you can, sweetheart.”

And then you’re reaching for him again, urging him beneath the sheets. You lay your head on Joel’s chest and drape your leg over Tommy’s hip, and you look so at ease, so peaceful that his heart constricts at the sight. You’re so good, so sweet, and Joel thinks he’d do anything to keep you happy.

Later, as your soft snores and shallow breaths fill the silence, Tommy playfully kicks Joel in the shin and says, “Ain’t no use tryin’ to talk yourself off the ledge, brother. Easier to just enjoy the freefall. Take it day by day.”

Joel thinks his brother might be right. Thinks that this might get complicated and messy and dangerous…but for now, for today…he’ll savor the sugary sweetness while it lasts.

[inkedinshadows]

Where You Belong

Pairing: Azriel × reader

Summary: last part of "A Helping Hand". When Y/N realizes Azriel is her mate, it's only a matter of who will admit it first.

Warnings: language if you really squint, Azzie being a little (just a little, I promise) cocky, but honestly who can blame him

Word count: 4.5k

A/N: here it is. Sorry for the long wait. Hope you like it! 💙

A Helping Hand (part 1), Echoes of the Bond (part 2)

֍֍֍֍֍

Y/N didn't see anyone until dinner.

She spent the day alone, roaming the family library in the House of Wind, sifting through the books until she found one that piqued her interest. From that moment on, she'd been curled up in one of the cushioned armchairs that dotted the room. Occasionally, thoughts of her last conversation with Azriel interrupted her reading, but she did her best to block them out. She didn't want to think about his mate.

Only when her stomach grumbled did she rise from her comfortable position. Placing the book on the table next to her seat, she left the library and headed toward the dining room.

Indistinct chatter was coming from inside, and she quickened her steps, a smile already on her face as she pushed the door open.

Her eyes were immediately drawn to Azriel, standing in a corner with Cassian and Rhysand. But before she could even consider taking a step in their direction, Feyre appeared in front of her.

“Y/N!” Her friend linked their arms to lead her toward the table. “I was just about to come looking for you. Sit next to me.”

Y/N obliged, and everyone slowly took their seats around the table. Though she noticed Lucien's presence seemed to make everyone a bit wary, the atmosphere was lighter with Feyre back with them. Rhys, who was sitting on his mate's other side, looked particularly relaxed.

As food appeared on the empty plates and conversations started around the table, Feyre turned to face her.

“I'm sorry I didn't greet you properly this morning,” she said. “But my mind was… elsewhere.”

Y/N peered over at Rhysand, who was talking to Lucien and Cassian but seemed to be listening to their conversation.

She looked back at Feyre with a smile. “I know, Fey. Don't worry about it. I'm just happy I have my friend back.”

Feyre returned her smile, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “I am too. I was worried about you, you know. How are you adjusting to this life?”

Taking a bite of her food, Y/N used the few seconds to weigh how much to tell Feyre. She wouldn't usually hesitate – not with her, never with her – but maybe a family dinner right after she'd come back to the Night Court wasn't the right moment for this sort of talk.

“I struggled at the beginning,” she said finally, avoiding details for the moment. “But Azriel helped a lot, and I'm doing much better now.”

As if mentioning him was enough to summon his attention, she felt his eyes settle on her from the other end of the table. She met his gaze with a smile, and the corner of his lips twitched upwards in response.

“Azriel?” Feyre's surprised tone brought Y/N's mind back to her friend, and the Shadowsinger refocused on his own conversation. Y/N rubbed a little spot on her chest.

“I'm glad he helped,” Feyre continued. “And that you're doing okay.”

Y/N nodded and took another bite of her food, but her thoughts were already drifting back to the spymaster. Now that they were in the same room again, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, and she kept going back to that morning – Azriel’s words about his mate.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?”

Feyre always had a knack for knowing when something was on her mind. Even when Y/N thought she was concealing her thoughts, the youngest Archeron could pick up on them.

“I was just wondering… how does it feel to have a mate?” Y/N asked, her gaze drifting back to Azriel for a moment before returning to Feyre. “I mean, what kind of bond is it?”

Feyre’s expression softened, her eyes settling on Rhysand, warmth shining in them. As if sensing it, the High Lord turned towards her with a smile that spoke volumes about his feelings for her.

“It’s a bond between souls,” Feyre finally answered. “Like an invisible thread binding two people, a tug toward each other. If two mates accept the bond, then they belong together.”

A tug. Y/N had been feeling a tug toward something for a while now. What if it was toward someone instead?

“Honestly, I hope you'll get to experience it one day,” her friend went on. “It's a connection on a new, deeper level. It's always there, even when you're apart.”

“I hope so too,” she murmured, her hand once more massaging her chest.

There was a pause as they both took a sip of their drinks, the conversation still buzzing around the table. Y/N's thoughts wandered back to Azriel, his quiet presence and the comfort he had provided. There was something more there, something she couldn't quite put her finger on.

“Have you ever met Azriel's mate?” she said suddenly, breaking the silence between them.

Feyre's brow furrowed in confusion. “He doesn't have a mate.”

Y/N's fork paused halfway to her mouth. “He told me he did,” she said slowly. Something dangerously close to hope stirred in her chest.

Feyre's frown deepened, and she shook her head slightly. “I had no idea.” She cast a glance at the Shadowsinger. “He never mentioned having a mate. I always assumed he didn’t.”

Y/N's heart raced as she processed the new information. Why would Azriel lie about something like that? She glanced down the table at him, her mind racing with questions.

A wisp of shadow curled around his ear, and his eyes slid toward her. He almost imperceptibly raised an eyebrow, but this time she didn’t meet his gaze and looked down instead.

“I don’t understand,” she murmured, more to herself than to Feyre. “Why would he tell me that?”

Feyre reached out and placed a comforting hand on her arm. “Maybe there's more to it than just that,” she suggested gently. “He’s quite reserved. I’m sure you’ve noticed that too.”

Y/N nodded, her thoughts a whirlwind. She knew Feyre was right. She needed to confront Azriel, to understand why he had lied to her or why he’d told the truth to her only and not to the others.

The rest of the dinner passed in a blur, the Inner Circle and Lucien delving into a more serious discussion about war and High Lords, most of which Y/N didn’t really comprehend – even less so when her mind was preoccupied with thoughts of Azriel and Feyre's words about the mating bond.

As they finished their meal and began to disperse, Y/N wished everyone goodnight and quickly slipped out of the dining room. She needed to be alone, a moment of quiet to think things through before talking to Azriel.

Because things didn’t really make sense right now.

Either Azriel had lied, or he really did have a mate. But if that was true, why didn’t his friends know? And why would he spend so much time with her and away from his mate?

His mate – the one he’d found just recently, who was as kind and gentle as she was, who he would leave behind every time Y/N needed help.

That last part didn’t sound much like the Azriel she'd gotten to know over the last few weeks, though.

With a sigh, Y/N closed the door to her bedroom and started getting ready for the night. 

Tomorrow, she’d find Azriel. But for now, all she wanted was to turn off her thoughts, if such a thing was even possible.

Sliding under the bedsheets, she tossed and turned for a while, trying to keep her mind blank and fall asleep instead. But every time she thought she was about to enter the realm of dreams, some kind of insect would fly so close to brush her face and she had to bat it away constantly.

After what was probably the fourth time in just as many minutes, she groaned and finally opened her eyes to find the culprit.

It wasn't a fly, like she’d thought.

In the dim moonlight, she could just make out one of Azriel’s shadows hovering right over her nose. She’d gotten so used to their subtle presence in her room that she’d forgotten about it. But that tendril was definitely seeking her attention now, and she watched as it surged forward and gently brushed against her cheek.

Something slid into place inside of her.

Azriel's shadows had been with her since she'd been given this room. They seemed to like her, and judging by Cassian’s reaction that morning, it wasn't common to be favored by the dark companions of the Shadowsinger.

And then there was that tug that Feyre had mentioned – a tug toward each other. She had felt it often during the last three weeks and it always seemed to grow stronger when Azriel was close.

It's always there, even when you're apart. She could feel it now too, like a thrumming presence next to her heart.

What had Azriel said about his mate? That Y/N reminded him of her, that they were a lot alike… and that he'd found her recently.

Just like she had met Azriel only recently.

She jolted upright as realization settled upon her.

But… could it be true? Could it really be that she was the mate Azriel had mentioned? The signs were there, yet he hadn't said anything about it. Not even that morning, when she had blatantly asked if he had one.

Every remnant of doubt and uncertainty faded away when she noticed the rising darkness in the room. From the tiny cracks on the floor and the little gaps under the furniture, shadows were now slithering out of their hiding spots to gather at the foot of her bed, seemingly writhing in what she thought was excitement. The lone tendril that had woken her caressed her cheek once more.

“Alright, alright,” she chuckled, waving it away. “I get it. He’s my mate.”

The solitary strand stilled its movements, and she took the chance to shoot it a warning look, though she couldn’t help the smile on her lips. “Now let me sleep, okay? I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”

She was now too tired to go looking for Azriel’s room. She didn’t even know if he was in his room anyway. Besides, this was not a conversation she wanted to have when her mind was a bit sleepy. Better to let the realization fully settle in and deal with it in the morning.

The shadows seemed to understand, because they halted their swirling, and even the stray tendril drew back, returning to the pool of darkness next to her bed.

Y/N lay back down and closed her eyes again. A small smile still graced her lips when she finally fell asleep.

She woke up only a few hours later, her breath gasping and Azriel’s name on her tongue.

A nightmare, nothing more. She tried to calm down, silently repeating it in her head. It was just a nightmare.

But she had to check on Azriel. Her stomach was clutched by an uneasiness that she couldn’t shake. Yet she didn’t move.

It was the middle of the night. Surely Azriel was sleeping by now, and she didn’t want to disturb him, not for something as silly as a nightmare. He’d done enough for her already.

She tried to go back to sleep, to ignore that invisible thread that was pulling at her chest and the thoughts that kept drifting back to Azriel. But every effort seemed useless.

She sat up, running a hand through her hair. The shadows seemed to stir on the floor as if knowing she was considering getting up.

She had no idea where Azriel’s room was. But after realizing they were mates and now the nightmare… she had to see him. It was like a physical need, nudging her to go.

As soon as she rose from her bed, a single wisp of shadow flew from the floor to her, curling around her wrist. She had a feeling she knew exactly which tendril it was.

The bond seemed to pulse in her chest as she headed for the door. But once she was outside, she didn’t know where to go. Nesta and Elain were in the same hallway, but what about Azriel? Maybe he wasn’t even on the same floor, for all she knew.

The bracelet of darkness tugged her toward the left end of the hallway, and she looked down with a frown. It did it again.

“You want me to go in that direction?” she whispered, taking a single, tentative step.

A third tug.

This was a potentially bad idea. She should have stayed in bed. Azriel was no doubt sleeping, and she would only bother him.

Yet her feet moved, and she didn’t fight the shadow as it guided her through the hallways.

~~~~~~

Azriel knew Y/N had left her room the moment she closed the door behind her thanks to his shadows. What he hadn't expected was that she was coming here, yet a few tendrils curled around his ear, whispering the same word over and over.

Mate. Mate. Mate.

A moment later, he heard her soft footsteps down the hallway. They stopped right outside his door.

He waited for her to knock, but when no sound came, he debated whether he should go open the door and let her know he was aware of her presence.

Just as he stood up, three light and quick taps on the wood resonated in the room.

Azriel swallowed. Maybe this could be his chance to tell her about the mating bond.

He walked up to the door, opening it to reveal Y/N, barefoot and clad only in her nightgown. She was fidgeting with her hands and he could bet he heard her hold her breath when she saw him.

“Did I wake you?”

Azriel glanced down at the Illyrian leathers he was still wearing. “No,” he answered with a small smile.

Only at that moment did he realize a shadow was wrapped around her wrist, just like that morning. Knowing it had been caught, the stray tendril flew back to hover around his wings with the others. His dark companions seemed to be as captivated by her as their master was.

Azriel took a better look at her. She was beautiful, even with her unbound hair a bit tousled on one side of her head. That detail, and the fact that she hadn’t bothered wearing slippers, told him she had slept – at least for a while. But judging by her fidgeting and her presence here, something was gnawing at her.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly, moving to the side in a silent invite to step in. “Did you have a nightmare?”

She didn't hesitate to walk past him. “Yes.”

Her sweet scent filled his nostrils, clouding his mind so much that he barely heard her answer. She was looking at him now, her brows furrowed.

“I thought you didn't have them anymore,” he finally replied.

“Not usually, but… this one was different.” He didn't miss the tension in her voice, or how she was avoiding his gaze. “It was about you, Azriel.”

His eyes widened. If she was upset about something, if he'd maybe hurt her in her dreams… but she probably wouldn't be looking for him if that was the case, right?

“It was about that day in Hybern,” she went on. “But I wasn't being pushed into the Cauldron. It was…”

When her voice trailed off and she didn't continue, Azriel stepped closer to her and gently brushed her arm. For someone who'd lived for more than five hundred years, he wasn't sure how to act around her. He didn't know if he was allowed to touch her to comfort her, despite the help he'd already offered her multiple times. Things were different now.

“It's okay, Y/N,” he said gently. “You don't need to tell me.”

But she shook her head. “You were dead,” she murmured, her voice trembling. “In the dream, you… you were dead and I couldn't do anything.”

Before he even knew what he was doing, Azriel wrapped her in his arms. He stroked her hair, his shadows joining in and swirling through her locks.

“I'm alright. It was just a nightmare,” he whispered. He felt a sob tear through her body, and for a horrible moment he thought she'd shrink back into herself like weeks ago.

And so Azriel kept murmuring soothing words while he held her close, to prevent her from turning again into a shell of herself or having another panic attack.

Yet when Y/N pulled away just enough to look up at him, her eyes were dry. Azriel could get lost in their depths.

“I know what you are, Az,” she said, and time seemed to slow as his mind came up with all the different possibilities of what she meant.

But what she said after wasn't one of them.

“I know you're my mate.”

Time stopped completely. Azriel froze, his shadows with him, halting their swaying around her.

He seemed to watch in slow motion as she brought up a hand to cup his cheek. As her eyes softened and a smile appeared on her face.

Maybe this was all some kind of dream. Maybe he'd fallen asleep without realizing. But his shadows were whispering to him again.

Real. Real. This is real.

Azriel let himself enjoy it then. He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. His hand came up to cradle hers, a small sigh leaving his lips as he relaxed.

“You are my mate.”

How she knew, Azriel had no idea. He knew for a fact his brothers and Amren – the only ones who had figured it out – wouldn't tell her before he could. And if Y/N had pieced it together herself, it still wouldn't matter.

The only thing that mattered was that she was here now, and she didn't seem upset or angry.

“I'm sorry I didn't tell you,” he finally replied. When he opened his eyes, she was smiling up at him.

The sight threatened to make him crumble. He wanted to pull her closer and kiss that soft smile.

Y/N just shrugged. “It's alright. I'm not sure I would have understood it if you'd told me sooner.” Her thumb brushed against his cheek before she stepped back, and Azriel reluctantly let go of her hand and mimicked her movement.

“But you could have told me this morning,” she added, her tone amused. “When I asked if you had a mate.”

Azriel ran his fingers through his hair as he offered her a small, nervous smile. “You caught me off guard. It doesn't happen often.”

“Oh?” she chuckled, the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard. He even forgot to say something else.

Instead, he reached for the bond he'd kept buried deep down and let it come back to the surface. He gave it a tentative, gentle tug and watched as Y/N tensed and her eyes widened, her hand going to that spot he'd seen her rub multiple times already.

A moment later, he felt her tug back. And knowing she wasn't running away from it, from him, he closed the distance between them once more. His hand tangled in her hair, tilting her head back and earning a small gasp in return. The need to kiss her was taking over his senses and he struggled to keep control.

Normally he'd go for it, the fact that Y/N didn't pull away and instead seemed to wait for his next move enough to tell him she wasn't going to reject him. And if she were any other girl, he'd do it. But with her, he needed to be sure. He didn't want to rush anything.

“Do you still think what you said earlier?” he asked in a hushed tone. “That my mate was lucky to have me?”

“I'm only more convinced of it now that I know it's me,” she murmured. Her smile lit up her whole face as she moved even closer. “I'm lucky to have you.”

For the first time in centuries, Azriel was feeling overwhelmed. Overwhelmed by her scent now permeating his room, by their bodies brushing against each other, by the mating bond finally out in the open and not hidden in the depths of his soul.

“No, I'm the lucky one to have you, Y/N.”

Their eyes met again and he was about to ask her if he could kiss her – Cauldron, he might even beg for it – when her gaze dropped to his lips. He waited one heartbeat, two, but when she still hadn't looked up by the third one, it was both the confirmation and permission Azriel needed.

With his hand still cradling the back of her head, he pulled her closer while he leaned down. They met halfway and Azriel’s first thought was that he would gladly stay like this forever.

Her lips were soft and warm, and they parted slightly, allowing his tongue to slip inside. He felt her hands on his chest and his wings rustled quietly behind him, an involuntary reaction to her touch.

But Y/N pulled back, the absence of her lips on his like a sudden emptiness in his heart.

His fingers tightened in her hair and when she moaned softly against his mouth, Azriel knew he was a goner.

Her cheeks had taken on a light shade of pink that made him smile. He was so lost drinking her in that he almost missed the words she whispered.

“Stay with me tonight.”

His smile widened. “You're in my room, Y/N.”

“Right.” She chuckled even as she blushed, the sight endearing. “Then let me stay with you for tonight.”

Azriel tucked her hair behind her ear. “You can stay with me every time you want. Every night, if that's what you wish.” He leaned down to press a tender kiss to her lips. “Wait in bed. I just need to get changed.”

She nodded and stepped back, his hand falling away from her cheek.

As he moved towards his drawer, the shuffle of the sheets brought a smile to his lips. He fought the urge to turn and see her lying in his bed. His mate, in his bed. Something he had almost stopped hoping for, after so many centuries.

Eager to join her, he quickly took off his Illyrian leathers to replace them with his sleeping pants. 

He didn't need his shadows to whisper in his ear to know she was watching him. He paused just as he was reaching for the shirt and lifted his head instead.

“Like what you see?” he asked, a teasing not in his voice.

The only answer he got was a low mumble that he couldn't quite make out, which only made his smile widen. Cauldron, he really wanted to turn around and see her face. He was ready to bet she was blushing.

Deciding against wearing his shirt – definitely not because he was a smug bastard who wanted to see her reaction – he turned and walked towards the bed.

He was rewarded by Y/N quickly looking away, her cheeks flushing a deeper shade of red as she lay back down.

Azriel chuckled, a hint of satisfaction in his eyes. A part of him felt a twinge of guilt, maybe he should have donned the shirt to spare her the embarrassment. But he couldn't deny he enjoyed seeing her flustered.

With a swift movement, he joined her under the bedsheets. “Y/N,” he called gently. “You know you don't have to shy away, right?”

He ran a hand down her spine and felt her shiver through the thin fabric of her nightgown. “You're my mate,” he continued. “You can look as much as you want.”

She scooted over until her back was pressed against his chest. Azriel immediately wrapped her in his arms and relished in the way her body seemed to fold into his, like that's where she belonged.

“Those are dangerous words, Azriel,” she warned. He could hear amusement in her voice and he knew she was smiling.

“Why?”

She intertwined their fingers and, to his greatest shock, brought them up to her lips and pressed a gentle kiss on the back of his hand.

It had been decades since Azriel had learned to accept his hands and his scars, decades since he'd stopped hiding them with gloves or in his pockets. He'd done horrible and unspeakable things with those hands, but to protect his court – his family – he'd do them again. And yet to have Y/N, his mate, openly kissing them so tenderly…

He wasn't sure he was breathing.

His shadows curled around his ear, whispering something about an answer, and he realized Y/N had turned her head to look at him. She was frowning, the expression creating a small crease between her brows that he had never noticed before.

“You didn't hear what I said, did you?”

She only smiled, turning around again. “I said that I might not stop looking then.”

Azriel felt a heat creep up his cheeks. “Sorry,” he murmured.

His arms held her tighter, pulling her closer until there was no space left between their bodies. As he pressed a kiss to her shoulder, he whispered, “You're very beautiful too, Y/N. I've had a hard time not staring at you since the moment I met you.”

With their joined hands resting close to her chest, Azriel could feel her heartbeat increase. Grinning from ear to ear, he waited as she shifted a bit like she was debating whether to turn around in his arms or not. But she eventually settled against him again and murmured a thank you.

Shying away from compliments, then. He would remember that. And he would shower her with compliments until she too believed she was the most beautiful girl he'd ever laid eyes on.

He wanted to start now, to make her turn around and kiss her again till their lips were swollen. Instead, he draped his wing over them, creating a little cocoon of darkness and warmth where only the two of them existed.

“It’s quite late,” he murmured against her neck. “We should sleep.”

 She hummed in agreement. “Goodnight, Azriel.”

“Goodnight.”

He closed his eyes, ready for the long hours it usually took him to fall asleep. It wasn't until he heard her voice again that he realized he was already falling into a peaceful slumber.

“Az?”

“Mh?”

Her voice was a whisper, barely audible even in the silence of the night. “This morning, when Cassian mentioned having the biggest wingspan and you snapped… is that a mate related thing, or just Illyrian?”

He had no idea how she'd come up with such a question at this hour. Smiling at her innocent curiosity, he tried not to let his mind wander into dangerous territory.

“I'll explain another time,” he mumbled. “Go to sleep, Y/N.”

She giggled, the sound like music to his ears. And with his mate in his arms – her scent filling his nose, her hair tickling his neck, her soft body pressed so perfectly against his – he knew he wanted to sleep like this every night.

After centuries of searching, Azriel had finally found the place he belonged.

֍֍֍֍֍

Taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy

A Helping Hand Tags: @myromanempiree @loving-and-dreaming @satttanx @a-courtof-azriel @randomdumsblog @whistle1whistle @thecraziestcrayon @tinystarfishgalaxy @jesskidding3 @starlitlakes

[sytoran]

⋆⭒˚｡★ ❝MILE HIGH CLUB❞ ★ n.romanoff !

pairing ★ sub!natasha romanoff x fem!avenger!reader

synopsis ★ on a plane ride to dubai for a romantic getaway, natasha takes matters into her own hands, and your cock into her own mouth. (oops?)

warnings ★ explicit content (minors dni), pwp, semi-public sex, jealous natasha is scarily hot, you are not the lord's strongest soldier, you have a cock, you almost get caught (kind of)

word count ★ 2.6k (IM BACKKK!!!! ...for now)

With Thor, Valkyrie and Carol back on Earth for about two weeks or so, you and Natasha were relieved of your Avenger duties. And what better way to spend the restful break than going on a romantic getaway to Dubai with the love of your life?

On the eighth of the eleven-hour flight, you were perfectly content to lounge in the luxuries of first-class, courtesy of S.H.I.E.L.D. But it seems that for the Avenger who was constantly on her feet, Natasha didn't deal well with ennui.

“I’m bored, Y/N.”

Unbeknownst to your girlfriend’s hidden agenda, you paid little mind to Natasha’s statement, continuing to watch the subpar rom-com playing on the aeroplane screen in blissful ignorance.

“Sorry, baby, I know it’s a long flight. You wanna watch this movie with me?”

Natasha lets out an aggravated huff. Because of course you didn’t know the effect you had on her. As much as the whole Avenger getup was as bold as it was impressive, this laid-back version of you really showcased the underlying details that marked her attraction to you.

Thin-rimmed reading glasses sat atop your nose, stray hairs framing the delicacy of your sharp cheekbones and marble-cutting jawline. With a tight-fitting black turtleneck that strained under the bulkiness of your sinful biceps, cut from the finest vibranium, and loosely-hung grey sweatpants that finished off the whole look — Natasha was just about ready to start sucking you off.

That passing thought had just been one of amusement, rhetorical and hyperbolic, seemingly impossible but altogether funny. But then Natasha takes a few steps back, figuratively, and considers it again — and a smile likened to a scheming devil crawls upon her face.

Well, Widows always got what they wanted, didn’t they?

“Y/N,” Natasha purrs, intently pressing into your side.

“Mhm?” you hum, reaching out a hand to entwine it with hers. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? You still bored?”

Your reaction was simply so innocent and angelic that Natasha almost felt bad for the devil-spawned arbitrary ploy she was about to enact.

Suddenly surging forward, Natasha lifts up the armrest that separates your seats, closing the distance between her and a trip down to hell, and lets a hand cup the mouth-watering bulge in your grey sweatpants.

“I said I’m bored, Daddy,” she whispers into your ear. “Mommy wants to play.”

The loud half-splutter, half-cough that resounds around the enclosed space around the two of you within the aeroplane is immaculate.

You choke on inhaled air, looking around at the other passengers with disbelief and anxiety, as if you had been scandalised.

And maybe you had been. Shifting in your seat uncomfortably, you desperately try to look away from the tantalising cleavage shoved in front of your sinning eyes.

Natasha’s low-cut top had you fighting every calvary in your mental war, and you struggle to regain a semblance of composure.

“But, uhm, Daddy wants to remind Mommy that we’re surrounded by complete strangers,” You whisper urgently, a handsome flush overtaking your features. “And that we are very well-known Avengers across the globe, so if we were to get caught we would end up on every news headline for the next month. And if it reaches Fury, well, we’d be in shit ton of trouble.”

Your state of arousal is unhelpfully heightened further when you notice that Natasha is eyeing your growing erection like a hawk, front teeth sinking into her ruby-red lip, ready to take strike and devour its prey.

“Oh darling, you know I’m a whore for attention,” Natasha replies loftily, and the silky-smooth way that the word ‘whore’ rolls off her tongue triggers a jolt of arousal straight to the tent in your sweatpants.

When Natasha begins caressing the hefty bulge in between your legs, a low groan emits from the depths of your throat and it melts in Natasha’s lower belly in the form of molten arousal.

“Natasha, as much as I want to rail you senseless in this very second—”

“What’s stopping you?”

“I don’t think that this is a good idea—”

“Stop thinking, then,” Natasha responds as if it’s the most simple answer in all of the galaxy, and before you can come up with another futile reason to deter her girlfriend’s libido, Natasha launches into action.

In a fraction of a second that could have rivalled Spiderman’s speed, Natasha unbuckles her seatbelt and sinks to her knees in front of your seat. Another upside of first-class was the spacious legroom which Natasha fully utilised. Ducking under your blanket, she drapes it over her hunched figure and tucks herself neatly between your legs.

“Fuck,” you breathe out, fumbling to unbuckle your own seatbelt and letting Natasha slide down your sweatpants. Social decency be damned, for when Natasha Romanoff presented herself to you, ripe for the taking, no one simply denied themself of that glorious heaven.

Deft fingers tug down black Calvin Klein boxers, and a huge, hardened cock springs out of its confinement. You exhale shakily as a hand wraps around the base, and a feather-light finger trails over its girthy length.

“I’m not surviving this, am I?” You mutter underneath your breath, leaning back into the seat. In response, Natasha gives kitten licks to the pre-cum emerging at your heady tip, so saintly and sinful all the same.

Guiding the head of your cock to a hot mouth, Natasha leisurely wraps her lips around the shaft. Your iron-hard grip on the armrest was almost completely useless in the face of regaining normalcy, not when the feeling of velvet lips set alight every nerve on her body.

“Fuck,” you curse breathlessly, your face contorting into one of pleasure. Darkened eyes fixate unto the blanket Natasha was hidden under, and your wandering mind fuels an image of your girlfriend’s hollowed cheeks and pliant mouth, to which you almost fall apart there and then.

Dirty, scandalous and filthy was being able to feel Natasha’s tongue swirl around your cock without seeing it happen. Your lack of sight heightened the sensitivity of your other senses by tenfold, and you had to physically restrain herself from bucking your hips forward.

Without warning, Natasha tilts her head up, ruffling the blankets, and then engulfs your cock in the threshold of her throat.

“Oh, Thanos' head on a fucking stick—”

“Excuse me ma’am, what can I get for you today?”

Your eyes fly open in a nanosecond, head jerking to the source of distraction. There in the aisle stood an air stewardess with a push-cart and a smile just a little too wide.

“Uh, uhm, just a water would be fine,” you choke out, attempting to exhale steadily as if you hadn’t been about to combust in your girlfriend's mouth just a few seconds ago.

“Right away, ma’am,” The stewardess answers. “You getting hot and bothered from the show?” She asks harmlessly, a smirk tugging up on her face.

You take a moment to understand the jest. Before you the shitty rom-com is still playing, except now there's a badly orchestrated sex scene playing, where the male actor is trying too hard to act as if he’s doing any good. It doesn’t do you any good that your face is flushed and evidently flustered, but for different yet similar reasons.

A false laugh escapes your lips, in hopes of driving the woman away. “What! No, no way. I’m all good here.”

You swear you can smell the jealousy radiating off from Natasha in leaps and bounds, and you decide it is best to end the conversation before Natasha fuses and convulses simultaneously.

God forbid Natasha decides to start deepthroating your cock at that exact moment.

You let out a ragged groan in front of the stewardess, as a hot mouth engulfs your cock in quick succession, sucking back and forth with an esteemed fervour.

“You alright there, sweetheart?” The lady asks, leaning closer, reaching out a hand to pat the side of your face.

You lean back, rapidly attempting to steady your breathing, and failing miserably. Natasha’s bobbing her head up and down with energised vigour, determined in her mission.

“Y-yeah, it’s really alright. Th-thanks, again.”

Just as you thought all was done and dusted, the air stewardess looks around cautiously. She leans closer to you with batted eyelashes and a supposedly seductive wink.

Then, in a low and sultry voice that seals your fate, the woman says, “Let me know if you need anything special, handsome.” You choke back a moan as Natasha twists her head, her talented tongue doing wonders to her cock.

The lady can’t get out of your sight any slower.

The moment the air stewardess disappears into the confines of the next cabin, footsteps fading away, Natasha's head whips out of the blanket, furrowed brows and an aggravated expression taking you by storm.

“‘Let me know if you need anything special, handsome!?’ Who does that whore think she is? Baby, do note that it’s taking me very large amounts of self-restraint not to get up right now and slap her silly. I can’t believe that an air stewardess would hit on anyone so openly like that, much less you! God, Y/N, I—”

Natasha’s stream of enjambments decrescendos into a meek silence at the look on your face.

Evanescent was the abrupt change in your demeanour, as if a switch had been flicked, as if the rest of the world had faded away, and it was just the two of them left.

Natasha’s cheeks flush so prettily, so quickly, because that look on your face only meant one thing.

A set jaw, glinting in the light — cut marble sculpted from the finest hands. Eyes that descend into such deep hues that Natasha feels like she’s drowning like the Titanic, downwards towards the depths of hell.

“Less talking, baby, more sucking.”

A rough hand finds Natasha’s head under the blanket and her hair is tugged on forcefully, jerking it forward to engulf the entirety of your cock. Natasha is more than happy to comply.

Natasha’s pretty gag is lost in the sound of the ongoing turbulence, and you grunt and drag those velvet walls down the length of your cock again. If Natasha decided to act like a brat, you could sure as hell treat her like one.

Up and down, up and down, and the way you manhandle Natasha to deepthroat a solid eight inches should be considered an Avengers-level threat. If you close your eyes, you can almost see the tears welling up in Natasha’s eyes, her pretty lips wrapped around your cock, strands of hair clinging to beads of sweat that adorn her face.

You're not too sure if the wet and squelching noises you hear are from Natasha's slick throat or a figment of your ever-rampant imagination. Either way, the contracting waves of Natasha’s throat around your cock is downright sinful, pretty and easy and oh so pliant.

From base to tip and tip to base, a preordained promise of paradise hangs in the atmosphere, and with each passing stroke, you barrel towards that high. You thrust hard into Natasha's throat, stretching it out, filling it up.

You lose yourself in the wet heat of Natasha’s mouth, your cock being stimulated in such heavenly eloquence of Natasha’s tongue. As an Avenger, you've fought a thousand battles, but none of them have ever quite left you as breathless as this one.

You're awfully close.

In the haze of being used like a mindless fucktoy, Natasha’s hand slips up the expanse of your clenched thigh muscle, and proceeds to toy with the heavy sack of balls. You groan, gripping Natasha’s hair tighter, tugging her downwards.

You're really, really close.

Your ears prick up as a sound emits from under the blanket, and your keen hearing picks up a whiny moan that sounds an awful lot like “Daddy, please”.

Oh, fuck.

Natasha’s helpless plea is what causes you to tumble over the edge of precipice, waves crashing and planets colliding as your vision becomes pure, unadulterated, white heat. “Fuck,” you grunt, a dragged-out groan from your chest, a ringing emblem of castle walls that crumble down.

Streaks and streaks of milky, white fluid are released into the depths of Natasha’s throat, coating her velvet walls, thick and creamy as it splatters against pink walls. Contented moans resound from Natasha, as she continues to suck on your extensive cock like it’s her last lifeline, like she might as well perish without it.

For a brief moment, you question your existence in the universe, and how remarkably infinitesimal you feel, hanging kilometres above the wide open sea and nothing else.

Be it land or sea or stars, though, you think you've found your muse, your reason for staying.

“Natasha,” you breathe out, like a sacred prayer, like a haunted blessing, as pleasure overrides your system.

You don’t recall quite how long you stay in that exact position, a hand cupping the back of Natasha’s head, rocking gently thorugh the aftershocks, Natasha’s palm resting on the side of your thigh.

Sentience gradually floats back into your capability, and you slowly blink as you arise from your out-of-body experience. “Well, shit,” you mumble, the aeroplane filtering into view, the snores from sleeping passengers around you becoming audible again.

Once the coast was deemed clear, you lift up the blanket covering your lap, but it turns out to be a dreadful decision as the sight of Natasha almost causes you to roll back into another orgasm.

Natasha’s previously neat hair was now a complete mess, sticking to her mouth and the sides of her face in the heat of sweat and slick. What used to be perfect, unblemished eyeshadow was now a runny mess due to Natasha’s tears, and a nude shade of bottle-red lipstick was smeared across her mouth and your semi-erect cock.

Lowered lashes shielded a smokey gaze, nearly all black, and you can feel herself hardening again, like you hadn’t just received a filthy blowjob that would make the heavens blush.

Immediately, that image of Natasha Romanoff was imprinted into her mind for an eternity to come, saved for future purposes.

By some saintly miracle, none of the passengers surrounding had awoken, and Natasha successfully crawls back into her seat with an all-too-smug smile.

“How was it?” She asks innocently, batting those lashes with a seductive head-tilt.

“I don’t know, maybe you should’ve moaned ‘Please, Daddy,’ just a little louder,” you retort quickly, no bite behind your words, delighting in the pink flush that adorns your girlfriend’s cheeks.

On about the ninth hour of the flight, approximately one hour after Natasha drew out an earth-shattering orgasm from your megalithic shaft, you effectively draws closer to Natasha, with crossed arms that unhelpfully accentuate the bulge of your biceps.

“Let me rail you in the toilet?”

“Y/N L/N, I am not sitting my bare ass on that filthy bathroom counter. I don't wish to end up with an STI."

“Who says I need to a counter to fuck you, hm?”

──── ☆ ⋅ ★ ⋅ ☆ ────

After three splendid orgasms, more abundant wails of ‘Daddy, please’ emitting from the toilet, and that same, very embarrassed flight stewardess politely requesting for them to get the fuck out, you and Natasha land in Dubai, officially kickstarting your romantic getaway with a bang.

Literally, quite a bang.

haven't written something new in forever, hopefully this is enough to satiate you gremlins' desires... (but forreal tho, thanks for sticking around) reblog or i'll hunt you down and NOT post for 12493482 years

main m.list

[rafeandonlyrafe]

new follower

words: 1.4k

warnings: 18+ only!, smut, male receiving oral, p in v sex, unprotected sex

rafe doesn’t follow many people on social media. topper, kelce, a few of his other country club friends, and you. 

the notification shocked you when you woke up one morning and saw that rafe cameron followed you back. you knew him decent enough, mostly through being friends of friends, with rafe being a year ahead of you when you were in school.

you assumed it was a mistake, he was scrolling his recent notifications maybe and accidentally clicked your follow button. you waited for him to realize and unfollow you, but it never happened, not even after a week passed.

“did you see?” you answer your friends call. rafe not only didn’t unfollow you, but he just liked and commented on your picture.

“holy shit. holy shit. holy shit.” stephanies excited voice rings out from the other side of the line, obviously having seen the recent development. “girl, he wants you.” “coming to the party this friday?” you say the message out loud, having already memorized it. you haven’t responded yet, not wanting to seem too crazy by immediately screaming yes. “i mean what else could that mean?” 

“girl, you are getting dicked DOWN at that party.”

--

you tug at rafes zipper, having already undone the button. you know you're moving too fast, should slow down and savor the moment as you sink to your knees.

“mmm, baby, you don't have to.” rafe reaches his hand down to pull you back up, but you already tugged at his pants, lowering them to his thighs so just his underwear is left covering his dick, obviously already hard and straining against the fabric.

“i want to.” you clarify, leaning in and kissing along his length until you reach the head of his cock, suckling at it through the material, wetting it with your mouth.

rafe is just as big as you thought he would be, you can tell just from wrapping your lips around him, making you even more excited to get him inside of you.

“fuck.” rafe groans. “quit teasing me, pretty.”

you smile at rafes compliment, pulling his underwear down, his cock pushing free, standing upright against his body. rafe groans as the cold bathroom air hits his cock, pressing his back even harder into the wall.

you waste no time, wrapping your lips around the head of his cock, pausing for a moment to enjoy the taste before you begin to bob your head, unable to take him all the down, but getting pretty damn close before your gag reflex forces you to pull off.

“god, you're just as good as i imagined you'd be.” rafe moans, hands gripping your hair.

“you imagined this?” you ask, pulling away to blink up at rafe through your lashes.

“yeah.” rafe smirks. he's got no shame about being attracted to you. it's rare for a girl to truly capture his attention, especially for any period of time longer than a one night stand.

“oh.” you blush, wanting to know more details as you grasp his cock, stroking it to still give him some stimulation. “before or after you followed me?”

“after. can't believe i never noticed you in high school. your photo popped up in my discover and… god, you're just so pretty.”

“did you touch yourself to me?” you ask, the words tumbling from your mouth before you can stop them.

“you would like it if i did, wouldn’t you dirty girl?” rafe smirks, not giving you a chance to confirm that you really would like it as he pushes your head back down. you allow rafe to control your movements, keeping your mouth open as his cock pushes down your throat.

you swallow around his length, excited to tell all your friends about sucking rafe off in the bathroom at the party, especially stephanie, who you know can’t be far.

“god, i need your cunt. come on.” rafe tugs at your hair.

“yeah, yeah.” you nod, giving one last kiss to the tip of rafes cock before standing.

“turn around.” rafe moves you towards the sink, having you face the mirror. he smirks when you realize you’re watching him in the reflection as he pushes your dress up until your underwear is revealed, having chosen a cute thong specifically for rafe to see.

“jesus, you’re gonna kill me.” rafe groans, hands gripping your ass, feeling your plump flesh in his hands.

“yeah?” you smirk, leaning forward and placing your hands on the marble counter to shake your bum slightly from side to side. 

“too hot, i swear.” he groans, about to pull your underwear to the side when theres a knock on the bathroom door, making you both jump, forgetting that there was still an entire party going on.

“fucking occupied!” rafe shouts. “fuck off!”

you laugh at rafes yelling, listening to whoever knocked walk away, footsteps moving down the hallway.

“jesus.” he groans. “i should take you home before we fuck.” “what, not gentlemanly to take me for the first time in a bathroom?” you laugh.

“you’re not funny. i’m serious.” rafe pouts. “i like you, let me take you back to tanneyhill.” you turn around, pushing yourself up to sit on the counter. you lean forward, pressing your lips against rafes. its flattering that he wants to take you someplace more private, but you’re honestly not sure you can wait.

you reach between your bodies with both hands, moving your thong to the side while guiding rafes cock towards you entrance. you move the head of his cock through your folds, letting out a moan against his lips when you push it against your clit.

“alright, alright, shit.” rafe moans, “i’ll fuck you now.”

“good.” you smirk. “you can fuck me at tanneyhill later too.”

“oh yeah?” rafe laughs, pushing your hands away to take control, placing his hands on your hips as he sinks his cock into your entrance, moving slowly to let you adjust. “just can’t get enough of this cock, huh?” you let out a moan, gripping rafes shoulders as he stays seated inside you, pushing on your walls the perfect amount. 

“move. move, its okay.” you mumble. 

“god, i need a second too pretty girl.” rafe takes a deep breath, trying to control himself from absolutely ravaging you and cumming far too early. 

you laugh, cupping rafes jaw with your hands, tugging him close for a kiss. it gives him a moment to settle before he starts to move, cock pushing in and out of your cunt, a wet squelching sound filling the bathroom with every movement.

rafe has one hand gripping your hip while the other slides to your back, keeping you from leaning backwards against the mirror, chest pressed against his.

“let me see your tits, baby.” rafe asks, looking down the top of your dress at your cleavage. you nod, tugging at the front of your dress, pulling it down so your chest is revealed, having forgone a bra. rafe smirks as he looks down, breasts bouncing every time he thrusts into you.

“so hot.” he groans, managing to duck his head to kiss over the swell of your breast while keeping his cock pushing into you. “touch yourself for me.”

rafe picks his head up to press a kiss to your lips before leaning back, looking between your bodies while you start with your tits, cupping one and jiggling it to show off to rafe before playing with your own nipples, switching to the other side.

“your cunt, come on. let me see how you touch yourself.” rafe knows he can't last much longer, needing you to get yourself off since his hands are occupied keeping you in place on the counter.

you sink your hand lower, ruffling over the scrunched up dress until you reach your pussy, sinking lower to gather some of your wetness from where rafe is pumping into you. you glide back up to your clit, rubbing it with two fingers in the way you do when you get yourself off.

“oh, fuck.” rafe groans as you clench around his length. “you're trying to kill me baby.”

“cum inside me.” you whimper. “please.”

“yeah.” rafe nods. “cant last.” you can tell from the way rafes cock swells inside of you that he's close.

“come on.” you begin to grind your hips up and down. “give it to me.”

rafe let's out a strangled moan, half sounding like your name, half sounding like a curse as he cums, pushing his cock as deep inside of you as possible, triggering your own orgasm as you let out a squeal, back arching into him as your fingers slow on your clit.

“fuck, that was good.” you pant, body flopping forward to lean your forehead against rafes shoulder.

“fuck yeah it was.” rafe laughs, carefully pulling his softening cock out of you. he takes your chin in his hand, picking your head up to press a kiss to your lips. “now when can we do that again?”

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid @juniebugg @magicalyoura @mysticallystilinski @https-luvvia @aerangi @folklorsweet @soilderpoetandking @auryyz

[ja3yun]

Melting Point | Bonus Chapter

ice skater!sunghoon x gf!reader warnings: smut (mdni), oral (f.rec), pussy muncher hoon is back, unprotected sex, very bad descriptions about ice skating, cheesy and wholesome (not sorry one bit), not proofread, if i missed any lmk! w.c: 12k synopsis: with sunghoon and minhee competing at the winter olympics, you're in the most romantic city in the world. your nerves are strung high for both of them but your boyfriend has a surprise once everything is said and done. masterlist** a/n: hi! my melting point lovers, this is for you and only you! i hit 4k followers on this blog and i thought, what better way than give my lovely people a bc of the fic that got me my first 1k followers! plus, i missed them like crazy and i felt like this was a nice wrap to their story. as always, comments, feedback, reblogs and likes are all welcome.

** if you haven't read mp then this will probably not make sense to you but if you really wanted to, you could read it as a stand alone. this is also dedicated to 🌊 anon bc no one loves mp quite like them 🙏🏻

Kicking your feet, you sit at the edge of the hotel bed, watching your boyfriend pack the last few costume pieces into his gym bag. He looks so pretty in front of you; his dark hair is freshly cut but still long enough that some of his fringe dangles in front of his face. His body is strong and dependable, just like always, and his concentrated look adds cuteness to him despite his typical handsome charm. 

The room is filled with the quiet rustle of fabric and the faint scent of his cologne, wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. Your heart swells with affection as you watch him, every detail etching itself into your memory - the ripple of his muscles under his shirt, the furrow of his brows, and the gentle way he handles even the most delicate pieces. 

"I miss you," you blurt out, the words slipping past your lips before you can stop them.

Sunghoon stops packing and looks up, his thick eyebrows raised in confusion. "Sweets, I'm standing right in front of you," he says, pointing to himself with a puzzled expression and a small, amused smile playing on his lips.

“I know, but we’ve hardly seen each other,” you begin, rising from the bed and approaching him with a slight pout. “We’ve been in the most romantic city in the world for the past four days, and I’ve seen you for a collective twenty minutes.”

Chuckling softly, Sunghoon shakes his head. “I mean, I am competing at the Olympics. That kinda requires my attention,” he explains, though the playful glint in his eyes betrays the lightness of his tone.

“I require your attention,” you counter, sulking slightly, though you’re aware of the unfairness in your complaint. He’s been relentlessly training for the biggest and final skate of his professional career, and here you are, feeling neglected because he is rightfully busy. You should be cheering him on and savouring every moment you get to spend together, especially since the competition is this afternoon.

Despite your unreasonable grumbling, Sunghoon's expression remains warm and understanding. With a gentle sigh, he pulls you into his embrace, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and resting your head against his chest. You can feel the rhythmic thrum of his heartbeat and the slight rumble of laughter he’s holding back, a comforting vibration against your ear.

"Paris isn’t all that anyway. I mean, what is there to see anyway? Nice restaurants? The Louvre? The Wall of I Love You? Sounds awful if you ask me." The sarcasm in his voice is dripping with humour, each word teasing you softly.

You lift your head to look up at him, unable to suppress a smile at his exaggerated complaints. His eyes, filled with a mix of affection and mischief, meet yours. “You’re impossible,” you say, shaking your head but feeling your heart lighten.

Sunghoon leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “And you’re my favourite distraction,” he murmurs, his breath warm and reassuring against your skin. “But I promise, Sweets, after this competition, we’ll have all the time in the world to explore Paris. And I’ll make sure to give you all the attention you deserve.”

His eyes gleam with the love he always shows you, but there’s a subtle shadow of uncertainty behind them. Though you haven’t been able to spend much time together since arriving, you’ve been by his side for months leading up to this moment. You understand how much this means to him.

Sunghoon’s training for this prestigious event has been nothing short of gruelling. Hours upon hours spent perfecting his routines, pushing his body to its limits, and honing his skills have left little room for anything else. It was his decision to leave the competitive world of figure skating after the Winter Olympics, shifting his focus to coaching and leading a less hectic life - a choice he is content with. However, this final performance carries immense weight, and the pressure is almost suffocating. Once it’s over, he can finally breathe, but for now, his lungs and heart are trapped in a cage of nerves and anticipation.

“How are you feeling about it?” you ask softly, pressing gentle kisses over his heart, hoping to soothe the tension you know is building inside him.

“Fine,” he replies, but the tightness in his voice betrays him.

You give him a pointed stare, silently urging him to be honest with you. His facade crumbles, and he lets out a heavy sigh, nodding reluctantly. “Shitting myself. If I fuck up, I don’t have a chance to redeem myself. This is what I’ll be known for forever.”

The weight of this final performance hangs heavily on Sunghoon’s shoulders. The relentless drive to be perfect, to deliver a flawless routine, feels almost unbearable. The thought of a single misstep, a minor flaw, is paralysing. He knows that in the world of figure skating, this performance will be his legacy. The pressure to be remembered as a champion, to leave the ice with no regrets, is a relentless force pressing down on him. His heart races at the mere thought of stepping onto the ice, every nerve in his body taut with the anticipation of the moment that could define his career.

“Hey,” you say softly, cupping his face in your hands and forcing him to meet your gaze. “You’ve already proven yourself time and time again. No matter what happens, you’ve achieved so much. I believe in you, and everyone who loves you believes in you too.”

He shakes his head, a frustrated sigh escaping his lips. “It’s not just about what I’ve done. It’s about how I finish. Everyone remembers the ending, and if I screw this up...”

“You won’t screw it up,” you interrupt gently. “You’ve worked so hard for this. You’re more prepared than anyone else out there.”

“But what if I’m not?” he asks, his voice trembling slightly. “What if I stumble, or fall, or miss a beat? This is my last chance to get it right. There are no do-overs.”

You tighten your hold on his face, bringing his forehead to rest against yours. “Listen to me, Sunghoon. You’re human. Perfection isn’t the goal, that is still the lingering words of your mum talking; it’s about doing your best and knowing you gave it everything you had. You’ve done that already. You’ve pushed beyond limits, and you’ve inspired so many people, including me.”

He closes his eyes, absorbing your words. “I’m so scared,” he admits, his vulnerability laid bare. “What if it’s not enough?”

“It is enough,” you say firmly. “You are enough. And no matter what happens, I’ll be right here, proud of you. Always.”

It’s not often you see your boyfriend doubt himself like this, not since his mum has been out of the picture and he has actually started to enjoy skating again. But you can understand why he is so nervous and self-diminishing his abilities. This is the Olympics, something that he has been dreaming about since he was a little boy. That would put a weight on anyone’s shoulder never mind it being the definitive.

You lean up and press a tender kiss to his lips, pouring all your love and reassurance into the gesture. He kisses you back, his grip on you tightening as if drawing strength from your unwavering support. When you pull back, you see a flicker of resolve in his eyes, a reminder of why he’s made it this far.

Sunghoon’s expression softens, a gentle smile spreading across his face. He nuzzles his nose against yours, a sweet and intimate gesture that makes your heart flutter. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he murmurs, his eyes glistening with affection as they lock onto yours.

You let out a soft, breathless laugh, feeling a wave of warmth envelop you. “Well, good thing you don’t have to find out,” you reply, your voice laced with both tenderness and playful teasing.

He pulls you closer, his arms encircling you in a protective embrace, his fingers digging gently into your t-shirt. “I love you,” he whispers, his breath warm and comforting against your ear. “So freaking much, Sweets.”

“I love you too,” you murmur back, letting the words settle between you like a shared secret.

Sunghoon’s smirk suddenly makes an appearance, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Alright, but seriously,” he says, leaning back slightly to meet your gaze with a teasing glint. “Who are you rooting for to win? Me or Minhee?”

The question catches you off guard, and you blink at him in surprise. “I’m rooting for both of you, obviously!” you protest, your tone a mix of exasperation and disbelief.

Sunghoon arches an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Come on, Sweets. Let’s say the stakes are higher. Gun to your head, who takes the top podium: me or Minhee?”

You let out an exasperated sigh, swatting at his chest playfully. “You’re ridiculous, you know that? Minhee is my brother but also my client. It’s literally in my job description to root for him!”

Sunghoon chuckles, the sound resonating deeply from his chest, warm and infectious. “So, what you’re saying is, if it weren’t for your job, you’d be rooting for me?”

You roll your eyes, a reluctant smile tugging at your lips despite your best efforts to stay serious. “None of you will let this rivalry go, huh? It’s like you both live for these little competitions till this day.”

Shrugging, Sunghoon picks up his bag, slinging it effortlessly across his shoulder. "Old habits die hard," he replies, a sly twinkle in his eye. He reaches out and pinches your cheek gently, his touch light but affectionate. “But I’ll just say you want me to win.”

As you open your mouth to retaliate and defend yourself, he leans in and plants a quick, playful kiss on your nose. The unexpected touch makes your face flush with a delightful mix of embarrassment and affection. You blink up at him, momentarily disarmed by his endearing gesture.

Sunghoon’s grin widens, clearly pleased with your reaction. “Gotta go,” he says, stepping back with a playful wink. “Remember, I’m competing right after Minhee, so try to stick around that area so I can see you. Can’t win without my good luck charm rinkside.”

He makes his way toward the hotel door, his confident stride carrying him with an air of excitement. Just before he exits, he glances back over his shoulder, his eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and warmth. “I love you, Sweets.”

“I love you more, Hoon.”

_____

The moment Sunghoon walks into the changing room, he is hit by a mix of heat, sweat, and deodorant. It’s not like he isn’t used to it, every sports locker room is the same, even when he used to share it with the hockey boys at the Albion. Sunghoon is a particularly clean person, however, so the sight and scent are still disgusting to his senses.

What is a sight for sore eyes though, is his best friend Minhee sitting under his assigned peg as he ties the laces of his black, shiny skates, his facial expression serious though the task is mundane and easy to carry out. 

That’s the thing about competition day, everything is charged to 100 and even the simplest of actions can feel like a monument. And since this has been Minhee’s ambition - even competing at the Olympics never mind winning - he is feeling the pressure like he is a car under a compressor, two seconds away from being crushed scraps and thrown into the heap with the rest of the junk.

Despite that, when he hears someone approaching, he looks up to see his rival-turned-friend-turned-rival for one last day and plasters a smile on his face, hiding the tension in his frame.

“Hey, Hoon,” he greets simply, straightening up to look at him, squinting his eye slightly at the overhead light casting a heavenly glow around the skater. He doesn’t know what watt they have in Paris bulbs but he sure as hell misses the dullness of the Belmore, never complaining about the flickering yellow and burnt bulbs again.

Returning his smile, Sunghoon sits beside him, clasping a hand onto the boy's shoulder and rubbing it slightly, emitting a similar feeling to a brief massage. “Hey, Min.” 

“How is my lover this morning?” Minhee winks, enjoying the relief from Sunghoon’s hand. He knew he should have taken up the offer for Wonyoung to give him a full body massage, but he didn’t want to get too loose, or the real reason, fuck her until his alarm blared cruelly in the morning.

Shaking his head, Sunghoon retrieves his hand and sighs, running it lazily through his locks. “Shitting a brick, to be honest. You?”

Spitting out a laugh, your brother nods. “Same. Once this is over do you want to get into construction? I’m shitting enough bricks to build a mansion.”

The sarcastic notion allows Sunghoon to relax and laugh alongside his buddy, the air a little lighter with the ease of the conversation. For Sunghoon, growing up with no friends in this field meant he only had his mum to confide in, who wouldn’t even let him air his worries, stating that it created a negative mindset and would ruin his chances. So having Minhee by his side is a welcomed change.

Your brother and boyfriend have gotten so close since Nationals that you have practically become the third wheel when they are together. You understand, though; as much as you love and empathise with the gruelling training and pressure, you will never understand them the way they do one another. 

And with Minhee now crazily in love with not only your boyfriend but his girlfriend Wonyoung, it means you get to spend time with her too.  She’s been teaching you how to skate and sharing insights from her own experience managing herself, which has been incredibly helpful for your role as Minhee’s manager. You love having her around, and double dates have become some of the highlights of your life.

Unzipping his duffle, Sunghoon begins to retrieve his handmade costume, looking at it with unfiltered awe. Rina outdid herself this time, the black sheer top with black and red gemstones splattered over it in the shape of a deconstructed heart fits perfectly with his heartbreak-themed performance. You had come up with the idea to skate to a song that signifies farewell but nothing obvious like Adele or Lewis Capaldi, something that people would remember. Eventually, after listening to hours of playlists curated on Spotify, some named after ex-lovers or ‘songs to get over One Direction too’, he finally settled upon Porter Robinson’s Goodbye to a World. It’s not what he is used to, the electronic track a stark contrast to his usual melodic symphonies, but with the song signifying a bittersweet end that promises brighter days ahead, he couldn’t think of a better song.

Once your best friend and Sunghoon’s self-proclaimed stylist heard the song, she came up with this jewelled masterpiece. She felt heartache with a slice of redemption in the lyrics, hence, the heart isn’t broken or whole, it is simply there to feel how it wants to as it trails up his side and over his chest.

Minhee glances over at the top and smiles brightly. “Looks good, man. I’m going to steal her once you retire,” he jokes, but there’s a hint of seriousness in his eyes. He had already messaged Rina the moment he found out she was the one who designed the famous blue National outfit.

“I’m sure she’ll be more than willing,” Sunghoon replies fondly, hooking the top behind him. “She’s changing her final project to costume design. You can be her model. Just be prepared to give her some freebies from those new brand deals you have.”

Ever since you became Minhee’s manager, you’ve done a far better job than your mom did in her 15-plus years of managing him. Brands lined up at the door as soon as Nationals were over, eager to partner with Korea’s number one skater. The initial wave of attention was overwhelming. Your first day on the job was filled with countless emails about potential sponsors and multiple love letters asking you to play matchmaker.

But you made it clear to Minhee that these decisions were his to make. After years of your mom forcing him into deals he didn’t care about for quick cash, you insisted that he choose the ones he genuinely wanted, and you would handle the details. Being the brother you know and love, the first sponsor he accepted was Aston Martin. The promise of a new car to impress Wonyoung was too tempting to resist.

Laughing, Minhee nods in agreeance to Sunghoon’s statement, already planning to steal some cosmetics from the Black Rouge shoot he has in two weeks. 

Finishing up his laces, your brother stands and checks the stability of his skates, wobbling back and forth a few times. “I can’t believe we need to get dressed and everything just to wait around for hours,” he complains, thinking about the long wait ahead. The pair have at least 5 hours to wait before they can even take to the ice, and with no practice rink like the Nationals, it’s a waiting game.

“I know,” Sunghoon agrees, beginning to get changed, discarding his casual clothes. “Y/N was hinting at spending some time together this morning. I felt so bad leaving her when I could have taken her to that La Bossue cafe she was talking about on the plane here,” he says regrettably, sleeking his black slacks on.

If anyone understands, it’s Minhee. This is his and Wonyoung’s first holiday together, even though they’re both competing. He wants to spend time sightseeing and kissing her outside Sacré-Coeur Basilica.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he picks up one of Sunghoon’s skates and starts unhooking the strings. This is a trust that had to be rebuilt, especially after what happened between them, but it’s a gesture Minhee likes to do as a constant apology for his previous actions.

“How is my Bubs anyway?” Minhee asks, referring to you. Your absence when he woke up this morning meant he hadn’t seen you yet. It’s not very professional from a client-manager perspective, considering this is the biggest skate of his life, but he’ll let it slide since Sunghoon probably needs your presence more right now.

“Adorably clingy and beautiful as always,” Sunghoon replies, his tone filled with adoration as he recalls your pout when he said goodbye this morning.

The love painted on Sunghoon’s face makes Minhee’s expression fall into fake annoyance. The older skater pretends to gag, a running bit he does whenever you and your boyfriend get a bit too mushy for his liking.

Once Sunghoon has his sparkly costume fully on, he notices Minhee’s antics and rolls his eyes. “Oh, get over it, Min. We’ve been together for over half a year now,” he smirks, snatching his skate from Minhee.

“Don’t I know it? I’ve been stuck watching you both eat each other’s faces for the past four months,” Minhee grimaces in disgust.

“Well, I hope you haven’t been watching me eat your sis-”

“Right, that’s my cue to get the fuck out of here,” Minhee interrupts, raising his hands in mock surrender. The playful banter and easy camaraderie between the two skaters are a testament to how far they’ve come. Sunghoon's laughter fills the room, rich and genuine, a sound that brings warmth to the moment.

“I’ll meet you out there, save me a seat,” Sunghoon says, settling back onto the bench to lace up his skates. His fingers move with practised precision, threading the laces through the eyelets with ease. He glances up briefly, his eyes meeting Minhee’s, a silent communication of mutual respect and friendship.

Minhee pauses at the door, turning back with a mischievous grin. “Do you want anything from catering?” he asks, his eyebrows quirking in a playful challenge.

Sunghoon’s response is immediate. “Yeah, grab me a chocolate muffin.”

Minhee’s expression shifts to one of exaggerated horror, his eyes widening theatrically. “The ones Henrik guards with his life? You want me to die?”

A smirk tugs at the corners of Sunghoon’s mouth, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

Minhee laughs a deep, infectious sound. “Give me a kiss and I’ll think about it,” he teases, leaning in with puckered lips, his face comically close to Sunghoon’s.

Sunghoon pushes him away with a playful shove, shaking his head in mock exasperation. “Get out of here, you idiot,” he chuckles, his tone filled with affectionate humour.

Minhee backs away, still laughing. “Alright, alright. I’ll see what I can do about that muffin. But if Henrik comes after me, I’m blaming you,” he says, pointing a finger at Sunghoon before disappearing out the door.

Sunghoon finishes lacing his skates, a fond smile lingering on his lips. Talking with his friend like this has helped ease some of the lingering apprehension and doubts in his mind. If Minhee can remain calm, or at least fake it, when this skate means just as much to him, then Sunghoon can do it too.

He’s going to make everyone proud out there, especially himself.

_____

You stand nervously next to Minhee, holding his hand impossibly tight as you both await his first Olympic skate. Honestly, you might be more nervous than him. For months, you have watched him batter and bruise his body attempting to perfect the hardest move in his routine—the Quadruple Lutz.

At Nationals, Minhee did the impossible and landed a quadruple Axel, a feat almost unheard of in figure skating. The moment was surreal, the entire arena holding its breath as he launched himself into the air, his body spinning at a dizzying speed. For what seemed like an eternity, he hung in the air, a blur of motion and grace. When his blades touched down on the ice with a clean, precise landing, the crowd erupted into a deafening roar. It was his greatest achievement, a moment of sheer perfection that few skaters ever reach.

Despite this triumph, Minhee knew better than to put his faith in landing it again at the Olympics. The stakes were higher, the judges more stringent, and any minor mistake could cost him dearly. The fluidity and overall performance were crucial here, and a fall on such a difficult jump could overshadow the rest of his routine. Instead, he had decided to go with the Quadruple Lutz—a move that, while safer than the quadruple Axel, was still incredibly challenging and demanding.

For months, he has landed on his ass, the echoes of his chosen song "Home" by Daughter becoming his laughing track until finally, he was able to do it with some ease. Minhee has a habit of getting his blade caught in the toe before launching, a flaw that Coach Kim has grilled him over time and time again because it is a stupid mistake that can easily be remedied.

That is what is weighing him down. He feels confident in his routine, but that one slip could be the difference between standing on a podium and leaving with his tail between his legs. Resting your head on his shoulder, you offer silent encouragement as you see one of the coordinators come over, signalling that it's almost time.

"Minhee," you whisper softly, lifting your head to meet his eyes. "I believe in you. You've worked so hard for this, and you've overcome so much. No matter what happens out there, you’re already a champion in my eyes.”

He turns his head slightly to look at you, his eyes reflecting a mix of nerves and gratitude. "Thanks, Bubs. That means a lot," he murmurs, a small, appreciative smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You squeeze his hand gently, your thumb brushing reassuringly over his knuckles. "Remember, it’s not just about the jumps. It’s about the story you tell out there. Skate like you’re sharing a piece of your heart with everyone watching. And if you get nervous, just think of Wonyoung and me cheering you on. We’re with you every step of the way."

“Y/N, you’re not gunning for my job too are you?” Coach Kim interjects with a teasing tone, poking his head from behind Minhee. You were so wrapped up in nerves you almost forgot he was there. “She’s right though, Min, performance is key here, if you think you can’t do any of the jumps, substitute it and we’ll take the deductions. They will be less than if you crash.”

Minhee takes a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly. He nods, a determined glint returning to his eyes. "I don’t need to sub, I can do everything,” he replies with arrogance but you can see the tremble in his chin as he speaks, nerves seeking their way out of his body in any way they can.

“You have been spending far too much time with Park, your cockiness is extra heightened.” Coach Kim slaps him on the back, touch lingering there for added assurance. If anyone believes in him as much as you do, it’s Coach.

The coordinator gives the final signal, and Minhee stands up, releasing your hand but not before giving it one last, firm squeeze. "See you on the other side, Bubs," he says with a wink, trying to infuse some lightness into the moment.

You watch as he heads towards the rink, feeling a mix of pride and anticipation. "Go get em’, Mini," you whisper under your breath, knowing that whatever happens, Minhee is ready to give it his all.

He steps onto the ice, and the world narrows down to the crisp sound of his skates carving through the surface and the soft, haunting melody of his chosen song filling the arena. The starting pose is simple yet powerful: Minhee stands tall and poised at the centre of the rink, his back straight and his gaze distant. His arms are extended slightly, creating a frame of elegance around him. The music begins softly, and he closes his eyes for a brief moment, drawing in the calm before the storm.

As the music swells, Minhee starts his program with a series of intricate footwork sequences. His movements are fluid and precise, every step and turn executed with grace. His body flows seamlessly from one movement to the next, the choreography reflecting a deep, emotive connection with the music. The audience is captivated by the narrative unfolding on the ice—a story told through every glide, spin, and leap.

Minhee’s first major element is a series of spins, beginning with a fast, clean camel spin. He transitions into a sit spin, his body folding gracefully as he maintains a steady, controlled rotation. The audience watches in awe as he moves effortlessly between the spins, his form perfect and his speed unbroken.

The anticipation builds as he nears the pivotal moment of his routine - the quadruple lutz. Minhee takes a deep breath, his focus sharpening as he glides toward the takeoff point.

He picks up speed, his skates slicing through the ice with powerful, rhythmic strides. As he approaches the takeoff, you can see the concentration etched on his face. The quadruple lutz requires a precise and powerful launch, and Minhee’s years of hard work have led him to this moment. He performs a deep, smooth edge before leaping into the air.

From your vantage point, the moment feels almost surreal. You can see the determination and the slight tension in his body as he completes each rotation. His landing will determine the success of this routine. As he descends, his blades graze the ice with a delicate touch. You watch with bated breath, the entire arena silent, waiting for the impact.

He lands the jump cleanly, his body absorbing the impact with a controlled grace. There is a brief pause as he glides out of the jump, his movements smooth and confident. The audience erupts into gentle applause, filling the arena. Minhee’s face lights up with a mix of relief and elation, his eyes briefly searching the crowd for a glimpse of familiar faces.

When he comes across yours, a blur due to the rapidness of your jumping, he knows he’s done enough to make you proud, which wouldn’t be hard, but it’s nice to see you buzzing with glee now that he has successfully landed his hardest move, giving him enough confidence to finish his performance with intentional but relaxed tension.

As the music reaches its climax, Minhee performs a series of intricate step sequences, his footwork sharp and precise. His movements are quick and expressive, reflecting the emotional high point of the routine. He concludes with a final pose - his arms extended, his body arching gracefully as he holds the position for a heartbeat before the music fades.

The final note lingers in the air as Minhee holds his ending pose. The arena is a sea of applause and cheers, and Minhee takes a moment to soak in the overwhelming response. He smiles, a mixture of relief and pride evident in his expression, as he skates to the edge of the rink to greet his coach and the one person who has been by his side every step of this journey.

You watch with tears of joy in your eyes as Minhee glides toward you, his performance complete. The routine has been a triumph, a testament to his dedication and skill. Whatever the final score, you know that this moment will be remembered as a defining achievement in his career. After all, he had just performed a flawless routine at the Winter Olympics.

Minhee approaches the side of the rink and his face reflects a mix of relief and exhilaration. He bends down to carefully slip on his protective blades. The clinking sound of the skates against the ice seems to punctuate the end of his extraordinary performance. Once he's secured his blades, he makes his way toward you, his steps light but purposeful.

Without a word, you rush forward and envelop him in a tight, joyous hug. The embrace is fierce and full of unspoken pride and admiration. Minhee’s arms encircle you, holding you close as he buries his face in your shoulder. For a moment, the world around you fades away, and it’s just the two of you, wrapped in a cocoon of shared triumph and emotional release.

When you finally pull back, you can see the glistening in Minhee’s eyes, his smile wider than you’ve ever seen. “You were incredible,” you whisper, brushing a stray tear from your cheek.

He grins, his eyes sparkling with happiness. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Bubs.”

“Sure you could have, you’re the Kang Minhee after all.”

“Who is nothing without the Kang Y/N,” he retorts, ruffling your hair playfully as the emotions in his body swirl and threaten to overflow through his eyes. But he holds it together, knowing that he still has to wait for the score, easily the most nervewracking part.

As the scores are about to be announced, you both sit with Coach Kim in the waiting area, hearts racing in unison. The scoreboard flickers to life, and the crowd holds its collective breath. The numbers slowly come into focus, each digit reflecting the culmination of months of hard work and dedication.

You glance at Minhee, who is watching the scoreboard with a mix of hope and anxiety. The realisation that he has done everything he possibly could, that his performance was nothing short of spectacular, brings a surge of pride and love.

The first number flashes, followed by another, and then the total score is revealed: '324.60'. The audience erupts into a thunderous roar, and you can barely contain your excitement. Minhee’s face lights up with an ecstatic grin as he takes in the numbers, a little dumbfounded to believe it.

Your eyes quickly scan the leaderboard, and you see the name Yuga Kagiyama at the top. The Japanese skater has posted an even higher score, placing him just ahead of Minhee. But Minhee’s score is nothing short of extraordinary, putting him in a close second place. The competition is fierce, but Minhee’s performance has clearly made a significant impact, and with only Sunghoon and one other skater to take to the ice, his chances of snagging an Olympic medal are high.

“You did it, Minhee!” you exclaim, hugging him tightly again, overwhelmed with pride. Your brother is about to be an Olympic medalist, something you have heard him go on and on about since you were little, and here he is achieving it with you by his side.

You and Minhee embrace, the weight of the moment sinking in. Your eyes brim with tears of joy as you hold your brother, feeling his heart pounding against yours. Coach Kim wraps an arm around both of you, his normally stern face softened by pride and emotion. The three of you stand there, on a small triumphant island amid the chaos of the cheering crowd.

Coach Kim gives Minhee a shining smile, his voice thick with emotion. "You've worked hard for this moment, Minhee. This is your victory. You've earned it with every drop of sweat and every ounce of effort."

Thankful, Minhee puts his hand on Coach Kim’s shoulder and sighs a final breath of relief, happy to have the pressure off his shoulders. "We did it, Coach," he murmurs, a smile playing on his lips. Coach Kim nods, giving Minhee a firm pat on the back, his pride evident.

After a few more moments of celebration, officials signal that it's time to move. As you're escorted towards the exit, Minhee suddenly stops and jerks his head back towards the rink.

"Sunghoon is on next," he says urgently, his eyes locking onto yours. "He’d want you there. Go be by his side."

You hesitate, looking around. "But they won't let me since I'm not part of his team." The rule is that only managers and coaches can be at the rinkside to see off and greet their skaters, and since you are none of those things, the chances of you being able to sneak back and be there for him are slim.

Minhee shakes his head, determined. "He's only got Coach Lee, trust me, he needs you there with your disgusting puppy love eyes to give him support," Minhee jokes, pushing you back the way.

You laugh despite your nerves, touched by Minhee’s playful yet sincere encouragement. "Alright, alright, I'm going!" You rush back towards the rinkside, heart pounding with a mix of excitement and anxiety. The official looks puzzled as you approach, but you quickly explain, "My boyfriend, Sunghoon, he’s on next and it’s his last ever skate before retirement and if I’m not there by his side I would be such a shit girlfriend and he would never forgive me and we would break up and then you would be responsible." 

The words tumble out your mouth at record-breaking speed, hearing the announcer already calling out your boyfriend’s name through the tannoys. You don’t mean to guilt trip the poor girl but you’re desperate and couldn’t live with yourself if you didn’t try. Either this works or you will throw a tantrum until she has no choice.

Luckily, The official nods quite willingly, allowing you through. “If anyone asks, I never let you by,” she whispers in a thick Parisian accent, stepping aside to let you bolt through. With a quick thank you, you weave through the throngs of cameramen and other personnel to find Coach Lee standing with his arms crossed and face serious.

Once he sees you, his expression lightens, and he tucks you in under his arm. "Glad you made it, Kiddo," he says, his voice low. "He'll be happy to see you here. Give him an extra boost."

Sunghoon glides onto the ice, his face a perfect blend of focus and determination. The music begins, his ears infiltrated with the electronic beats as he hears every word, ready to skate his last competition and start a new life, one where you are his main focus and not the ice.

Sunghoon starts with a series of fluid crossovers, gaining speed before launching into a triple axel, landing perfectly with barely a sound on the ice. The crowd gasps and then applauds, already captivated. Without missing a beat, he transitions into a combination spin, showcasing his flexibility and control, his body a blur of movement. He looks regal out there, the gems from his top catching the light and adding another layer of beauty to it.

As the music swells, Sunghoon prepares for his next big element - a quadruple toe loop. This was difficult for him, something Coach Lee had suggested as his power move, which he spent forever perfecting, both in the rink and out. For a few weeks, he even attempted it on a trampoline to get the projection right. He was so dedicated to making this work that you feel his nerves bouncing off each glide on the ice and straight to your chest.

You hold your breath, watching as he launches into the air, rotating four times with precision before landing smoothly, his blades slicing the ice like a whisper. You resist the urge to cheer loudly, knowing it can throw him off, so instead, you settle for the audience etiquette of light applause.

He moves into a complex footwork sequence, his feet dancing in intricate patterns across the ice, each step perfectly synchronized with the music. His expression is intense, every movement telling a story of passion and struggle, triumph and heartache, beginning and end.

The middle of his routine is marked by a stunning triple lutz-triple loop combination, each jump executed with flawless technique. His body seems to defy gravity, hanging in the air for what feels like an eternity before descending gracefully back to the ice.

Sunghoon's artistry shines in the next segment, a series of choreographic elements that flow seamlessly, his arms and upper body movements expressive and emotive. He glides across the ice in deep edges, his body language conveying the emotion of the music, drawing the audience deeper into his performance.

As the final crescendo of the music approaches, he gears up for his closing element, a breathtaking quadruple salchow. He takes a deep breath, pushes off, and flies into the air, rotating perfectly before landing with strength and grace. The audience erupts in applause, unable to contain their awe at the sheer perfection of his routine.

Sunghoon finishes his performance with a dramatic final pose, the music reaching its climactic end as he holds the position, his chest heaving with effort. The arena is filled with the sound of thunderous applause and cheers, the crowd on their feet in a standing ovation.

He bows deeply to the audience, his face flushed with exhilaration. When he straightens up and turns around, his eyes immediately find yours. His expression changes instantly, his eyes widening in surprise and joy. A brilliant smile spreads across his face, mirroring the elation in your heart.

Without a moment's hesitation, Sunghoon skates over to you at speed, his movements as graceful and powerful as they were on the ice. He reaches you in what feels like no time, pulling you into his arms with a mix of laughter and tears in his eyes. It was the perfect passing-the-torch moment, leaving the ice behind to run to you and your future together.

"What are you doing here?" he questions, still trapping you in an iron grip, his voice filled with amazement and joy.

"I couldn’t not be here, it's your last skate," you explain, your voice trembling with emotion. "I had to see it up close. I had to be here for you."

His grip tightens, his head burying into the crook of your neck, grounding himself in your presence. "Thank you," he whispers, his voice breaking. "I’m so fucking happy you’re here.”

You hold him tightly, feeling the rapid thud of his heart against yours. Tears of pride and happiness stream down your face as you soak in the moment, the culmination of all his hard work and dedication. He pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours, and you see the deep gratitude and love reflected in them.

"You were perfect out there," you say, your voice thick with emotion. "Every single moment was incredible. I've never been so proud of you."

“I love you like crazy,” he confesses with the same amount of passion he put into his routine. His lips find yours in a kiss filled with fervour and emotion, the world around you fading away. The noise of the crowd, the flashing cameras, and even the bright lights of the arena all dissolve into a blur as you lose yourself in the kiss.

Sunghoon's hands cup your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears on your cheeks. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer, feeling the heat and intensity of his love. The kiss deepens, each of you pouring all the emotions of the night into this singular, powerful moment. It's a kiss that speaks of triumph, of shared dreams, and of a future together that you both can see so clearly.

When you finally pull back, breathless and flushed, you rest your forehead against his, your eyes locked onto his. "I love you too, Sunghoon," you whisper, your voice full of conviction and tenderness. "More than anything."

Just then, an official approaches, reminding Sunghoon that it's time to get his score. He looks at you, a mixture of reluctance and determination in his eyes. "I have to go," he says, his voice steadying. "But meet me in the hotel lobby at 7pm? I have something planned for you,” he says ominous, a mischievous glint twinkling in his dark orbs.

You mindlessly nod, head racing to come up with conclusions to his riddle. But you know better than to try and guess what Park Sunghoon has in store, instead, you give his lips one final kiss before letting go. “I’ll be there.”

He nods, taking a deep breath as he turns towards the judging area, taking the same spot that Minhee did moments ago. He just had to get in the 310s to get bronze, which is by no means feet. But you know he secretly wants the gold, knowing that it’s the perfect icing on the cake for his career. 

You glance up at the board, nervously switching between biting the skin around your fingers and your lip. Of course, you were nervous for Minhee, but he had at least one more shot at Olympic gold, Sunghoon didn’t. That mounts immense anxiety onto your chest, hoping that he can achieve victory the way he wants.

The first number flashes on the screen, followed by another, and then the total score is revealed: "331.75." The audience erupts into a thunderous roar, the sound almost deafening.

Sunghoon's eyes widen in disbelief and joy as he takes in the numbers. 

He won…first place.

The realisation is gradual, knowing that no matter how good the next skater is, beating a score like that is near impossible, with their average being 287.20, he knows he’s secured gold. Jumping up from his seat, Coach Lee crushes him in a bone-breaking hug, lifting him so his skates are off the ground. 

“My fucking champ! I knew you could do it!” he shouts loud enough that the cameras pick it up and probably has to be bleeped to the millions of viewers on the other end, yet, you know they can probably make out how excited and proud the coach is despite the redacted words.

Laughing, Sunghoon nods, eyes roaming the area for you. He wants you to be the first thing he sets his sights on because, without you, this wouldn’t be possible. Your expression is a mix of gratification and pride, your gazes meeting as they whisper poems of love and adoration, even through the distance. 

He owes you his entire life for making him see the joy in this strenuous sport once again, and he is going to do everything in his power to repay you for it, and he has his entire life to do so.

_____

Waiting in the lobby at precisely 7pm, you anticipate the arrival of your gold medal-winning boyfriend. In the time between his victory and now, you’ve managed to doll yourself up a bit. While he and Minhee were training the past few days, you took some time to go shopping, picking up a few bits and pieces. Your brother is generous with manager fees, so you can afford to spend a little extra while you’re here.

Now, you are clad in a stunning black Krysta Tulle Mini Dress, reminiscent of the one you wore at your award ceremony back in August, but this one is a bit shorter and more revealing. Sunghoon earned it, after all, and the least he deserves is some cleavage with whatever he has planned.

Speaking of his plans, you’re still in the dark about what he has in store for you. Your mind wanders to the obvious choices like the Eiffel Tower—perhaps he’s managed to get a private dinner booking like you see in movies, or maybe the Louvre instead. Perhaps he’s planned a romantic walk across the love lock bridge; although you can’t participate and adorn the bridge with a new lock that signifies your love, it’s still romantic to see all the lovers of the past and how their stories are still shared.

Suddenly, there is a gentle tap on your shoulder. You turn around to see your boyfriend standing there, looking as handsome as ever. His hair is styled in the side parting you always liked, with that one strand curving over his face, somehow highlighting the bridge of his nose which you love so much. Those freckles mark frequent kissing spots.

You’re glad you decided to dress up because Sunghoon is wearing a fitted suit, chic and beautiful, perfectly matching the city’s aesthetic. He looks like a vision, your mind swirling with love and a hint of desire. You’re just a girl, after all—it’s only natural to see your man in a suit and the first thing you want to do is rip it off.

Sunghoon’s breath catches in his throat as he takes in the sight of you. His eyes widen, and for a moment, it’s as if the entire world falls away, leaving just the two of you standing there in the softly lit lobby. He’s always known you were beautiful, but tonight, dressed in stunning frills under the gold-hued lobby of this overly expensive hotel, you look breathtaking.

His heart pounds in his chest, and he feels a wave of emotions wash over him - pride, adoration, and a deep, overwhelming love. The dress hugs your curves perfectly, the short length showcasing your legs, and the neckline draws his eyes to your exposed collarbones and the soft swell of your cleavage. It’s alluring without being overt, and he can’t help but marvel at how effortlessly you pull off such a look.

“You look...wow,” he finally manages to say, his voice filled with awe. His eyes trace over you, taking in every detail - the confident way you hold yourself, the sparkle in your eyes that mirrors his own excitement, and how your heart is beating in synch with his. 

He steps closer, his hand reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair behind your ear. “I want to fuck you so bad,” he whispers, low enough that only you can hear it.

A laugh erupts from your chest before you swat him with your hand. “You are not getting out of taking me out in Paris just because you can’t keep it in your pants. You roll your eyes to convey annoyance but it’s hard to even feign being stern with him when you were thinking the exact same thing about him.

That fuck buddy sex drive you had never left once you got into a relationship, that much is evident.

“Well,” Sunghoon says, taking your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours, “I’m not exactly taking you out in Paris.” He turns around, leading you back the way you came from. His sheepish tone is accompanied by an apologetic look flashing across his face as he walks you towards the elevator.

“Hoonie, I swear to god, if you made me get all dressed up just to take me back to your hotel room to fuck, I will be so mad. I-,” you struggle to think of a bargaining chip in this fight. “I won’t let you eat me out ever again.”

Sunghoon stops dead in his tracks, turning to you with wide eyes and an even wider mouth, his free hand dramatically resting over his heart. “How dare you threaten to take away my favourite activity? That is cruel, so cruel, even for you.”

You can't help but laugh at his theatrics but by Sunghoon’s standards, this is actually quite tame considering the cards you have dealt. He can’t go three days without being between your legs so the punishment you would inflict by taking that away from him is worse than any torture interrogation method. 

“Well, you deserve it if you think you can just drag me back to your room.”

Smiling and slightly proud, Sunghoon resumes his position, walking you to the lift and pressing the button. “It’s not my room. It’s a surprise. Just trust me, okay?”

Of course, you do trust him, but your heart beats quicker as you realize you really have no idea what you are getting yourself into.

Stepping into the elevator, Sunghoon presses the rooftop button and you eye him curiously. “The rooftop?” you question, but before you can guess further, he pulls you close, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Shhh, don’t try and spoil the surprise I worked so hard for,” he murmurs, leaning in to kiss your neck. His lips trail soft, teasing kisses from your jawline to your collarbone, each one sending shivers down your spine.

“Sunghoon,” you whisper, a mix of adoration and desire in your tone. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and the anticipation is killing you. His hands roam gently over your back, pulling you even closer until there’s no space left between you. The warmth of his body and the intoxicating scent of his cologne make it impossible to think straight, any questions about the roof now gone.

The elevator dings and the doors slide open. Sunghoon reluctantly pulls away, yet a satisfied smirk sits on his lips as he leads you out onto the rooftop.

To your surprise, the usually bustling terrace is completely empty. Instead of the usual crowd, there is a single, elegantly set table for two. Soft fairy lights twinkle around the perimeter, casting a warm glow. A bottle of champagne sits chilling in an ice bucket on the table, and beyond it, the Eiffel Tower stands majestically, its lights shimmering against the night sky.

You walk forward, admiring the view of the city from this vantage point. It’s full of night tourists and young lovers who share the same depth of feelings as you and Sunghoon do. Never has a place taken your breath away. Granted, you haven’t ventured much out of your home country, but this is unlike anything you could have imagined.

Leaning over the stone balcony, you let out an almost inaudible 'whoa' and cherish the view. “Sunghoon, this is beautiful. How did you manage this?”

He chuckles, pulling out the cork of the overly-priced champagne. “I have my ways. Why would I take you to something a million and one couples do when I can give you something unique?” Sunghoon’s pouring skills leave much to be desired, the overflow of the liquid spilling onto the ground, splashing on his shoes.

Although it should slightly ruin the moment, you can’t help but tear your eyes away from the city and laugh at the less-than-aesthetic scene before you. Sunghoon looks up at you with a sorrowful expression and hands you the damp glass anyway.

“You know, I was aiming for elegance,” he says with a playful pout.

Taking the glass from him, you grin. “I’ve learned you can only do elegance when it comes to skating, it’s okay, baby.”

He relaxes, the tension easing from his shoulders as he joins you at the balcony. Together, you raise your glasses, the Eiffel Tower twinkling in the background. “To you,” he grins brightly, tilting his glass to be clinked with yours.

“To me? Shouldn’t it be to your gold medal?” you ask a little incredulously. This night should one hundred percent be about your boyfriend and his deserved win, so why on earth is he cheersing to you right now?

“My gold medal doesn’t mean anything compared to you.” Sunghoon is so sweet with his words, to the point you wonder if he came straight out of a romance novel. But knowing your boyfriend better than anyone, you have a sneaking suspicion about something, more precisely about something possibly around his neck.

Narrowing your eyes, you lower your glass and hold it close to your chest, pointing an accusing finger at him. “You’re wearing that medal right now, aren’t you?” you challenge, a playful grin tugging at your lips.

Sunghoon attempts to play it cool, shaking his head with a feigned look of innocence. “What? Me? No way. I’ve not got an ego,” he says, but the slight twitch of his lips gives him away.

You raise an eyebrow, giving him a knowing look. “Sunghoon, I can see right through you.”

He sighs, realizing there's no use in denying it. With a sheepish grin, he dips his hand into his shirt and pulls out the gleaming gold medal, letting it sit in the lights for a moment before tucking it back in. “Fine, you caught me,” he laughs.

You give him a weird look, your confusion evident. “Why are you wearing it under your shirt?”

He shrugs nonchalantly, a playful glint in his eyes. “What? I like the way it feels,” he admits, a boyish grin spreading across his face. “Not everyone has a gold medal.”

You shake your head in disbelief, eyes rolling as you take your first sip of the golden liquid. With the city of love sprawled out beneath you and the Eiffel Tower twinkling like a thousand stars, the moment feels perfect. Sunghoon wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you closer as you both gaze out at the stunning view, savouring the magic of Paris and the joy of being together.

“You know,” he begins, placing his flute down, “I also like the way you feel,” he breathes out seductively, both hands twirling you to face him. As mesmerising as the city is, the look of need in your boyfriend’s eyes trumps it all.

His hands rest on your hips, fingers gently kneading as he draws you even closer. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, his breath warm against your ear. “How did I get so lucky?”

You smile, feeling a flutter in your chest, like a million butterflies have just escaped their cocoons and are roaming free around your ribcage. “I’m the lucky one,” you reply softly, tracing your fingers along the edge of his jaw.

Sunghoon’s eyes darken with intensity as he tilts your chin up, capturing your lips in a slow, passionate kiss. The world around you fades away, leaving just the two of you wrapped in each other’s embrace. The night air is cool against your skin, but his touch is warm, grounding you in this perfect moment.

The kiss deepens, becoming more fervent with every passing second. Your heart races as his hands roam your body, caressing and squeezing in all the right places. You clumsily place your glass down beside his, but it’s hard to concentrate because his hands are everywhere - one gripping your waist, the other sliding down to cup your ass. He pulls you closer, pressing your bodies together, his need palpable in every touch.

His mouth moves hungrily against yours, each kiss more intense than the last. You can feel his desire, his longing, in the way he devours your lips. Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, as if you can’t get enough of him and the only way to be satisfied is to crawl into his skin. His kisses trail down your jawline, nipping and sucking gently at your skin, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

When he reaches your neck, you gasp, your head tilting back to give him better access. He takes full advantage, his lips and teeth working magic as he moves down your throat. His hands grip your hips tightly, pulling you against him as he nibbles and licks at your sensitive skin. Your breath comes in short, desperate gasps, the sensations overwhelming.

Just when you think you can’t take any more, he drops to his knees in front of you. Panic flares in your chest, and you glance around, worried about being seen. “What if someone sees?” you whisper, your voice shaky with a mix of fear and excitement.

Sunghoon looks up at you, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “Then I’ll make sure we put on a show,” he murmurs, his hands sliding up your thighs, pushing your dress higher. The thrill of his words sends a shiver down your spine, and you can’t help but tremble in anticipation.

He hooks his fingers around the waistband of your panties, pulling them to the side. The cool night air hits your exposed skin, making you shiver. But his touch is warm, his fingers gentle as they slide against your most sensitive places. He looks up at you one last time, his eyes filled with desire and mischief, before he leans in, his mouth pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss against you.

The sensation is electric, his tongue teasing and tasting, driving you wild with need. Your hands grip the stone balcony for support, your legs trembling as he works his magic. He’s relentless, his mouth and tongue working in perfect harmony.

Just like the first time he ever tasted you, he’s losing himself in your flavour, manually putting your legs around his shoulders to allow him deeper access to your dripping cunt. The juices that are leaking from your body are better than any gold medal. Each cry that passes your lips is accompanied by more of your sweetness coating his tongue.

You can’t help but grip his hair now, holding him in place as he lavishes attention on your aching clit. He savours your taste, his tongue flicking and circling with expert precision as he laps you up. Long, slow licks are interspersed with quick, teasing flicks, sending waves of pleasure through your body. He knows exactly what you need, and he gives it to you without hesitation.

Sunghoon's mouth moves with purpose, sucking gently at your clit before delving back with his tongue, exploring every inch of you. He hums against your skin, the vibrations adding another layer of sensation that has you arching your back and moaning his name. The heat builds inside you, an inferno that only he can control.

He intensifies his efforts, his tongue pressing harder, his movements more deliberate. His fingers dig into your hips, holding you steady as you writhe against him, completely lost in the pleasure he’s giving you, forgetting that with every mewl of his name, there is a greater risk of this entire hotel knowing what you’re up to. Your breaths come in short, ragged gasps, the tension coiling tighter and tighter within you.

Finally, the tension that’s been building inside you snaps, and you cry out, your body shaking with the force of your release. Sunghoon doesn’t stop, his mouth and hands guiding you through every wave of pleasure until you’re spent, leaning back against the balcony for support. Sunghoon shoulders most of your weight as you fold in on yourself, your feet still dangling over his broad shoulders.

Sunghoon wastes no time. He gently places your feet back on the ground and rises to his full height, his eyes dark with desire. He captures your lips in a searing kiss, and you taste the remnants of your own release on his lips, mingling with the champagne. It's intoxicating, the mix of flavours and the intensity of his kiss making your head spin.

All apprehension goes out the window as you begin to undo his trousers, your fingers fumbling with the button and zipper in your eagerness. You pull out his cock, feeling its hard length throbbing in your hand. His eyes remain locked on yours, the connection between you unbreakable as you guide him to your entrance. The city lights behind him create a halo around his head, making the moment feel almost surreal.

He pushes into you slowly, and your breath hitches at the sensation. Your eyes remain focused on one another, the world around you fading into the background. The feeling of him filling you is overwhelming, the connection between your bodies electric. The city behind you twinkles in the night, a backdrop to the raw, passionate scene unfolding.

Sunghoon starts moving, his pace quickening as he finds a rhythm that makes you both gasp with pleasure. Your body responds to his every touch, your legs wrapping around his waist to allow him to reach deeper. His thrusts become faster and more desperate, the sound of skin against skin mingling with your moans and the distant hum of the city below.

"God, you feel amazing," he groans against your ear, his voice thick with desire. "I could stay inside you forever."

You grip his shoulders tighter, your nails digging into his skin as you feel the pressure building again. "Sunghoon," you whisper, your voice breathy and needy, "don't stop."

"I won't, I’ll never stop fucking you. I’ll never stop loving you," he promises, his thrusts becoming even more intense, each one sending waves of pleasure through your body. His hands roam your back, one slipping down to squeeze your ass, the other tangling in your hair to pull your head back, giving him better access to your neck.

In a moment of heated passion, he takes his gold medal from around his neck and places it over yours, the cool metal resting against your heated skin. He uses the ribbon to pull you closer, bringing your lips together in a bruising kiss. The weight of the medal and the intensity of his gaze make you feel like the most precious thing in the world.

Leaning on the balcony behind you with your elbows, you try your hardest to jerk your hips in rhythm with his, the motion causing him to hiss into your mouth as he tip punctures your cervix a few times, giving him a taste of something more. It’s too dangerous to throw your legs over his shoulders and have you balancing on the edge, he never wants to put you in danger, so he thinks if the next best thing.

Without warning, he flips you around, pressing your front against the cool stone of the ledge. He enters you again from behind, his thrusts more intense, driven by a primal need. The contrast between the roughness of his movements and the serene beauty of the city below is stark, making the moment even more exhilarating.

You brace yourself against the balcony, your moans echoing in the night as he pounds into you with relentless enthusiasm. His hands grip your hips, guiding you back onto him with each thrust, his cock hitting deeper than ever before. The force of his movements sends shivers down your spine, your body completely surrendering to the pleasure he's giving you. The city behind you is a blur of lights and sounds, but all you can focus on is the man who is driving you to the edge once more.

Sunghoon's hands grip your hips with a possessive strength, his fingers digging in as he drives into you with a relentless pace. Each thrust is purposeful, his body moving with a precision born of passion and familiarity. His breaths come in staggered gasps, his face pressed against your shoulder, lips brushing against your skin. The rough stone of the balcony presses into your chest, adding a contrasting chill to the searing heat of his body. The city lights below seem to blur as the intensity of the moment takes over.

"I'm gonna love you until the day I die," he growls into your ear, his breath hot and needy despite the sweetness of his words. The weight of his desire is palpable, sending shivers down your spine. "I can’t wait to make you mine."

His words are a catalyst for the pleasure that courses through you, intensifying with each powerful thrust. Your body is on fire, a taut string being pulled to its limit. You can feel the pressure building to a breaking point, the sensation almost overwhelming as he keeps up his relentless rhythm. The sheer force of his movements pushes you closer and closer to the edge.

"I'm yours," you gasp, your voice barely audible over the sound of your own moans. "I’m already yours, Hoonie." Your hands grip the railing tightly, knuckles white, as you brace yourself against the force of his thrusts. The night air is cool against your heated skin, a stark contrast to the burning desire you feel.

Sunghoon’s breath becomes ragged, each inhalation coming in quick, shallow bursts. His fingers slip around your body, finding their way to your clit with a precision that makes you cry out. The touch is electrifying, sending jolts of pleasure through you with every stroke. He moves his fingers in tight, swirling motions, applying just the right amount of pressure to drive you wild.

The combination of his skilled touch and the unrelenting rhythm of his thrusts is too much to handle. Your body trembles violently as you spiral into another intense climax, the sensation causing you to scream his name into the night. The release is all-consuming, leaving you feeling as though you’re floating in a sea of pleasure.

The intensity of your release acts as a trigger for Sunghoon, who is lost in the frenzy of the moment. With a final, deep, and forceful thrust, he comes inside you, his body tensing and shuddering as his climax overtakes him. His grip on your hips tightens, his muscles flexing as he rides out his orgasm. He collapses against your back, his breathing ragged, and you can feel his warmth spread across your skin.

Both of you pant heavily, your bodies slick with sweat. The city below remains a beautiful, shimmering backdrop, but the focus of your world is now on each other. The contrast between the intensity of your passion and the serene beauty of the Parisian night is almost surreal.

Sunghoon pulls you gently against him, his lips trailing soft, tender kisses along your neck as you both come down from the high. His hands caress your sides, a soothing contrast to the earlier fervour. “I love you so much, Sweets.”

The confession passing his lips isn’t new and you’ve heard it umpteen times just today but somehow this one means a lot more than previous. Maybe it was the setting or the fact his cock is snuggly inside of you, but either way, you cherish it just like the rest.

“I love you, too, Hoonie.”

Sunghoon’s movements are gentle as he pulls out of you, his touch tender and careful. He reaches for a soft napkin from the table, using it to clean both of you with practiced, considerate strokes. The contrast between the cool fabric and the warmth of his skin creates a soothing sensation, a calming end to the intensity of your shared experience. His eyes are locked onto yours with a depth of affection that makes your heart swell. It’s a gaze so filled with love and tenderness that it feels almost surreal, as if you’re both suspended in a perfect, unblemished moment.

“This was perfect, Sunghoon,” you murmur, your voice soft and filled with genuine appreciation. The night has been magical, a blend of romance and intimate connection that feels like a dream. “Thank you.”

Sunghoon’s face lights up with a beaming smile, his eyes twinkling with an emotion so raw and pure that it almost makes you catch your breath. He shakes his head in a modest gesture, though the joy in his expression is unmistakable. “Believe it or not,” he says with a playful glint in his eye, “this wasn’t what I had planned.”

“Oh?” you reply, your curiosity piqued as you watch him with a mixture of surprise and intrigue.

With a dramatic flourish, Sunghoon reaches into the pocket of his suit and retrieves a small, elegant box. He presents it to you with a blend of excitement and nervous anticipation, his hands trembling slightly. “I have something else for you,” he says, his voice a blend of excitement and tenderness.

Your fingers tremble as you take the box from him, the weight of the moment sinking in. You open it slowly, revealing a delicate necklace with a beautiful ring attached. The ring sparkles softly in the low light, its beauty undeniable. Sunghoon’s eyes are fixed on you, his expression a mixture of hope and love.

“I wanted this day to be unforgettable,” he begins, his voice steady but emotional. “When I first saw you that day, crying in Belmore, I knew I needed to protect you from anything and everything bad in the world. I know, our start was rough and we had way too many close calls that tore us apart. But we did it, we got through it which makes me think we can really get through anything.”

He breathes out slowly, before taking his glass from earlier and downing it for dutch courage, causing you to laugh through the bubble of emotion in your throat. 

“I thought now, that everything is done and I’m not going to be Ice Prince Park Sunghoon that I need a new title and that could be Y/N Kang’s husband?” The smile grows on his face as he imagined being addressed in such a way, wearing it as a badge of honour. “So I got you this. You can wear the necklace for now, and when you’re ready to be my wife, you can take the ring off and put it on your finger.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you take in the significance of his gesture. The necklace is elegant, the ring a symbol of commitment that transcends the ordinary. Tears of joy well up in your eyes, and you struggle to find the right words. “I don’t know what to say,” you whisper, overwhelmed by the depth of his love. “This is...it’s beautiful.”

Sunghoon’s gaze remains locked on you, his expression a blend of adoration and nervousness. He watches as you carefully lift the ring from the necklace and slide it onto your engagement finger. The fit is perfect, and as you look up at him, your smile radiates happiness and awe. “What if I’m ready now?” you ask, your voice trembling with emotion.

Sunghoon’s face softens, his eyes shimmering with tears of joy as he reaches out to cup your face in his hands. His touch is gentle and reassuring, and he leans in to press a tender kiss against your lips. “If you’re ready now,” he mumbles against your lips, his breath warm and comforting, “then I’m ready for forever.”

The world around you blurs into insignificance as you both embrace, the enormity of the moment enveloping you. The city lights below shimmer like a vast constellation, their brilliance echoing the love and joy that fills your hearts. In the perfect Parisian night, amidst the twinkling lights and the soft glow of the Eiffel Tower, you and Sunghoon stand together, united by a love that feels as boundless as the city itself. The promise of the future stretches out before you, a journey you’re ready to embark on together, hand in hand and heart to heart.

perm taglist (sorry if you didnt read the series): @immortalvee @sunpov @heeseungspookie @monstanctiny21 @strawberrysavi @diorsyun @heexzbae @yzzyhee @baekhyunstruly @zeeloveshee @haechonly @berryblog @no-mannerism @jaehoonii @notevenheretbh1 @shawnyle @addictedtohobi @emberuby @nctislifue @lilyuwon @skzenhalove @heeshlove @idkdykilr @chocminteu @y4wnjunz @rikibun @parksunghoonsgf @branchrkive @brownsugarbaybee @xxbluestrifexx @bambangan @dollyyun @iluvikeu @deobitifull @yawnazzz @st1llm0nster @woorcve @heeseungsbm @star-hoon

[charliemwrites]

Mafia!au part 5!

A bit of fluff, a bit of drama, a bit of Soap!

Content: Attempted Gaslighting, Violence

“Gooood morning, sir!” you sing as you sweep into Mr. Price’s office. “And happy birthday!”

His head shoots up from whatever he was brooding over, brows arched high in genuine shock. Surprise is a good look on him.

“How the bloody hell did you know it’s my birthday?” he demands, sitting back in his chair.

You beam, sauntering right up to his desk. His eyes flick to the round white box balanced on top of your tablet. Nothing big, a little something you baked at home after a couple dissatisfying trials.

“It’s my job to know,” you reply easily.

He blinks– a habit you flatter yourself thinking he might have picked up from you. “What else do you know about me?”

You tilt your head at him, a smug curve to your lips.

“Just the basics. Your full name and birthday,” you demure. Hold up your free hand and start rattling off on your fingers. “Height, allergies, tea preference, pastry preference, blood type, drink of choice…”

You set the box in front of him and resettle your tablet in the crook of your arm. He stares at you for a beat, expression bleached from surprise to outright shock. You spin your stylus around your fingers.

“Which is why I made you a marble cake with whiskey instead of rum.”

His eyes lock onto the unassuming white box. It’s not a big cake by any means, about six inches in diameter and only one layer. Just a small something for Price to have for himself. God knows the rest of the boys (and Farah) get enough treats from you as it is.

“You made this?” he asks, leaning a bit forward.

“Yessir,” you declare, “and I’m pretty good at it too. Perks of stress baking.”

He runs a hand down his face, as if his beard got ruffled. “Christ, you need a raise.”

“Yes. Anyway – I’ll get you a plate after I’m done,” you say, swatting at his curious hand. He huffs but sits back to give you his full attention. You smile in reward and begin reciting his schedule for the day.

He listens, only interrupting when he needs clarification on little details. You try not to be too endeared by the way his eyes occasionally flick to the covered cake. When you finish, you twitch your nose at him knowingly.

“I’ll get you a plate before I get started on that expense summary,” you say, turning on your heel.

You hum in surprise when a large, calloused hand catches your wrist. It’s not the hand of a businessman, you think, but a man used to work. A man who does the hard things for himself. Before meeting John Price, you would have scoffed at the thought of a rich man knowing labor. Price though… well, he’s been proving to be a welcome exception since the very start.

“Thank you for this, love,” he says, voice hitting that tone and pitch that makes your insides squirm. He caresses his thumb over the tender skin before releasing you. “Really.”

You can already feel the blush climbing up the back of your neck, over your ears, creeping onto your cheeks. Can’t ever catch a break with him.

“Well, don’t thank me ‘til you’ve tried it,” you try to deflect.

“Weren’t you the one saying you’re decent at baking.”

“Yeah, well… maybe I poisoned you or something – for that time you closed my skirt in the door.”

He sputters a bit. You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from giggling at the indignance on his face. Such a handsome, almost regal man. You love to rile him up.

“I apologized. Profusely.”

And offered to buy you a new skirt entirely. The way you’d shrieked that that was not an appropriate response made Soap choke with laughter as people stared.

“Yeah, well, I hold a grudge,” you reply, shrugging.

It’s true, but not about things like that. Graves and his assistant? Oh, that’s practically a blood feud at this point. A silly little accident where your boss left a crease in your fourth favorite skirt? That’s not even something to forgive him for, but you sure as hell will never forget. Especially when he still seems mildly sheepish about it.

“You wouldn’t be the first,” he grumbles. You’re not sure if he’s talking about grudges or poisoning, but the dramatics finally make you laugh.

“But I could be the last,” you call over your shoulder as you flounce out.

Not for long though, returning with a disposable fork from the breakroom. There’s something amusing to only you about a man in a thousand-pound suit using cheap plastic.

“Come to see me keel over for yourself, then?” he asks.

“Well, I can’t have you getting cake crumbs on the expense reports,” you reason.

He’s already got the lid open. No icing on the cake – you’re shit at decorating, so you chose a recipe without icing. The flavor of the whiskey and sugar should be plenty. To make up for it, you folded a tiny placard and wrote “Happy Birthday, Boss!” in your best loopy cursive.

He takes the fork, fingers brushing yours in the process. You remind yourself not to snatch your hand away like a scandalized Victorian lady. Christ, you really need to get it together.

“Tell me how you like it,” you say, making to leave again.

“Come try it yourself,” he protests.

You pause, give him an amused look. “I didn’t actually poison it, sir. You’ve not done anything that heinous. Yet.”

He snorts, carefully digging out a respectable bite from the edge. “If you see fit to toss a little rat poison in, then I’ll likely having it coming.”

You hum. “Arsenic is more my style. Classic.”

In the corner of the room, Simon makes a little noise you’ve come to recognize as repressed laughter. You shoot him a quick, amused look, before shifting your attention back as Price gestures with the fork.

“Regardless, you should get a little taste of the fruits of your labor,” he offers.

The fruits of your labor, you think with a bit of regret, will be his enjoyment of your baking. You’re not sure when his admiration became your favorite part of the day, but you’re spoiled for positive feedback from your otherwise stern boss.

“You first,” you insist, “it’s your birthday after all.”

He keeps unnerving eye contact as he brings the bite to his mouth, tongue flicking out to catch any spare crumbs. He hums, eyes closing a for a second in enjoyment, before opening and fixating on you again.

“That’s bloody brilliant, love.”

He scoops up another piece, brings it right to your mouth. You hurry to put a hand beneath in case it falls; don’t even think before parting your lips. Sugar and whiskey, chocolate and vanilla, burst across your tongue.

“Oh!” you hum, hiding your mouth while you chew. “That is pretty good.”

It only occurs to you as he takes another bite for himself, a twinkle in his eye, that you just ate after him. Used the same fork like it was nothing, like that’s an acceptable thing to do as his assistant. You’re not squeamish by any means, no. It’s just… it’s gotta be crossing some sort of professional line. You can’t imagine any of your previous bosses ever sharing with you like this.

“Let me tell you, if you did poison it,” he muses, “I wouldn’t mind it being the last thing I ate.”

You roll your eyes, swat lightly at his arm again. “I told you; it’s not poisoned.”

“I know, you just took a bite,” he answers smugly.

You click your tongue at him, playing at exasperated. “I’m going to work now.”

“Ta, love.”

--

“Oi, li’l miss?”

You glance up at Soap curiously.

(Recognize, in the back of your mind, that it’s a nickname that’s not only spread – thanks, Simon – but that you’re responding to as quickly as your own name now. You should probably feel some type of way about that. Probably righteously annoyed or something. You don’t.)

Soap is standing at your desk, shifting from foot to foot. Uneasy. But the expression on his usually friendly face isn’t nervous. It’s… something else. Something you don’t know how to decipher but makes you sit up a bit straighter, alert.

“What’s up, buttercup?” you ask, voice light.

“There’s some bloke down in the lobby, says he’s got a date with you?” he explains, frowning deeper than you’ve ever seen.

It gets deeper – and angrier – when he sees the blood drain from your face. You push your chair away from your desk to hide the tremble that’s trying to infest your hands.

Absolutely not. This is your place of work, dammit. Where you’re calm and collected, the person anyone can turn to for solutions. You’ve worked so hard to craft this sleek vessel of professional grace and you’re not about to have it sullied like this.

“He does not have a date with me,” you state, keeping your voice flat and tight. “Would you come down with me, please?”

“’Course,” he replies instantly.

You stop by Price’s office, knock twice, then poke your head in when he calls for entry.

“I’ve just got to pop out for a mo’,” you explain, “I’ll be right back!”

He nods and you duck out again before he can notice anything amiss. For a rich bastard, he’s too observant of others. (Especially you.)

“What’s he here fer, then?” Soap asks in the elevator.

You let out an annoyed puff of air. “A reality check, I assume.”

He side-eyes you but doesn’t ask any further before the doors open.

Sure enough, standing in the lobby, is the last man you want to see. Your ex, Brandon.

“There you are, bunny. You’ve been keeping me waiting for—”

“One, do not call me that. It’s inappropriate,” you interrupt, crisp and sharp. “Two, I haven’t been keeping you waiting, because there’s nothing to wait for. Three, get out.”

He rolls his eyes, that smarmy curve to his lips never leaving. You don’t think he’s even noticed Soap just behind you yet.

“Look, I know you’re still in a mood about everything,” he says, “but that’s why I’m taking you out. To smooth things over. Clear the air, and all that.”

“You’re not taking me out,” you repeat. “Get out.”

He crosses his arms, tilting his head in that condescending way you’ve always despised. It sets your teeth on edge, makes you burn with anger.

“This isn’t your building,” he goads, “you can’t kick me out.”

“Might as well be hers, mate,” Soap interjects, “she could kick out the goddamn queen.”

Brandon’s focus shifts to him. You feel a curl of vindictive satisfaction when his expression curdles a bit. Soap may not be a particularly tall man, but he can be intimidating. Built thick and strong, doesn’t bother to conceal his physique at all with his sleeves rolled up his forearms. And you’re not oblivious to his looks either. Soap is a handsome man. A walking ego bruise for a man like your ex.

“Fine,” he huffs, “then come outside so we can talk like adults.”

You click your tongue, fold your hands behind your back to conceal the way your fingers clench into fists. “We did talk like adults. You just failed to listen like one.”

And ohhhh, the petty satisfaction that bubbles through you at the way his teeth click in shock, a flush of embarrassed anger curtaining his face.

“Now, I’ll ask one more time and then my coworker is going to toss you out himself.” Soap chooses that moment to crack his knuckles. “Leave this building. You’re not welcome.”

You drop your arms and turn on your heel, ready to get back to work and compartmentalize this until you’ve got a fuck-off sized glass of wine in front of you.

“Hey, we’re not—”

Even if you did see what happened, you don’t think you could have followed. It happens so fast. One second, Soap’s eyes are on you. Burning with questions and fury on your behalf, checking that you’re okay. The next, he’s darted past you. There’s a scuffle, fancy shoes squeaking on polished floors, a thick, wet pop. Then Brandon is shouting in pain.

You jump, twist to see what the commotion is. Soap’s got a white-knuckled grip on Brandon’s extended wrist – though now it’s bent at an awful angle, you realize he must have been reaching for you. Your skin crawls.

“Away ‘n bile yer heid,” Soap growls, shoving Brandon back roughly.

He doesn’t fall on his ass but it’s a near thing. With the eyes of reception, a few employees, and you on him, he spits a curse at Soap and retreats. You stare after for a moment, lips parted in shock.

“All set, miss?” Soap asks, adjusting his sleeves.

“Um, yeah,” you say. Blink and pull yourself together. “I mean, yes. Let’s head back up before the boss misses us.”

He places a hand on the small of your back on the short walk back. It feels grounding rather than proprietary; you’re grateful for it. He lasts until the doors close before turning to you.

“The hell was that about, lass?”

You sigh, smooth your skirt down for lack of anything else to do. “That was my ex. He wants to… reconcile, I suppose. And he’s quite keen on getting his way.”

Soap mutters a few choice words under his breath. Scottish slang, you suspect. You’ll have to get him to teach you sometime.

“Anyway, thank you for your help,” you continue, eyes on the elevator doors. “I can’t believe he showed up here. I’m so embarrassed.”

“You’ve nothin’ to be embarrassed about, hen,” he protests. “He’s the creeper here.”

You sigh. “I know, I just… you don’t think less of me, do you? That I didn’t… take care of him myself.”

Soap’s expression softens. He draws you into a quick one-armed hug. “You did take care of ‘im, far as I’m concerned. I was just there to enforce. No need to mess up yer pretty nails, aye?”

You smile, small but genuine. “Thanks, again.”

“Anytime, li’l miss.”

The elevator chimes as it reaches the top floor. You turn to Soap just before the doors open.

“Oh, and please don’t tell the boss.”

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