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k-hotchoisan · 1 year ago

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the scentist

Your neighbour—Choi San—is such a gentleman on top of being a complete hunk and smelling so fuckin good. Especially so when he offers his hoodie when he sees you being drenched. Well, nothing could come out of such a simple gesture of kindness, right?

Genres/Warnings: perverted & obsessed scentist!San, Olfactophilia (sexual arousal from scent), masturbation on clothing, oral (F receiving), unprotected sex, cumming untouched, armlock (light) breeding, pussy drunk San💙

💙 @san-network 💜

Taglist: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie @voicesinmyhead-rc @pre1ttyies @hwallazia @songmingisthighs @yeosangiess @interweab @mylovelymito @softwsan @yourlocaljonghoe @itza-meee @ywtf @jeon-ify

A/N: WE BEEN KNEW THAT I’D LEAVE MY FAVOURITE MAN FOR THE LAST!! 😮‍💨 don’t be sad that this event is ending ok,, we got more to cum come 🥰 thank u for giving my fics so much love as always!!

🩷back to staying perverted

Lavender. Sweet pea. Azalea. Gardenia.

The scents of the florals fill his lab, something he’s so used to already. As the concoction bubbles, he walks over to the other flowers potted along the shelf, pressing the petals against his nose, taking in their smell before he pulls away. He pulls off his goggles, walking over to his desk, staring at the standing whiteboard, filled to the corners with flower names, chemical compounds, and other miscellaneous details. Even though he’s doing fine, he feels that something is missing. Choi San feels stale and stuck.

The rain is pattering down heavily against the pavement, he stares at the raindrops hitting the leaves of his plants. San often gets compliments on how beautiful his plants are, and how natural he is at gardening. San would don his signature smile and he would thank them for the compliment. Sometimes, his neighbours would come by to ask for gardening advice and San would gladly entertain them. This evening was no different. Another one of his neigbours who was growing greens had wanted to express appreciation by buying San his favorite fertilizers. Stacking them neatly in his cabinet, San then decides to head down to the reception to receive his parcel.

Fuck. The downpour was so sudden. It totally caught you off guard, and you were drenched before you realised it. You make it to the entrance of your apartment complex, shivering slightly from the air conditioning. You shake off the excess water off your arms, and when you look up, your heartbeat quickens—your apartment complex crush is standing at his letterbox, filtering through his mail while he holds a parcel in his arms. He’s in a grey hoodie, and for some reason, it makes him look big, and it’s driving you insane. Shit, shit, shit. You pray that he doesn’t turn around and see you.

“Hey. Good evening y/n”, San greets cheerily. You force a smile, “Good evening San.”

San has his eyes on you, and you swear he’s eyeing you down—probably judging you for being drenched and shit.

“Looks like you reached back just in time”, he teases, and you pout.

“I feel like a drenched dog. Is this how dogs feel after a shower?” You reply, brushing your hands through your wet locks, all in an attempt to stop yourself from staring at San laugh—his voice is hypnotic enough to make you melt into a puddle already. The cold air from the air conditioning hits you once more, and this time you’re beginning to shiver uncontrollably on top of struggling to open your damn letterbox and not looking like a circus in front of your crush.

You focus on fidgeting with your letterbox keys, your fingers reaching out to snatch the letters. When you close the latch, San has his hoodie unzipped, and he’s removing said outerwear.

“San, what are you-“

He’s about to hand you the hoodie, but he instead opts to put his parcels in your hands, and he fucking fits the hoodie around your shoulders, and when he does, his smell floods your senses. He smells like a mix of floral—with hints of spice and citrus, and although for a brief moment, you have it locked in some part of your brain. His fingers brush against yours as he takes his parcels and letters from you, and it doesn’t help that he’s in a black shirt that hugs his biceps, shoulders, and chest a little too well. You barely muster the strength to peel your eyes away, feeling your heart flutter when his fingers brush against yours as he retrieves his packages back from you.

You look up, hoping that the fluorescent lights don’t highlight the heat that’s rushing to your cheeks. You’re still shivering, but suddenly you don’t feel as cold as before.

“Thank you, San”, you smile. “I’ll wash it and return it to you ASAP.” San smiles in response and the both of you walk to the lift together, light conversations and laughter filling the spaces as your body and your heart gradually warm up.

San is exhausted—he’s been at the lab back to back, drafting report after report, and it’s been taking chunks out of him. Palm against his neck, he tilts his head, shutting his eyes as he stretches his neck, and then he sighs. His superiors finally approved his reports and now he has the god-given chance of going home and catching up on his sleep for the night.

The muffled sounds of his doorbell stir him up from his sleep. He doesn’t shift for a couple of seconds. Then his hands shift across the bedsheets to feel for his phone. The doorbell sounds a couple more times and San grunts in his groggy state, his fingers hitting against the edge of his phone, which he pulls closer to him to check the time.

It’s 2 pm. He crashed for 14 hours last night.

He slowly sits up, letting his sight adjust to the afternoon sun filtering through his windows before he walks over to the front door. He’s slightly grouchy from the amount of sleep he clocked in, but as he swings the door open, the remainder of his sleep dissipates when he sees that it’s you standing before him.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you up?” You ask, rubbing your neck. “I wanted to return you this..”, you bring up a paper bag to San’s view. San is still registering this.

“But you weren’t home for the past couple of days, and I don’t have your phone number..”

San blinks. Then his hands reach out to take the paper bag, and his eyes glance downwards.

Ah, it’s his hoodie.

He looks up back to you. “Thank you. Don’t tell me you’ve been coming here every day to try to pass me this?”

“Yes and no..?” you answer with a smile. It spreads to San, who suddenly feels a shot of guilt for making you come to his unit when he wasn’t even there half of the time.

“I’ll treat you to dinner for the trouble I’ve put you through”, he says hastily. He thinks the way your eyes widen and how pink is flushing at the tip of your ears is so adorable, and then he cuts you off before you attempt to decline his offer, “Pass me your phone.”

The phone in your hand is in his now and he types in his phone number before he hands it back to you.

He leans in slightly closer, and there is a particular scent that slowly starts to make its way to his brain. Is it coming from you? For some reason, he hasn’t been able to get it out of his head since the day he lent you his hoodie. And there it was again, faint, but it was definitely there.

“Is there anything else I can help you with, y/n?”

He’s almost disappointed when he sees you shake your head, but at the same time, he has lab work to do, so he shuts the door after he sends you off with a smile, not knowing that you omitted that you wore his hoodie a couple more times after washing (mostly due to the cold weather).

He drops off the paper bag on his bedroom floor before he heads off to his home lab.

Unfortunately, the extra 14 hours of sleep still doesn’t spark inspiration for his chemistry, and he ends up spending barely an hour in his lab, mostly tending to his flowers, before he decides to call it a day.

San is back in his bedroom, and he decides to unpack his hoodie from the paper bag. His hands reach into the bag and retrieve the hoodie, and when he unfolds the hoodie, his mind immediately hazes at the scent coming off the garment. Fuck. It’s even more prominent. It’s the scent that he can’t get out of his fucking head, and now it’s pretty much in his hands.

You smell like fucking heaven, San thinks, placing the outerwear under his nostrils once more, inhaling, the smell completely entering the crevices of his mind. He groans and curses at the way his erection is pushing against his pants just from your fucking smell. It’s more than just the detergent you use—it’s so much more intimate and intoxicating than that, and it’s undoubtedly driving San fucking crazy. He’s so sure that this is the scent that he’s been chasing after.

San walks over to his bed, comfortable on the mattress while he pushes his pants past his thick thighs, his cockhead pushing against his underwear, forming a dark and wet spot. He inhales shakily, teasing himself, the precum thickening and staining more of his underwear. It doesn’t take him long to kick off his sweats and underwear completely, letting his cock spring out with a relieved sigh, before he slowly starts fucking his hand while his other hand has his head filled with your pheromones.

The thought of you on that rainy evening, the way the rain had drenched your white shirt through, your bra showing, cupping your tits so fucking teasingly. San wonders if you did it on purpose because he would have just ripped your shirt open right then and there. His repressed fantasies begin to bubble up—the thought of him inviting you to his unit instead, letting his hands feel you up, making sure your goosebumps are from his touches rather than the cold because he swears he can warm you up quickly. He would press himself against you, taking in your scent, before he’d slip his hands underneath your pathetic white shirt, cupping your tits, then sliding your pants off—he knows he can’t even wait till the both of you reach his bedroom—the furthest the both of you would go? The fucking couch.

Your smell floats, and it’s dragging him deeper and deeper. San bucks his hips against his hand, soft moans pouring out his lips, whining your name against the fragrant garment, his precum turning thicker by the minute. He’s liked you ever since he met you when you first moved in, and now you’re filling up every part of his olfactory senses. He’s desperate to fill you up with him, make sure you’re holding your shirt up with your teeth, your eyes filling up with tears as he slams his cock into your warm pussy, over and over, forcing yourself to stay quiet so the neighbours don’t hear.

Fucking hell. San’s thighs shake slightly at the thought of it. He takes another inhale, and it’s like a dopamine reset once more, perfect at the moment when he’s bringing himself to the edge. Your voice echoes in his head, the pretty sounds you’d make, the expressions that he would indulge in for himself.

Thick streams of cum bubble from his silt, and he almost suffocates himself from the sick pleasure of burying his face in his hoodie drenched in your scent, he catches his breath as the scent slowly fades when he pulls the hoodie from his face, panting from an orgasm that he knows will never be enough one time.

As San washes off his high in the warm showers, he decides to attempt to recreate your scent, wanting to keep it all for himself. And he knows just a hoodie isn’t gonna be enough.

You’ve been flipping your apartment upside down, looking for your panties. At first, you didn’t notice that one pair went missing—chalking it off as you misplacing your laundry. But when the second one you swore you dropped off in the fresh laundry hamper disappears, along with a third, you realise something was amiss. You retrace your steps—you did have a couple of people over recently, but the majority of them were your girl friends, if you minus off how you and San have been going over to each other’s places for meals ever since the both of you exchanged phone numbers. Undoubtedly, your feelings for him have grown exponentially, especially when the both of you spent time with each other in (almost) close proximity. San had always been polite and helped around with cleaning up the dishes, and he had a very endearing habit of leaning in closer to you—whether to just tease you or to hear you better—it would never fail to make you act flustered around him before you would roll your eyes and push him away.

Needless to say, the relationship had blossomed since that rainy evening. You just didn’t expect to grow so close with your apartment complex crush, and while there were nights where San’s face, San’s voice, San’s body would bubble up to the surface when your orgasms washed over you, leaving you squirming and shy once the post nut clarity hit, you thought to yourself that the relationship between the both of you was good enough for now.

You scratch your head, racking your brains as to where your panties might have magically disappeared to. You’re lost in thought until the ping from your phone brings you out of it. You go over to check, and it’s from San—reminding you of dinner at his place. Right, the panties can wait for now.

“I hope I’m not late”, you smile as San opens the door for you to let you in. San returns it, “No, I just placed the order. It’s gonna take awhile.”

You take a seat on his couch. No matter how many times you’ve been to his place recently, you always feel that it’s still so spacious.

Then he breaks your train of thought.

“Is there something you’d like to do while waiting?” You let your eyes wander around his apartment again, and they land on the potted plants on his window sill.

Your eyes dart away from how San is staring down—his body is facing towards you, giving you his fullest, and it’s making you slightly self-conscious.

“I’m wondering what you’re always so busy with.”, you say. You’re ready to be rejected when San doesn’t answer right away. Right, it’s probably something personal to him too. But you can’t help but overthink when he doesn’t reply immediately sometimes. It makes you feel so childlike.

He stands up, gesturing you to follow him. “It’s a little embarrassing”, San replies as he guides you to the tightly shut door. He presses his fingertip onto the keypad—it lights up green and San pushes the door knob down, and the door pushes open.

It is as if it is another world. The lights are dim and the air is a lot cooler, albeit slightly more humid thanks to the myriad amount of plants littered around the room. He has so many species—differentcolours and different flowers. The scents hit you next, the floral scent floating around your nostrils at different intensities.

“A whole nursery?” You exclaim, walking near to some of the flowers.

“Yes and no. It’s more of a lab”, San corrects you, walking over to the heavy desk just full of lab equipment. “Sorry, it’s kinda messy.”

You shake your head, still taking in the sight of his botanically busy room, amazed.

As you near more of the equipment, the scents grow stronger. The whole lab smells so fragrant, and you’re surprised that it’s not overpowering, to say the least.

“So, what do you do here exactly?” You ask, taking another whiff of the fragrance while staring at the rows of test tubes before you.

“I make scents. It’s just a side hobby of mine on top of my research”, San explains. He picks up a test tube and gestures you to take a whiff, and so you do, pleasantly surprised at how much the scent smells just like him.

“Then what’s your little project now?”

San pauses. He doesn’t look you in the eye for that split second. As he parts his mouth to answer, the doorbell rings, and it jumps him out of his thoughts. The food is here.

Seated across San, as you always do, San is plating the takeout while you prepare the utensils. The topic of his lab comes up again, but you completely forget about asking about his projects.

Midway through the conversation, the rice cake that you were trying to eat somehow slips off the utensil and drops onto your clothes, causing you to jump in surprise, somehow toppling your plate with the leftover sauce, on top of staining on your clothes, much to your dismay.

“Shit”, you curse, casting an irritated glance at the splatter on your clothes. The plate clatters on the floor. You stand there, slightly dumbfounded at the situation. You’re wondering if you should just head home to change out, considering that your unit isn’t too far from his. But before you have the chance to bring up that suggestion, San cuts you off.

“You can drop your clothes into the washing machine. In the meantime, you can borrow my hoodie. It should be on the clean laundry hamper.”

“San-“

He turns to you with a comforting smile. “It’s fine. Rice cake sauce isn’t the easiest to clean off when you leave it for too long. I’ll clean up the floor.”

You realise arguing with him isn’t work out in your favour, nor will it get the rice cake sauce off your clothes any quicker, so you decide to heed his words and head to his room.

Undressing yourself once you shut the door, you drop your soiled clothes into the washing machine. It was then you realise that you are pretty much naked, in Choi San’s fucking bedroom. Struggling to keep your head out of the gutter, you decide to focus on finding that damn grey hoodie. Your eyes scan his room, trying to search for the grey hoodie. And your eyes land on a thick-looking piece of garment on one of the laundry hampers. You walk over to pick it up.

You put his hoodie over, and there it is again—the spicy citrus smell. Choi San’s smell. Your thighs push against each other a little tighter this time. Then something in your peripherals catch your attention—a lace garment. You inch closer, and your heart drops.

It’s a pair of lace underwear.

Fuck. Is he seeing someone and he didn’t tell you? A thick lump forms in your throat.

And then it goes away when you start picking up another two more panties from the hamper, and the realisation hits you like a fucking truck—these are your fucking panties.

Things are not adding up in your brain, that’s for fucking sure.

At that moment, San bursts into the bedroom, and a panicked expression scribbled across his face. His eyes are blown wide open when they land on the three pairs of panties in your hands.

You stare back at him, almost mirroring his expression, the only difference being confusion for you instead.

The corner of San’s lips pull into a half smile. “Oops.”

“San, what’s the meaning of this?” You ask, feeling your face flush rapidly.

“Well”, San pauses. “you asked what scent I’m making next right? It’s yours.”

“My scent?” You echo back in question to him. San sighs, his shoulders relaxing as he inches closer to you, trapping you underneath him when you finally hit his bed.

“Yes, darling. Your scent”, his voice almost turning into a whisper, dropping octaves lower. “You’re so cruel—keeping something so intoxicating to yourself.”

You swallow hard. San’s eyes still reflect his usual gentle demeanor, but now it’s slowly being tinted with something else. Something more ominous. Despite that, it only draws you in, like a prey being slowly hypnotized by her predator. You should be shocked, terrified even, but the only thing streaming through the nerves of your brain is the internal begging for San to just eat you up right now.

You suddenly realise that the hoodie isn’t zipped up, the outerwear slipping down your arms. You remain still, your heartbeat slamming against your ribcage.

“You can run out of my apartment now. I’m giving you five seconds”, San tells you, and your mind is spinning at the thought of him even giving you a chance to leave.

Five seconds pass. You’re still staring up at the male above you, whose lips are curling into a satisfied smirk.

His fingers cup your jaw, and he tells you, “Open up.” Sparks splatter across your eyelids the moment his lips collide with yours. You pull him closer on instinct, the feeling of his thick erection behind the two layers of fabric sending you into an orbit on top of his tongue teasing yours. He pulls back, licking off the strings of saliva between the both of you. His gaze is locked onto yours.

“Please? Let me taste you. I promise I’ll make you feel so fucking good”, his request sounding more like a beg. Your mind is hazy. Choi San? In between your fucking legs? You swallow hard, and then you nod.

San lowers himself to your clothed cunt, his eyes shut in bliss when he presses himself against your pussy.

“Heaven”, is all he mutters, his eyes casting you a glazed expression that was definitely about to drive you fucking insane, before his fingers pull against the waistband of your panties, slipping them off you.

The moment you feel his tongue press against your pussy, your mind threatens to shut off. San is breathing heavily against your soaking pussy, taking in the sight, taste, and smell of what you’re finally giving to him. Every time your thighs jerk to shut at the sensation of his tongue licking you up, his hands push you open for him forcing you to take his tongue in your cunt, and it’s wiping out any remaining rational thoughts you didn’t even know you had.

Your fingers tug against his scalp, pushing your hips deeper onto his tongue, your back arched from how fucking good he feels. His tongue is lapping you up, teasing your clit over and over again once he hits the sweet spot, his fingers leaving imprints on your thighs when he hears you whine and moan his name.

All San can think about is how fucking amazing you taste—he knew it would be another fucking level than pressing his nose against the fabric of your panties and fucking into his hand for the past few weeks, but actually letting you fuck his face? He’s on fucking cloud nine.

His glazed-out eyes shift to look up at you, watching the way you’re squirming under him, the sounds of his wet tongue fucking you, tasting you, echoing around his room. Your cream and pussy are the only things he can register, and he wants to keep it for himself, forever.

“S-San-“, you cry out, your mind just threatening to blank out at every flick of his tongue. He’s building your orgasm at such a dangerous pace, and tears are pooling at the corners of your eyes when you feel something funny bubbling at the pit of your stomach. “I think I’m gonna fuck-“

“That’s it. Let it go for me. That’s a good fucking girl”, San encourages, before his tongue presses against your clit, giving you another lick before white washes over you, your cunt pulsing violently against his tongue from the sheer pleasure, then clear fluids splattering onto San’s pretty face—who seemed unfazed, considering he’s still lapping your cunt up, while you’re almost thrashing above him as the overstimulation starts to sink in. Your moans sound like cries when you beg him to stop. San doesn’t relent, and he only stops when he suddenly whimpers, switching over to kiss your thighs, decorating your plump flesh with love bites. He pushes a finger in, letting you stain and coat his fingers, enjoying your whines before he pulls out and towers over you.

“Fuck, if I’d known you’d taste this good, I would have stolen your panties sooner”, he mutters, cleaning his fingers with his tongue, desperate to taste you again.

You’re catching your breath from going through the most mind-blowing orgasm, watching San pulling his shirt over his head, and then slipping out of his sweats, your breath caught in your throat when his fat cock comes into view, thick and heavy, and covered in thick cum.

San’s fingers curl around your neck, and he lowers himself to litter kisses across your neck and jaw, it’s giving you goosebumps, your arms automatically wrapping around his neck to pull him closer.

He pauses right at the shell of your ear.

“I want to wear you over and over again. I want to lock you up in me—bottle you up so I can keep you for myself.”

“Then do it. I’m here for you to dip into your pretty little fantasies in, San.”

You swear you see something snap in the poor male, especially from the way he takes a deep inhale—shakily— before he parts your lips with his, leaving you breathless when your little steamy make-out session ends.

“You don’t know what you do to me, darling”, San cautions when he pulls back. His hair is tousled but fuck, he still looks so fucking good. “And I’m not stopping even if you’re screaming.”

Fuck.

He fucks his hand, soft sighs leaving his lips, as his cum dribbles down his length, before he lines up to your hole and pushes in easily.

You hear him groan above you, your eyes are fixated on the way he’s losing himself in your pussy, and your mind is finally growing blank the more his cock fills you up. He’s stretching you open so fucking good, filling you up to the hilt.

“You’re squeezing me so much, darling. Fuck. Are you fucking kidding me?” His eyebrows are scrunched, his hands holding your legs up while he lets you adjust to his cock.

But he doesn’t warn you before he starts moving, his impatience completely overriding any ounce of rationale he has left in him.

“So good. San, you feel so fucking good”, your moans sounding like cries whenever his hips snap against yours, the obscene sounds only adding to the tension.

“You take me so fucking well, darling”, San’s voice is ringing in your ears. “Look at your fucking pussy just swallowing me up like that.”

You don’t even reply to that, your eyes are rolled to the back of your head, and your head is somewhere in fucking heaven where San is definitely fucking you into.

Just when you feel that you were about fucking fall apart on his cock, he pulls out, and you barely manage to catch your breath when San instructs you to turn over. You do, your ass up for him, and he enters your cunt once more, before fucking into you from the back. You don’t fucking know how, but you swear that his cock feels even thicker from the back.

His hands press against your hips, fucking you deep before he lets his hands slide down your body and he stops at your neck, gesturing you to look up at him as he leans down to press his lips against yours—all while rearranging your guts from the back.

He lets you pull back when you feel your neck is growing sore, and then he puts his body weight onto you, his arm tucking underneath your neck.

“Such a good fucking girl for me. You feel so fucking amazing”, San whispers, tickling every crevice of your brain as he presses his nose against the curve between your neck and shoulder, his thrusts turning more like ruts. The arm lock around your neck isn’t cutting off oxygen thankfully, but the thought of him choking you out only drags you closer to your high.

“Cumming, I’m cumming San-“, you whimper, tears trickling from your eyes from how much his cock is constantly hitting in such deep fucking spots of your pussy.

“Me too, babe. Gonna fill you up so nice and good, that’s what you’d like, right?” San teases, his cock twitching in you before he groans, his warm cum filling you up so good right at the same time your orgasm hits you once more, making you squeeze even more cum from San, perfectly milking him dry in your pussy.

“So fucking perfect”, you hear San mutter, and you can’t help but flush, even though he just fucked every ounce of sanity out of you. His lips trail down the nape of your neck, his eyes are locked onto you, hazy and tinted with a hint of a growing obsession you could never tell.

He’s not letting go of you.

#ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez smut #smut #ateez fic #kpop smut #choi san smut #choi san ateez #ateez choi san #choi san x reader #choi san #san ateez #ateez san #san x y/n #san network #Spotify

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xxsabitoxx · 2 years ago

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Get to Know Me!

This is just a fun little thing I’ve been wanting to do since the dawn of time but could never find a post to reblog that satisfied what I wanted. So I made this, feel free to reblog and use it yourself!

❤️ how tall are you?

🧡 what is your sexuality?

💛 what is your favorite feature on yourself?

💚 where are you from?

🩵 do you have any pets?

💙 do you have any siblings?

💜 describe yourself in five words or less!

🩷 dream job?

🖤 favorite hobbies outside of your blog

🎂 when is your birthday?

🌙 your zodiac (Sun, Moon, Rising)

💉do you have tattoos and/or piercings

🚗 can you drive?

✈️ favorite place you’ve traveled

🎤 have you been to a concert

🎵 favorite artists

🎧 last song you listened too

📺 last show you watched

📝 last thing you wrote

🔐 something no one would guess about you

🧟‍♀️ scariest thing that’s happened to you

🔥 craziest thing that’s ever happened to you

🍓 favorite food

🍅 least favorite food

🍊 favorite season?

🍋 favorite genre to read / watch / write

🍐 if you could make one character real, who would it be

🫐 some place you’d love to visit

🍇 a word your friends would use to describe you

🍒 what is your earliest memory

🍌 what is one talent you wish you had

💌 why did you start this blog?

✏️ when did you start writing fanfic

🖇️ what are your favorite asks to answer

📚 how do you come up with the fics you write

📌 what is the fic you’re know for

🔍 what character do you enjoy writing for the most

🖊️ what character do you not enjoy writing for

💔 is there a fic you wish you didn’t write

❤️‍🔥 what character do you simp for most often

🧚‍♀️ favorite characters of all time

🪐 favorite shows / series of all time

🌝 a show you would recommend to anyone

🌚 a show you’d tell people to stay away from

🌹 favorite kinks to write for

🥀 kinks you would never write for

🌊 a kink you would like to write but you think you’d be judged

❄️ full fics, imagines or head canons

☂️ your favorite fanfic from another writer

A couple of in depth questions!

🍄 what is something that’s happened in your life that you wish you could go back and change?

⭐️ what is one of your biggest accomplishments? Why is it so important to you?

🪻what is the toughest thing you had to go through, but can say you’ve successfully overcome?

🌺 what is the best gift someone has ever given you and why is it so important

🍀 what is your comfort show/series and why is it your comfort show? How has it helped you?

#also you can fully ask me lol #get to know the person behind the blog #get to know me #idk what the fuck to tag this #emoji game #ask game #send me asks #idk man #get to know the author #smut writer

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seungfl0wer · 5 months ago

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*Daddy Jeongin*

Daddy Series:

Contains Smut

-💜

•Protective.

•Very protective over you.

•I don’t think he’s a very confrontational person.

•However someone so much as looks at his baby the wrong way and suddenly he’s ready to go to jail.

•Likes to do the whole sharing location thing.

•Not in a controlling way, more so he knows if something happens he can help.

•Or especially when he knows you’re home he can send you stuff.

•Loves surprising you with little stuff like sending you lunch.

•Although he’s not a big touchy person I feel like with you he’s the complete opposite.

•You’re one of the only people that he craves touch from.

•Sitting on the couch? He wants you in his lap.

•Out on a date? He’s got his arm snug around you.

•Loves to match with you too.

•Has a whole arsenal of matching PJs, and Shirts.

•He also absolutely loves picking outfits out for you. Putting you in all sorts of cute things.

•Anytime you’re giving him attitude he’ll put his pretty hands under your chin.

•Making you hold eye contact telling you “Bring back my sweet baby”

•If you continue he’ll withhold cuddles from you.

•Or on the rare occasion that you’re being extra bad he’ll pull you away bringing those pretty finger back to your face.

•He’ll apply a little more pressure and give you his scolding voice telling you that you need to behave.

•Doesn’t like to do spankings as a punishment.

•He’s one that rather talk it out.

•He’s definitely the kind to push his fingers into your mouth to shut you up too.

•He’ll leave you little gifts too, he loves spoiling you so much.

•He definitely is the type to get you a necklace with a J as a way to say who you belong too.

ੈ♡˳Smut Below

•He’s a menace.

•Likes to toy with you a lot.

•Overstimulation, Orgasm denial or his favorite temperature play.

•Ties you down put an ice cube in his mouth and running it over your body.

•Enjoys the little whines that come from your mouth because it’s cold.

•He’s even tried a glass dildo he stuck in the freezer to see how you’d react.

•Daddy jeongin has this certain look he gives you.

•It’s a wild feral look that you know you’re in for it.

•Although he doesn’t like spanking as a punishment he’ll definitely use a sexual one.

•Like keeping you tied down having a vibe on low and just leaving you.

•Things he says a lot are

•“Maybe you’ll learn some manners hmm?”

•”See what happens when that pretty mouth turns bratty”

•“Daddy wants to play with what’s his”

•Aftercare is always filled with soothing breaths.

•He’ll bring you one of your most comfy PJs dressing you.

•He’ll reassure you a lot and ask if you’re alright.

•Soft I love yous as he’s kissing over little marks he’s left.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

Taglist: @satosugu4l @do-you-remember-summer-127 @xines16 @minh0scat @troublemaker02 @tr-mha-fan @lunearta @velvetmoonlght @minghaosimp @ldysmfrst @felixleftchickennugget @0omillo0 @jellymochii @stilltrynafuckingtumble @catlove83

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stillgotscars · 7 months ago

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there’s only one more eras show left, meaning:

one last transition from “applause” into the “you don’t own me” countdown

one last eras tour intro

one last “oh HI!”

one last “does anyone here know the lyrics to this bridge? PROVE IT!”

one last “you’ve got me feeling really, extremely… powerful”

one last “LET ME! SEE YOUR! HANDS!”

one last “what an absolute honor it is to say these words to you: [insert city], welcome to the eras tour”

one last “so you and i, we’re about to go on a little adventure together”

one last endearing “i’ll be your host this evening, my name is taylor”

one last fearless twirl

one last “it’s fearless” followed by the entire crowd holding up a hand heart

one last “are you ready to go back to high school with me?”

one last *clap clap* during you belong with me

one last heart-warming 22 hat exchange

one last comical quip from kam during wanegbt

one last “do you have 10 minutes to spare?”

one last extravagant ballgown appearance for all of one (1) song during the speak now set

one last “1, 2, 3, let’s go bitch!”

one last “do the girls back home touch you like i do?” *shakes head*

one last “don’t blame me for what. you. made. me. DO.”

one last “and so we’ve brought the folklore cabin to [insert city]”

one last minutes-long standing ovation after champagne problems

one last august run

one last illicit affairs bridge in all its glory

one last “and i can go anywhere i want, anywhere i want, JUST. NOT. HOME.”

one last lighting up the entire stadium with phone flashlights for marjorie

one last thunder and lightning transition from marjorie to willow

one last willow coven dance

one last golf club swing during the blank space bridge

one last pavlovian stress response during bad blood as a lasting consequence of the original set list

one last collective gasp when the pyro starts during bad blood

one last archer pose before so high school

one last roomba appearance

one last alien abduction metaphor brought to life during down bad

one last the smallest man who ever lived bridge being cathartically scream-sung by thousands of people all at once

one last attempt to make taylor break during the icdiwabh skit

one last “i’ve been doing it since he left” note change

one last “try. and come. for. my. job.”

one last surprise song set

one last stage dive after just causing mass emotional devastation

one last garter reveal

one last “except when i’m on tv” pose

one last vigilante shit performance

one last “do you have time for one more song?”

one last final bow as confetti falls to the ground

eras tour (march 2023 - december 2024), you will be remembered 💚💛💜♥️🩵🖤🩷🩶🤎💙🤍

#taylor swift #the eras tour #this got so long #and i still feel like i could’ve added more #*

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kazutora-kurokawa · 7 months ago

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Can I ask a wuestion?

What iif tenjikud girlfriend beaten up by their enemies after their rough fight. I wanna know see their reactions. Especcialy İzana and ran

Tenjiku When Their Girlfriend Gets Hurt By A Rival Gang

♡ SFW, angst, fluff, fem reader, violence against reader and random gang, murder but not anything detailed, Tenjiku members getting their getback ♡

note: yes anon, you may ask a "wuestion" lol

note 2: I've been ultra busy lately, essays, research papers, group projects, applying to jobs and all that jazz lol, things have been good tho

note 3: I put Ran and Rin together, scenario works for both regardless of which brother you're with

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

Izana

🎴 Whoever hurt you must've had a death wish, you think Hanma is the grim reaper? Nothing compares to Izana running full speed at somebody

🎴 He tracks each of them down and essentially tortures them (as he should)

🎴 He refuses to kill anyone, he just beats them so bad that they wish they were dead

Kakucho

🩷 Kakucho is usually a very calm man, but as soon as he saw you, limping and covered in bruises, it was over for the bastards that messed with you

🩷 Launches a full fledged attack against the other gang and beats the shit out of their leader, then proceeds to use the leader's body as a weapon to beat the shit out of the other members

🩷 Once he's done he rushes home to take care of you, you're his top priority afterall

Ran & Rindou

💜 Whether you're with Ran or Rin, everybody knows that you have both rulers of Roppongi backing you up

🩵 So when you get jumped by a gang that has beef with Tenjiku, everyone in that gang's general vicinity knows it about to be a bloodbath and vacates accordingly

💜 They pull up on them, straightfaced and ready to pop off on whoever hurt you

🩵 Rin's putting them in leg locks and Ran's breaking faces with his baton, they're a duo at heart and tag teaming is their specialty, especially when they're standing up for you

Mochi

🍡 Shion is really gonna be calling him a gorilla the way he went apeshit (I'm sorry that was corny af lmao)

🍡 He's baffled by the audacity those motherfuckers had to put their hands on you knowing you were his

🍡 Puts every last one of them in the hospital, then beats the shit out of the person he had assigned to watch over you because what the fuck were they doing and why did they leave you alone 🤨

Mucho

💙 As soon as you call him and tell him what happened he has Sanzu pick you up and goes to take care of the 'problem'

💙 Comes home with blood on his clothes and acts like nothing happened

💙 He doesn't talk about what happened while he was gone, and you don't bring it up either. You have a shared silence about these types of things

Shion

🩸 Turns into a certified attack dog, but on the outside he tries to stay cool, calm, and collected so he can focus on you

🩸 Gives you all his attention and affection, vengeance can wait because his girl is hurting (future husband lowkey)

🩸 Once he thinks you're okay enough for him to leave you alone, he's speeding to the rival gang's hideout and bodying everybody, zero fucks given

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

Taglist

@arlerts-angel @i-literally-cant-with-this @trevengersprincess @giugiette @katkusuo @happy-trenchcoated-impala @drunkcheesecake @darkstarlight82 @reiners-milkbiddies @manji-hoe @southside-otaku @xxchthonicreaturexx @evergreen-endo @hanmaslilslut @dystop4in14nd @mysouleaten @mdsbabygirl

#tokyo revengers headcanons #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers fluff #tenjiku x reader #tenjiku fluff #tokyo revengers angst #tenjiku angst

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microwavetoaster-selfships · 3 months ago

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He is NOT your friend. He is there for shenanigans. Why is he at the bottom of the ocean. Squints eyes. Actually why is anyone here at the bottom of the ocean. The setting of this story is at the deepest part of the ocean. Wh.

------

Okay I read this last night and I was super sleepy that I was about to fall asleep in the middle of it like I had done before but I ended up reading through it and all I could think about was "Oh, great, he's putting his initials on everything, even on the inside rim of his top hat." But I reread it this morning with a much clearer head and. wHAT DO YOU MEAN HIS TOP HAT WHAT.WH A GT.

I MEAN. I know there's like that one graduation picture of him in the biography of him in a different hat but. It just screws up my brain trying to think about it. Lost in translation. 50/50/50 shot I come back screaming because if he does come back in the continuation of this story(which I'd like to assume he will because. He's the causer of this.) Then I will surely have more to talk about. And then on top of that I need to know if they just jump to "Oh he magically has his hat back/has another one" or. Like where could you possibly continue on from here. You dug yourself a hole with this one and I need to watch and see and know how you are going to try and manage to dig or crawl yourself out of it.

------

I don't even have anything to say here. Who smashed the glumping machine, why were the glumps just hanging out there like they're hanging around a water cooler in an office, and assuming no one told them to do this why is their immediate reaction just. Pelting them with seaweed. I mean I know they're glumps they're not nice I just. Sitting around the water cooler bored and then found something to do eh.

#these stories continue throughout different issues. and i left off on the fourth one. so i dont know what happens next.#Or if. The Silly comes back. and it will swap to different stories once one is done.#okay. I think I'll hold off posting my other thing for a moment just so I'm not doing three posts in a row.#I could technically just. add it here. but i feel like two moderately lengthy posts might be more appitizing than one huge one.#maybe I'm getting in my hear about it i dont know.#if you need me here is where I'll be spending my day off. I'll have many things to share and post about.#I never even got to my thing of when I replayed Missions 1 and 2 and wanted to talk about all the things that I now have-#-seen from a different lense. different perspective. that will. also go in the back pocket for now i suppose.#Strangeglove💙💜

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clarisimart · 3 months ago

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It's been months and my obsession with Ford Pines remains strong, I'm dozens on dozens of fanart and a (so far) 100k fic in, and I am still rotating him and his relationship with Bill in my mind like a microwave.

I've reached some conclusions tho

I think what I find SO SO fascinating about Ford and Billford is (along with Ford's general "there's something so so wrong with him ❤️" vibes) is that we are talking about just a guy (a freaky, and very smart geeky guy yes, but still a regular human) that managed to get A GOD obsessed with him.

I know I'm not the first to point this out, but like, Ford being obsessed/ worshiping bill? Yeah, duh! A being with phenomenal cosmic powers comes in with the secrets of the universe and showers you with praise and affection, ofc you become obsessed and devoted.

(AND YET it is not blind and unconditional, as soon as the scales fall from Ford's eyes that devotion turns to hate / desire for revenge)

However BILL, the cosmic horror, the god, becoming obsessed with Ford? Not only is it not expected or obvious, BUT ALSO BILL'S OBSESSION WITH FORD IS WAY, WAY MORE UNCONDITIONAL/ UNBREAKABLE THAN FORD'S.

Ford's been dedicating every single moment for 30 years into trying to kill Bill , and yeah the obsession remains, but he doesn't want cipher alive... BILL HOWEVER, HE DOESN'T FUCKING KILL THE ONLY GUY WHO ACTUALLY KNOWS HOW TO STOP AND OR KILL HIM DESPITE HAVING SO MANY CHANCES TO DO SO!!!

and the motherfucker triangle STILL THINKS HE CAN CONVINCE HIM TO JOIN HIM AND RULE WITH HIM?!?!?! FORD SHUTS DOWN THE PORTAL AND BILL STILL IS LIKE "OH ITS JUST A HISSY FIT, HE'LL CALM DOWN AND COME BACK TO ME"

FORD PUTS FUCKING METAL IN HIS SKULL TO KEEP HIM OUT, AND BILL IS STILL LIKE "STANFORD MY OLD PAL 🥰🥺❤️ FORDSY!!!!!😘😍 LET ME SERENADE YOU ❤️💜🧡💛💚🩵💙

Ford builds a weapon that can actually kill him and when he shoots at Bill with it, fully intending on killing him, Bill's reaction is being FUCKING HAPPY ABOUT FINDING FORD... UNBELIEVABLE

#gravity falls #billford #stanford pines #bill cipher #the book of bill #ford pines

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thepeaklegendoffirstgen · 2 months ago

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IDEAL TYPE

Characters: Gun Park, Goo Kim, James Lee

What I belive is, rather than brawn Gun will likely be more compatible with someone more on the brainy side.

Has affinity for more feminine yet strong type like Bulma from DBZ.

Strong doesn't necessarily have to be translated into physical strength: yes he will appreciate it but you two will mostly test it out for dominace and let's just say it won't take a very healthy turn in relationship.

Part of it is due to his Yakuza upbringing and the patriarchal environment he grew up in. In the initial phase he will only seek you out for pleasure but if you are of help in the grander scheme of things and show potential for what you are capable of. Absolutely sexy

Lets be honest he will be into looks. But not very high maintenance supermodel type just keep the basics intact and a well groomed and well kept person who knows their worth.

Confidence is actually the key to his heart. No he won't coddle you and give you lot of reassurance. He will be blunt and brutally honest. Understand it's from a good place and that's how he shows his care. So if you take his advice and improve on certain areas he will be really content.

And no don't listen to him always. Show him his loopholes, where he lacks what he can do to improvise.

Overall he likes a baddie who knows her worth and value and won't bend for anyone💕

This goofball like cute girls. Period🤪

Well well his first love is money, and he isn't afraid to admit that at all.

I feel he will be more into petite women. You know to show that he will protect you from this dangerous world blah blah..

Someone laid back and relaxed who knows when to be mature and when to turn into full on clowns. So that he can have best of both the worlds

Infinite patience. Not just because of his antics but because its very very very difficult for him to emotionally open up. Is quite guarding then he lets on and needs someone to break those walls.

Well once he is in love, pretty much everything you do is cute or adorable so looks aren't that much for him. And mostly likely to go for someone normal.

I don't mean to demean it's just that you don't need to have certain potential or bring something to table for him to love you ,I believe. If there is genuine connection, Goo is more than happy🥹😁💞

I'll do Teen James and Adult James differently😤

Okay teasing, push and pull , how far you can go without reacting to his charms

Someone firm in personality . Show him, his place. Mr James Lee you might be a national level all rounder but you ain't getting this heart so easily.

Let's be honest this all comes from his thrill and the rush he feels in winning and dominating. He wants to conquer and show. So ladies in case of Teen James "Play Hard to Get" will seriously do wonders for you🤣

Also someone who has their own passions and ambitions going on. The rare moments you two get to have with each other will seriously make him very happy

Dominate him. As in discussion and disagreement are always welcome and it's a huge plus point who can be on the same wavelength as him. But don't do it for the heck of it.

I don't know why but having soft , gentle hands will be his thing. This dude is into looks and want someone beautiful but not high in priority.

If you can make him forget all his worries and the two of you can, even for a moment live like normal teenagers for a bit you are golden.

And pls don't break his heart for just showing and parading him around like a trophy. He will know from the start. So someone who really looks for him for who he is and beyond the genius. Friends to lovers💙💜

Well let's be honest James in his adulthood is a manipulative ass. So someone smart and really intellectual who can see through all this facade.

See besides all the fluff and shimmery, let's face facts this guy uses people like tools and how they can benefit him, I'm pretty sure Kitae is also just another tool in his arsenal. You need to be equally talented as him and someone who can match his level. Not an extraordinary overachiever but have your things going on.

But as Tsumiki was described in JJK " As long as she has an unshakable moral compass which doesn't deflect easily there is nothing more I can ask for". This is what fits his ideal type best.

See if he is dating you he really trust you a lot and you mean a lot but again he will hide things from you. Not for lying and deceit but you don't have to worry your pretty little head about Gang and stuff. This might put a dent but if you understand he is doing it in good faith it might work for you. Otherwise arguments 😭😞

I feel like since he is more on the calm and composed side. Someone goofy will really help. Not a full blown clown but you know a bit of comedy here a few pranks there.

He is still a tease and he loves to see your reactions. So if you are really shy he will have a lot of fun pushing your limits

Well he likes refined, elegant women. Kpop has shown him all the shades so at this stage in his life not really into looks.

A genuinely nice and kind human being who won't bend to his ways all the time and he can really trust is what gets his heart.

#lookism #lookism x reader #james lee #james lee x reader #kang dagyeom #lee jihoon #dg #gun park x reader #gun park lookism #goo kim #goo kim x reader

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undertalerainbow · 3 months ago

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Happy Birthday, Clover!

I only realize it was Clover's birthday today, I didn't even realize they had an official birthday so I had to haul a*s. That's why this is only a sketch, since I also have other drawings I have to do, but I loved drawing this. For those who don't know who the girl in the second picture is, that's Annie, Clover's little sister on the surface. She has an old concept art sketches page waaaaay back. Annie and Clover have a very sweet relationship, their scarf being Annie's headband that she gave them so that'd way they'd have to come back to give it back to her. Of course that never ended up happening. If you remember from the Soul Kids character sheets, Clover fell down in the 1930s, I think you know what that means. So Clover never really celebrated their birthday at a certain point, only did Annie's as she's "the kid" and they're the "big kid", "big kids" don't need to celebrate their birthday like the "little kids" do. So on their 13th, the birthday before they fell down, Annie surprised them with a drawing of a cake, a candle, and a present for their birthday. They celebrated quietly so as not to wake up Ma and Pa. Aaaaand that's enough spoilers for one post. I hope you enjoyed it! Happy Birthday Gun Hat, love you to bits!!! 🩵🧡💙💜💚💛❤️🖤🤍

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aspenmissing · 3 months ago

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Hello! I love your headcanons and x reader snippets! 😃🥰 Could you maybe do something where the reader is a creative, sweet but tough person who loves large scary sea animals? Especially with Vander or Silco. Silco would make sense since he has all those large fish swimming outside his hideout but I feel it would suit Vander too since he becomes a beast in S2. Anyone else could be read platonically but it would be fun to see Viktor's reaction too 💜💚💛💙🩵❤️

ꜱᴇᴀ ᴡʜɪꜱᴘᴇʀᴇʀ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ || 3812 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ꜰɪꜱʜ, ᴅᴇᴇᴘ ᴡᴀᴛᴇʀꜱ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ᴏᴏᴏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ Qᴜɪᴛᴇ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴇꜱᴛɪɴɢ - ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴜɴɴʏ ɪᴅᴇᴀ. ɪᴛ ᴅᴏᴇꜱ ꜰᴇᴇʟ ʟɪᴋᴇ ɪ'ᴠᴇ ʀᴇᴘᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴍʏꜱᴇʟꜰ ᴀ ʟᴏᴛ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜᴏᴜᴛ, ʙᴜᴛ ʀᴇɢᴀʀᴅʟᴇꜱꜱ, ɪ ᴅᴏ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ! <3 <3

JAYCE

The soft hum of machinery filled Jayce's workshop, a comforting rhythm of gears and gentle clinks echoing softly against the stone walls. Moonlight filtered gently through the high windows, casting silvery beams onto cluttered tables covered in blueprints, sketches, and half-finished Hextech prototypes. Jayce leaned over his newest invention, completely absorbed, his brow furrowed as he meticulously tightened the final bolts. He barely registered the gentle knock on the door until a playful voice shattered his deep concentration.

"Working late again?"

Startled, Jayce looked up, his serious expression instantly softening into a warm, affectionate smile at the sight of Y/N leaning casually against the doorway. They wore a slightly oversized coat, sleeves rolled up messily, with an adventurous glint shimmering brightly in their eyes, always brimming with curiosity and daring.

"Couldn't sleep," Jayce admitted, pushing a hand tiredly through his tousled hair, smearing a faint streak of grease across his temple. "Besides, Hextech doesn't build itself."

Y/N chuckled warmly, stepping into the workshop with a familiar ease. They weaved around scattered tools and stacks of books, approaching him gracefully. Their gaze fell curiously upon the newly completed contraption, eyes tracing every delicate and robust detail. "What's this one do?"

Jayce hesitated, feeling an unexpected flush of shyness rise to his cheeks. "It's…well, it's for underwater exploration. You always talk about those giant sea creatures, and I figured—"

"You built something for me?" Y/N interrupted softly, eyes wide and sparkling, a wave of warmth spreading through their chest. Their passion for the ocean—especially its awe-inspiring, intimidating inhabitants—was something Jayce frequently teased them about, though always affectionately.

He nodded sheepishly, ducking his head slightly as he cleared his throat. "You always said you wanted to see a real leviathan up close. Though, honestly, that sounds terrifying to me."

Y/N laughed melodically, closing the distance between them to wrap their arms affectionately around his neck. The gentle scent of sea salt and fresh air lingered on their clothes. "Jayce, you brave soul. Are you actually volunteering to face a sea monster with me?"

He chuckled gently, resting his hands comfortably at their waist, his grip protective yet tender. "Only because I'd rather face my fears beside you than live comfortably without you."

The sincerity in his voice dissolved any playful teasing from Y/N's expression, replacing it with tender warmth. "You're too sweet for your own good."

Jayce smiled softly, gently pressing his forehead to theirs. Their quiet breathing synchronized, mingling warmth between them. "I trust you to protect me from any giant, terrifying sea creatures we encounter."

"Deal," Y/N whispered lovingly, their voice barely above a breath. "I'll always keep you safe."

Jayce stepped back slightly, a gleam of excitement igniting his eyes as he motioned proudly towards his latest creation, newfound enthusiasm evident in his stance. "Come on, let me show you how it works. It has reinforced glass, designed to withstand immense deep-sea pressure, and integrated Hextech lighting strong enough to illuminate even the darkest ocean trenches."

Eagerly, Y/N circled the invention, their fingers gently tracing the smooth contours of polished metal, marvelling at every intricate detail. Each facet of the device was both practical and elegant, a testament to Jayce's skill and meticulous nature. "It's incredible, Jayce. You've truly thought of everything."

Encouraged by their reaction, Jayce grinned broadly. "I even included a state-of-the-art tracking system specifically designed to locate those elusive creatures you've always dreamed of studying."

Y/N’s smile widened, genuine admiration shining brightly in their eyes. "Well then, when do we start this adventure?"

Jayce laughed softly, his confidence bolstered by their infectious enthusiasm. "As soon as you're ready. Tomorrow, even."

"Perfect," Y/N agreed eagerly, reaching out to squeeze his hand gently, the promise of adventure reflected clearly in their gaze. "Tomorrow we face the unknown, together."

The air grew comfortably quiet again, heavy with promise and anticipation. Soft, glowing Hextech filled the workshop with a gentle, blue-tinted radiance, bathing them both in its comforting glow. Surrounded by dreams of unexplored depths and legendary leviathans, they both knew without a shadow of a doubt that whatever mysteries lay ahead, they would face them bravely—as long as they faced them together.

VIKTOR

The late afternoon sun poured gently through the stained-glass windows of Viktor's laboratory, casting colorful hues across the stacks of notes, metal scraps, and intricate machinery. Viktor stood hunched slightly over his workbench, his cane resting close by, eyes intensely focused through his magnifying lenses.

"Viktor!" Your voice echoed warmly through the room, drawing his attention immediately. He looked up, adjusting his goggles to better see you standing by the doorway, your vibrant smile bringing brightness even greater than the afternoon sun.

"Ah, Y/N," he replied softly, straightening carefully with his cane in hand. "You've returned from your oceanic adventures already?"

You chuckled lightly, moving toward him, your expression glowing with excitement. "Yes! And you'll never guess what magnificent creature I encountered today."

Viktor tilted his head slightly, intrigued by your passion that always sparked his curiosity. "Another one of your beloved giant sea monsters, perhaps?"

"Precisely! A magnificent leviathan, Viktor! Massive and fierce-looking, yet so graceful. Everyone else was frightened, but I couldn't help but feel awe and fascination." Your eyes sparkled as you spoke, your hands animatedly emphasizing your description.

He smiled faintly, watching your excitement with quiet admiration. Your enthusiasm was infectious, your sweetness apparent even as you recounted your fearless interaction with creatures most would avoid.

"I'm beginning to suspect," he teased gently, "that there's no creature in the ocean frightening enough to deter you."

"Not even close," you replied confidently. "Speaking of creatures—how's your latest invention progressing?"

His gaze softened as he glanced back at his workbench. "Still troublesome, I'm afraid. It lacks your natural ease with formidable beasts."

You reached out, gently placing your hand atop his where it rested on his cane. "Well, perhaps it just needs someone creative, sweet, and a little tough to tame it?"

Viktor chuckled softly, eyes meeting yours warmly. "Indeed, it seems that everything does."

A comfortable silence settled between you, both appreciating the moment. Curiosity soon tugged at your mind, and you tilted your head toward the intricate machinery scattered across the workbench. "What exactly are you working on this time?" you asked gently, eyes tracing over the metallic parts that seemed to pulse softly with Hextech energy.

Viktor's eyes brightened slightly, his passion for discovery shining through. "A device intended to harmonize the human body with Hextech energy," he explained, running a finger carefully along the smooth metal surface. "It could revolutionize medicine, mobility... everything. But the synchronization remains elusive."

Your gaze softened, empathy colouring your features as you regarded his earnest determination. "If anyone can achieve such harmony, Viktor, it's you. Your patience and brilliance never cease to amaze me."

He offered a small, grateful smile, warmth blooming in his chest at your unwavering support. "Your confidence, Y/N, has a way of making even the impossible seem attainable."

"Because it is," you affirmed softly, stepping closer to rest your head briefly against his shoulder. "You're as courageous as any leviathan, Viktor. Perhaps your inventions just need a little more coaxing, much like sea creatures."

He laughed lightly, the sound rich and genuine, causing your heart to flutter. "I believe you may be right. Perhaps we both have much to learn from one another."

"Indeed," you agreed, grinning playfully. "Maybe next time, you'll join me to meet a few of my sea giants?"

His eyebrow arched in amused scepticism, though the softness in his gaze never wavered. "Only if you promise to protect me from their jaws."

You laughed warmly, squeezing his hand reassuringly. "Always, Viktor."

Together, you stood quietly once more, the lab filled only with the comforting hum of machinery and the warmth of unspoken affection. Both of you, fearless in your own ways—him braving the unknown realms of science, and you venturing into the depths of the vast ocean—each finding strength, inspiration, and solace in the other's courage.

JAYVIK

The soft hum of machinery blended seamlessly with Viktor's quiet footsteps and the rhythmic tap of his cane against the polished wood floors of their shared apartment. Outside, the city lights of Piltover flickered gently through the large windows, casting a serene glow over their cozy living space. Jayce glanced up from his detailed notes, his tired eyes warming immediately at the sight of Viktor thoughtfully positioning a small, elegantly crafted aquarium on the table.

"Think she'll like it?" Jayce asked, setting his pen aside and folding his arms, observing Viktor with gentle amusement.

Viktor carefully adjusted the tank, fingers meticulously rearranging the luminous pebbles and gently swaying underwater plants. A tiny, fierce-looking fish darted energetically from side to side, clearly exploring its new domain.

"Knowing Y/N," Viktor smiled softly, his eyes gentle and fond with the memory of her excitement whenever she discussed her passion for sea creatures, "she will absolutely adore it."

Jayce chuckled warmly, rising from his chair and approaching Viktor, wrapping an affectionate arm around his slender shoulders. He pressed a tender kiss to Viktor's temple, inhaling deeply as he enjoyed their quiet moment together. "A fearsome sea creature, yet apartment-sized," he mused softly. "It's perfect."

"Precisely," Viktor agreed, leaning comfortably into Jayce’s reassuring embrace. The peaceful stillness settled over them, both savouring the brief respite from the chaos of their work.

Their quiet laughter was suddenly interrupted by the familiar sound of keys rattling outside the door. Y/N stepped inside moments later, her bright eyes immediately lighting up at the sight of her two favourite inventors waiting expectantly, a mischievous glint in her gaze.

"What have you two been up to?" Y/N asked playfully, arching a curious brow as she placed her bag carefully by the door.

"We got you a little something," Jayce announced, clearly excited, barely able to hide his anticipation as he motioned grandly toward the aquarium.

Y/N’s eyes widened in pure delight, a radiant, heartfelt grin spreading across her face. She approached the tank eagerly, practically glowing with joy as she knelt to get a closer look. "Is that…a fish?" she asked breathlessly, amazement evident in her tone.

"Indeed," Viktor stepped forward, pride and deep affection resonating in his voice as he watched her fascination unfold. "A miniature version of the large, intimidating sea creatures you so admire."

Y/N laughed softly, eyes sparkling with excitement and appreciation as she wrapped her arms tightly around both Viktor and Jayce, pulling them close into a grateful, warm embrace. Her touch was tender yet firm, conveying all the affection she held for them both. "It's absolutely perfect," she whispered, voice filled with genuine emotion. "Thank you both so much."

"You deserve it," Jayce murmured warmly, holding them both tighter, savouring the closeness and comfort of their shared bond.

Viktor smiled softly, leaning his head against Y/N’s shoulder, quietly absorbing the warmth and love that surrounded them. "Nothing less for our brave, sea-loving heart," he replied gently.

The trio remained wrapped in their affectionate embrace for several moments longer, each silently thankful for the comfort and companionship they brought into each other's lives. Eventually, Y/N stepped closer again to the aquarium, enchanted by the tiny creature swimming boldly through its new surroundings.

"It's fascinating," she murmured thoughtfully, her fingers lightly tracing the glass. "What should we name it?"

Jayce laughed gently, placing a comforting hand on her back. "That important decision, I believe, is entirely yours."

Y/N turned to face her beloved partners, a playful smirk on her lips. "Perhaps something fierce and majestic," she pondered aloud. "To remind us all of the strength in even the smallest creatures."

"Perfectly fitting," Viktor agreed quietly, eyes shining softly.

Together, the trio settled comfortably onto their plush sofa, watching the little fish swim courageously in its new home. Their apartment filled once more with the gentle hum of machinery, the rhythmic tap of Viktor’s cane resting by his side, and the soothing silence of shared happiness. Their hearts were united, basking quietly in the warmth of thoughtful gestures, mutual understanding, and the deep affection that bound them so closely together.

VANDER

Y/N was known around Zaun for many things—her creative flair, her sweet yet formidable presence, and her peculiar fascination with the creatures of the deep. People whispered tales of how she ventured fearlessly to the docks each evening, bringing baskets of fish and other delicacies. Many believed she was feeding some monstrous beast; others simply thought she was charmingly eccentric.

Vander, however, knew better than to dismiss anything as mere eccentricity. It was part of why he loved her. One quiet evening, curiosity getting the better of him, he and the kids—Vi, Powder, Mylo, and Claggor—decided to accompany Y/N to the docks.

The docks were cloaked in twilight, and the sound of gentle waves lapped against the weathered wood. Powder clung close to Vander, wide-eyed, while Vi moved confidently, determined to show bravery. Mylo and Claggor exchanged skeptical glances but remained intrigued nonetheless.

Y/N stood at the edge of the pier, a gentle smile on her lips. She placed a large bucket of fish on the dock, humming softly. Vander approached her, wrapping an arm around her waist.

"So, love," Vander's voice was a gentle rumble, "what exactly are we waiting for?"

She laughed softly, leaning against him. "Patience, Vander. Trust me."

As if summoned by her voice, the water began to ripple and surge. Powder squeaked in surprise, clinging tighter to Vander's leg, while Vi's jaw dropped open. Emerging slowly from beneath the depths was an enormous, fearsome-looking sea creature, its eyes large and curious, scales shimmering gently in the fading light.

Vander instinctively stepped in front of Y/N, protectively shielding her, but she squeezed his hand reassuringly. "It's alright. He's gentle."

The creature emitted a deep, rumbling hum, moving gracefully towards Y/N. Without hesitation, she reached out her hand, touching its massive, smooth head affectionately.

"Meet Orion," Y/N announced proudly. "He's my friend."

Powder peeked cautiously from behind Vander, her initial fear replaced by awe. "Can I… Can I touch him too?"

"Of course," Y/N said warmly, beckoning the children forward. One by one, they approached the gentle giant, who remained calm and patient under their hesitant touches. Orion seemed to sense their curiosity, carefully moving closer to allow their gentle exploration.

Claggor laughed, fascinated. "He's incredible! I never imagined something like this existed."

Mylo smirked, trying to appear unimpressed, but couldn't hide the sparkle in his eyes. "Well, he’s definitely not something you see every day."

Y/N chuckled softly, watching the children's reactions fondly. Vander relaxed, observing the joy on her face as she shared this hidden part of her world. "You've always been full of surprises, love."

"Someone has to keep you on your toes," she teased, eyes sparkling playfully.

Vander chuckled softly, pulling her closer. "Consider it done."

As the night grew darker, Y/N gently sent Orion back into the deep. The creature paused for a moment, seemingly hesitant to leave, before finally disappearing beneath the waves, leaving behind ripples that shimmered like stardust.

Walking home hand in hand with Vander, surrounded by the animated chatter of the kids recounting their encounter, Y/N felt complete. Vander squeezed her hand gently, leaning close to whisper, "Thank you for sharing your secret with us."

"It's your secret now too," she replied softly, her heart swelling with warmth. She glanced back towards the docks, a tender smile forming on her lips. Orion had always been special to her, but sharing him with the people she loved made the bond even deeper.

Vander noticed her thoughtful expression, gently nudging her side. "Already planning our next visit, aren't you?"

Y/N laughed lightly, nodding. "I think Orion would like that."

Vander's voice was tender as he said, "Then we’ll make it happen. Together."

Y/N squeezed his hand tighter, knowing that together, they could face anything—even the mysteries hidden beneath the waves.

SILCO

The waters outside Silco's hideout moved gracefully, dark currents rippling under the neon glow of Zaun. Large, hauntingly beautiful creatures swam through the water—creatures most found terrifying. But Y/N was utterly captivated by them.

Perched by the window, she watched, eyes wide with wonder and admiration. A gentle smile played at the corners of her lips as a particularly massive creature, sleek and predatory, glided past, its scales shimmering mysteriously. She leaned closer, fingertips pressed gently against the cool glass, tracing the creature's fluid movements.

"They fascinate you," came a smooth, familiar voice from behind her. Silco's steps were almost silent, a ghostly presence that comforted rather than unsettled her.

"Always," Y/N replied, eyes never leaving the creature. "They're beautiful. People fear them because they don't understand."

"Or perhaps," Silco moved closer, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, his thumb brushing reassuringly, "they fear them precisely because they do."

She turned slowly, eyes meeting his mismatched gaze, vivid with intrigue and tenderness. Her expression softened further, fingers reaching up instinctively to rest over his. "You're like them," she whispered affectionately. "Misunderstood, feared... but beautiful in ways few can see."

A quiet chuckle escaped Silco, eyes glinting softly in the dim lighting. "Only you would dare call me beautiful."

"Only because I see you," Y/N murmured tenderly, stepping closer, the space between them dissolving effortlessly. "Just like those creatures out there, there's more beneath the surface."

Silco tilted her chin up gently, his voice a warm whisper as his eyes bore into hers. "And you have always dared to dive deeper."

Their lips met in a slow, meaningful kiss, illuminated by the gentle, eerie glow from the window. The warmth between them contrasted sharply with the cool ambiance outside. Behind them, the creatures continued their silent dance, guardians to a love as deep and powerful as the very waters they inhabited.

Breaking the kiss softly, Silco guided her closer to the window, wrapping his arms securely around her waist. Y/N leaned into him, comfortable and safe, both gazing at the mesmerizing scene unfolding before them. The silent majesty of the underwater beings mirrored the quiet power that Silco radiated—a power Y/N had never feared, but rather had always found profoundly comforting.

"Do you ever wonder," Y/N spoke quietly, her voice thoughtful yet serene, "what they feel? If they sense our presence as clearly as we sense theirs?"

"Perhaps," Silco mused thoughtfully, his voice gentle yet firm, "they see through the glass and envy our warmth, just as we envy their freedom."

She turned her head slightly, smiling softly at the depth of his insight. "Maybe. Or maybe they know something we don't—something about surviving and thriving in places others avoid."

Silco tightened his embrace slightly, his lips brushing gently against her temple. "If that's the case," he whispered, "then perhaps we're not so different after all."

She turned fully, eyes glowing with sincerity and affection. "No, we're not," she agreed softly. "And I'm glad."

They stood together for a long time, savouring the quiet intimacy and the slow rhythm of the underwater creatures passing by. Outside, the waters continued their endless dance, beautiful, mysterious, and unafraid. Inside, two souls found strength, understanding, and love in each other—silent guardians of one another's hearts, as deep and boundless as the oceans they both admired.

JINX

Y/N peered over the edge of the rickety pier in Zaun, eyes wide with wonder rather than fear, their fascination clear as daylight.

"What are you staring at?" Jinx asked, bouncing impatiently on her heels, her braids swinging with curiosity.

"Look! Right there!" Y/N whispered excitedly, pointing at the shadowy figure beneath the murky waves. "It's huge! Must be a razorfin or something!"

Jinx squinted suspiciously. "You're excited about a big, scary sea monster? Weird, even for you."

Y/N laughed, shaking their head. "Not scary, Jinx. They're beautiful—strong, misunderstood. Just like people around here." Their voice softened, "Like you."

Jinx paused, caught off guard by the sincerity. She quickly masked it with a playful smirk. "Alright, Sea Whisperer, what's the plan? Befriend it and invite it to your birthday?"

"Actually," Y/N said, pulling out a worn notebook filled with sketches of sea creatures, mechanical contraptions, and artistic doodles, "I have an idea. Help me build something to see it better."

Eyes lighting up at the mention of building, Jinx grinned mischievously. "Oh, we're gonna make it go BOOM?"

Y/N chuckled, patting her friend's shoulder affectionately. "Maybe less explosion, more exploration."

Hours later, after welding scrap metal and scavenging the Undercity, they stood proudly before a makeshift underwater viewer—a peculiar contraption made of metal, glass, and gears.

Together, they lowered it carefully into the water. Y/N leaned forward eagerly, eyes bright with excitement. As the immense, graceful shape of the sea creature swam into view clearly beneath the glass, Y/N gasped in awe.

Even Jinx looked impressed, though she'd never admit it openly. Instead, she nudged Y/N playfully. "Alright, I admit it. It's pretty cool."

"Told you," Y/N smiled warmly, grateful to share this rare, quiet moment with her chaotic but fiercely loyal friend.

Jinx huffed dramatically, rolling her eyes but smiling back genuinely. "Just don't expect me to pet it."

Laughing together, they watched the creature vanish gracefully into the deep. But the moment of tranquility didn't last long; suddenly, another shadow loomed larger, darker, and far more menacing.

Jinx immediately tensed, gripping her weapon tightly. "Alright, now that definitely looks like trouble."

Y/N's expression turned serious, though excitement lingered in their eyes. "Wait! Let's just see."

The new figure surfaced slowly, revealing a large creature with scars along its scales, eyes wise yet wary. Y/N gasped softly. "It's wounded. Maybe we can help?"

Jinx groaned dramatically, but her loyalty shone through her grumbling. "Fine, but if this thing tries to snack on us, you're on your own!"

Together, they carefully approached the edge of the pier, offering cautious gestures of peace. Y/N reached out gently, speaking softly. Slowly, hesitantly, the creature moved closer, revealing a deep gash along its side.

"Hold still, big guy," Y/N murmured comfortingly, pulling some clean cloth and ointments from their pack.

Surprisingly calm, the sea creature allowed them to treat its wounds, and Jinx found herself helping despite her protests, mumbling something about "being too nice for their own good."

Finally, after some careful tending, the creature gave a gentle, thankful push against Y/N's hand before gliding silently back into the depths.

"Well, Sea Whisperer," Jinx admitted grudgingly, her expression softening, "you're actually pretty good at this."

"Thanks," Y/N smiled broadly. "And you're a better assistant than you think."

"Ugh, don't get mushy on me," Jinx scoffed playfully, hiding a smile behind her hand. "Let's get back before something even bigger decides it wants your medical services."

Laughing, they headed back to the neon-lit streets of Zaun, their friendship deepened by compassion, trust, and the strange, beautiful creatures of the deep.

#Arcane #arcane fandom #arcane fluff #reader insert #jinx x platonic!reader #jayce x reader #jayce x you #jayce talis x reader #jayce x y/n #viktor x y/n #viktor x reader #jayce x reader x viktor #viktor x you #vander x reader #silco x reader #jayvik x reader

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zepskies · 14 days ago

Text

UNRAVEL ME - Part 2

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x Afro-Latina!Reader

Summary: In the wake of Vought Tower finally falling, you find yourself crossing paths with Soldier Boy. Rogue, weakened, dangerous, and hunted, he needs a place to hide. You’re not about to offer up your own home to shelter a supe wanted by Homelander and the CIA…but he’s also not going to let you refuse.

AN: Ahhh here we are at Part 2! Thank you to everyone who shared their thoughts on Part 1 and wanted to see more. I really, truly appreciate it since I'm trying some new things with this series. 🥰💗

Song Inspo: “Come Fly with Me” by Frank Sinatra

JVB Prompt for @jacklesversebingo: Accidental Old Person Acquisition

Word Count: 7.7K

Tags/Warnings: Some uncomfortable friction in this one, friends. 😬 But also more ethnic foodie adventures for Ben, some mini breakthroughs and bonding moments, angst, and more obnoxious flirting 🙄 (you know the drill). Chapter title inspired by a song in The Sound of Music: "Maria."

💜 Series Masterlist

💙 YouTube Playlist || Spotify Playlist

Part 2: A Problem Like Chiquita

“What the fuck is this?” Ben says gruffly.

He examines the food you’ve ordered from the Colombian bakery like it’s college-level calculus, holding a fat, golden, crescent-shaped pastry pocket in his hand.

“Food,” you dryly reply. “That’s an empanada. It’s hella fucking good.”

You’re eating one as well. The meat grease comes off orange on your fingers, but that’s how you know it’s well-cooked and packed with flavor.

Colored grease = seasoning.

Ben's face strains with confusion, crows feet crinkling around his eyes, his mouth pulling at a frown.

"An empa-what?"

Restraining a sigh, you try to be patient.

"Em-pa-na-da," you repeat, articulating slowly.

He still looks skeptical as he eyes the thing in his hand, even if it does smell good, like paprika and cumin and other savory spices.

“What’s it made out of?” he asks.

“Ground beef? Pastry? Happiness?” You shrug. “My people make it better. But then again, I’m a bit biased.”

The man is hesitant, but he slowly takes a bite. He chews thoughtfully. After that first big swallow, it’s good enough for him to go back in for another bite, and then finish it off with a second and third one. He reaches for another empanada in the white takeout box.

“Are they all the same?” he asks.

You watch in amused satisfaction. “No, that one’s chicken. These on the left are beef.”

He makes a what do you know? kind of face, and he digs into the rest of the pastries. You smile slightly. The man can eat, that’s for sure. Your grandma would have fun feeding him.

“Sooo, when are you planning on hitting the road?” you ask. “Since, you know, Homelander and the government are looking for you.”

You checked the news while you were holed up in your room, waiting for the delivery you ordered through Doordash. According to every local news outlet, there’s now a full-on manhunt for Soldier Boy throughout the city. You find a clip on your phone and turned it toward him on the kitchen table to prove your point.

“Soldier Boy is armed and dangerous. The ‘see something, say something’ rule applies. If you would like to report a sighting of Soldier Boy, please call 1-800—”

Ben taps the screen and presses hard until the clip pauses. You take back your phone quickly before he can break it. He keeps eating, and you raise your brows at him. Your hands sweep upward in a what the fuck gesture.

“Hello?” you prod. Is he going to answer you, or just keep stuffing his face?

“Could use a little more R&R before I head out,” he says. His expression remains stoic as he eats. You watch him incredulously, wondering when he’s going to have the balls to look up at your face. He never does.

The frustration that’s been building up inside you reaches critical mass. The dial pushes, pushes, pushes over until it cracks safety glass. You can almost hear the steam whistling in your ears, along with your drumming heartbeat.

You stand from the table, your chair scraping across the floor. You can tell the sound irritates his sharp ear as he glances up at you with a frown.

“You are a goddamn fugitive. You get that right?” you say, regarding him with an incredulous tilt of your head. “Now you’ve hooked me into this. I could get in serious shit because of you, and you don’t even seem to care! What…what kind of fucking superhero are you supposed to be?”

At the same time, you don’t know why this surprises you. Most of the supes you’ve met couldn’t care less about the average person. The entire purpose of Vought’s Legal Department springs to mind.

Still, you thought America’s first supe ever—the one who supposedly fought in WWII, pounded Nazis up the ass, and represented the ideals this country was supposed to be founded on—might actually give a shit. Yet again, it stings to be proven wrong.

Ben’s face had been verging on apathy, but now, he’s just as irritated and angry as you. He pushes back from the table and stands up to his full height. Even wearing your ex’s plain gray crew shirt and some threadbare sweatpants, the man’s frame is intimidating. He slowly steps closer until he’s looming over you.

There’s a warning gleam in his eyes as he grabs hold of your chin. His entire hand frames your jaw with iron strength, forcing a gasp out of you. You latch onto his wrist instinctively, even knowing it’s useless.

“You better watch your fucking mouth, sweetheart. Before that little attitude of yours gets you into trouble,” he says. Calm, controlled, or so he'd have you believe. The a spark underneath, an edge. A fragile fucking ego.

Your breathing shallows, but you refuse to bend. Not in your own home.

“Do it,” you snap. “Bat me around if it makes you feel like a man.”

Ben’s gaze hardens, a shade incredulous too.

“You’re a little fucking crazy, huh? Not to mention a disrespectful brat.”

“Maybe,” you say. You know you’re taking your life into your hands. Your heart thuds a staccato beat inside your chest, but you meet his gaze unflinchingly.

You’re exhausted, stressed so bad that your hands wouldn’t stop shaking this morning while you were brushing your teeth. Your mind’s been spinning fractals of “what if” scenarios, wondering when the door of your apartment is going to get blown apart, with either laser beams or bullets flying in first, no questions asked later.

You’re at your fucking limit.

And when you look at Ben, you see the second skin of arrogance pulled on like the costume he wore as Soldier Boy. The kind that probably hides what he’s really feeling underneath, not wanting to deal with the reality of whatever choices led him here.

“Doesn’t change the fact that you’re a selfish asshole. A fucking bully,” you add.

His hold tightens a fraction; his fingers press into your cheek, making you flinch and tremble inside. It doesn’t stop you from opening your mouth again. It just hardens your defiance, your glare of disgust while you’re forced to look up at his face.

“So far, I don’t see anything about you that’s worth respecting,” you say. “But I’m nobody, right? Not even a supe. Why should you fucking care what I think? Why should you care how I feel, or how easy it would be to hurt me?”

Your voice is barely more than a whisper, but the words carry the weight.

Darkened green eyes lock with yours, a silent battle of wills. You see the gears turning there, as if he’s weighing a decision in his mind.

Your cell phone rings. The sharpness, along with the insistent buzz, causes ripples through the Berlin Wall of tension. You glance over to where the phone lies on the dining table. The screen is lit up with the caller ID.

Dad calling…

You look up at Ben again. He watches you more impassively now.

You squeeze his wrist with both hands, hot tears finally welling up in your eyes. You’re not going to apologize or take back what you said, but you’re hoping there’s just one shred of humanity in him, however deep those layers go.

“Look, just...please,” you whisper. “Ben, please stop.”

The supe releases a heavy exhale through his nose.

His hand relaxes. He lets you go, like you’re not worth the effort of teaching you a lesson.

“Be careful, sweetheart. I might not let it go a second time,” he warns.

You stumble backward a couple of steps. You eye him while he walks away toward the living room. You make a cautious, sliding move to grab your phone with shaking hands.

You let out a subtle breath of relief before you answer the call, heading to your room all the while.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Oh, thank God. Gloria!” He calls to your mom in relief. “She’s okay! Christ, we saw what happened to Vought on the news. The explosion—”

“Yeah, they evacuated most of us in time,” you reassure him. Though you still hope he hasn’t seen the “hunt for Soldier Boy” yet. Nerves trill up your spine, making you toss in a joke to deflect. “I thought you didn’t like Vought News. Too biased.”

“Every channel in the world is showing that goddamn building on fire! I want you to come home. Now,” he says.

You heave a deep sigh and drop down into a seat on the edge of your bed. You touch your jaw, still feeling the phantom grip. It hadn’t been painful, exactly, but still tight enough to make you feel the asshole’s tempered strength.

“I…I can’t right now,” you reply. You mentally scramble for an explanation your dad will believe. He’s a stubborn, highly opinionated, very protective and traditional Dominican man. He’s never liked the idea of you, a young woman, being in New York by yourself, and this whole thing is exactly the kind of validation he’ll use to try and control your life…but that’s all beside the fact that you have much bigger problems right now.

“The whole Tower didn’t go down, which means my job is still here,” you say.

A heavy sigh of frustration reaches you on the line.

“Now you’re being stubborn just to be stubborn,” he says gruffly. “I’ll never understand why you had to go all the way to the most dangerous city in the country just to draw. Living in that piece of shit apartment you can barely breathe in.”

Your anger sparks. It’s a well-worn argument that you don’t feel like hashing out right now.

“Dad, I’m a graphic artist,” you remind him. “But I’m more than that now. I’m the Second Assistant Content Manager in Social Media.”

Part of you withers inside anyway.

Vince, your boss, has you on a five- to eight-year track for promotion to Senior Second Assistant Content Manager—which sounds even more pathetic in your head.

“Yeah, well, you could’ve been an ‘artist’ with no money here,” your dad insists, even as your mom reproaches him in the background.

You sigh. “Look, I’m fine. So you don’t have to worry about me, okay? I’ll check in soon.”

You hang up with him shortly after, feeling that familiar weight that tries to suffocate you after most conversations with your dad. You know he’s worried about you. That’s understandable. But why is nothing you do good enough? Why doesn’t he ever believe in you?

You toss your cell phone on the bed and rub at the ache beginning to pulse at your temples.

You don’t even know when you’ll be able to go back to work. You have a fugitive cooling off his little temper tantrum on your couch, and no idea what how you’re going to get through the next 24 hours in one piece.

You let out a long, slow breath. Okay.

When these narrow walls feel like they’re about to swallow you whole, one of your go-to cures is the record player sitting on the right-hand corner of your desk. It barely fits between your bed and the closet, but it’s the best you can make of a little home art studio.

You grab a record from your modest collection, Selena’s Dreaming of You album from 1995, and you get it going. Your favorite song is the very first one, “I Could Fall in Love.”

It's whimsical and romantic, a little bittersweet and angsty, but still beautiful, just like Selena’s voice. It washes over you as you lie in bed and stare up at the ceiling.

What the hell are you going to do? If you call the police, you’ll be dead before they even reach your door…

You could text one of your coworkers, your ex, or maybe your boss. They could get a message to Ashley Barrett, or even Homelander himself.

Though you have a sick feeling you know how that would go.

“How long have you been hiding Soldier Boy? You helped him escape, didn’t you?”

“I mean, yeah, but no! He forced me—”

Hot laser beams and blood and your body hitting the ground, with steam coming off your corpse.

“Fuuuuck,” you groan, covering your face with both hands. You take in a shuddering breath, but you can’t control the flood of tears that burn in your eyes, or the way your body shakes with quiet sobs.

You don’t realize that a broad, shadowed frame lingers behind your door. He leans his shoulder on the wall while he sips a beer.

After a beat, he shakes his head and continues on to the bathroom to take a leak.

Eventually, you have to escape your room for something to eat. You cook something simple for dinner: sautéed chicken and onions, rice, and a can of black beans. Your mom would smack your ass with a wooden spoon if she knew you ate canned beans, but sometimes you just don’t have time to prep your pressure cooker and make them from scratch.

Your “guest” eats two whole piled-on servings, as if he hadn't polished off the rest of the empanadas from this morning. You watch from your seat across from him at the dining table, bemused, resting your cheek in your hand.

Part of you feels a little flattered that he seems to like your food. Your ex-boyfriend had been a white boy too, but while he was always polite about eating whatever you cooked for him, you could tell that he hadn’t really enjoyed the “kick” of the flavors. (Even though you promised you hadn’t added any spicy peppers, apparently he considered black pepper and paprika to be “spicy.”)

“Had a feeling you could cook,” Ben says, around a half-masticated mouthful of chicken and rice.

“Mhmm,” you intone. “Again, when are you checking out of my little Airbnb?”

“I fucking told you. When I’m good and ready,” he says. He eyes you in annoyance, and even gets fed up enough to drop his fork-wielding hand to clatter against his plate. “You know what, I fucking fought for my country. I fought for this fucking dumpster fire, and what did I get for it?”

You pause, your eyes widening when you look up from your meal. You finally see that he’s not as stoic and nonchalant about being in his situation as you thought. There’s a deep well of anger there behind his eyes. Anger and frustration, maybe even confusion.

“You know what, that’s it,” he snaps. “Consider me fucking done. Retired. Everybody else did.”

He goes back to shoveling food into his mouth. You tilt your head at him with a reluctant spark of sympathy. You realize that you don’t know much about him.

You know what he’s famous for. You saw the Vought-produced documentary about his life—his humble beginnings in a rags-to-heroism story, then his apparent “death” in 1984. But that was back when Vought had the world convinced that supes were born, not made.

Oh yeah, the truth of Compound V hitting the news had shocked you last year, so much that you wondered what else Stan Edgar and the rest of the board was lying about. You started sending your applications to other companies, trying to get yourself out of the cesspool, but that’s when your boss distracted you with a promotion, a new title, more money to keep you on board.

“You’re vital to the department. You can help us remind the world what Vought really stands for: equality, diversity, the American dream, and the way our hardworking heroes protect that dream every day.”

Not that you buy into that bullshit manifesto anymore, but it was hard to walk away from a ten-thousand-dollar raise. (One that only got you out of relying on your credit cards, and not much else.)

Now you realize they were buying your silence as well as their damage control. Nothing is more influential for modern PR than social media, and if you're good at something, you think it's your fucking job.

Come to think of it, the company must be really shaken up your boss hasn't reached out to have you put anything out for damage control. From what you saw on the news, half of Vought Tower is in a shambles.

Only the first few floors are safely operable, according to the email updates you keep getting on your phone, assuring you that everything's under control. You hold in a snort. Maybe Ashley's having Vince do all the PR shit himself, keeping a tighter leash on things until you all go back in to work.

You tap a nail on the rim of your beer as you watch Ben practically inhale another slice of bread drizzled in olive oil and crushed garlic.

Considering the fact that this man is very much not dead, and he’s nowhere near as charming and chivalrous as his movies led you to believe, you also think it’s fair to assume that all the stuff you’ve ever read or watched about him is bullshit too.

Though if you’re ever going to get out of this situation, you’re going to have to at least try to understand him.

Consider me fucking retired. Everybody else did.

The words were bitter, angry, resentful…and lost? You still remember the way he looked last night on your couch, exhausted, like a weight on his broad shoulders was finally making him crack, and sink into the ground.

“Everyone thought you were dead,” you say, finally breaking the uncomfortable silence. “Forty years, I mean…what happened to you? Where were you all that time?”

Ben glances at you, but doesn’t offer a reply. Instead, he continues to brood as he eats, with dark furrowed brows shadowing his eyes, shuttering his thoughts away tightly. You have a feeling that wherever he’d been, whatever he’d been doing up until now…it wasn’t good.

For the moment, you let go of your own frustrations with a sigh.

“Look, I get that you’re in deep shit right now, but you know you can’t hide here forever,” you try to reason with him more calmly. “We’re in the middle of the city. They’re gonna find you, and then what’re they going to do to me for helping you?”

Anxiety and fear climb up in your chest again, high enough to choke you. Tears well up in your eyes, though you try to beat it all down. The last thing you want to do is let him see you break.

“Do you really not even care?” you ask.

Ben finally gives you a long look.

His gaze roams your face, and for once, you can hope that he’s considering how his actions are affecting you.

“Don’t you worry about that, sweetheart,” he says. He picks up his fork again and scoops another bite of rice and beans. “Whatever might come, it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

You bite the inside of your lip, breathing in deep to reign in your tears. Somehow, you don’t believe him.

On the fourth day, you finally concede that Ben needs more clothes. He’s already stopped wearing underwear, since he claimed the borrowed boxer briefs from your ex was cutting off the circulation to his dick.

Not wanting to hear his vulgar mouth anymore—or catch sight of him free-balling his sweatpants—you agreed to buy him a couple of things. He’s made you a list.

A fucking list.

You scoff at the brand names he got weirdly specific on. Tom Ford. Hugo Boss. The fuck? What does he think, you’ve got a side hustle selling crack? Do you have a mini money mint in your tiny closet? Have you got dollar bills growing out of your ass?

He’ll have to be content with whatever you can find in his “super soldier” sizes at Target. You even pay extra for same-day delivery.

He allows you to leave the apartment just to go downstairs to accept the delivery. The building doesn’t have an elevator, so you have to lug several Target bags back up to the third floor. You struggle getting back in, having to basically throw yourself against the shitty door to get it to budge.

You make it through the threshold, just to find Ben snooping through your stuff. Every drawer and shelf in the living room is pulled open and messily rifled through inside.

“What the hell are you doing?” you ask incredulously.

“You mean to tell me you’ve got a gallon jug of tequila behind your TV, but you don’t have one ounce of reefer?” Ben remarks.

You give him a weirded out look. First of all, no one says "reefer" anymore.

“I’m not a fucking pothead!” you actually say. You're already irritated and on edge as you set down the bags on the couch.

“Bullshit. You’re some kind of artist, aren’t you? You creative types always know how to let loose.” He attempts some flattery as he smirks over at you. “Looks like you’re not such a prude after all. Huh, Chiquita?”

You open your mouth to reply, but you notice then that he has an old picture of you and your ex-boyfriend, in a…compromising position.

Your eyes widen. “What—give me that!”

You snatch the picture out of his hand, along with the whole black velvet box of random stuff under Ben’s arm. You haven’t opened that box in a few months, but even though you’re over your ex, you’re a sentimental person at heart.

You glance down at the old-school polaroid, your cheeks warming in a blush. It was last year’s Halloween party at his apartment, and you two had gone dressed as Woody and Jessie from Toy Story. For shits and giggles, you bought a miniature version of Woody’s hat and…well, you laughed harder than him when you found out it was a perfect fit for “Little Woody.” You even got him to let you draw a face on the head of his cock. What you were too drunk to realize at the time was that you accidentally used a permanent marker.

“What’s cowboy’s name?” Ben asks. His sinful smirk makes your blush flare hotter.

“August,” you reply, stuffing the picture back in the box and shutting it tightly.

Ben chortles, his brows raising as high as his hairline. “August? Jesus Christ. I’ll bet he liked it up the ass too, didn’t he? Am I gonna find a strap-on in that little treasure trunk?”

Your glare snaps up to meet his amusement.

“All right, enough. It’s none of your goddamn business.” You gesture wildly at the Target bags on the couch. “There, I got you some clothes. See if they fit.”

You turn with the box firmly in hand, aiming to hide it better in your room. You’ve been subjected to his presence all of five minutes today, and already you need a break from him. Ben says something that makes you pause, however.

“Thanks,” he says.

It’s so unexpected that you stop, turning to look back at him over your shoulder. Your mouth parts in surprise, but he’s already focused on rifling through the bags. He examines the pack of five boxer-briefs you got him, nodding at the size and the stretchiness of the waistband.

Smiling slightly, you continue heading to your room. After choosing a better hiding place for your keepsake box (in your nightstand, under your silk bonnet), you decide you need to decompress. You settle at your desk to draw, grabbing one of your large, half-used sketchpads.

Meanwhile, Ben has helped himself to your fridge and made himself a sandwich.

He’s bored out of his fucking mind.

He’s tired of the unfunny bullshit sitcoms on TV, and watching the news just keeps making him angry, because usually it’s about him, and the lies Vought keeps spinning about him. Ben’s also tired of seeing that sniveling, blonde fucking science experiment—and his brat son—on commercials and guest spots on late night shows.

So Ben shuts off the TV and wanders into the only other room in this place. Your room. The door is cracked open, allowing him to peer in and spy on what you’re working on. You glance over at him, your gaze catching on one of the new shirts you bought him. It may not be Tom Ford, but it’s comfortable, he supposes.

“She’s hot,” he says, nodding at the Dreaming of You vinyl record album you have propped up on your desk. A young woman’s face is framed in a red, smokey border. It seems to be your reference while your pencil moves across the blank page in precise, sweeping lines. The girl on the album has delicate features, a natural pout to her lips, an olive complexion, and rich brown hair.

“Selena Quintanilla. She was beautiful,” you agree. “Her story was so tragic though.”

“What, she died?” Ben asks.

You nod in confirmation, sadly. “Shot by one of her obsessed fans. It came out that the woman embezzled like, 60 grand from Selena while being the president of her fan club. Selena was going to fire her, and the bitch just couldn’t handle it.”

Ben hums in acknowledgement. She must not have been a supe.

“I guess you never had that kind of problem,” you say.

“A crazy fucking fan? No,” he scoffed. Vindictive ex-girlfriend and a bunch of cocksucking, yellow-bellied shit stains for “teammates,” maybe. He shakes his head and watches your deft hand draw the delicate lines of the girl’s mouth. It reminds him of your pretty lips. Right now, you have the lower one pulled between your teeth in concentration. A strand of hair falls into your line of vision, brushing the page. His hand itches to tug it back behind your ear.

“You’re, uh…you’re not bad though,” Ben says, nodding at the sketch.

You give him a brief smile. It’s the first time he’s seen a glimpse of it.

“Thanks,” you say.

Ben takes a seat on the edge of your bed, not even noticing that he’s getting sandwich crumbs on the royal blue duvet.

“That's not what you do for Vought, is it?” he asks.

You snort. “Sort of. I used to be just a graphic designer for Social Media. I started dabbling in content, giving them ideas for what to write to go with it. But after the whole Stormfront fiasco, I got a promotion."

You shake your head. "Now I wonder if the only reason they gave it to me was because I looked the part for their DEI phase. AKA: Homelander fucking a literal Nazi. Oh, yeah. He had to do a whole apology tour of damage control press for a whole damn year."

Ben frowns at that. Nazis? Fucking Nazis are back? Who the fuck is Stormfront?

"I help maintain the social media accounts of every member of the Seven," you explain. "I create the graphics, edit images, write bullshit captions like ‘That’s lit,’ when Starlight punches out the bank robber they literally placed in front of her face. I spin their messes and moderate whatever fuckery they might spew out while they're drunk, or high, or just plain fucking stupid, so they don't fucking cancel themselves..."

You sigh. "Basically, I help cultivate the messaging that Vought uses to convince the public that you guys actually care about them.”

You look up and meet Ben’s gaze. He could get annoyed with your accusation, but he can’t even muster up the energy to give a shit. Even if it proves you right.

“Marketing sells,” you say ruefully. “Reality doesn’t.”

You gesture at the small door next to your bed. “I’ve got a closet full of paintings that never sold on Etsy. I also have fifty grand in student loans from NYU, and a damn-near useless double major in Art and Communications. That’s right, fucking useless. Because all I’ve learned to do with my ‘art’ is sell people bullshit… So maybe my dad is fucking right.”

Ben remembers that conversation you had with your dad; he’d been pretending to watch TV, but his sharp ear caught every word. He heard an all-too familiar message.

A fucking disappointment.

“Daddy issues, huh?” Ben says. He feigns nonchalance while swallowing down the rest of his sandwich. “Why am I not fucking surprised?”

You shoot him an annoyed look, especially when you catch him brushing crumbs off his chest.

“Hey, would you stop eating on my bed?!”

For once, Ben actually gets you talking. You’re not so tense anymore, relaxing when he gives you your space in the room.

An hour later, and he still hasn’t left your bed for any good reason. Your weird, one-sided heart-to-heart drawing session has turned into showing him your modest vinyl collection. He gets you to put on some Frank Sinatra while he pulls out the last two beers from your fridge.

“I have to go back to work soon, you know that, right?” you say. “I just got an email this morning. Apparently Homelander himself has requested all employees return to work tomorrow.”

You cover your face with both hands and heave a sigh. “Honestly, I’ve been trying to quit for months, but this is the best money I’ve been able to make since I got out of college.”

“Yeah, well, fuck ‘em,” Ben says. “Bunch of corporate fucking idiots.”

You glance up at him with a surprised blink, but his gaze moves beyond you.

“You didn’t like working for Vought?” you ask.

“They’re the fucking reason I got shipped to the Russians in the first place,” he says. His expression holds a darker edge.

Your eyes widen. “The Russians? Wait, what?”

Ben hesitates. He realizes that you might work at Vought, but there’s a lot you don’t know. It just reminds him of everything that company’s done to bury him, like he’s become their dirty little secret.

So he tells you. The real fucking story. The full story.

Well…all right, maybe not the full story. His instinct is to emphasize how Crimson Countess, Black Noir, and the rest of his team betrayed him, just to get him out of their lives. (Maybe he glosses over the reasons why.)

He explains how Stan Edgar conspired with them to replace him with Homelander, a shiny new toy that they could control, literally from conception.

“You seriously didn’t ask them what they were collecting your sperm for?” you ask incredulously.

“Hey, it was the ‘80s,” Ben says, crossing his arms in defense. “It was a different time. Back then, there was always weird shit going on.”

And maybe you were too high to care, let alone pay all that much attention. The thought coils through his mind. He stamps it down with a shake of his head.

“Whatever. It fucking happened,” he says with a growl. The longer he allows himself to think about it, the more the words spill out of him, even if his instinct is to shove it all back down. It’s a bit easier with you somehow, a normal nobody girl, who can’t really use this against him. All it might do is change the way you look at him. Maybe as less of a monster.

“So far, I don’t see anything about you that’s worth respecting,” you said. “But I’m nobody, right? Not even a supe. Why should you fucking care what I think? Why should you care how I feel, or how easy it would be to hurt me?”

What you said to him a few days ago—those words might’ve sunk into him deeper than he’d like to admit.

“Those fucking Commies had me down there so long, I forgot what a normal day felt like,” he says. “I lost track of hours, minutes, days…and in all that time, no one ever fucking even looked for me.”

It feels like a confession, the first real thing he’s told you.

And it works.

You finally begin to look at him with some sympathy. Seeing it in your eyes hits him with some satisfaction. Maybe if he keeps softening you up, you’ll treat him with that pretty mouth of yours.

“Wow, I’m…I’m sorry,” you say at last.

He pauses. You seem genuine. Even though it’s what he wanted, your pity still grates on his pride.

“What about your family?” you ask. “Do you have anyone you want to call? Anyone you—”

“No,” he says, glancing away. He rolls his shoulders, as if shrugging off your words. “I’ve been around a while, sweetheart. Anyone worth knowing is long dead.”

“Well…shit,” you say. He can tell you don’t want to say sorry again, but it’s bubbling up in your eyes. For all that fire you’ve got inside you, you’re soft too. Fragile.

What the fuck am I doing here?

Sinatra croons his final note, but the record keeps spinning until you get up to turn it off. A strange kind of silence reigns. He can still hear the rumble of your water heater, an argument downstairs between an old man and the young couple whose bedroom door faces his front door, distant traffic, and police sirens blocks away. If he allows himself to, he can hear it all. It’s too fucking much sometimes.

“All right,” he says after a while, sick of it all. “I’ve got an idea.”

He leaves your room, and you’re curious enough to follow him out. He opens one of your top cabinets in the kitchen and grabs the gallon of tequila he found this morning while you were sleeping. He rests it on the kitchen counter, shooting you a wink and a smile.

“Oh, no. Keep out of my booze,” you warn him.

“Look, we both need to relax,” he argues. Already he’s grabbing a couple of glasses from the cabinet and giving each a generous pour of lukewarm Patrón.

You grimace. You give him a narrowed, annoyed look. It reminds him that he’s the one who keeps setting you on edge.

Still, you sigh. “Wait. I’ve got limes in the fridge.”

A few hours later, you’re getting drunk with this man and eating Chinese food on your couch. You dig out a collection of DVDs from the coffee table functioning as the TV stand, and you pick out at least twenty movies you claim he needs to catch up on—like The Matrix and Gladiator, Iron Man, and The Princess Bride.

That last one takes a fair bit of your doe-eyed pouting and pleading for him to agree to. Surprisingly, he’s starting to soften up to you the “nicer” you are to him. It did help that you lowered the neckline of your pajama top a little, using a bit of cleavage to close the deal.

By the time the credits roll on The Princess Bride, you’re sighing and happy at the most romantic ending to ever be put on screen. Ben is leaned back deep in the couch with his arms crossed, looking all grumbly and taciturn, like you forced him to put on a dress or something.

“Oh, come on. You liked it,” you tease, bumping his arm. Ben eyes you in begrudging amusement.

“At least he’s a fucking man.” He gestures Westley, the farm boy turned pirate. “Though he did take that bitch back, even after she was gonna marry Humpertwat.”

You can’t help but snort loudly at his embellishment. It’s probably all the tequila that makes you laugh instead of wanting to smack him, but the more you replay it in your mind, the better it is to you. You end up folding over with a wheeze, tears of laughter forming in your eyes. You wipe them away, one after the other.

Ben stares at you in bewilderment. But after a while, his lips twitch upward. Your laugh is infectious. It’s also the first time he’s gotten to hear it.

“Aw, don’t rag on my girl Buttercup,” you say, still giggling as you prop yourself upright on the back of the couch. “God, I don’t think I’ve seen this movie since August…”

You cut yourself off, your mirth fading a bit. This used to be one of your favorite movies to watch together with your ex-boyfriend. He knew all the words too, so it would usually end up being a commentary of quoting every single line rather than actually watching the movie.

“What, the pussy liked this movie too?” Ben snorts. “Not surprising.”

“Hey, stop it. He wasn’t a pussy!” you argue, crossing your arms.

“Then why’d you break up with him?” Ben asks, with an irritating smile.

Your brows furrow. “Why do you think I broke up with him?”

He’s assumed right, but you still want to know why.

“Because unless he’s fucking touched in the head, he’s not letting go of a hot tamale like you,” he replies. His smirk evens out into something more suave. Or at least, he attempts it.

Again, you inwardly twitch in annoyance at hot tamale, but you won’t admit that his ridiculous version of flirting is kind of starting to work on you. His green eyes roaming your face and cleavage leaves little of his thoughts to the imagination. You clear your throat, fighting a blush.

“Look, August is…a nice guy. A decent guy. We’re still friends,” you say. He works at Vought too, in the Social Media department. He even texted you to make sure you were okay after Vought almost crumbled.

Though if he really cared, he would’ve fucking called. Or came to see me, you think wryly. It’s better that he hadn’t shown up to your place though. It would’ve been impossible to hide Ben, and you don’t want to know what the supe would’ve done to him to keep him quiet.

“But?” Ben says knowingly.

You sigh, tossing your hands up before you turn toward him on the couch. Your knees are bent underneath you. You’re a little too drunk to realize your knee is touching his thigh. You only somewhat notice that he shifts toward you too, with his arm draped across the back of the couch. His hand is close enough to touch your shoulder if he wanted to.

“It was always…nice,” you admit, gesturing vaguely with your hands. You tend to do that a lot. It’s one of the few Latina stereotypes you know you fit under. “But there’s was no real spark, no…”

Ben leans in, a suggestive smirk playing on his lips.

“Passion?” he supplies. He raises his brows as eyes capture yours. “I get the feeling he didn’t do jack shit for you, Chiquita.”

And just like that, any kind of blushing arousal dies—swiftly falling into annoyance. You don’t like nicknames that remind you of bananas, melons, or any other tropical fruit.

There were kids in middle school who used to tease you, asking you if your parents worked in a mango factory. (Ignoring the obvious that you don't get mangos from factories. Dumb fucks.)

Your parents were just wealthy enough to put you in private school with a bunch of trust fund babies, and maybe a handful of foreign exchange students. Even though there were at least four other Latinos in the class, you were the only one with darker skin. You were the only one who had to take an aptitude test to get into the school—the only one who was there on a scholarship, not your parents’ connections and yearly donations to the school.

Being black and brown might be cool in social media nowadays, but not so much back when you were in school, where diversity was just an administrative quota to be filled. Not so much where you lived, where the rich snowbirds went on vacation, and looked at people like you like exotic fruit.

Ben senses your shift. His smile loses its flirtatious edge as it fades.

“Look,” you say sharply. “You think you’re being charming with that Chiquita thing or whatever, but I don’t appreciate—”

“Maria Felix,” he cuts in.

“What?”

Ben cards a hand through his hair, sweeping it back. You’ve noticed the way it gets in his eyes sometimes, falling across his brow.

“Maria Felix. She was an actress in the ‘40s,” he says, his eyes turning slightly wistful at the memory. He even chuckles. “One of the hottest Latin women I ever met, with more ass than the Chiquita banana lady. That was my little nickname for her.”

Your annoyance melts into a blinking deadpan. This man did not just—

“And Christ, she had a voice on her. Like butter and molasses.” He adopts an even more nostalgic smile, “Matter of fact, what she could do with that mouth. Could suck the nails right out of a board, if you know what I mean. A real fucking talent.”

“All right, all right! Enough,” you hold up a hand with a grimace…and yet, you’re curious.

You grab your phone from the coffee table to look her up, and sure enough, María Félix actually was a Mexican starlet. In fact, she was one of the most successful actresses in Latin American movies in the 1940s and ‘50s. You realize then that this man truly is a walking time capsule.

“What was she like?” you ask curiously. But again, you raise a hand. “Without the Pornhub sweaty bits.”

Ben rolls his eyes, but he does tell you how he met María at an awards show in 1947.

“She was beautiful, elegant, with those soulful brown eyes,” he reminisces. His lips slip into a smile. “Until she got a couple of tequilas in her. Then she had a way with her hands that wasn’t so fucking ladylike—”

“All right. Pause,” you say, holding up a finger. A blush warms your cheeks. “Again, I don’t need the gushy details.”

He just smirks. “All right, fine. So what is it you do want to know?”

You sigh, but your curiosity does get the better of you. You want to know more about the people’s he’s met, the places he’s been, and you can’t help the way he’s hooked you, giving you a window into who he is. You know it can’t be everything though. He’s giving you the sepia tones, the highlights of his glory days.

You know there has to be a reason his whole team turned on him, and why every single member of Payback has been pronounced dead in the news over the past week. You know that this man is possibly the most dangerous supe in the world…

Well, second-most dangerous.

He’s threatened you, forced his way into your life, been the most obnoxious flirt imaginable, and has serious boundary issues…but he hasn’t hurt you. He’s never forced himself on you either, despite having the strength and every opportunity to do it.

So you listen.

He tells you about being friends with Frank Sinatra and partying with the rest of the Brat Pack. He makes you laugh with his stories about getting fucked up during the Woodstock years, his first experience with psychedelics at a Beatles concert, and how he used to have a guitar signed by John Lennon, even though he never learned to play it.

“Crimson Countess used to complain about all the fucking ‘clutter’ in my apartment,” Ben huffs. “Look, if you can’t appreciate a bona fide John Hancock from a Beatle, there’s something fucking wrong with you.”

You actually agree. You know it’s the sentimental artist in you, but collecting things that mean something to you is awesome. You’d just about die if you even got to touch a guitar that John Lennon had played, let alone signed.

“How long were you with Crimson Countess?” you ask.

Ben’s mood begins to sour at the question. He takes another heavy swig from the whiskey he found in your kitchen. “Too fucking long.”

You watch him in curiosity, waiting to see if he’ll keep talking. After a while, he does.

“She fucking betrayed me,” he says.

You’d more than learned that earlier, back when he told you his team had sold him out to the Russians. Just like it isn't a stretch to think he killed her, along with the rest of his team. Despite how uneasy the thought makes you, even churning your stomach, you could understand why he did it. Forty fucking years...

Still, you’re a bit confused.

“Why though? All the movies you guys did together, all the interviews, and everything I ever read about you two, you seemed to be ride or die for each other,” you say.

Ben gives you a wry look. “Don’t believe everything you fucking see on TV.”

Your lips twitch humorlessly. You wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t seem to want to dig deeper into that one. You can’t really blame him.

“Well, um…as lame as it sounds, I’m sorry,” you offer.

“Like I said, you don’t have to feel fucking sorry for me,” he says. His voice is sharper, deeper. He begins to turn away from you, getting up from the couch. You surprise yourself by following his lead, reaching out to gently grasp his arm.

“Come on. Don’t take it that way—”

You get up too fast in your tequila-ridden state, making your brain feel like slush moving from one side of your head to the other. “Whoa, shit…”

With a grunt, Ben grabs you steady by your waist. He pulls you into him so you won’t fall sideways onto the empty glasses on the floor. You gasp and latch onto his arms on instinct. There you feel every firm ridge of flexing muscle under your palms and fingers. You feel the strength of his hands molding to the curve of your waist, the heat of his skin.

You tip your face up slowly, and your heavy breaths mingle with his as he looks down at you. A second more, and you think he might start bowing his head to meet you.

But just because you have sympathy for him, doesn’t mean you’ve forgotten why he’s here. You haven’t forgotten that he’s using you.

You clear your throat and drop your hands, stepping away from him. You’re a little surprised that he actually lets you put some space between you.

You take it for the opportunity it is.

“Uh, goodnight,” you offer.

He stops you from leaving for a moment, closing his hand over yours. He smirks down at you and presses a kiss to the back of your hand, no doubt listening in while your heart taps syncopated beats.

“G’night, Chiquita.”

AN: Whew! 😮‍💨 Okay, a lot of back and forth in this chapter. A lot of Ben being a dick, of course, but how'd you like their little bonding sessions? In the next chapter, Homelander finally shows his assface...

Next Time:

“Since the incident at the Tower a few days ago, have you caught any sight of Soldier Boy? Have you heard anything about his whereabouts? Anything at all?” he asks. His blue eyes bore into yours with an intensity that makes your throat close up.

Sweat has already started to trickle down the small of your back and on your clammy palms, which lay flat at your sides.

“No,” you reply, in a miraculously steady voice.

He raises a blonde, solitary brow. His lips twitch. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you nod. Your instinct is to keep your answers simple, uncomplicated.

“Then why is your heartbeat picking up faster?” he taunts, with a calculated wave of his gloved finger. “Just…ticking away, like a little drum.”

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minminyoonjii · 1 year ago

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Hello :) my birthday is on Friday and I had been looking for Ot8 x Reader birthday fics but people just don't write em and it's so upsetting 😭😭😭

I was wondering if you could do a story where the boys throw the reader a big birthday party but by the end of it, the party is long forgotten and it just turns into one big horny mess- also I wanna say I really like your work and I've sent in a few requests, I wanted to know if I could be 🦝anon if it's not already taken

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🕯Summary: Birthdays are always a special day. Some celebrate with a wholesome heart, they celebrate with their wholesome head. Not the brain kind.

💛AN

Sorry for the belated birthday gift 🦝anon. I finished your request before the series and I thought a good ending piece. I hope you love it💛💛

🌹CW

💌 This is a work of fiction, I by all means don't force ship anyone. They have the right to love whomever they want.

🍄Wordcount: 4.9K

"You look stunning in that, darling," Jisung whistled, eyeing you up and down. You gulped, averting eye contact, "I don't know, it's a bit too short isn't it?" You mumbled, tugging down the hem of your skirt. Jisung smiled, "Isn't that the point, baby? You wore this for a reason didn't you?" he said, gesturing you over. You sulked, "I just wanted to look cute," you said, wrapping your arms around your waist. Jisung chuckled, "And you are. Come here," he said, pulling you onto his lap. "Such an adorable little girl. Think you're all grown up, huh?" Jisung whispered, patting your hair.

You frowned, "Shut up," you grumbled, hiding your face in your hands. Jisung chuckled, "Aww, why should I hm? Pretty little birthday girl like you should get pampered and worshipped, hm?" he said, kissing the back of your neck. You rolled your eyes, "Oh and how are you going to do that?" you asked, hiding your smile. "With a bit of help of course," Jisung said, nosing below your jaw. A shiver ran down your spine, "Ji," you sighed, pressing your thighs together.

He laughed, kissing your cheek, "Don't get too excited, baby. We still need to attend your birthday party," Jisung said, lifting you off his lap. You jutted your bottom lip, "This is cruel," you grumbled, readjusting your clothes. Jisung smirked, "If you think this is cruel. Just imagine what the boys would do seeing you in that," he said, gesturing to your fit. You bit back a smile, "I don't know what you mean," you said, walking ahead of Jisung. He laughed, "Says the princess who was afraid that it was too short," Jisung teased, wrapping and holding your waist.

You smirked, kissing his cheek, "Guess all I needed was a little reassurance," you said, ruffling his hair. "Anything for the birthday girl," he whispered, licking your ear lobe. You pushed open the door to the living room, panic running through your veins the moment you stepped through it. Some had blank stares, some had their jaws dropped, and some were happy to celebrate. Felix ran up to you, "Sunbeam, you look stunning," he said, kissing your nose.

You giggled, feeling the tension break, "Thanks, Lix," you whispered, squishing his face. He chuckled, "Come on, let Jinnie take your birthday shots," Felix said, dragging you along. You sat on the spinning stool, "Hyune," you said, pulling Hyunjin in for a hug. "Princess," he chuckled, tightening the hug. You pulled back, "Direct me however you want," you said, not knowing where to put your hands. Hyunjin smiled, "Of course, put your elbows on the table and rest your head on your hands," he instructed, positioning the camera.

You nodded, following each command. Hyunjin smirked, "That's it. You're doing so well," he praised, taking a few more shots. Some with you standing and some with you carefully holding the cake. "Bunny, be careful not to drop it!" Changbin warned, worried about how you tilted it for the shot. You nodded, instantly setting the cake down after Hyunjin said you could. Jeongin rearranged the cake back to its spot, "Hyung, it's cake-cutting time," he said, calling all the members to the table as he stood behind you.

"Here," Felix said, handing you a lighter. That's when you realised there weren't any candles. "What?" you whispered, confused for a second before your eyes lit up. "You didn't," you gasped, looking up at the fond looks looking back at you. "Go ahead," Felix said, gesturing to you to burn the 'Happy Birthday' wafer paper. You felt your cheeks ache from how hard you were smiling, "Wah," you said, watching the paper burn for a single pet name to be written underneath.

"Really?" you asked, shaking your head at the cheesiness. Bright and bold it wrote 'Little one' in black icing. You looked up at Chan and he only raised his hands in surrender. You giggled at the gesture, "You guys are ridiculous," you said, trying to hide your flustered cheeks. "Ridiculously in love with you," Changbin said, blowing you a kiss. You waved him off, only to be met with loud whines, "Say it back, bunny," he sulked. "I love you too," you mumbled, seeing Jeongin place an actual candle on the cake.

Changbin laughed, "See she loves me," he boasted, crossing his arms to flex his biceps. Jeongin cringed, lighting the candle, "Hyunjinnie hyung, don't forget the video," he said. Hyunjin gave him a thumbs up, "On it," he said, clicking the record. Soon the room was filled with random harmonies as they sang Happy Birthday, with random high notes and runs making you giggle. "Make a wish, kitten," Minho said, rubbing your back. You tilt your head up, surprised that he got behind you, "Okay," you whispered, making your wish.

You blew the candle, and the boys cheered, "Baksu!" Changbin exclaimed, clapping his hands. Seungmin whined, "We're going to get a noise complaint, hyung," he teased, covering his ears. You laughed, shakily holding the knife in your hand. Minho swiftly took it from you, "Let's not make this birthday party a trip to the ER, hm?" he said, cutting the cake. Your jaw dropped, wanting to retort but you knew it was best. Chan chuckled, hugging you from behind, "Happy birthday, baby girl," he whispered, kissing the top of your head.

"Thank you, Channie," you whispered, leaning back into his hold. Chan cooed, having a good look at your outfit from this angle, "Don't you look absolutely delicious, little one?" he asked, seeing your thighs plush out against the stool. You gulped, straightening your posture, "Is it too much?" you mumbled, tilting your neck back to look up at him. Chan shook his head, staring at your bare neck, "No no, it looks perfect for us to play with," he chuckled, stroking your cheek.

A whine escaped your lips, head clouding from his voice. Chan smirked, easily lifting you off the stool, "Spin the wheel, baby girl. You know what to do," he said, handing you the board. Your names were written on it, this decides the order during birthday parties. You took a deep breath and spun the wheel. The boys eyed the spinning names, wondering who it would land on. Chan chuckled, "Lucky me," he said, seeing his name being picked. You gulped, seeing the pure lust pooling in his eyes.

Chan laid you on the couch, "Let's keep the skirt on but the fishnets have to go," he said, ripping the fabric off your legs. You shivered at the sound, breath picking up from the building arousal. He cooed, stroking your bare thighs, "Pretty little girl," he gruffed, digging his finger into your flesh. You whined, arching your back at the sting, "Chan," you pouted, staring at him between your legs. Chan smirked, pressing his tongue against his bottom lip, "What's wrong? Use your words," he teased, tilting his head back.

You bit back a smile, "Want to be filled, please Daddy," you teased back, knowing very well they would give you anything you wanted for your birthday. Chan's eyes widened for a second before he wrapped his hand around your throat, "Oh yeah? The birthday girl wants her cunt to be fucked loose with cum, huh?" he growled, adding pressure to the sides of your neck. You nodded, legs trembling from the pooling desire, "Please," you pleaded, racking your nails over his hand to show your desperation.

Chan clenched his jaw, unbuckling his belt with his free hand, "Don't whine tomorrow, remember that you begged for this, little one," he groaned, tugging down his pants. A mewl slipped past your mouth, you shifted Chan's thumb towards your lips and he instantly knew what you wanted. Chan panted, cock swelling beneath his boxers, "Fuck, you looked so good when you walked in earlier. Had to hold myself back from stripping you down myself, baby girl," he chuckled, lifting your legs on his hips.

You moaned, clenching around your drenched panties when an audible squelch could be heard. The room went silent, "Fuck," Jisung whined in disbelief. Chan felt his brain short circuit, "Clench again," he commanded, needing to hear that again. Your lips wobbled in embarrassment but you obeyed nevertheless. You whimpered, clenching your sloppy cunt and there it was again. A. Filthy. Squelch.

"Chris if you don't hurry up. I swear on my name, I'm going to lose it," Felix growled, palming his clothed bulge. "Not on my watch," Chan grunted, wincing when his throbbing cock slapped against his abdomen. You whined at the sight of his precum-dripping cock, "Need you so fucking bad," you sobbed, sexually frustrated with the teasing. Chan slapped your drenched cunt, instantly sending shocks of pleasure up your body, "Lift your hips," he instructed, tugging your panties off and tossing them to Hyunjin.

"Just what I needed," Hyunjin slurred, wrapping your panties around his pulsing cock. The warmth of your slick against his aching cock sent his mind hazy. Chan easily slipped two fingers in your needy hole, "So ready and wet for us," he said, adding another finger to his thrusts. You babbled, pleasure coating your body in a familiar comfort. Chan slicked his cock with your arousal and slapped your pretty little hooded clit with his dripping cockhead.

You hiccuped whenever the slit of his cockhead would envelop your clit. Chan leaned down, lining his cock with your fluttering cunt, "Happy fucking birthday, baby girl," he growled, pushing in one quick thrust. You whimpered from the stretch, gripping hard around his cock. Chan's knees buckled, groaning against your ear, "Fuck, fuck!" he gruffed, thrusting his hips as he worked your hole open. You ran your hands up your top, cupping your sensitive chest while Chan pumped his cock in and out of your hole.

"Dirty girl," he purred, picking up his pace to fuck your cunt out relentlessly. Whines echoed within the room, spurring the boys on. You looked up at Chan with half-lidded eyes, drool dripping down the sides of your lips as your tears welled up. "Take my cock, baby girl," he groaned, massaging your inner walls. Your body writhed, orgasm teetering on the edge, "Shi-shit, I'm cum-cumming," you stuttered, arching your back. Chan quickened his thrusts, hitting that sensitive bundle of nerves, "Look at me as you cum, little one," he instructed, gripping your jaw.

You sobbed, staring directly into Chan's firm gaze when the coil in your abdomen snapped, "Hah, ah, fuck!" you gasped, biting down your bottom lip. Chan jerked his hips with a few more thrusts, "Take it, fuck," he sighed, pumping your cunt with his orgasm. You shuddered at the warmth, a dopey smile etched on your lips. Chan eased his cock out of your hole, "Good girl," he chuckled, stroking your messy cheek. You shuffled yourself up and spun the wheel again.

"Seungmin," you panted, catching your breath. He chuckled, cupping your cheek to give you a deep kiss. "Mmhm," you moaned, licking Seungmin's bottom lip. He smirked and nipped your tongue, "Naughty girl," he whispered, pulling away. "Yours," you said, raising your arms for him to slip off your top. Seungmin sighed, eyeing your body, the light sheen of sweat made his mind spin, "On your knees," he instructed, tugging down his boxers.

Drool pooled your mouth at the sight, Seungmin's slender and pretty cock curved against his happy trail made your cunt clench. "Use your hands, pretty," he said, patting your head. You wrapped your hands around his cock, stroking it languidly. He brushed your hair back, "Such a pretty birthday girl," he hummed, rubbing your cheek with his thumb. You kissed the tip of his cock, smearing precum all over your lips. Seungmin groaned, "Lick my cock, pretty. Get it drippy," he said, holding your hair in a makeshift ponytail.

You mewled, "Mhmm," you hummed, licking up from the base. "That's it," Seungmin panted, keeping his eyes on you. Drool dripped down your chin as you flicked your tongue against his frenulum. Precum oozed past his slit, "Fuck, pretty," he grunted, tugging your hair. You moaned, swirling your tongue around his cockhead. A sudden slap to the cheek drew a loud whimper from you. "Impatient are we?" he asked, smirking when his plans worked.

"Huh?" you questioned, looking up with a confused gaze. Seungmin cooed, "Did I say you can suck on my cockhead like that?" he asked, loving the way your eyes widened in realisation. Your lips settled in a pout, stirring Seungmin's internal sadism. "Open wide, pup," he instructed, tapping his cock on your lips. You parted them, huffing warm air onto his cockhead. Seungmin smirked, "Don't forget to breathe," he said, sliding his cock down your throat in a single thrust.

You gagged around his cock, tears dripping down your eyes. Seungmin growled, using your hair as leverage to buck his hips. Your whines grow muffled around his cock. The weight of his shaft made your head spin. "Always love how fucking warm your mouth is, puppy," Seungmin gruffed, eyeing the bulge in your throat made by his girth. You moaned, hollowing your cheeks as much as you could. "Yes, yes, fucking hell," he grunted, fucking your tight mouth.

"Mmh," you keened, swallowing around Seungmin's cockhead. You shuddered, staring up at him with the need to milk every last drop of his orgasm. Seungmin felt his knees waver, shocks enveloping his body, "Fuck, fuck, hah!" he growled, holding your face to the base of his cock as he came. You swallowed as much as you could, thrashing slightly when you couldn't breathe. Seungmin noticed and pulled his hips back, easing his cock out of your mouth.

You huffed out a puff of warm air, cum coating your tongue and lips. Seungmin chuckled, leaning down to kiss your forehead, "You did so good for me, puppy," he hummed, handing you the wheel to spin again. You gulped, leaning your head against Seungmin's thigh as you watched your breath. You weakly spun the wheel again, "Innie-ah, it's your turn," Seungmin said, reaching for a bottle of water for you to drink.

Jeongin stroked your hair, "Just lie down, angel," he said, helping you lay back. You pouted, "Innie, kiss," you rasped, making grabby hands towards him. He chuckled, placing a peck on your lips, "Precious," he whispered, pinching your cheek. You whined, glaring through your droopy eyes. Jeongin easily lined up his cock with your cunt, "Are you ready, angel?" he asked, teasing your gaping hole. You nodded, hooking your legs over Jeongin's shoulder, "Please, Jeongin," you pleaded.

"As you wish," he said, sinking his cock to the hilt. You arched your back as the air got knocked out of you. Jeongin gripped the back of your thighs and began thrusting at a frantic pace. You cried at the get-go, ears ringing from the shocks buzzing under your skin. Jeongin didn't hold back, fucking Chan's cum back into your cunt. Babbles spilt past your lips, mind barely comprehending anything else except Jeongin's cock hitting all the right places.

Changbin groaned, just as surprised about Jeongin's desperate bucks, "Holy shit," he whispered, pressing his thumb between Felix's slit. Felix hissed, "Fuck, they look hot," he grunted, clenching his jaw. Jeongin growled, using his hand to press the subtle bulge under your skin. Your eyes rolled back at the pressure, and a silent scream slacked your jaw. "Fuck you're clenching so fucking tight, angel," he grunted, pounding your sensitive hole.

You cried out, feeling your orgasm snap without a warning. Jeongin whimpered, buckling against your raised legs as his orgasm broke, "Ah, hah, ah," he gasped, kissing down your ankles to distract himself from the orgasmic clench. You lay there panting, eyes barely focusing on anything. Jeongin mewled, easing his cock from your cunt, "I think she killed my cock," he whined, getting his baring. The boys laughed at his declaration.

Seungmin held the wheel in front of you, "Go ahead and spin it, pretty," he said, feeding you a bite of cake. You licked your lips and spun the wheel. "Jinnie hyung," he read, looking at Hyunjin. "Let's take a quick break," Hyunjin said, wiping down your body. Seungmin nodded, feeding you a few snacks. You wiggled, pleased by the pampering. Chan wiped your matted hair, "Having fun, little one?" he asked, booping your nose. You nodded, "Yeah," you whispered, scrunching your nose.

He chuckled, "Good," he said, kissing your forehead. Hyunjin rubbed your thighs, "All good for more?" he asked, trailing his hand down to your tummy. You nodded, spreading your legs apart. Hyunjin cooed, making himself comfortable between your thighs, "How could they neglect this pretty little clit?" he pouted, blowing softly against it. Your body twitched, heat building under your skin. Hyunjin smirked, darting his tongue to taste. He moaned, latching his plump lips around your pulsing clit.

You bucked your hips, overwhelmed by the sheer eye contact Hyunjin gave, "Hyune," you whined. Hyunjin chuckled, pulling off your clit to lick your urethra. "Fuck!" you cursed, arching your back off the couch. Hyunjin smirked, flicking his tongue against the sensitive hole. You bit your bottom lip, trying to hold back the familiar pressure Hyunjin was trying to trigger. "Don't be afraid, love," he purred, pressing his face against your quivering cunt.

You whimpered, gripping Hyunjin's hair as you pissed, "Sorry, sorry, sorry," you sniffled, trembling. Hyunjin pulled away the moment he noticed you let go. He groaned, shivering when your warm piss landed on his crotch, "Fuck, love. You're perfect," he purred, palming his drenched boxers. You sniffled, cheeks burning in embarrassment. Hyunjin chuckled, letting his cock slap against your throbbing clit, "Messy little girl. Even on your birthday you're making a mess," he degraded, licking his lips.

"Meanie," you mumbled as your lips wobbled. He cooed, pumping his cock with his wrist, "Only to you, lovely," he growled, cumming onto your skirt. You glared at him, crossing your arms. Hyunjin found you adorable, "Aww, my sweet little love is all sulky," he said, pampering your face with kisses. You couldn't help but giggle at the kisses, "Stop," you whined, squirming. He laughed, "Aww but my little girl is mad at me," Hyunjin said, pampering more kisses.

You melted under the kisses, "Hyune," you sighed, nosing his cheek. He cooed, "Sweet little girl," he chuckled, kissing your forehead. Seungmin brushed your hair back, "Ready for another?" he asked, holding up the wheel. Chan clicked his tongue, "Before that, take a sip, little one," he said, tilting the bottle against your lips. You gulped down, not realising how parched you were. Seungmin chuckled, "Just four more, pretty," he said, seeing you spin the wheel.

"Minho hyung," Seungmin called out, looking over his shoulder. Felix groaned, hair matted against his forehead, "I don't know how long more I can edge myself," he grunted, gripping his thighs. Jisung smirked, "Should we suck off Channie hyung while we wait?" he prompted, grinning at the idea. Felix chuckled, taking Changbin's hand too, "Anything that can keep me from cumming," he said, ready to cause some mischief.

Chan's eyes widened when they pushed him back down on the couch, "Okay, okay. You hyenas'. Get on your knees," he chuckled, tugging down his boxers. Felix took the lead, licking a stripe up Chan's flaccid cock. Changbin positioned himself beneath, wrapping his lips around Chan's balls, sucking them into his mouth. "Good such boys," Chan rasped, used to being the group's soother. Jisung got on the couch, sinking his head to place kitten licks between Chan's slit.

You eyed the three of them, arousal spurring again from the sight. Minho chuckled, "Don't they look pretty, kitten," he asked, holding special something in his hand. You nodded, "Very," you said, turning your focus back to him. "Close your eyes, 'cause I got myself a little gift just for you," he purred, stroking your cheek. You did as told, heart pounding in your ears from the anticipation. Minho clenched his jaw, wearing the mask, "Open," he instructed, wrapping his hand around your throat.

"Holy shit," you gasped, eyes widening. Minho smirked, "Do I look spooky, kitty?" he cooed, grabbing your waist. You whimpered in response, head spinning just from the sight of the Ghostface mask adorning Minho's body. He tilted his head, "All you need to do, is scream for me," he said, flipping you on your stomach. You yelped, hands instantly clawing the fabric beneath. Minho chuckled, stripping off his belt to tie your wrists together, "You can say your safeword anytime, kitten," he whispered, patting your head.

You nodded, raising your hips just how he liked it. Minho hummed, hands groping and squeezing your plush ass, "Fucking mine to ruin," he grunted, pumping his cock with his wrist. You gulped, hearing a loud squelch coming from Minho's leaking cockhead. He huffed beneath the mask, riling himself up just to trigger his desperation. Minho clenched his jaw, "Breathe," he warned, sinking his cock past your fold with a single thrust. A broken scream crawled up your throat, drawing attention from all around the room.

Minho wasted no time ploughing your cunt, his left hand pressed firm on your lower back, "Work for it, kitten. Clench your fucking cunt," he groaned, rolling his hips precisely. Tears welled in your eyes as you tried to focus on the feeling of your ribbed walls clenching around his girthy cock. Minho hissed, laughing maniacally at your cries, "That's it, kitten. Scream louder," he growled, thrusting his cock at a brutal pace.

Your body quivered, cunt squeezing hard enough that Minho felt his cock get pushed out. "You ain't escaping me, kitty," he chuckled, gripping the sides of your hips as leverage. "Ah, hah, hah! Fuck!" you screamed, arching your back when Minho forced his cock deeper. The tip of his cock pressed snuggled beside your cervix. Minho huffed, gritting his teeth, "Mhm, hah," he sighed, trailing down his hand to pinch your swollen clit.

"Hhgh," you whimpered, sobbing the moment your orgasm broke. Minho hissed, tightening his hold to make you milk his cum, "Take it, kitten. We need to make it stick," he growled, coating your inner walls with his orgasm. Your thighs trembled from the aftershocks, brain foggy from the high intensity buzzing through. Minho tugged off the mask, hair drenched with sweat dripping down his neck, "Fuck, that thing is hot," he gruffed, tossing it on the floor.

Chan's cock stood hard and throbbing, the three brats decided to edge him each time you screamed. Felix placed a kiss on Chan's saliva-coated cockhead, "Is she still coherent?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows. Minho rubbed your back, "Kitten?" he asked, easing his cock from your hole. You whimpered, lifting your head to plop it on a pillow, "I'm good," you slurred, eyes half-lidded. Hyunjin tapped your lips, "Suck," he instructed, letting you swallow down some fruit juice.

Jeongin held the wheel in front of you, "I'm sure the other hyungs' will be gentle," he said, giving them a side glance. You knew for a fact that's a lie but you spun the wheel anyway. "Bin hyung," Jeongin said, tucking your hair behind your ear. Changbin got up from his knees, cock hard and throbbing. "C'mere bunny, lay on my chest," he said, positioning your cunt in front of his face. You nuzzled his cock, breathing in the familiar musk. Changbin cooed, placing kisses on your inner thighs, "Messy little pussy," he teased, laying a firm smack on your ass.

You whined, grazing your teeth against the gland of his cockhead as retaliation. Changbin groaned, internally finding you adorable, "Okay, okay," he chuckled, licking the outer folds of your cunt. You moaned, mimicking his licks, "Binnie," you whispered, placing sloppy kisses around his shaft. He spat on your clit causing your hips to buck, "Our stunning bunny," he sighed, flicking his tongue against your abused clit. A shudder ran through your spine, "Fuck, hah," you keened, wrapping your lips around the tip of his cock.

Changbin growled and with a flat tongue he lapped your cunt clean. You moaned around his cock, the stretch hurting the edges of your lips the lower your sunk. Changbin closed his eyes, immersing himself in the scent of your pussy smearing on his face. A squeal vibrated his cock when you felt his tongue flex within your canal. Your eyes crossed, pleasure easily building from the around of orgasms they coaxed from your body so far. Changbin furrowed his eyebrows, focusing on bringing you to the edge.

You hollow your cheeks, sucking him in tight, your throat relaxing around his sensitive cockhead. Changbin growled, thrusting his tongue while his fingers rubbed and pinched your clit on the occasion. Moans grew in octaves as you got close to the edge. Changbin's thighs quivered, feeling the same pleasure. "Cum for Binnie, bun," he keened, trying his hardest not to buck his cock down your throat. Snot and drool coated Changbin's pelvis, you squeezed your eyes tight, ears buzzing from the appending high.

A muffled curse could be heard when you gushed all over Changbin's face, squirting both the remains of your orgasm and Minho's out of your canal. Changbin growled, marking the flesh of your ass when the clear warmth coated his skin, "Yeah, hah, hah," he panted, cumming down your throat. You choked around his shaft, nose burning when cum went up. Minho helped you pull off, "Precious little kitten is too tired to lift herself," he chuckled, making you blow your nose.

Jisung lifted you, "Lix and I came to an agreement to use you together, princess," he said, nuzzling your cheek. You laid pliant, eyes dazed and glossy. Felix cooed, stroking your cheek, "Don't worry your little brain, sunbeam. We'll take good care of you," he chuckled, pressing down his thumb on your bottom lip. You instinctively slacked your jaw. Felix smirked, spitting directly on your tongue. You gave a dopey smile, swallowing. Jisung groaned, losing his mind at how cute and sinful you look, "I can die tomorrow," he whispered, tossing his head back.

Felix chuckled, wrapping his hands around your waist, "Thanks to all the boyfriends for loosening your tight cunt, sunbeam. Melt into my chest, you don't have to do a thing," he purred, running his fingers through your hair. Jisung aligned Felix's cock with your hole, "It just gets sucked in," he whispered in awe. Felix groaned, the warmth of your cunt hugging his cock after waiting till the end almost made him bust, "Sung, if you don't hurry," he grunted, face evident with impatience.

Jisung chuckled, pressing his cock beside Felix's, "I know, princess. I know," he cooed, kissing away your stray tears. You sniffled, body aching from the sheer feeling of being stuffed. Felix kissed your cheek, his hands trembling from the tightness, "Happy Birthday, sunbeam," he growled, rocking his hips upwards. Jisung pressed his lips with yours, "Hmm, Happy Birthday," he whispered, licking into your mouth as he rutted his cock with deep thorough thrusts.

Felix marked down the side of your neck, leaving a trail of hickeys. Jisung latched his lips around your neglected nipple, he moaned and sucked giving them the attention they deserved. You whined, thrashing your head weakly. Felix gruffed, sinking his teeth into your sweet spot when his hips stuttered. Jisung noticed and quickened his pace, helping to bring all three of you to an orgasm. Felix whimpered, toes curling from the pleasure, "Fuck me," he grunted, painting your cunt with cum.

Jisung bit down on his bottom lip, "Shit, shit, hah," he moaned, bucking a few more times before adding to the mess. Your lips drew into a pout, orgasm aching to burst. Jeongin stood next to Jisung, "I've got you, Angel," he said, pressing a bullet vibrator to your clit. You rasped out a whine, pussy squeezing around the two cock buried within. Jisung felt his knees buckle from the grip, "Fuck, holy fuck, fuck," he babbled, head spinning.

Felix sobbed, nosing your neck to ground himself from a dry orgasm. Your body shook as the final orgasm got drawn out of you, "Hah, hhgh," you sobbed, forcing their cocks out. Jisung sank to his knees, collecting himself. Felix laid back, limp from moving. Minho lifted you, rubbing your back when you started wailing, "Good girl. You're our good girl, hm?" he cooed, reassuring you. Changbin prepared your bath, leaving a few bath toys in it, "Hi, pretty bunny," he whispered, easing your sore body into the warm water.

You sniffled, reaching out to grab a familiar rubber ducky. Chan chuckled, sitting on the side to wash your hair, "Looks like you remember daddy's ducky, yeah?" he asked, rubbing the shampoo on your hair. You nodded, hugging it close, "Ducky," you whispered under your breath. Chan cooed, "Hold my shoulder, little one," he instructed, coaxing you to piss while he cleaned your puffy cunt. You whined at the sting, thighs sore with blooming hand marks.

Chan hummed, rinsing off the soap suds, "Daddy's got you," he whispered, drying you up and holding you close. You nuzzled his chest, "Sleep?" you asked, looking up. He nodded, "Yes baby, sleep," he said, rubbing ointment on your bruises. You melt into his touches, eyes heavy with exhaustion. Chan carried you down, "Look, baby," he whispered, showing you the scattered pillows and blankets over a row of mattresses. You smiled, hooking your chin over Chan's shoulder. Coos and chuckles, surrounded your body, "Did you enjoy today, bunny?" Changbin asked, plugging in a hairdryer. You nodded, "Best Birthday Ever," you slurred, drifting off the warmth of the hairdryer.

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