#Which you could (and probably should) take as him taking an excuse to go to a hot spring | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year

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Cheating Heart

Pairing: John Price x F!Reader

Synopsis: Your feeling for John were wrong -- horribly wrong -- but when you see your current boyfriend in bed with another woman, what's to hold you back anymore? (18+)

Word Count: 20.8k

Warnings: Cheating, toxic relationship, angst, fluff, depictions of violence and gore in flashbacks, unhealthy coping mechanisms, smut, breeding kink, praise kink, Protective!Price, vulgar language, porn with an incredible amount of plot

A/N: Literally just supposed to be smut practice and I turned it into a novel lmfao. I should be getting back to requests after this.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You slap a hand onto Soap’s bicep as you slide past the Scot, laughing loudly. The C-17 was still whirring behind you, the engines rumbling and shaking the air over your heads like great waves. Soap had asked you to go out with everyone for drinks at a local bar here in your city, not a moment prior. He was being quite persistent about it.

“Ah, c’mon, Little Lady,” The mohawked man grumbles, jogging to catch up to your fast form. Shit, you really needed a shower – your pores were packed with blood and dirt, “It’s just a few minutes from Base! We’ll all get steamin’ in no time.”

“Hell,” Your body aches, but there’s a promise of hot water and clean clothes in your Barracks, making your feet move over the tarmac faster. Showering after a tough deployment was better than sex, “I’d love to, man, but you know that Leon makes me homemade meals when I get back home. Sorry, but I hope I make up for it by saying I’d take a bar burger and a drink over his lasagna any day. That thing could kill a horse.”

Soap chuckles, eyes sparkling, and you send him an inquiring glance, “Price’ll be out with us.”

Your lips thin, the M13 strapped over your back suddenly ten times heavier and digging into your shoulder blades. Inside your chest, your heart sparks to life.

“MacTavish…” You warn, eyes narrowing at the stocky male, “Careful where your words go – I have a boyfriend. Plus, idiot, whatever it is your implying is insanely against workplace policy.”

“Yeah, but that boyfriend of yours treats you like shite.”

“Hey!” Yelling, your eyebrows turn in with a glare, finger pointing at his chest, “That was uncalled for, Asshat.”

Frowning, you watch Soap’s hand go scratch at the back of his head as his optics dart away, grumbling, “I don’t think it was if I’m being honest. Not exactly a prime choice in a partner you’ve got there.”

The two of you make it to the front doors of the Barracks building, and you huff in annoyance. You were quickly deciding that not even a shower would make you feel better if this conversation continued. It was bordering on too much for your tired brain, sinking needles into your heart and dripping poison.

Soap wasn’t lying, of course, your boyfriend was a piece of work and everyone knew it. Not only did Leon get pissed when you had to go on deployments – which you didn’t have control over – but he had also made a habit of being a bitch when you came back lately. There was never a chance to relax anymore, and what was worse was that it hadn’t always been like that. Part of you had tried to empathize with him because it was probably hard for someone's significant other to be away most of the time.

Like that gives him an excuse, You think, face heating with resentment as you remember the last argument Leon had dragged you into.

It was the day before your current deployment began nearly four months ago. Leon had gotten angry that you weren’t able to tell him where you were being shipped off to, and, like usual, had made the last day you saw him pure hell.

“Oh, so It’s my fault that I’m concerned?!” He was screaming at the top of his lungs, his voice bouncing off the ceiling, “I get it – I’m the problem for wanting you home and safe.”

“My job is important, Leon!” Attempting to keep your cool, you take deep breaths. Teeth nash against your bottom lip and rip it to pieces as you use the pain to call away from the tears stuck in the ducts of your eyes, “You’re acting like what I do doesn’t affect the world. I need to go, otherwise, bad people are–”

“Is that what you tell yourself? Fuck me, how goddamn stupid could you be?!”

Leon growls, sending you scathing glances as he begins to pace the living room.

“Now you’re just being rude,” You whisper, whipping at your cheeks and gathering teardrops on your sleeves, “You know I can’t control when John sends me out with him and 141! They’re my team!”

Mentioning your Captain was a mistake and you knew it just as John’s name came out of your mouth. Leon pauses – his body going very still.

“John,” He whispers, eyes lit with burning fire, “Since when have you started calling him by his first name?”

“Leon–” You tried to salvage the situation but it was already too late. Your boyfriend snarls out accusation after accusation.

“I knew it! You’re cheating on me–”

“No, I’m not!” Pleading with someone to listen can only get you so far, “We’re close because we're always together – just like with the rest of the boys!” Leon shakes his head, hands clenched at his sides and vibrating with rage. Loyalty meant so much to you, trying to imagine a world where you would physically go out and cheat on your boyfriend was like seeing a unicorn out on the street. Your feet take you closer to Leon as the tensions rise, “You’re not listening! Listen to me!”

“Why the hell should I listen to a fucking whore!?”

The memory leaves you tense, remembering for a moment the sound of a tossed lamp and the shattering that followed soon after as it hit the floor. It was silly, but that lamp that Leon had thrown in anger was a family heirloom; something immeasurably precious to you. It was the last object you had left from your Grandma. Now, the remains were probably stuffed in a garbage bag somewhere, but you wouldn’t know because you had left with your duffel bag and slept at Base. At the very least you could hope your Leon cut his fingers picking up the pieces of glass.

You had thought that everyone hadn’t noticed anything wrong, but had been catching concerned glances when you went into the cafeteria with thick bags under your eyes the next day; hair tangled and matted from your fingers.

Price had brought you outside, only pausing slightly before laying a heavy hand on your arm and squeezing. The man had bent slightly to look you in the eyes, head tilting so his hat blocked the sun from your eyes.

“Love?” His eyes had been warm, creased with concern around the edges – an emotion you never received from Leon. When you just stared at your Captain, he hummed in the back of his throat, “You alright down there?”

Before you could do anything you might regret, you shook off his grip and disappeared back into the cafeteria. You didn’t eat that day and the next you were off on deployment.

“--soon?”

You blink, noticing Soap had begun walking ahead of you, his gear clinking.

“What?” You ask dumbly, “Sorry, I spaced out.”

Soap smirks, looking at you strangely, “I said I’ll see ya soon…hopefully out with the rest of us tonight?” He raises an eyebrow expectantly with a grin and you force out a half-assed huff. Trying to mask the unease in your blood.

You had been gone four months instead of the intended three with Soap out in Russia on a Black Op, fighting back in a war that no one would ever hear of. Distinctly, you wondered if John was mad at you for how you acted toward him before you left.

“No promises, Suds,” Striding down the hallway you take the turn on the right leading to the women’s barracks, your back turned as Soap continues to subtly plead to you.

If you took the time to look into it, you would have realized that the man was concerned for you; his thought process was to keep you away from Leon for as long as he could so you might come to your senses.

“I’ll see you at 0900, then! Don’t keep everyone waiting, yeah? Been too long since you’ve been out with the rest of us!”

His voice falls away as you open the door to the joint female changing room and showers. Only when the hum of the air conditioning overhead blocks out everything else do you speak.

“You’re nothing if not persistent, MacTavish,” Putting your palms into your eyes, you press until you see stars and take a deep breath.

Filling your lungs you hold the air trapped and begin to count to five, letting the tension in your shoulders leave as you breathe out. The room was empty of anyone else, white-walled, and tiled floors with rows of metal lockers you needed a key to get into. Digging into your vest pocket, you produce the one you would need to enter yours.

It was the one in the middle of the room, with access to the emergency door in the back and a clear view of the front door as well. Some traits stick with you when you join one of the best forces on the planet.

Since you lived around here, everything you would need was already in the locker, including a gray shirt, baggy sweats, fresh undergarments – thank God – and spare boots. Your duffel bag of belongings was still on the C-17 and set to go through inspection before you could get it back.

Groaning and deading the inevitable stack of reports you would have to go through, plus the thoughts of what to do tonight, you sit on the rickety wooden bench and begin to take off strap after strap of your uniform.

“This is gonna be one hell of a problem, Isn’t it?” You mutter, body slouching with more and more fatigue as the seconds draw on.

Maybe I should just stay here, You wonder to yourself, Say the hell with it to both of them and have a girl's night in. Watching a sad movie and crying over a bucket of fucking ice cream sounds better than fighting with Leon or trying to ignore John.

Chucking off your combat vest, you clench your jaw in agitation. Why couldn’t things be simple? Why couldn’t you just break it off with your boyfriend and be done? It was obvious the love that was there before was gone…but you had known Leon since high school. You bite your lip. There were so many good memories.

John, as he usually does, weasels his way into your mind from the gaps.

You unlock your locker and slam the door open so that the hinges rattle back in anguish. Shucking off your M13 your shaking hands all but toss the attached strap on the hook inside as you try to force the brown-haired Brit from your consciousness. You can’t call it love or lust, but somewhere in the spaces between missions and spent bullets you had grown fond of him in a way you couldn’t describe. John. Your Captain.

As your knives and pistol are placed in the above cubie you run over hand over your face once more, pausing to breathe deeply before regaining motion. Putting your head on the locker’s cool metal corner, your eyes close tightly.

The Black Op with Soap had been hard. You had been trying to strangle every emotion down like the ball in your throat when the Scot brought up Price or Leon during muttered conversations.

“That’s why the Captain likes you so much, then!”

“The boy of yours is a pure dafty – why the hell would he say that to you?!”

“Price’ll have my head if you take another shot for me.”

“The two of you would make a fine looken’ couple, y’know. No missin’ the way he looks at you…Hey, now! I meant it as a compliment! Stop hitten’ me woman!”

You shouldn’t be feeling like this. Why were you feeling like this? Leon was a dick sure, but you both had fond memories together – you’d known him for more than half of your life! When you thought of someone you wanted to spend the rest of your life with it was always…

Your eyes harden as reality sets in.

John.

“Fuck!” Reeling backward, you curl your left fist and send it right into the locker beside your own.

Immediately a sparking of pain ripples down your limb like lighting, firing off nerves and heating the skin as blood rushes to the affected area. Hunching your shoulder’s in, you bite your tongue and tip your head down.

Your heart is hammering so hard you hear it echo through the room, bouncing off the tall ceiling – Knock-knock.

Blinking, you look up, staring in confusion into the depths of your locker before you realize that wasn’t your heart at all.

A distinctly male voice calls your name from behind the barrier, and suddenly you know why they weren’t coming in. Closing your eyes and sighing, you back up and stare at the door silently. The man calls your name again, accent muffled as knuckles rasp.

Someone’s knocking on the door…? Why would they do that? You wondered, It’s unlocked.

“I know you’re in there – the Sergeant told me where I could find you,” You could imagine the person you had just been thinking about nodding as he always does during conversations; dark eyebrows animated, “ We need to have a word before you clean up, yeah?”

“Price?” You ask, face tightening as you recognize the speech pattern before he even finishes talking. Could you really not get a moment's peace around here? Shaking out your hand, which was bleeding by the knuckles and leaves droplets on the floor, you stutter out, “W-what are you doing in the girl’s barracks?”

Your heart was already running faster than it had a moment ago. You didn’t want to talk to him right now.

The Captain sighs behind the door, and under the crack you see a shadow shuffle from one foot to the other. His voice lowers, losing that formal tone for a second. Your body reacts even as you tell it not to, and your breath gets shallow and your pupils are blown wide. “Would you open the door so I can talk to you, please, Love? I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important.”

Sucking down a breath your large muscle palpitates heavily behind your ribcage. Did you really have a choice?

John, separated from you but still sensing your hesitation, feels his eyes narrow. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about your last interaction before you left; the way your eyes were red-rimmed and dull. It had weighed on him more than he liked to admit for those few months, and it wasn’t like he could call to check-in.

Black Ops meant no contact, and your safety was always his priority before anything else. He waited. So when Soap had knocked on John’s office door, the two of you back at Base unannounced, and had looked at him with creased eyes he had known immediately something was wrong.

For a moment, his heart had stopped, thinking you were injured. But Johnny’s next words stopped him.

“The girl’s been acting strange, Price. I can’t find any sense behind it – been that way damn near ever since we shipped out. Little Lady’s worrying me. She’s not right and I don’t know how to fix it.”

Maybe this was a mistake, John thinks, eyes narrowing as he itches at his beard, forcing the heated image in his mind away like it burned him. He didn’t know what he felt about you, but the knowledge that you had a boyfriend didn’t sway his sense of loyalty. Even if being around you made his chest tighten and his thoughts run.

If you were in the right headspace the door would have already been open. But then again you were in the locker room. The Captain’s head jerks back, trying not to imagine you naked just behind a thin barrier as his chest sucks in a sharp breath.

It wasn’t his place to think of such things. To imagine you beautifully naked, laying under him and gasping out his name was…it was immoral. You deserve better than that. But damn it if the thought didn’t make his pants tighten.

A shadow moves under the door and Price straightens his spine, taking a step back before bringing his attention back to the present. Taking a deep breath, he lets it out slowly.

Your hand lays on the door knob stiffly, shirt already untucked and boots unlaced. You probably looked a mess, you thought to yourself, sticking your tongue out of the side of your mouth with nerves. Freezing, your heart skips a beat.

Why did you care?

Growling under your breath, you swing the door open and plaster a smile over your bitten-to-hell lips that wouldn’t convince a blind man.

“Sir,” You say, body coiled as your eyes trail your Captain’s figure.

John Price was the same man you remembered. Tall and fit, wearing an army green long-sleeved athletic shirt and cargo pants tucked into boots mirroring your own. Watching his muscles writhe, he crosses his arms over his chest and tilts his head – where the old bucket hat sits covering his shorter brown locks.

The hallway lights were doing wonders for his complexion.

“Do…you need something, Price?” Maybe if you didn’t look at him your head wouldn’t get fuzzy?

Your eyes shifted up and down the hallways as if you were doing something illegal, listening to his breath and the rattle of his throat as he made a sound.

If people saw the two of you rumors would start; you could almost hear them now.

“Did you see her talking to Captain Price outside the locker room?!”

“Lord, doesn’t she have a boyfriend here in the city? I feel bad for him...She’ll start one hell of an internal investigation.”

“No loyalty at all. I bet she likes sneaking around. Hey, do you think she’s sleeping with him?! Holy fuck I bet she is!”

“--Love? Hey, hey, Love, look at me, would you?” You blink back to reality, clearing your throat and tensing as a hand levels on your shoulder.

Staring at John’s chest, you shake your head.

“Sorry, Sir, just tired,” You attempt a chuckle but it sounds like a balloon deflating, “Long mission, you know?”

Your eyes are boring holes in John’s chest, not willing to move anywhere else as your face begins to burn. His hand was so firm, warm, how would it feel when it was digging into the flesh of your thighs? Your waist? Would he be rough like the calluses on his hands would imply? Or would he handle you delicately like his guns, flicking over the safety and caressing the cool metal?

Shut the fuck up!

A moment passes before you notice your Captain hadn’t responded to you. Frowning, you throw him a quick glance and see him intently looking at your clenched, shaking, left hand. His blue eyes are dark, lips frozen in a thin line that has your lungs shriveling and a shiver running down your spine. You try not to follow the tensing of his lower abdominal muscles or the shifting of his large hips as his feet move.

Stop it, You plead with yourself, Please just stop. This isn’t right. What’s wrong with me?

That was the moment you noticed the blood dripping down your fingers, flooding from split knuckles and dotting the floor in red. Widening your eyes, you snap the hand behind your back in panic, clothes rustling.

“Uh,” You fumble, pulse so loud you can hear it in your ear as sweat slicks the back of your neck. Stuttering, you can’t find the words to continue before John speaks.

“Tell me,” He orders, voice so baritone and raspy you feel it rattle in your stomach; at that moment it’s not John you’re speaking to – it’s your Captain. You move out of his hold but he takes a step forward anyways, “Now.”

Freezing, you gape like a fish, mouth moving but no words come out to grace the man’s ears. John’s heart is pounding, snapping from the hidden hand to your eyes that lack the spark they usually had. He hadn’t seen that bit of light in your eyes for a long time and ached to find out why. What had happened? Why were you avoiding him? You usually went straight to his office after you got back from being separated from him – even if you were full of blood and dirt with bags lining your eyes.

John’s hands clench, jaw following suit.

You sigh shakily, swallow down saliva, and try not to throw up.

“I-I…” Moving your head, your fingers shake. How could you explain your situation? Tell your Captain – who you have complicated feelings for – that you wanted to end things with Leon because of him? Fuck, do you tell him how shitty your boyfriend’s been? That wasn’t his business and certainly not his problem. It was better if you held your tongue and suffered, a part of you knew, because the infection of misplaced guilt was wrapped around your heart like thorns.

John would think less of you for staying with Leon for this long; probably put you on leave to figure it out yourself.

No, You try to tell yourself, He wouldn’t do that – this is John we’re talking about. He’s kind to me and, if anything, he’d be just as pissed as I am about it.

That you knew was true. John would go to war to make sure you were alright; he had.

The man was silently standing, patient with you even as the telltale sign of concern and muted irritation were painted on his face. John had always been a gentleman – holding doors open for you, letting you sleep in when the nightmares got to you and left you huddled in a corner for hours. He had found your favorite candy on an Op in Italy and bought you some for fucks sake!

But nothing made sense anymore and everything felt like it was at a breaking point. You liked Price – and hated Leon – and that fact nearly sent you spiraling into hysterics. You had been with your boyfriend for so long; he had been everything to you.

Leon had helped you get through deaths in your family, and before the fighting started, ordered you flowers when you came back from deployments; Leon cooked and cleaned without you having to ask. He knew your life story possibly better than you did, and you knew his.

Your entire life was spent with him. Who were you if all of it suddenly ended? Years of your life thrown away for nothing.

If there was one thing that everyone on Base knew besides that your boyfriend was a bitch, it was that you hated change more than anything. Ironic, considering the profession you were in.

You just needed silence – space to breathe without getting suffocated. But maybe what you really wanted was for John to fucking hug you. To feel his bear arms wrap around you and squeeze the stubborn tears out of your eyes as you sob. When was the last time you actually cried, anyways? John would make it better; hold you like he cared about you. Like how he had in Madagascar when a bullet got lodged in your side. You swore you saw him cry that day, beautiful blues shiny as your blood pooled out of his heavy, adrenaline-shaking, fingers. The body of the man who jumped you both lay dead and filled with more metal than a construction zone not a few feet away, gurgling.

That man was supposed to be the target – Hubert Antonin – and you were both supposed to bring him in alive; you never got execute authority.

But Price had unloaded the clip on him right as you cried out in pain.

“Stay with me, Princess, c’mon. Keep your eyes open for me…Look at me, Love. Hey, I promised I’d get ya’ back safe. Don’t make me lie, now, yeah?”

A weak, velvety, chuckle meets the humid air. It was startling, watching him lose his composure like that.

“It b-burns, John. I…I can’t–”

“I know, Sweetheart, I know. I’ll get you fixed up and good to go soon, Copy? Just like new,” His wild eyes snapped back and forth as your eyesight gets blurry, lids flickering like a candle’s flame, “Where the fucken’ hell is Evac?!... No, no, no…What did I just tell you – Keep those eyes open, Muppet!”

When you were stable in the Med Ward of the local Base, the man had brought you to his chest, letting you feel the rampaging of his heart and the uneven breaths on the top of your head. His hands tightened over you, fingers brushing up and down over your arms. Like he was worshiping you just for living. For being there.

“Attagirl. Just let me hold you for a minute, yeah?”

As you recovered, he never let you out of his sight.

If you thought about it too hard, that was perhaps the first instance when you knew something was very wrong with you for liking the feeling of his skin touching yours. His body heat melting into you in such a tight embrace it left you crying into his chest in thankfulness. You had never felt that when hugging Leon – Leon hated hugs to the point you had to beg him to hold you.

But thinking about that was just another pipedream. Nothing about John Price and yourself would ever come to light as being anything more than partners on the Task Force.

He was your Captain. You were working under him.

You had a boyfriend. John had a valuable asset.

But you really wanted him to be yours. And, never mind how Price felt about you and if it was the same twisted form of disloyalty or lust, you still hated yourself for it. For feeling so deeply.

“No,” You respond blankly to John’s request for an explanation of…everything, but can’t look into his eyes to see the shock that sparks.

John's shoulders tense, jaw going slack. He gains his senses, but it’s already too late.

Jerking back into the locker room, you slam it shut behind you and snap the lock in place, feeling the quivering of your lips as the first sob builds.

Your skin was dirty and layered with grime, hair matted, and gear in need of deep cleaning. But that feeling you carried didn’t change even as you took a shower, wiping away everything down a drain with red-tinged water as a shadow hesitated for a long moment before confidently moving away from the front door.

You still felt disgusting.

—

Nothing you did made sense to him.

John was walking away from the locker room with measured steps, head pounding. People passed by and gave him strange looks, but his eyes were dead ahead, glaring at everything and nothing at the same time. This wasn’t like you at all.

She’s been acting strange for months, why haven’t I bloody checked in sooner? Your actions reminded him of a ghost – walking around the halls at night and steadily dimming. The whole team had seen it; how there was a weight eating at you. Price and the others had tried to get you to talk to no avail.

I need to do something about this, He tells himself as a thought worms its way into his brain.

Could she be angry at me? Now that he thought about it, every time he was near you trying to engage in a conversation you froze and made some excuse to not speak. And with how you looked at him before you slammed the door in his face…John had stayed shell-shocked behind the barrier with half a mind to rush in and demand you tell him what was wrong.

But he knew that would only make it worse.

“She needs time to cool off,” He mutters under his breath, rubbing at his forehead with his fingers and holding his head for a moment, “Get her head on straight.”

But what if you never chose to seek him out after the fact? Could he handle that?

Why do I want her to come to me when she’s hurting? He wonders with a clenched jaw.

Taking a corner and leaving the Women’s Barracks, John sighs as he walks on. His feelings were getting in the way again – his feelings about you that he had tried to choke down like whisky. Ironic, that it left the same burning sensation in his neck. There was only so much he could do about them, truth be told, because everything about you made the Captain want to disregard every order he’s given.

It wasn’t right, it was the definition of wrong in both of your lines of work, but this was the one situation he didn’t know how to fix. So he kept silent.

You had a boyfriend, and that was enough to stay his tongue and keep him watching from a distance.

John made it back to his office quickly and quietly, but would soon find that trying to get reports done was impossible. When his pen would hit the paper his mind would blank, and many times he would have to re-read the contents over and over to retain anything.

“Fuck,” He breathes out, baring his teeth and leaning back in his chair.

The most he could do was sit there and wait until tonight; hoping that the bar that Soap was bringing the Task Force to had good Whisky.

Try as he might, he knows getting drunk would only make him think of you more.

—

The car ride to your house was spent in silence, a sheen of rain making the sky dark. Under you, the fake leather seats are cold, leaving you shivering even as you were wrapped in a thick sweatshirt and your spare cargo pants. Gripping the wheel tighter as the quiet road went on and on ahead of you, the street lamps shine on the old sidewalks corralling you in.

You had made the tough decision to surprise Leon when you got home.

Lips thinning, all you can hope is that the stewing anger that had been left behind had calmed and not worsened. But Leon held grudges, and, unfortunately, so did you. Your Grandma’s lamp still made your heart ache if you thought about it too much; left bitter tears and a bare esophagus behind.

He had stepped over a big line – one you weren’t sure you could forgive him for. Sighing and shaking your head, you watch the dark road as the chilled cloud of condensation is expelled from your mouth. It seems you had forgotten to turn the heat on too.

Taking a turn, you pull the vehicle to a slow stop as its brakes squeal. Months of sitting in the Base’s underground garage would do that to you, but you still grimace at the noise that makes your face tense. Maybe Ghost would fix up your car like last time so you wouldn’t have to fork over a fortune at the dealership downtown.

You can’t hide the small smile that comes at the idea. Simon pretended to be such a grump all the time, but he had his moments.

Coming to a full stop, you turn the car to park and look outside through the deluge.

“At least that hasn’t changed,” You utter, breath fogging the window as lashes of rainwater race down the glass, “It still looks as perfect as ever.”

The house was brightly lit, painted white, and had a large Oak door in the center. In the front, there was a black iron fence with a small gate and a latch. Looking, a prickly sensation enters your body and your fingers twitch over the wheel inexplicably. Your eyes run from one window to the other, all with warm light streaming out from behind the curtains, and furrow. With one hand you go to itch at your nose.

Why were all the lights on anyways? It’s like ten at night…Not the point, I’m stalling.

“Just go and speak to him,” You mutter to yourself, nodding firmly. But your lungs contracted in your ribcage in blatant retaliation.

You wished playing therapist with yourself was easier.

Turning off the car and stuffing the keys in your pants pocket, you unclipped your seatbelt and turned to grab your small carry bag. Since the Base was so close there was really no need to bring your duffel bag. You’d be back there tomorrow for de-briefings with Price anyways; writing out papers and sighing confidentiality documents until your eyes bled. Would John bring you tea this time to help you stay awake? Or would he give you that look that meant – ‘Go to sleep right now, or do I have to order you to your bed?’

John would give in occasionally, and sit with you as you worked. He would read, or, you would take a break and play trivia with him; sometimes you asked him to tell stories. You really liked his stories.

On even rarer cases, when the contents of the report brought up bad memories that left your face blank, he would tell you one of his tales unprompted. Usually, after that warm and selfless event, you would wake up back in your bed without the knowledge of ever falling asleep at all. But there would always be a note. Handwritten on your nightstand.

John Price hand wrote you notes on crappy lined paper with his chicken scratch lettering. You remembered blushing every time you got one and had your favorite memorized word for word. It had meant so much to get one, Leon never wrote letters.

“Guess my stories are more boring than I knew, Love, you passed out nearly immediately into the first one. Do me a favor, yeah, and sleep in today? Don’t worry about morning drills. I’ve already dismissed you. Sleep tight.

– John”

Clenching your jaw, you shake your head and close your eyes. Thinking about seeing him tomorrow makes you sick.

More opportunities to make a fool of myself and cause him to hate me. God, I fucking slammed a door in his face because I couldn’t get a grip. What’s wrong with me? He doesn’t deserve that.

You can’t keep living like this anymore, you try to tell yourself as you dig through your bag. Grabbing your phone, you’re about to shove it in your pocket beside the keys when it lights up, showcasing the wallpaper of you and the boys on a past Op from years ago.

Everyone had their full gear on, weapons around fronts, and armed to the teeth. Full of blood and other substances.

It was your favorite picture and you even had it printed out on your nightstand at Base.

John had his arm over your shoulder, staring at you softly with his head covered by his hat – which had burn marks on it – as you pointed a finger into Gaz’s smug, smile-split, face. Soap’s laughing and holding his stomach as Ghost at his side has a hand to his masked face in exasperation.

You blink in surprise at the text message from your Sergeant as it pops up.

“Soap’s texting me?” Your mind wonders, and you roll your eyes, “I already said I wasn’t going out.” Not looking and turning your phone off, you shove it in your pocket but can’t hide the small sense of annoyance, “I spent four months with the guy in Russia, sorry, but I need a break from him before my brain explodes.”

Opening the car door, you flinch as rain batters your head and stains your clothes, but you just swing your bag over your shoulder and slam it shut behind you. Locking it with the fob, you make your way quickly to the front door, slipping past the metal gate without mishap and jogging over the lawn to the two front steps. Scaling them, you stand under the portico and look behind you, gazing up and down the street. You watch for a moment the family who lives across the street – they were watching a movie in the living room, huddled on the couch.

Jerking your head back, you take out your house key and insert it into the lock with a grim face. Twisting, your skin shivers once more as a bout of wind shakes your baggy clothes just as you hear the familiar click of the front door unlocking.

But that damn lamp. Grandma’s lamp. And John’s blue eyes filled with concern for you. His hands.

When had this place stopped being home for you?

“Just speak to him,” You repeat a second time, gripping the doorknob, “Get it over with like an adult and forgive each other…”

You clench your jaw and wrench the door open, shaking your head to dispel the water weighing the locks down like a wet dog. Stepping inside with heavy feet, you close the door quietly behind you and lock it.

“Leon…?” You wonder out loud, slipping your gaze from the empty couch to the blaring TV as you slip off your boots. Muttering under your breath you add, “Where are you?”

“--And in more local news, the grand opening of the downtown café “Four Horseman” has wracked in a whopping profit of–”

Your fingers flicked off the news, the woman’s voice suddenly halting from the speakers. Frowning, your ears twitch.

What’s that noise?

“Oh, Leon!” Freezing, your legs tense, hands at your sides gradually tightening into fists. Blinking in surprise, your heart begins to pump adrenaline through your veins with the efficiency of a racehorse. You don’t know that voice, “Just like that!”

But you weren’t stupid.

A certain type of dread infects your brain that leaves your mouth opening in shock; eyebrows peeling back to travel up your forehead. Before you tell yourself that it was better just to leave the house now, while your mind is unbroken, you can’t stop your already moving feet.

You barrel down the hallway to get to the master bedroom, where you shove on the already partially open barrier with a heavy slam. Rage burns in your gut, spreading like a disease into the thin tissue and bleeding out; proliferating with relentless reach.

Leon was over a random girl in your bed, half-naked and pants already being dragged down his hips by feminine legs. The woman was already bare, perfect skin glowing in the low light of red candles.

Your rage freezes with a layer of thin ice, and your heart hammers. Sweat gathers in your clenched palms as the stranger’s scream enters the room. Both were already watching you in horror. Leon halts his actions of being knuckle-deep in the girl – the woman had seen you and snapped her hands to the ruined sheets of your bed to try and cover herself with a desperate scream.

“Leon?!” She yells out, face becoming bright as the scent of expensive perfume makes your nose twitch, “Who the fuck is that?!”

Blankly, you turn your head to look at your boyfriend – former boyfriend.

“Yeah, Leon,” You’re surprised by the firmness of your voice, the dead tone hurled out with no remorse. It betrays how you really feel. Tears burn the backs of your eyes, and your lungs hurt when you suck in quiet breaths to help your composure, “Do you wanna explain who I am? Or just how you’re fucking another woman on our bed.”

Leon’s eyes are comically wide, mouth agape and fluttering. Cruel satisfaction brews in your heart as your lips flicker into a dark smirk; anger was better than tears, you decided.

“Our bed?! You said you were single!” The woman gasps, snapping her head to the man still above her, “Get the hell off me!”

Shoving Leon, you watch the girl scramble to grab her clothes all over the floor as she apologizes to you.

“I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t know that he had–”

“Just get out, please,” You mutter under your breath, and the lady zips past with her shirt only half on and her bra hooked between her fingers.

“Baby,” Leon looks like he’s about to cry, getting to his knees on the mattress and you catch a glimpse of his boxers with cows printed on them.

Before you had found those enduring – maybe even cute in a dorkish sort of way – but now you realized it was just pathetic. He was pathetic.

“Baby, I swear this isn’t what it looks like!” His fingers are glistening, and his pants are stained.

You blankly stare at the stranger who inhabits your ex’s body and say nothing back; watching as Leon scrambles for an explanation that changes nothing. There was an absence of anything you loved in this house.

“Hope it was worth it,” Blankly speaking, you turn around and leave, feet slamming into the floor as Leon calls to you pleadingly.

“Please! I didn’t–” His voice cuts out as a thump echoes over the home, like someone falling out of a bed before a yelp takes its place. Not slowing, you slip your boots on and unlock the front door.

Just as fast footsteps rush to the foyer you slam the door behind your back and descend the steps, no longer caring about the rain as you walk in a trance-like state. It hadn’t really hit you yet what had happened, but it was starting too.

Your breath was getting thinner, hands shaking as your shoulders hunched and waterfalls down your face and neck. The bag over your shoulder is now ten times heavier than it was before.

The door slams open just as you exit the black-iron gate and unlock your car.

“Babe, come back inside, let's talk about this!” Leon screams, and his bare feet seem to slap over the drowned lawn, “You just need to sit down and I’ll speak and explain why I’ve been sleeping with Maxine!”

Your hand freezes on the car handle, slick metal stuck under your grip.

You whirl around with fire in your eyes, lips snarling.

“Sleeping!?” With your face contouring, your loud voice carries over the storm as Leon – who had gotten quite close by now – reels back a step, “As in this has happened before, you goddamn prick?! How long have you been cheating on me while I’ve been risking my fucking life to get back home to you?!”

Leon’s face twists as you look him in the eyes, nose scrunching.

“Oh, don’t stay on your high horse,” He growls, hands animating his words as you try and keep your cool, “We both know you’ve been cheating far longer than I have.”

“Do we?!” It’s past the point of sense now, and the other lights from the once-dark houses begin flickering their outside lights on from all the noise, “I’ve never fucked anyone while I was out, Leon. You can’t say that, can you?!”

“You don’t need someone to stick their dick in you to cheat. You’re just as bad as me – John Price must be one helluva guy to ruin a relationship that started when we were teenagers.”

Your breath stutters, and after a moment of shocked silence you shake your head in disbelief, “You’re a bastard, Leon…I wish I’d never met you. Wish I’d never wasted my time with a pathetic man like you. Maybe John is one helluva guy, hm? Maybe I’ll have to tell him that myself.”

Leon’s eyes were red, and his lips, just like yours, quivered as he tried to come up with an answer. You turn around before you can sob and reach for the door once more.

A heavy weight settled on your arm, your Ex’s fingers suddenly squeezing your skin so hard your lips let loose a muted gasp. Trying to rip your arm away, you tilt your head to look back at Leon.

“Let go of me,” You say the words slowly, feeling rainwater travel down the bridge of your nose and splash to your shoulder, “Now.”

Leon’s hand only tightens, and you hiss, feeling blood vessels pop under the pressure.

“You’re coming back inside and you’re going to listen to what I tell you,” Leon leans closer, eyes dark, “I’m not taking ‘no�� for an–”

Your fist connects with his cheek, and a second later you’re nursing your sensitive knuckles, shaking out your hand and grimacing. Whining reminiscent of a wounded duck rips over the night, and, gripping at his face, Leon lays on the ground half-naked and less of a man than he’d ever been – which was an achievement, to say the least.

You should have broken up with him years ago. John would never treat you like this.

Getting into your car, you sit down and lock the doors behind you as you insert the key, twisting and feeling it jerking to life. With morbid curiosity, you turn to the opposite window and look at the house across the street.

The family was at the window, no longer enraptured by their TV, and the mother had a hand over her mouth. She was in the process of turning her children away from the scene as the other parent stood watching, slack-jawed.

Blinking, you don’t know if it’s tears or rain that you’re forcing away from your eyes, but the burning tells you which option you should put your money on. Wiping at your face and sucking down shuddering breaths, you press on the pedal and peel away from the white house with a large Oak door. Taking a peak at the mirror, you spy a man trying to get back to his feet but stumbles, falling once more and slamming into a puddle.

Driving, you only make it to the next street before you park on the side of the road, your whole body shaking and gasping for breath. With the adrenaline dying down, the pain in your arm becomes prominent, making pain spark as you shift it. The area would most likely bruise.

Your lips twist and a small whimper leaves your mouth. You smack your forehead to the wheel, hands falling like lead to your lap as a sniffle weasels its way out; tears begin to smack your thighs, gradually increasing until you were concerned your car would flood.

Crying was never your thing. With all the sights you’d seen, tears felt so small compared to every other horror – they meant nothing in the grand scheme of events taking place. All they were good at was making your nose run and your skin get hot.

John’s seen me cry before, Your thoughts are running so fast it’s a strange circumstance that they stop when your Captain’s name is filtered through.

Price had found you in the bathroom, covered in dried blood and shaking just as you were in the present. There had been an accident on the recent Op – a kid had gotten caught in the crossfire and had taken a bullet to the stomach. You had held him as he died; seen the light in his eyes leave in one fell swoop as you drowned in his blood trying to stop the bleeding.

That was what led up to you rushing off the Helo, finding the first bathroom on Base, and rushing inside to throw your guts up. John, of course, had followed close at your heels with fast feet.

“Love,” He said from outside the door slowly, “I’m coming in.”

Shell-shocked, your hands were strained as you gripped the sides of the toilet, not even picking up on the concern leaking from his tone. Wide-eyed, you stare blankly at the vile contents inside the bowl – throat burning with acid as the image of that dying kid plays on repeat.

The door opens hesitantly as if any major noise would break you, the hinges squeaking. A pair of feet carefully pad over the tile towards your hunched figure. When his hand slides over your back, his shadow comes to encompass you, shrouding you in its comforting darkness. He made it better.

John’s grip slides back and forth over the gear and other objects along your figure. You hadn’t bothered to take anything off, in fact, your gun was still strapped around your chest and weighing you down. It hit against the toilet with a ‘clink’ every time you moved.

“Sweetheart?” John mutters, body curling around yours.

“He wasn’t supposed to be there,” You say the words numbly as you glance at the blood on your hands with muted horror, “I…I…He should have been with the other civilians. He wasn’t…”

“I know,” Price whispers, grunting, watching you as your mind breaks to try and think through this, “I know, Love.”

When he knows your stomach has settled, you feel him carefully grab your shoulders and lean you back against the opposite wall. It was like a ramshackle hug, but the feeling of his body pressing into yours made you fall limp. You were safe here. Protected. His fingers go to your weapon, taking it off of you and setting it on the ground as he knees at your side. Soon after goes the combat vest, John pulling at the velcro with confidence. Your body jerks as he peels it off.

“Lift your arms for me, yeah?” Doing as he says, the article is set by your gun and pushed aside, “Attagirl, just like that.”

The man keeps a hand on your arm, rubbing his thumb back and forth. He was closer than he needed to be, but that was alright.

Looking down, your thousand-yard stare locks to the blood staining your skin, getting stuck in the grooves and the beds of your nails. Would water even wash it off? You had wondered in silent panic. What if it never came off? John’s other hand gravitates to your cheek and the increased sound of your breath is accented by a sharp inhale.

Blinking to push back the nothingness of your gaze, tears dribble from your tear ducts as your eyes lock with his.

John looked so sad.

His expression was pained, lips downturned and eyes painfully narrowed on your form; his eyebrows were pressed in on his forehead, curing in the center and creating creases over his flesh. The beard – still filled with dirt and grime – moved as his lips did.

“Focus on me, alright?” You nod, shakily, and watch his optics flick from one part of your face to another, “That wasn’t your fault.”

“John,” You whimper, the dam breaking every moment his fingers move and caress your skin. His grip travels to the back of your neck and brings your face to his shoulder, letting you sag into him on a dirty bathroom floor.

“It’s okay,” He mutters into your hair, lips moving as your hands snap to dig into his vest. His hat was pressing into your scalp – grounding you in the present just as his heartbeat was. The muscle was strong in his chest, pounding, “It’s all gonna be alright, Kid. I need you to know it wasn’t your fault,” John sighs, trying to draw you closer, “You did the best you could. I’m proud of you.”

“He wasn’t supposed to be there,” You sob, and repeat the sentence once more, like, if you did, whatever God out there would bring the boy back to life. Your lips pull back in pain, wails exiting.

“I know,” John responded, voice so low your sounds of anguish almost covered it up. His grip tightens, and he lays a kiss on the top of your head.

You knew, then, that John would give anything to take away your pain. But what he didn’t know was that you would replay his words in your mind to stave off the nightmares – use the image of his face to bring you stability when you woke up mid panic attack.

It was the only time you didn’t hate crying, because John’s warmth had made it better. Had made it mean something.

You both spend a long time on that bathroom floor.

When you had spent at least an hour collecting your thoughts in that frigid car, you finally checked your phone.

Fifty-seven missed calls and thirty-five texts from Leon. Chuckling humorlessly and shaking your head in disbelief, you block him with a quick tap; it was over. You’re about to chuck the phone and go back to Base, but then you pause, eyes locking on a single text notification left on the screen.

Soap: If ya change your mind….’Bottom’s Up Bar’… ;)

He lists the address just below, and your eyes bore into it.

“Fuck it,” Your hoarse voice echoes out in the cool car air, “I need a drink anyways.”

—

Price sits on the bar stool in a black woolen trench coat and a dark beanie, nursing a glass of whisky in his hands that rests against the counter.

“What’s with the long face, Captain,” Gaz sits at his side, the stools under them uncomfortable and threatening to give out from under them if one happens to take too deep a breath. Soap and Ghost are over playing pool, and the TV behind the counter was showing reruns of some hockey game that was absent of watchers. No one else was there beside them, “Whisky not up to par?”

“It tastes like piss water,” John mutters but still brings the glass to his lips, taking a slow sip, “But I’ve had worse, Sergeant. You?”

Gaz smirks, “I’ve had worse…Just tell Soap that I’m never letting him pick the bar ever again. Man’s bloody taste buds must be burned off if he calls this quality.”

John grunts, tilting his head to the side in an affirmative nod.

The area lapses into silence, the sound of billiard balls connecting to a cue stick loud as the smell of tobacco and cheap beer perforated the air. There weren’t any civvies left in the old-style building, and outside the rainstorm pounded against the front windows deterring anyone from venturing outside. The group probably should have stayed on Base, but Johnny had been insistent to the point everyone just gave in to the Scot’s demands.

After all, what harm could one drink do? They were all tired.

“Do you think she’ll show?” Gaz asks as the TV erupts with cheers; someone had scored, apparently. The Captain was never one for hockey – Liverpool was his go-to for football teams, and that was about it. In fact, he had a game to catch up on later if he could get the hell out of here in a timely fashion.

Gaz’s question makes the man lightly startle, sliding his gaze to his Sergeant with a sharply raised brow. He brings the glass to his lips once more and takes a swig, missing out on the burn that was found in his own Whisky stash back at his flat in London. It’s not hard to tell who Gaz is talking about.

“Unlikely,” John speaks through a sigh, going back to mindlessly watching the television as the bartender filters past to clean a table in the far corner. Soap cheers from the pool table, “Her…boyfriend’s making her dinner. Always does when she gets back.”

“Hm,” Gaz chuffs, “Lucky sod,” The Sergeant pauses, and John takes a deep breath at the mischievous tone the man beside him earns. It was too late at night for this bullshit, “I bet you wouldn’t mind having the girl in your home while you make her supper, eh, Cap?”

“Garrick,” Price says the last name slowly, fingers tightening over the cup on the table, “You want to be on sanitation duty for a month – two?”

“...Sir?” Letting out a nervous chuckle, Gaz sends a quick glance to Soap whose ears had quirked at the conversation a few feet away.

“Then I suggest you stop acting like a Muppet and mind your damn business. The girl is her own woman and deserves her privacy,” John sends a narrowed glance with a quirked eyebrow and a warning in his suddenly darker eyes, “Copy?”

“Copy, Sir…Apologies.”

“Don’t let it happen again,” John levels, twirling his glass in his large fingers before tossing back the last remnants inside. Swallowing, he stands and fixes the position of his beanie, feeling his bones creak with fatigue.

To everyone at the bar, Price looked annoyed that you had been brought up, but those who knew him best could tell that much more was going on. The man had kept the side of his eye on the front door the entire time 141 had been at the bar, shoe tapping against the dark wood floors as hours passed. Even more telling, Gaz had noticed that John had only had one glass of Whisky tonight – even if it tasted horrible the Captain was bound to drink at least three when they all went out.

It was tradition; everyone knew it. Captain Price of the 141 always had three glasses. Always. You would attest to that, considering that when you tagged along you made fun of him for it.

“You always have three glasses – I’ve never, for the life of me, figured out why it's always three! Do you never think ‘Oh, gee golly, maybe I’ll bloody have another lad, be a merry good Muppet and pour me another, yeah?’’

Your horrendously exaggerated British accent led to a few snickers that night, and Gaz had seen his Captain’s full body laugh for the first time; watching John sputtering as he coughed down the drink he had been sipping from.

“Love,” The man had stared at you with a deep smile, eyes crinkling, “Whatever just came out of your mouth, yeah? Never do that in my presence again. Accent’s shaken’ more than your hands when you have to stitch me up.”

“My stitches aren’t that bad, Asshat! You just move too fucken’ much!”

John scratches his forehead in the present and brushes off his jacket.

“Alright, Muppets…I think that’s it for the–”

The bell at the front door jingles.

Snapping his head over, Price freezes just as he sticks his hands in his jeans pockets, the grumbled words dying on his parted lips.

A figure was standing at the entrance, soaked to the bone and shivering like a sphinx cat in a snowstorm; water dripped from her nose to the rug. John’s jaw slightly slackens, eyes wide and snapping back and forth.

You were standing there, eyes gravitating from Soap and Ghost’s pool game – which had halted immediately at your sudden presence – until you blink a raindrop from your eyelashes and lock eyes with John.

“Sorry I’m late,” Your voice sounds like gravel, Price notes, head slowly tilting to try and understand why His legs had to tense to stop him from rushing over, his training alerting him to the redness of your eyes. You had been crying, why? “Storm’s coming down pretty hard, huh?” Attempting a chuckle, it seems to fall flat.

“Holy shit, Love,” Gaz mutters, snatching a rag from behind the counter of the bar and ignoring the complaints from the worker. He rushes past John, who continues to stare at you and fight his own subconscious, “Did you walk here?”

The Sergeant blinks at you in concern, eyes filtering up and down your body as he stands close and holds aloft the fabric.

“Nah,” Price watched you snatch the towel, going to pat it on your face and neck – running it over your hair and gripping, “Was outside for a little bit, but I came in the car…Oh, speaking of that, Simon,” You turn to the large man who bores his eyes into your face, “The brakes are acting up again – you think you could fix it up back on Base in your free time?”

Ghost taps the cue stick against the ground, lips behind his balaclava shifting as he speaks, “You goin’ to make me fix it up every time you get back? What do I look like, Bird? A mechanic?”

A weak smirk flickers over your lips, but John notices a particular bleakness in your eyes. Soap, who thus far had been strangely quiet, looks at him with flat lips and a small shake of his mohawked head.

Enough is enough, Price decides with a stubble tilt of his forehead, I’ve given her the space she needs – she’s telling me everything. Tonight.

His jaw clenches, and he pulls his hands out of his pockets just to cross them over his chest when you respond to Simon.

“I’ll clean your clothes for a month.”

“...Two.”

“Deal,” Nodding, you smile at Gaz in thanks and splay the towel over the banister beside you to help it dry, “Thanks, Gaz.”

“What happened to dinner with the Stoter?” Soap finally speaks as you make your way farther into the building. You send him a quick glance as you walk closer to John at the booth. The Scot levels you with a heavy stare, feet shoulder-length apart and jaw clicking, “He do something?”

A tense silence falls, and all the men send each other looks as you slink to the bar, jumping up on a stool and clearing your throat. You itch at the side of your bicep as you lick your lips in hesitation.

Why were you not saying anything?

John buries his fingernails into the meat of his arms, taking your lack of answer like a knife to the chest. It was like a switch had flipped as he saw your expression drop for a millisecond, layers cracking like you were barely held together. The veins in the Captain’s arms were flooded with blood, and his hands showed white knuckles.

There was a terrible reality settling behind his eyelids, and the man wasn’t in his job position because he was anything less than an observer. He was angry, that much was obvious by his tight jaw and dangerous eyes on the side of your face.

But there was something more important than revenge, and she was sitting right in front of him.

Your clothes are still dripping with water, and without hesitating when he spies you shiver, John shakes off his jacket and spreads it softly over your shoulders. When you jerk back in surprise he feels a part of him break, but steadies you with a thin quirk of his lips and pulls the front of the woolen material farther over your form.

What’s that fucken’ prat done to her? He growls internally, Mark my words…

The Captain’s eyes carefully narrow, orbs sliding over your face. His thumb goes to swipe a tear of water from your hairline and breathes out a sigh when your eyelids flutter.

Looking at your Captain with vulnerable eyes, you answer Soap’s question with a muttered, defeated, tone. It was like you were talking to your superior and not the man at the pool table.

“We...uh, I, broke up with him,” A moment of silence. Two.

John feels like he’s frozen in time, his body stiff, and his lungs shell-shocked. But in the farthest, most forced-down bits of his consciousness, he thinks there’s a part of him that’s…Christ, is he happy?

He nearly has to turn and leave to take a breather – gain his composure at his own disgusting thoughts – but your eyes hold him captive, unblinking despite the revelation.

You had…broken up with Leon. Your boyfriend.

John’s eyes slowly widen.

Oh.

—

“Well, It’s about damn time,” Soap interjects into the moment, gleeful, and you feel your eyes slip away from the cerulean blues of John’s widened sockets, in favor of the table-top, “Erm, no offense, of course, but that’s great news!”

“Shut up!” Gaz hisses, going over to slap at MacTavish’s arm, “Can’t you see she’s bloody gutted about it – idiot!”

“Hey, now. That excuse for a man was in no way worthy of being with a beauty like her–”

“Johnny,” Ghost utters lowly, the only one able to see your quickly deteriorating state besides the Captain who tries to comfort you, “Shut your trap.”

“C’mon L.t, you had to have seen how he…” Soap stops, finally looking at you, and the chuckle that had been building in his throat dissolved.

A hand settles on your shoulder, and you blink out of your trance, slowly turning your head to look out of the corner of your eye. John squeezes, and you find that his grip over his gifted jacket is warmer than anything you remember. But you don’t look at his face, instead, you tilt your head down and fold your arms on the counter, slotting your skull in the middle of them.

John’s hand gravitates to your back and rubs small circles, and above you, he mutters, “Talk to me, Love.”

“He…” You interrupt, hands tightening into fists. Your eyes burned something fierce, but you can just blame the shaking of your body on the wet clothes, “I was going to surprise him. He didn’t know that I was back in town yet, anyways. But, uh, he’s been cheating on me, I guess…Found ‘em in bed.”

Price’s hand stutters over its coarse, but he clears his throat and continues as your stomach tightens,

“Son of a fucken’ bastard,” Simon’s the first one to speak – which would have surprised you if you’d been paying attention, “That prick did what?”

Gaz murmurs, “Shit..,” off to the side, but your hidden gaze doesn’t bother to move as Soap lets off a string of curses and insults on Leon’s name.

The hand over your back is intoxicating, and you feel drunk as you focus on it. John’s fingers dig into his jacket, but just enough for you to feel his nails create a light stimulation through the layers. There was a sense to his actions, you know. He was trying to ground you; he wanted you to focus on his caress.

You didn’t want to admit how well it was working.

But it was a good thing he did because you have a feeling if he wasn’t there you’d be replaying the events of tonight in your mind one after the other like a fucked up movie.

Leon really did that, You suck in a shaky breath that leaves John moving closer, and you hear muttered conversations from above you, All of those years…Did I really miss something as obvious as him cheating on me?

It couldn’t be helped.

When you came back from deployments your mind let go of the hyper-focus that was ingrained into you – that Price had ingrained into you – and settled into a haze of sanctity. Home meant food, sleep, and a place of comfort. But when the fighting started you suppose a part of that focus came back to you, blocking out everything that didn’t matter.

Missing pictures, clothes stuffed where they shouldn’t be, your hair products hidden. They were pointless in the grand scheme of things because you were at battle in your own house. It was small compared to your breaking relationship.

Maybe that’s when I stopped loving him, You reason, and it’s the first time you admit you didn’t care about Leon in that way anymore, When the fighting started. Did I unconsciously know what he’d done?

You had been more irritable when you were back at the house, some fights even instigated by you.

“But how did I miss it…?” You can’t help but whisper, strained, into the woodgrain of the counter in your cocoon.

“None of that,” John suddenly says, voice low, and his hand over you halts, “That’s a good way to mess your head up, that is, Love. Just stay here.”

Shivering, you sniffle, lungs stuttering and with a hot face stained with embarrassment, you whimper out, “I’m such an idiot.”

The stool beside you screeches as it’s pulled out.

“You say that again I’m leaving you on desk rotation for a week,” John grunts, and from your hiding place your head shifts, one eye peeking out from over your arm. You find the man glaring at you so heatedly you pause as tears start to leak down your cheeks once more, “I mean it. None of that bullshit – you are not at fault – that,” He pauses, and you see his chest sputter as he tries to collect himself. Price’s eyes flash with rage before it’s gone in an instant, “That’s the bloody bastard’s cross to carry, Love. Understand me?”

You stare at him; at his boiling blue eyes as the sound of a hockey game plays in the background of this shitty bar. The warm lights overhead gather in them to flicker like stars when he blinks, creating constellations for you to memorize when his eyelids once more pull back.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” He levels, head with that black beanie tilting closer, “Copy?”

“Copy,” You croak out, blinking to clear the fuzziness of your eyes. Reaching one of your hands, you pull the jacket closer around your neck. It smells like John, and whether you notice it or not, the tension in your muscles leaks when you inhale smoke, pine trees, and gunpowder.

Patting you on the back, the man stares into you, optics stuck on the image of your tear-stained cheeks and dripping hair. His trench coat was most likely going to be soaked, but he found he didn’t care. If it brought you comfort, the outrageous price he paid for it would be made back tenfold. Maybe he’d even let you keep it; didn’t matter if it was his favorite, he would give you the shirt off his back if you asked for it.

Not able to stop the words coming out of his mouth when you meet his gaze with fluttering eyelashes, John speaks once more as he feels the gazes of his teammates around him. But the words came easily.

“You didn’t deserve to come home to that. That boy doesn’t know what he’s just lost, alright?” When he sees your cheeks move in a small, barely-there smile, and the way your eyes lit with embers at his teasing tone, the Captain let a smirk of his own fall. But he still refused to speak Leon’s name aloud – his own anger was held on a thin string that was fraying by the moment. You? Getting cheated on? Who in their right mind would do that?! The Muppet didn’t deserve to have your perfect ears twitch at his name ever again, “At least tell me you ripped him a new pair, Love? If not, I’ll have to review your training exercises. Maybe add in a bracket for hand-to-hand.”

“...I might have sucker-punched him.”

John’s chuckle is velvet as it slips through your eardrums.

“Attagirl, I’d have paid to see that, I wager. Everyone knows you throw a heavy hand,” Your giggle makes his heart soar; beat violently in his breast.

He’d give everything to hear you make that noise again.

“Did it down him?” Your head slowly peaks up farther, perfect chin now visible. Your short-lived tears had stopped.

“Twirled like a dancer on a string.”

“Bloody brilliant, my girl. Bloody fucken’ brilliant.” Nodding, John smiles, beard pulling back to show pearl-white teeth, and claps your shoulder.

You love the way he makes you feel, like everything you do is well-thought-out and not just spur of the moment. Creasing your eyelids, you rub at your cheeks to try and wipe away the heat of them, knowing that wouldn’t work but still trying. John made your brain pump with dopamine, giddiness striking you in the chest like a bullet with a simple smile and his hand on your back.

…Why was his hand still on your back?

“This place got any good drinks?” You ask, trying not to look so entranced by the man in front of you.

John’s grip slips away and you hate that you want to snatch at it; feel the calluses burn your skin and dig into sensitive flesh. Breaking up with Leon had given you an adrenaline spike, one that lasted so long you were still riding it – only just now was the raging of your heart beginning to still.

It was a bad thought, you told yourself, a horrible thought to have right now…but damn it if John didn’t look like the solution to all of your problems, that yearning urge to feel good.

Leon was gone.

“Hm,” Your Captain murmurs, and your trailing eyes snap from his tight athletic shirt to his face. John turns himself to the front, grunting and setting his elbows on the counter, he lifts one finger up into the air to the frowning bartender and sends you a glace, “Unfortunately, MacTavish picked a place before I could verify,” The bartender thumps over and the Captain confidently says, “One Old Fashioned for the lady, and a refill for me, yeah?”

The bartender's eyebrows furrow, “Old Fashioned? What the hell is that?”

John’s body stills, and his face blanks as if he’s been personally offended. Laughing, you move back from the counter, hopping off the stool and going to stand near your Captain. Resting a hand on his shoulder, you tilt your head when his full attention whips to you.

His eyes glance at your hand before they settle; softening around the cold edges as the pupils widen. You nearly lose your breath at the sight…It made you want to snatch that hat off his head and make him chase you down for it; hold you to his chest and squeeze.

Stop it.

“I think I’m gonna head back to Base,” You say aloud, “Hang out in the Rec room and go to bed early. Maybe get a headstart on reports for tomorrow,” Looking back at the boys, you begin taking off Price’s trench coat, small hesitations in your nerves showing how much you wanted to keep it around you. But you needed to leave – clear your head without John’s scent making you hazy, “Don’t stay out too long, boys, I’m not coming to drag you back.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Simon utters, knocking a billiard ball and watching the ricochets. He sends you a guarded look, numb eyes running over you, “Drive safe. Weathers looken’ like it's letting up, but don’t trust it.”

“Right,” You nod. You know what he really means.

Gaz is watching you and sending quick glances to Soap with his dark eyes, and you see the Scot clenching his stick with a white-knuckled grip – blue eyes glaring at the table with a clenched jaw and tensing biceps. Like he was itching to lay someone on the ground and wale on them.

Your lips twitch. Soap had been by your side for four months; watching your back just as you had his. That creates a bond of brotherhood that can’t be overlooked. The stocky man was perhaps more upset about this ordeal than you were, now that you thought about it. The Task Force didn’t even know the extent of your fights with Leon – they’d kill him if they did.

If you even mentioned your Grandma’s lamp, the boys would rip your Ex apart.

“Suds,” Calling out, you fold John’s jacket over your arm. Soap whips his head to you, blinking back to focus.

“Yeah, Little Lady. You need something?”

“I need you to stop strangling the Cue Stick. You’re gonna break it before Simon can beat you, and that would just be embarrassing,” Soap stares at you, mouth slightly open, before he snaps to his iron grip and unclenches his hand.

“R-right,” The Scot’s eyes crease, and he itches at his mohawk with his free hand. A pause, “Are you…alright?”

You hesitate, looking to the floor as your feet shuffle before your right yourself, “I will be.”

Turning to John, you hold out your arm and feel heat on the tips of your ears when he’s already meeting your line of sight.

“Sorry about the water,” Trying not to let out a weak chuckle, you fail, “It looked pretty expensive just to be ruined by me. I’ll pay you for the dry cleaning bill.”

Price grunts, already shaking his head and lightly gripping you by the arm to push the jacket back to you. He stands up and you suck in a quick breath, nose nearly brushing his peck from how close you both were.

“You’ll need it,” Your eyebrows crease, not understanding, as he smirks at you, “What kind of Captain would I be if I let you drive back alone after all this?” John grumbles, shaking his head and pulling out his wallet, “I’m driven’ that’s an order.”

He tosses a fifty on the table for the bill and nods to the boys over your head, an authoritative tone leaking out. You don’t move away from him, letting his body heat leave you shivering and taking in shallow breaths. Try as you might, your mouth denies to refuse him.

“Be back on Base by 0100 and up for drills at 0500. It’s your fault if you Muppets only get five hours of sleep,” John lays a hand behind your shoulder blades and you let him guide you to the door, “Soap – you’re due for debriefs at 0800 in my office. I expect you to be punctual.”

A quiet grunt carries over the space.

You slip on the jacket, clearly seeing that John wouldn’t let up on this. Maybe…maybe you wouldn’t mind the company of the large-bodied Captain. Already the pain of being cheated on was dull when he was around. But would you be able to focus if he was right by you like this? You doubted it.

Slapping Gaz on the shoulder as you pass him, he sends you a soft look and utters, “Get some sleep, Love, alright? It’ll all be better in the morning. I’ll make sure the boys are back at Base soon so you don’t have to worry about ‘em.”

“Thanks, Garrick. Means a lot. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“You bet.”

“Behave, Sergeant,” John makes it to the door, opening it for you and feeling the draft enter, “Ghost,” The manchester man tilts his covered head from where he stands bent over the pool table, “watch these two, yeah?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Hey–!”

“What in the–!”

Price lets the door slam shut and whispers past your smile-split face, watching through the window as Soap and Gaz level offended gazes out at the Captain through the racing raindrops on the glass. Simon stands a bit straighter and once again scores on Johnny.

“They’re going to hold a grudge for weeks, John. Putting Ghost in charge of them when they’re on leave? Really? He’s never going to let the two live it down,” You say above the rain as you lead him to where your car is parked on the street, cheekiness littering your words.

“Let ‘em,” Price scoffs, and you feel his hands go to the jacket, puffing the collar up for you. Blinking away the rain, you smile shyly at the action, “not goin’ to change that they still have to get up tomorrow. After a twenty-mile run, I’m sure they’ll be too knackered to care, eh?”

“Hm,” You affirm, envisioning the future in your head with sadistic pleasure, and reach into your pocket. Tossing your keys into the air, John catches them effortlessly with a fast fist, only a small clink of the metal connecting heard.

You feel his eyes on you as you walk down the street, steadying you with a hand on your back even if he knew you were capable of walking by yourself. Above all, John was a gentleman – whenever you were with him, he always walked near the road, kept a hand in the small of your back, and watched the street with roaming eyes.

This was the first time you’d felt his gaze completely set on you. Had he always done that? No, you knew, but recalled something from the back of your mind as you side-stepped a puddle, moving closer to John unconsciously. His hand’s weight becomes more prominent, angling you into his hold.

After Madagascar was when he had started looking at you more often...you had thought it was because of the injury, but was it?

Shaking away the thought, you quickly make it to your car and leave Price’s steady side, hand resting on the handle. The familiar sound of the lock clicking open has you rushing inside to escape the pitter-patter of rain on your skull. Snapping the door shut, John in the driver’s seat does the same.

You both look at each other, and can’t help the chuckles at the disheveled looks you both share.

“Wind-swept hair would look dashing on you, Captain,” You tease, nose crinkling as you shake your head. The beanie on the man’s head was weighed down and John grimaces at the feeling, glaring up at it before peeling it off his head.

His free hand goes to his hair, ruffling it to dispel some of the water.

“Bloody rain,” He mutters, sparing you a look only to find you’re watching intently with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

A tension grows, and for the first time, you don’t push the feeling away. Your smirk slowly slips, going slack as you watch water drip from John’s nose. The world outside the car seems to blur, and nothing but the pair of you exist in this state of perpetual stillness. John’s eyes are such a shade of blue you have to wonder if you could ever look at the ocean again and not think of him, or even smell smoke on the street and not search him out.

You shouldn’t be feeling like this about him, but how could you not?

“You’re staring, Love,” John mutters, and you blink, shocked, but the man makes no move to stop looking right back at you in turn. His beard shifts as his jaw moves, bristles accented by the light of the street lamps.

“Well, so are you,” Teasing, you send a nervous smile before shifting away to clip your seatbelt in place.

His hand stops you halfway, covering your own with a large grip as his fingers glide over your skin leaving white-hot sparks. Freezing you watch as Price’s hand squeezes yours and helps you lock the seatbelt into the clip. The man’s hand stays there a moment longer as you, wide-eyed, feel your fingers twitch under his; memorizing the feel of them.

“Thank you, John,” You breathe, and your grip moves, turning to capture his own and curl his fingers into yours. He flinches, before loosening and he studies your face, cerulean blue jumping from one spot on your visage to another, “For everything.”

The man’s body stills and he blinks down at you. His breath is shallow, rattling in his chest. Something was in his eyes you couldn’t name.

“...Anytime, Dear.”

Price’s hand falls from your hold and leaves to gravitate toward the keys in the ignition. He twists them, and immediately the shaking of the car tells you it’ll survive one more day. Settling farther into John’s jacket you nuzzle your head into the fabric, curling your arms around your middle and resting your eyes. You try to calm your raging heart as the car peels out into the road, breathing through the stuffy air that smells so much like the two of you.

The ride to Base is quiet, but not at all like the kind of silence that had suffocated you on the journey back to Leon’s home – this was a comforting silence. Once you might not have understood what that meant. After all, how could a lack of sound leave your eyelids heavy and a floating feeling in your head?

When the parking garage gate opened, you had blinked awake.

Did I fall asleep? Rubbing at your eyes, the crick in the back of your neck told you all you needed to know. Groaning, a small chuckle to your side leaves you turning to face John, who carefully drives down the ramp as you swallow down the dryness of your throat.

“Sleep well?” He raises an eyebrow, observing out ahead of him.

You scoff in retaliation and don’t answer as John picks a free spot and parks.

“Let’s get you to bed, then,” Your ears twitch at his low tone and the rumble like a lullaby in his chest. Was he trying to put you back to sleep?

He gets out of the car and goes to your side as you continue to wake up, opening the door and unclipping your seatbelt.

“Steady,” John whispers, taking your hand and helping you out as your yawn, “I’ll give your keys back tomorrow afternoon, eh? You’ll lose ‘em like last time if I hand ‘em over to ya’ now.”

“Will not,” You retaliate, stumbling over nothing and causing your face to heat when John smiles, eyes crinkling in a tease.

“Will…You’ll get them back tomorrow. That’s that,” Grumbling, you huff but stay by his side as you both go to the main entrance, sliding past the door and nodding to the guard posted for watch duty.

“Captain, Ma’am,” The guard greets and a second later you’re both striding down the dimmed hallways with John sending you glances every so often.

“What is it, Captain?” Asking after it becomes too prominent to ignore, you send him a small smile, “I know I look like shit but I can’t be that bad to the point you have to ogle me.”

John’s face snaps forward and he clears his throat, hands going to slide into his pockets. You pull his jacket closer, eyes turning to silk.

He’s cute when he’s flustered.

“...Just makin’ sure you’re not going to pass out before you get back to your Barracks,” He blinks, and a blush hidden under his beard makes his ears turn red. You notice with a start that he had left his soggy hat in your car and that his messy hair made him look like he had gotten into a catfight. It was…an attractive look on him, to say the least, “...and you don’t look like shite, Sweetheart. You’re a beauty no matter what happens. Don’t say that about yourself.”

Your breath catches, and in that moment of struggling to breathe, you can only let out a tiny, “Oh, o-okay,” and try to walk straight as butterflies litter your stomach.

Did…did he call me beautiful? John called me beautiful.

A true, giddy, smile flickers over your lips even as you try to force it down; and just as simple as that, any hurt that Leon had left behind disappears. Everything is replaced by John’s large frame, blue eyes, and grunted words.

You get to your room and open the door, standing in the opening with dizzy thoughts. Turning around with a content expression, you’re forced to take a deep breath when your nose almost connects with a firm chest. Standing straighter, you snap your head up to find John towering above you, body heat melting into you and causing a reactionary shiver.

“John…?” You ask, head straining to stare at his down-turned face. Something lies hidden behind his eyes, flashing every so often as his gaze narrows. It was the same look as the one in the car, “What are you…?” His lips are thin, and something swirls in your gut when you see how his muscles tense. He’s holding something back.

If you moved any closer your breasts would brush against him, and under your water-heavy sweatshirt, your nipples harden at the idea.

Stop it, You warn yourself, but when he’s looking at you like that – bathed in the hallway light with wrecked hair and widened pupils – you can’t help the way your body reacts to his. Not anymore.

Leon was gone.

“You mind if I come in, Darling?” Your Captain’s raspy voice sings to your heart, pulse skipping a beat, “Wouldn’t want you to be alone right now, understand me?”

Taking a shallow breath, your hands at your sides start shaking, subtle actions making it all the more apparent of the growing fire.

You should say no. Tell him it wasn’t appropriate. But…there was no hiding the attraction you had for Price, not when your boyfriend was out of the picture. You should be mourning the lost relationship of your high school sweetheart, not just hopping into another confusing situation with your fucking superior!

Frowning, your shoulders hunch. If you said yes – which you really wanted to – that was the final signature on your self-respect and dignity. It would mean a whole stack of paperwork and many late nights. You could lose your job, get John kicked off the Task Force and demoted, the list was endless.

“Your thoughts are too loud,” Price comments, and he smiles down at you as your eyes widen, tension leaking away as you focus on his words like law, “It’ll be alright. You can say no if you want. You know that. It won’t hurt me.”

But it would, wouldn’t it, because it would hurt you too.

It was more than what was on the surface – the tension in the car that had festered ever since Madagascar told you already what would happen if you let him in. This had been the result of a number of years of pinning building one day after another into a mountain of need and lust. But there had always been a barrier in the way. Leon.

But Leon was gone now; where did that leave you with this stone in your stomach and a want to be with a man you now knew wanted you back?

And John was still giving you an out if you wanted it. A layered warning that this wasn’t the smartest decision for either of you.

“John,” You breathe, “I shouldn’t.”

“No, you shouldn’t. Neither should I.”

So that was ultimately why you grabbed his shirt, dragged him into your room, and finally smashed your lips to his.

John’s arms immediately wrap around your body and peel back his jacket from your form, kicking the door behind him closed so hard the wall rattles. You help, letting him grab the cuff and rip it off as your lips dance in needy kisses that leave your teeth clacking together and air falling from fast breaths.

His tongue runs over your lip and you open your mouth readily, not caring about how the floor’s going to form a puddle from the soaked jacket or the other water-clogged clothes when they inevitably hit the floor as well. John’s kiss was so intoxicating that when you first felt his hands steady you around your waist you pulled back in surprise, a trail of saliva leaving the two of you connected before it broke.

“John, we shouldn’t,” You say, breathless as air is sucked back into your red, shiny, lips. It was useless trying to convince yourself that this wasn’t what you wanted since you met him. Maybe Leon was right. Maybe you had been cheating this entire time. A traitorous, cheating, heart.

“No, we shouldn’t,” John growls out, accent far more prominent at that moment than ever before as his eyes darken; boring into your tissue to peel back the layers of your mind until all that remains is him. His lips were so red and shiny you wanted to bite them, “But I couldn’t bloody give a damn.”

His face once more slammed into yours, and one hand travels to the back of your head, firm. But, if you wished for it, it would leave in a millisecond and you could pull away without a word. All of this could end in a second and John or yourself would never bring it up again; forgetting the unprofessionalism and the way your body reacted to the swipe of his tongue over yours. The sounds you two were making were enough to make you cum right there – the panting, wet kissing. It was improper, dirty, but, beyond all of that…utterly addicting. How high he made you feel needed to be studied, you reasoned, no one could be like this.

Your hands snapped to his chest and you dig your nails into his shirt, dragging down and feeling his body jolt and squirm. John’s hand on your head tightened as you devoured each other, weaving into your hair as your fingers fall to latch onto his side, feeling the muscle tense and the man groan into your gasping mouth. His pelvis thrusts involuntarily, hitting your thigh.

The way he shutters against you leaves your legs rubbing firmly together as a pounding echoes in your navel. John drags you closer to him.

It seemed you made your decision, but you had a funny feeling you won’t regret it.

Heaving like a wounded animal, John peels back to twist you around, back connecting with the wall as his lips immediately hook onto your neck, saliva dripping down your pulse point in a long, slick, path. A wanton whimper leaves when you feel his beard scrape over your sensitive skin, leaving sparks in its wake that travel directly to your lower body. Using his right foot, the man shoves your legs apart, where you had them previously clenched together and pooling in hot, contained, desire.

“Don’t worry, Love,” He whispers, biting at your ear as your eyes flutter when he slides his thigh in between your splayed legs. You can’t help the loud moan you make when he snaps the thick portion of him up into your core and even through your pants you feel the instinctual, animalistic, urge to roll your pelvis. Fuck, you wanted to ride his thigh, come undone while he watched with those unwavering blues of his, “I’ll take care of you. Make you forget all about that poor bastard. Bloody prick doesn’t even know what he’s lost, but I nearly should thank him for it, yeah?”

“John,” You don’t know what you want, mind a hazy mess as one of your hands snaps to his head just like how he held yours and pulled at the strands tightly. Are you drunk? You feel drunk?

His hand on your thigh forces you to press down into his knee as he grunts in approval of your deteriorating state when you writhe with pleasure at the sensation.

“That idiot just gave me the best damn woman he ever could. Fucken’ fool, he is,” He’s muttering into your ear, head pressed into the wall, as your self-respect flies out the window at his next words, “I’ll fuck you better than he did, Love. C’mon, use me like I’ve wanted you to,” Your hips rut over the substitute for his dick with desperation to stimulate your needy clit, head rocking to the side in a heavy trace of puffing breaths.

Already the room was heating up, beginning to lose the scent of cinnamon from your old candle and reeking of sweat and carnal urgency.

“Just like that,” John whispers, words slow as the sensation of his tongue licking a stripe over your skin makes you pant and keen. Small jolts of pleasure run from the hard bud hidden behind wet layers, “Steady…Keep your head still.”

He goes back to leaving hickeys on your neck, and through your haze, you know he’s not thinking about how you’ll have to try and hide them tomorrow. John wants people to see the love bites, how they bruise purple and blue all over your throat and under your ear. He lays one on the junction of your shoulder and neck, and your eyes roll at the caress of a hot tongue and immediate sharp teeth digging into flesh a moment later; shuttering.

You hope he leaves some beard burn behind.

That's when you rip his head away by gripping his hair like a vise and then slam it into yours, shoving your tongue so far down his throat you listen to his chest rattle with shock at the action.

His knee jerks up, and you gasp with nerves that sizzle with lighting and a pool of slick in your core that leaks like a river before a strained plea is said into John’s maw, “Do that again.”

Your Captain doesn’t say anything, but his body shakes with need before doing what you ask. You could feel how hard he was through his pants as the weight digs into your stomach. The knowledge that you would get to feel him inside of you, stretching you open, served to confirm the fact that you would have to throw these panties away tomorrow.

God, he felt huge, thick, and firm.

John begins to jump his knee up and down, jolting your body as he pulls back to watch with awe at your body’s reaction; setting his forehead against yours. Whining, your back arches, and your shoes brush against the ground every other motion. Every movement sends your nerves alight. It was almost too much – oversensitivity threatening to pull you under with every perfectly angled jumping of your Captain’s knee.

You slick was staining his pants, completely soaking all layers.

“Fuck, look at you work, Love,” John was entranced as you got off on him, “Can’t believe that Bastard was getting this when you came back. See how soaked you’ve made me? Shit. Bloody temptress, you are.”

“Need you,” Your lips gasp out, legs shaking violently, “F-fingers. Inside. A-anything! Been wanting you for so long, John.” It was difficult to speak and focus on the pleasure at the same time, but you think he got the point.

Your pants were too tight, clothes grating to feel on your flesh. You want John’s hands on you. Now.

“Hm, what’s that?” Price grunts, still watching you move your clothed cunt against him with added fever.

Annoyance swirls.

“John,” Your mouth snarls, and his face shifts to look back up at you, noses squished together as you breathly sigh at another well-angled jump. Price’s chest rumbles with satisfaction, “Fuck me like how you stroke your cock to the thought of me.”

A moment of shocked silence at your vulgar language.

“Copy.” At once his knee is gone, and you’re squeaking as he grabs you by the waist and the world spins and dances around you.

John tosses you over his shoulder and the tension in your lower abdomen that had been building turns from a boil to a simmer. You’re about to complain before fingers begin working your shoe laces, tossing the boots off as the man strides to the bed in the corner.

He lays a heavy slap to your ass that makes you yelp out and hit his back in return. The sparks left behind make your legs clench and your stomach tighten; your hands tear into his back. John chuckles, smoothing over the spot before his grip travels, grabbing onto the waistband of your cargo’s. Ripping them down to your ankles, you moan at the sudden cool air on your cunt and shutter. Anticipation pools to produce a second pulse inside of you, getting louder and more ruthless by the second.

You were so horny it physically hurt to have his grip on you and not inside of you.

John tosses you to the bed and watches your tits as you bounce on the mattress, looking up at him with black-consumed eyes and a euphoric expression. He wastes no time – the man shucks off his boots and grips his belt with a veiny hand, ripping it from his pants and tossing it to the side. You had the best view of the large tent in his pants, violently straining the fabric in a way your hand can’t stop itself from clenching into the bed sheets.

“Touch yourself for me, Love, let me see you work that cunt of yours before I eat you out, yeah?”

Licking your lips, you moan, “Yes, Sir.”

“Ah, look at my good girl, listens so well to her Captain,” Your fingers aren’t as long or as thick as his are, so they can't do much as you slip them under your underwear and play with your weeping slit as you clench at the comment.

Your fourth and fifth fingers enter you, and your thumb presses into your stiff clit, moving in a tight circle as you stare into John’s eyes. Involuntarily, your lower body rocks in a steady motion as your eyes drink in the man and his heaving lungs...

You want him naked.

“Bloody Fucken’ hell,” Price throws off his shirt, and palms at his erection through his pants as his dog tags hit against his scarred and formed chest.

The sharp ‘V’ of his lower abdomen immediately draws your eyes downwards over the impressive physique, a trail of small dark hairs going lower and lower just to be shielded by the rough material of his pants. John’s skin glistens with sweat, and you want to lick it off of him. If possible, you get even wetter.

You smirk, hips jerking as you send a heavier motion on your nerve bundle; head rolling to the side and mouth opening as you feel yourself tighten around your fingers. That knot was returning, forming as you curl your digits in your slick heat, making your eyelids flutter.

When you open them again and force them to stay still, you find a heavenly sight beside you. Your eyes widen, and your slit tightens so violently your movements stutter and struggle like a noose had been tightened around your neck. The lungs inside of you gasp.

John’s pants and boxers were gone, leaving nothing on him besides his tags that clink and clatter as he jerks himself off at the sight of you. His sizable dick was red at the tip, lit with fire as precum dribbled out and splatted to the mattress right by your free hand – which clenches the sheets so hard you faintly hear a tear as your ears twitch. But your eyes don’t leave the magnificent sight in front of you watching like a hawk as John’s abdominal muscles tighten with every twisted motion of his hand.

He was so violent with himself, the exact opposite of how you were playing with your own body. That wasn’t to say the image was anything but fuel to the fire, though.

You whimper and writhe, wrist burning and palm completely soaked with natural lube.

“Ruining the show, Dear,” The tendon in Price’s neck flares, and a bead of sweat falls down his peck. Inside your sweatshirt, your breasts ache to be squeezed and abused.

Not processing his words for a moment, you pause your fast breaths to let out a high-pitched sound of confusion.

John doesn’t answer, because he moves his free hand and grips your panties, which stretch over your ministrations. He tears them down your thighs, and his touch is like a drug.

“There we go, Princess. Now I can see that pretty cunt of yours.” Keening at the praise, your back lightly arches from the bed, watching John continue to work himself and matching his pace, imagining him inside of you instead of your fingers, “You like that, yeah? You like when I speak to you like that, dirty girl?”

You bite into your lip, knot so tight you want to grab a pair of scissors and cut it before it tears you up. Fuck, you were so close, the erotic sounds of the both of you fucking yourselves are so wet it increases the pleasure spiking your veins.

A wet hand snaps to your wrist stopping you just seconds away from a release.

Gasping out in shocked desperation, your mouth releases a strangled plea of, “No, John, please.”

“Answer me when I speak to you,” You stare at your Captain’s bearded face as his hand keeps a heavy weight on your skin. He tears your fingers out of you and keeps them away from your core as you try and ferally move them back. John’s jaw is clenched – he holds you with the hand he was touching himself with not a second before, and you tense at the thought, “I asked you a question, Princess. I expect an answer if you want to cum.”

Tears of desperation form in your ducts. You were so close, but now the sensation was leaving again.

“Yes!” You yell, voice high, “Yes, John I like it when you tell me how good I am! It gets me wet for you… m-my cunt fucking needs you in it, please! I need you to fucking ruin me, Captain! I want your dick stretching me open like–”

His lips silence your rant, shoving the back of your head into the pillow and moving his body to shadow above yours. The action leaves you moaning so loud at the sensation of his athletic body you forgot the walls were thin and that you were sounding like you were in a pornographic film.

John smirks above you and replaces your fingers with his own, making your legs shake and twitch at the sensation of his callouses against your walls and his large digits burning as they enter you. He thrusts quickly, sopping wetness quickly making it easy, and the pleasure increases.

“Just had to say yes, Love,” His cock jumps and you feel it brush your lower abdomen, so painfully close but not quite. The man’s dog tags connect right above your face, swinging back and forth as he moves.

You gasp when his fingers curl, squelching echoes over the breathy chants of his name that you release.

“Look at how fucken’ wet you are,” John praises you, and your walls flutter, as he watches his fingers move in and out of you, “Gotta’ get a taste of that, Love…Take off your top for me so I can see those pretty tits bounce.”

Fuck you were on fire.

Your shaking limbs don't hesitate, hands snapping to throw the sweatshirt and your bra from you without a coherent thought in your brain. Completely bare before him, John’s expression darkens and swirls with lust. His fingers leave you and he moves down the mattress, leaving back on his knees and grabbing your thighs. Your chest heaves with adrenaline and bare need. This was better than any gunbattle – more thrilling than a training session, and far better than anything Leon had done to you.

John was focused on you. Entirely. The man was forsaking his own painfully erect cock just to go down on you; to taste your wetness like it was nectar.

Price hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, and your ankle digs into his back to bring him closer to your cunt.

“Easy there, Princess. I’ll give you what you need,” His breath spreads over your slit, and your hips jerk before his hand splays over your navel, thumb just brushing your throbbing clit. You try to buck again, whining, “Steady.”

He stares at your face as his tongue goes down to kitten licks your pussy, beard bristles poking your skin and leaving the flesh lit like a glowing ember.

“John!” You moan, and one of your hands snaps to your breast, squeezing as John explores your body, groaning deeply as he collects your slick on his tongue.

The man’s thumb goes to run circles around your nerve bundle, stimulating you as your body tries to move under his tight grip. But he has you under a tight rope, and the pleasure of it was nearly like being electrocuted over and over again. Your leg over his shoulder traps him there – eating you out like a man starved as his own hips begin to careen into the mattress. The pleasure of seeing you reduced to a blubbering mess that can only chant his name did primitive things to John’s mind.

And the way you were playing with your breasts…? Fuck, he was addicted to you; the way your body was perfect enough to devour.

John moans into your cunt, the vibrations biting every corner as the tension begins to shatter inside of you when his fingers go to assist his tongue. Your back arches as the muscle and digits work in tandem, pace increasing as the Captain curls over that perfect, spongy, spot that leaves tears falling down the side of your face.

“Fuck, just like that!” You wail, fingers flickering over your hardened nipple, “J-John just like that!”

The words were slurred, coming off as drunk as his beard leaves skin red and scraped on the inside of your thighs. Your cunt tightens, walls closing in around John’s tireless lapping and fingering. His thumb on your clit moves faster, and he lets your hips careen into his face over and over again as his large nose bumps against that same spot.

Tension builds and builds like an infection, and your free hand snaps to grip your Captain's hair, jerking his face farther into you and ruthlessly twisting the locks.

John whimpers into your slit, cock stuttering in its harsh rutting into the mattress, and your eyes erupt into stars, white light blowing up as your release makes time stand still.

Gutturally moaning into the hot air, you pant as you come down just to feel a tongue cleaning up your thighs, slurping up cum, and playing around with your sensitive flesh. Fingers still pump inside of you, helping you ride out anything that’s left.

You can’t speak beyond small whimpers and gasps at the movement, but when you look down you’re met with John’s ruined face.

His entire beard was stained, dripping cum down onto your navel as he licks at your clit once. Your hips jerk and you cry in protest at the oversensitivity of the abused area, eyes fluttering.

“Just as I thought,” John’s voice is velvet, dripping just like his beard and nose do as he licks his lips with a demented sucking noise “Boody perfect, doll. Could eat that cunt for hours, just to see you squirm when I’m fucken’ you with my tongue. Better than Whisky.”

You swallow as his hands caress your thighs, the grip traveling as his body slides up yours. His cock is heavy and leaking as it slides over your drenched slit. Thrusting up into it, the both of you gasp out. John lays drenched kisses all over your sweat-drowned body, leaving a trail of saliva and cum behind him as his own slots over you perfectly.

“Speak to me,” He groans, and your fingers still in his locks lightly pull as he pushes your still hand over your breast away with his nose. His hot mouth latches onto your nipple and sucks before laying a deep bite around it.

Writhing, he continues his expiration as a bead of sweat falls down your neck to pool at your bitten collarbone. John licks it up and continues like it’s nothing.

“F-feels good,” Is all you can say, not used to this type of treatment, “R-really good, Captain.”

“Yeah?” He sounds cheeky as his head pulls up to be above yours, hands pressing into the pillow beside your head, “Hm, think my Bird can take a cock? Want me opening that lovely cunt of yours up?”

Your heart pounds, hairs standing on end. The words were so vulgar, but you feel your arousal increase.

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Y-yes, Captain.”

John lays a gentle kiss on your bruised lips, and you taste your own release as he sighs into your mouth; connecting your foreheads together when he pulls away.

“I want your eyes on me the whole time, yeah?” He grunts, one hand going to grab at himself as he shivers above you. Chest bursting with anticipation, your free hand goes to intertwine its fingers with John’s beside your head – the other still gripping his hair, “I wanna see the way you lose yourself on me.”

You can’t answer before he’s filling you up.

Your eyes widen at the stretch, embers of pain bordering on the ledge of pleasure as the man pauses at your expression, going to play with your clit. On your face, your nose scrunches, hesitance floating in your orbs as you let out tight breaths even as his finger does wonders.

“S’alright,” John whispers to you, squeezing your hand and feeling the mewls your lips let out at the sensation of deep callouses, “I’ll be careful, Love. You can take me. Breathe.” Muttering paise as his cerulean blues bore into you, he resumes moving.

How could you even fit him all inside of you? The tip already burned to take so far into your womb.

But you were plenty wet, the squelching sound resumed, and John tilted his head down to see the way he disappeared inside your cunt like magic. Your thighs have to move farther up his own to help, one locking around his waist as a ring of milky liquid forms over the joining.

The man’s eyes widen when he spies the bulge forming in your lower body, the indent popping out like a hole that’s been repacked with too much dirt. For the final last push, the man forces himself to look away and back up at you – he wants to see how you react. But at the last seconds, John’s eyes roll back into his head when he finally hits the base, a throaty groan mixing with your high-pitched moan as he bottoms out. Your chest flutters against his, and both of your hearts are going so fast they can be seen through your flesh.

You were so full, stretching around him so wide it was a miracle you hadn’t torn something. Both of your stay there for a moment, feeling your walls spasm around him and panting. Sweat falls from Price’s chin, splashing to your skin as your eyelids threaten to close at the stranger inhabiting your most sensitive area. It felt so good.

Your mind completely blanks, eyes glazing over with rapture at the feeling of John’s cock curving so far into you that you know he’ll push into your cervix when he moves. Every minute movement – even the deep breath John takes to steady himself – leaves you needing stimulation as the veins of his dick press into your soft walls.

“M-move, please,” Your numb lips flutter, and John’s eyes open from above you, jaw clenched and one orb more squinted than the other.

“Yes, Ma’am,” He whispers, expression soft as your hand in his hair tightens to ground yourself.

John begins slowly, letting you get used to him and the burning that he brings to your insides when he retracts and re-enters. His thrusts are measured, at first.

“Such a good girl,” He says above you, and your eyes refocus, body loosening as your form gradually adapts. But you were right, he’s hitting every corner of you as easily as he breathes. So thick it's like nothing you've ever felt. Your hips are canting up to meet his shallowly, but John does most of the work. He wants to. He wants to please you like Leon never could, to treat you right, “Taken’ me so well. See you grippin’ me, Dear…t-that’s it,'' Your pussy throbs, and you feel him move a little faster, “You’re gettn’ it down, eh? There’s that pretty little face of yours – all screwed up ‘cause of me. Hm, don’t go cock-drunk on me yet, Lovely.”

“John,” Is what you chant as he begins to fuck you in earnest, pelvis slamming into you as you feel him brush your cervix, “Oh, John.”

“That’s it,” He pants and angles his thrusts up. The action makes you yowl, head tossing back as Price goes to bite into your neck again, dog tags cold against your skin, “There’s that sweet spot, yeah?”

He hits it every single time, marksmanship training telling him to keep attacking the most important part; tears blur your wide sight, back arching as his hand at your clit goes to hike your leg farther up his waist, the limb uselessly flying out behind his back. The deep press of his blunt nails into the flesh adds to the overstimulation, and you can’t keep up if you tried. Too pleasure drunk, you let him do what he wants, as long as you can feel his veiny cock hitting that spongy spot again. His dick thrusts into you with such devotion, ringing out pleasure like how one does to a rag.

“Fuck…” He muttered into your neck, “Won’t last long with you squeezing me like that. You’re so bloody tight.��

The snake was coiling in your gut, tail rattling as John throbs inside of your heat, moving over your skin like he was water over a rock. Loosening your hand from his hair, your nails go to dig into the fletch of his back, raking down his spine as he growls under you; sending a sharp thrust up that has you seeing sparks in your vision. It was building so quickly you couldn’t properly speak, only moan and wail and wine.

You were sure your nails were biting into his skin, leaving long red scratches behind as some sick form of proof. Maybe they were even drawing blood. A sadistic part of you wanted them too.

“C-close,” Your gasp enters the thick air as your legs shake. John bites your earlobe, lifting his head from your skin to look at you from the side of his blown eyes.

“W-where do you want it, Love?” He gasps, his beard scraping your skin until it’s raw. You hoped you had lotion in the bathroom for tomorrow, “C’mon gotta tell me before I lose myself.”

“Inside!” You yell, not even knowing what you’re saying anymore. If you did a part of you would have died from embarrassment. The man’s eyes snap fully to yours, widening; you feel his body shaking above you, hands clenching too tightly around your thigh and embrace as the flesh turns a different shade, “Please, Captain, fill me up. I wanna feel you dripping out of me for days! Please, I need your cum! Please, please…”

Price only sputters for a second before he begins to move like a man possessed. He pistons into you with heated movements and you gasp out in response, not sure how much more you could take but please don’t stop it feels so good. So, so, good when you move like that. Fill me with your seed.

“Made for me, you were,” John growls, ferally kissing you as you try to do the same back as he relentlessly pounds away, “I said it before, bloody fucken’ perfect. Don’t worry, I’ll give you what you need. Make you so full of me you’ll be leaking all over the damned sheets.”

The coil snaps and you clench around Price’s cock so hard he moans into your mouth as you do the same.

“Fuck..!” His hips jerk one more time before he spills into you, hot spurts of his seed coating your walls and leaking out of the ring you two had made.

Shaking, John lets you ride it out as he continues to shakily thrust into you, but it isn’t long before he has to stop and his dick softens inside of you. After a moment of violent deep breaths, he has to shift, exiting from your reddened and leaking hole. Shuttering at the feeling of his ridges once more leaving, the foreign emptiness finally settles into your bones, you feel his cum pooling from you to collect on the mattress; your lower skin feels wet to the touch as the liquid follows the lines of your body and sticks to every part available.

Lungs desperate for air, your body heaves and shivers; your eyes stay locked onto the ceiling above you, where you wished the metal was the same shade of blue as John’s eyes. You didn’t even notice the man himself had gone into your bathroom to receive a damp rag to clean you up until the rough material was leaving you flinching away from it.

“Careful now,” John speaks lowly, and you hear his dog tags below you as he swipes at your folds. Your eyelashes flutter, legs tensing, “Need to clean you up.”

He lays a kiss on your knee and continues for a few minutes, muttering compliments and kind words that you miss as your ears ring; he cleans your combined fluids from your spent cunt delicately, completely different from how he was abusing it a short while ago.

John leaves, and when he returns a second time, he slips into the bed in front of you, taking the wrecked covers and arranging you carefully so you were covered by them.

A moment of hot pressing bodies passes, and your head is pressed into the man’s raging chest, drawn back to consciousness by his heart when he shifts, “...Didn’t hurt you, did I, Love?”

“Hm,” You groan, and moving your legs results in needles digging into the fine tissue, “No. But you’re going to be carrying me tomorrow.”

Your Captain has the audacity to laugh, his hand going to rest on your ass, rubbing the skin as he draws you closer.

“Wanted to do that for a long time, Y’know,” He whispers, laying kisses to your hair, “Long time.”

“Me too,” You admit, sighing as your eyes flutter shut, “Since Madagascar, I think.”

John lightly flinches, “Madagascar?” It’s a question, but he already knows the answer, “What about…”

He trails.

“Leon?” You ask and Price grunts, knocking his nose down into your scalp as he draws circles into your skin. He didn’t like you saying that man’s name, “I think I wanted to break up with him…finding him with someone else just gave me an easy out, I guess,” You think over the event. Had you been relieved slightly? Perhaps, but it was easier to tell now than earlier, “It was just…”

Stopping you hum, and turn your head to lay a kiss on a scar on John’s chest in your vicinity.

“Easier.”

It’s not a question your Captain poses, it's a statement.

“Less complicated, yeah.” He breathes a sigh into your hair and fatigue leaves your lids falling quickly.

“We’ll talk more in the morning,” John mutters, “Copy?”

You don’t answer, because you’ve already fallen to sleep, body bruised and yet feeling far better than you had in years. John wanted to be with you, Leon was out of the picture – it was all turning up. But there was still that part of you that ached with betrayal, that bled when you poked at it with a finger; a wounded heart would do that. It bleeds for a bit.

Though, you knew John would be there with a bandage, to put pressure on the wound and catch the spills. Maybe that was selfish, but maybe you had a right to be for a little while. Your Captain certainly didn’t seem to mind.

John fell asleep quickly after, content for possibly the first time in years. He gets to hold you in his arms and wake up with you right by his side, even if the paperwork was going to be atrocious.

There was no doubt people had heard them, but it wasn’t like the Captain cared.

—

“Little Lady?” The knock wasn’t what woke you, John did. Looking up at him, he holds a finger to his lips and has a pleading look on his face. You raise a brow, about to go back to sleep before Soap’s voice makes you freeze, “I know you’re in there – you wouldn’t happn’ to have a clue where Price is, would you? Man missed the debriefing.”

Your wide eyes stay locked with Johns, Maybe If I don’t answer he’ll go a–

“That’s it, I'm coming in!”

“Wait!”

But the door was already opening – John hadn’t locked it, too caught up in the stupor of finally getting you into his arms and wetting his dick.

“...Steamn’ bloody Jesus!” Screaming and a quick rustling can be heard echoing out into the hallway, “...Well, well, well, Cap finally got the girl, did he? Bout’ time, I’d say! Tell me, now, how good was he in bed for an old man?”

“Stop lookn’ at her, you Muppet! I’ll hang you by the fucke–”

“How can’t I – her fucken’ tits are out and you’re about a bawhair away from her! Where else am I supposed to look, man?”

“Out!”

Soap rushes out, smiling wider than anything with gleaming eyes before stumbling and nearly careening into the wall as John Price rushes after, face red and snarling. The Captain had nothing more than a wrinkled, thin, standard white bed sheet around his tapered waist with dog tags fastened around his neck.

John’s clenched hand connects with the door frame and the rageful man leans out down the hall and yells, “When I find you, MacTavish, It’s your fucken’ neck under a goddamned rope! You hear me, Sergeant?! Your fucken’ neck!”

Vibrating laughter can be heard from the figure already disappearing down the corner of the woman’s Barracks.

“Wait till the boys hear about this!”

The door closes so loudly behind John that the wide-eyed bystanders in the hallway miss the lock being clicked into place with savage fingers. But the loud, chest-tightening, feminine laughter that forms moments later is none the clearer.

Well, secret’s out.

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munson-blurbs · 3 months

Text

Eddie Munson x Best Friend!Reader

Summary: You've been crushing on Eddie since you joined Hellfire Club. Too bad he's crushing on Chrissy Cunningham...right?

Warnings: angst to fluff, idiots in love, super cheesy but it's Valentine's Day so idc WC: 1.6k A/N: My entry for @corroded-hellfire's This is Music! event!

Divider credit to @saradika

Eddie’s looking at her again.

You can’t blame him; he’d be crazy not to stare at Chrissy Cunningham, clad in her tiny cheerleading uniform with a bouncy blonde ponytail and sugar-sweet giggle. If you just ignore him, act like he isn’t imagining sweeping her off of her feet–

“Do you think I should send her one of those candy gram things?”

Almost instinctively, Dustin’s eyes flicker to you, but he turns back to Eddie before anyone can notice. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” he stammers, scrambling for an excuse. “She and Jason, like, just broke up.”

This information doesn’t deter Eddie in the slightest. “Exactly. She’s probably heartbroken from getting dumped right before Valentine’s Day. I could be her…Freak in Shining Armor.” He grins at his spin on the unwanted nickname, pausing for a half-second before turning to you and asking, “You’re a girl. What do you think?”

The question is almost laughable. What do you think? You think he should stop pining over Chrissy and start seeing you in that same light.

With a painful swallow, you force a strained smile. “If you like her, you should go for it.”

That’s all of the motivation Eddie needs. He slams his palm on the table and proudly declares, “All right, I��m doin’ it.”

Tears bite at your lash line as he strides across the cafeteria over to where the student council has set up the candy gram booth. You feel a gentle hand on your shoulder, and you glance over to see Dustin offering you a sympathetic look.

“He’s an idiot,” he says, low enough so that his words are inaudible to other Hellfire members. “He’ll figure it out one day, but you shouldn’t sit around waiting for it to happen.”

Logic tells you that he’s right, but moving on is easier said than done. Especially when he’s one of your closest friends.

Determined to avoid any inquiring from the other guys, you do your best to assimilate into their conversation about beating this week’s campaign.

Chrissy received Eddie’s candy gram on Valentine’s Day. To his dismay, she also got one from Jason Carver.

“Of course she went back to him,” Eddie mutters, tossing his tin lunch box on the cafeteria table with a harsh clang. He heaves a sigh and rests his head on your shoulder, gazing up at you with his big, beautiful eyes. “Am I gonna be alone forever?”

“Probably.” You muster a tense laugh and brush a tendril of his hair off of your cheek. “Maybe you can try sending out a message in a bottle and see if anyone bites.”

He harrumphs and slumps over, burying his face in his palms. “She told me she ‘appreciates my friendship.’” He shakes his head. “Fucking humiliating.”

The irony of his statement is too much to bear, and you slip away from the table with a half-hearted excuse about needing to study for the history test you have next period.

The walk to the library feels like it takes decades, silent tears falling as soon as you find an empty table among the stacks of books.

Chrissy wanted Jason the way Eddie wanted Chrissy, which was the same way you wanted Eddie.

And no one wanted you.

A few minutes pass before Jeff slides into the seat next to you. “We’re in the same history class. Figured it would make your lie more believable if I had to study, too.” He shrugs. “Plus, I wanted to check on you.”

“I’m fine.”

He doesn’t believe you, you know he doesn’t. Embarrassment is written all over your face, both at your abrupt exit from the cafeteria and your pathetic crush on Eddie.

Jeff takes a deep breath. “Look, Eddie doesn’t know what he wants.”

“Seems pretty obvious to me that he wants Chrissy,” you say wryly, twirling a pen between your fingers.

“No…I mean, yeah. But that’s because she’s, like, safe.”

You scoff. “Asking out the Queen of Hawkins High is safe?”

“Sounds ridiculous, I know, but hear me out.” Jeff leans in a bit closer so he can whisper to you. “She’s not part of our group, so he doesn’t have to worry about constantly hanging out with her. Plus, she’s nice enough to not publicly destroy his ego. I’m sure she didn’t tell Jason about the candy gram, or else he would’ve announced it to the whole school by now.”

You nod in reluctant agreement.

“And speaking of that jackass,” Jeff continues, “how many times have they broken up and gotten back together?”

“Too many to count.” Their relationship is like one of the novelas you watch when you’re stuck at home with a fever.

“Exactly.” Jeff exhales. “Chrissy paid a little bit of attention to Eddie because she wanted some weed for a party, and now he’s head over heels for her. Because he can be. Because her rejection stings a little, but it’s nothing compared to how being rejected by you would feel.”

Wiping at your tear-dampened cheeks, you shake your head. “I don’t think he cares about being rejected by me.”

He mumbles something under his breath but doesn’t say another word until the bell rings, and the two of you walk to class together.

Thank God you don’t actually have a test today; you wouldn’t be able to focus long enough to answer a single question. All you think about is what Jeff had implied: that Eddie does like you but is afraid to ruin your friendship.

You brush off the idea as ridiculous. Why would Eddie choose you over the gorgeous head cheerleader?

Uneasiness builds within you until it’s impossible to ignore, and you scrawl a note in the back of your composition notebook before you can fully think it through.

Eddie–

I’m sorry that Chrissy turned you down. Trust me when I say that I know what it’s like to feel unwanted by the person you want the most. It sucks, but you’ll move on and realize that she was the one who missed out, not you.

You sign your name and add a P.S. Fuck Valentine’s Day for good measure, folding the paper in fourths and slipping it into his locker between class periods. Not quite a confession, but it’ll do.

Eddie’s waiting by your locker after the last bell rings, scraping a front tooth against his bottom lip and fiddling with something. As you get closer, you realize that something is your note.

“Who is he?” Eddie demands to know, sighing impatiently when you raise your brows in confusion. “This mystery guy who doesn’t want you. Who is he?”

“No one. It’s fine,” you say quickly, refusing to make eye contact with him as you twist open the lock. “It was just to let you know that you’re not alone in this, okay?”

He shakes his head and chuckles tersely. “Nah, not okay. I’ve gotta kick his ass.” He shuffles from foot to foot, already anticipating a fight.

“Well, you can’t.”

“And why not?” Eddie scoffs. “I know I’m scrawny, but I’m pretty damn scr–”

“Because you’d be kicking your own ass!” The words fly out of your mouth before you can stop them. Your blood runs cold and your pulse thuds in your ears when you realize what you’ve said. “I’m sorry. That was too much, especially with what happened with Chrissy today.”

You start to leave, but you’re tugged back in place by his gentle grasp on your wrist. “Follow me,” he murmurs. He makes a beeline for the Hellfire room with you right on his heels. As soon as you walk in, he closes the door. “Repeat that? Because I don’t think I heard you right.”

“You’re the guy who doesn’t want me,” you manage through the lump in your throat, “and it’s okay, because we can’t help who we like and who we don’t. I don’t want you to feel guilty or anything like that.”

You’re rambling, and you tuck your lips into your mouth to stop yourself from talking yourself in circles.

Silence seeps into the room, the only noise is the hum from the fluorescent lights overhead. Finally, Eddie speaks again. “Do you know why I asked you to join Hellfire?”

You swivel your head back and forth in a definite no.

“Yeah, I tried to keep it that way,” he says with an awkward laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “So, um, I kinda had a massive crush on you. And I figured that we’d get to know each other here and then I’d ask you out or whatever, but I kept chickening out. So…there ya have it.” He shifts his hands as if to say ta-da.

“And now you like Chrissy.” Out with the old, in with the new.

Eddie takes a small step closer, one ring-clad hand taking yours. “Not the way I like you,” he breathes, his other thumb tracing a faint line over your jaw. “Not even close.”

You close the gap between you, tilting your head so your lips meet his. The fear that he’ll hesitate or turn his head altogether disappears as soon as he pulls you closer, deepening the kiss. His hand tucks behind your ear, and he leaves it there until you both have to break away for air.

The two of you wear matching smiles, shy but relieved. Eddie leans in to kiss you once again, only to be interrupted by the rest of the club’s musings.

“Took them long enough.”

“Seriously, I thought we were just gonna have to watch them pine over each other forever.”

“Crap, do you think they can hear us?”

“Yeah, shit-heads, we can hear you,” Eddie calls out with a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief before turning back to you.

“Now, where were we?”

#eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie x you #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #eddie munson angst

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pucksandpower · 3 months

Text

Never Have I Ever

Charles Leclerc x Sainz!Reader

Summary: a game of Never Have I Ever leads to revelations your brother wishes he could forget (and half the grid running for their lives)

“Alright Y/N, it’s your turn!” Lando says, turning to you with an impish grin. “Give us a good one!”

You bite your lip, looking around the circle of F1 drivers sitting cross-legged on the floor of Charles’ palatial hotel suite. It’s a rare night off for everyone during the season, and Charles had suggested a casual get-together for some bonding time. That, of course, led to drinking games, and now here you all are, a few rounds into Never Have I Ever.

“Hmm...” you say slowly, tapping your chin as you think. Your brother, sitting to your left, playfully shoves your shoulder.

“Come on, hermanita! Don’t go easy on us,” he says with a laugh. You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling.

“Okay, okay! Never have I ever … raced in Formula 1,” you declare. A chorus of groans goes up around the circle as everyone except you drinks.

“That was just mean, Y/N!” Lance protests, though his eyes are twinkling with amusement. You grin and give a nonchalant shrug.

“All’s fair in Never Have I Ever!”

The game continues, the questions getting more and more outrageous and personal. Though you’re the only non-driver here, you feel completely comfortable around these guys. You’ve known most of them for years now through your brother, and they welcomed you into the F1 family immediately. It’s fun to sit back and observe their antics and camaraderie.

“Alright, I’ve got one,” Daniel says, leaning forward with an devilish smirk. “Never have I ever … slept with someone on the grid.”

You feel your eyes widen slightly at the implication, but force yourself not to react. Still, you can’t help but notice Fernando slyly taking a sip of his drink out of the corner of your eye. The rest of the drivers turn to look at him in surprise.

“What?” Fernando says with an innocent look. “Have you seen Mark Webber?”

The others burst into laughter at this excuse, the tension effectively diffused. As all eyes stay focused on Fernando, you slowly lift your own glass to your lips and take a subtle sip.

Just as you’re lowering it though, you feel Carlos stiffen next to you. Uh oh. You chance a glance at your brother and immediately regret it at the sight of the shock and anger flashing in his eyes. Before you can say anything, Carlos is on his feet.

“Alright, which one of you was stupid enough to touch my sister?” He demands heatedly.

Instantly, almost comically, Charles, Max, Lando, Pierre, Alex, Oscar, and Logan scramble to their feet and take off running in different directions.

Carlos’ eyes nearly bug out of his head before he takes off after them, yelling Spanish profanities. You sit there stunned for a second before dissolving into laughter. Only Fernando and Daniel remain seated beside you, chuckling and shaking their heads.

“Carlos! Hermano, calm down!” You call after your brother fruitlessly. Still giggling, you turn to Fernando. “I should probably go deal with him before he actually hurts someone, huh?”

“Probably wise,” Fernando says with an amused smile. “Good luck, chica.”

You give him a grateful smile before jumping to your feet and hurrying after Carlos. You find him in the next room, gripping a cowering Lando by the front of his shirt.

“Please don’t kill me!” Lando squeaks out. “It was one time!”

“Carlos, stop!” You cry, rushing over and grabbing your brother’s arm. “Let him go!”

Carlos drops Lando immediately, who scurries away like a frightened mouse. Your brother whirls on you, face still red with anger.

“Y/N, what the hell? You never told me you’ve been with these pendejos!”

You hold up your hands in a calming gesture. “I know, I’m sorry! It just sort of … happened. With everything going on in the paddock, it’s hard to avoid getting close to people. A girl has needs!”

Carlos drags a hand down his face, looking positively murderous. You place a gentle hand on his arm.

“Carlos, listen to me. I’m a grown woman, I can make my own choices. I know you want to protect me, but I’m okay, I promise.”

Your brother’s expression softens slightly as he looks down at you. He pulls you into a tight hug.

“Lo siento, hermanita. I just worry about you, that’s all. The grid is like a family, but still ...”

You hug him back reassuringly. “I know. But you don’t need to go all Spanish Inquisition on them, okay? I can handle myself.”

Carlos sighs but finally relents with a small smile. “Okay, okay. I’ll try to restrain myself from beating them all senseless.”

You laugh. “Much appreciated. Now come on, let’s get back out there and pretend this never happened, yeah?”

Carlos winces slightly but agrees, allowing you to lead him back out to the others. Most have returned to the circle now, shooting your brother wary glances. You give them a reassuring smile as you sit back down, Carlos settling tensely beside you.

“Right!” You say brightly. “Whose turn was it?”

There’s a beat of uncertain silence before Logan clears his throat.

“Uh, I believe it was mine,” he says. “Never have I ever … had a podium finish.”

There’s a communal exhale of relief as the game gets back underway. You catch Carlos’ eye and give him a pointed look, reminding him of his promise. He sighs but gives you a subtle nod and an apologetic smile.

The questions continue on, ranging from silly to risqué, though nothing quite as explosive as before. You’re relieved to see your brother laughing and back to his normal self.

As the night winds down, you’re struck by a feeling of gratitude and affection for this group. Despite the drama and tensions of the season, at the end of the day, you’re all a family.

These guys welcomed you with open arms, and you know Carlos is just looking out for you. You lean against your brother with a contented sigh, smiling around at the drivers joking and chatting happily. No matter what happens on and off the track, you know you’ll always have each other.

***

“Alright everyone, glasses up! We’re doing this again!”

You grin around at the drivers gathered once more, this time to celebrate the one year anniversary of your first Never Have I Ever night together.

“Who’s starting us off this time?” Lando asks, bouncing excitedly in his seat.

“Ooh me, me!” Alex volunteers, raising his hand eagerly. Everyone chuckles.

“Alright Albon, give us a good one,” Lewis encourages.

Alex strokes his chin thoughtfully. “Hmm, never have I ever … raced in F1 before 2019.”

A majority of the group drinks at that one. “Trying to knock out us old farts, eh?” Fernando jokes, elbowing Alex.

The questions continue on, each one prompting laughs and cheers among the group. You’re filled with the same warm contentment as last year, smiling around at your dear friends.

About halfway through, you clear your throat. “I’ve got one! Never have I ever … been an uncle.”

Most of the drivers take a drink between smiles and coos about nieces and nephews. You notice Carlos doesn’t drink and turn to him with a playful grin.

“Uh, hermano, I think you forgot to drink for that one,” you say pointedly.

Carlos looks at you in confusion. “What? None of my sisters have kids.”

You simply keep staring at him meaningfully until realization dawns on his face. His eyes go wide, flicking down to your still-full glass of untouched alcohol.

“Y/N … are you ...” he breathes in disbelief.

You nod again. “I’m pregnant.”

For a moment Carlos just stares at you in shock. Then his face starts turning red, hands clenching into fists at his sides.

“You’re pregnant?” He repeats through gritted teeth. The other drivers fall silent, exchanging uneasy glances.

“Who did this to you? Who’s the cabrón who touched my sister again?” Carlos demands, voice rising.

You shrink back slightly, smile fading. Maybe you should have told him privately.

“I … Carlos, please, just calm down,” you say weakly.

But your brother is beyond calming down now. He whips his head around the circle, glaring daggers at each driver.

“Who was it? Who permanently defiled my innocent baby sister?”

You open your mouth uncertainly, not quite sure how to answer. Before you can though, Charles abruptly jumps to his feet.

“WellwouldyalookatthetimeIgottagonowbye!” He blurts out hurriedly before turning and sprinting from the room.

“LECLERC!” Carlos bellows, tearing off after him. You can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of you at the sight. Some things never change.

The other drivers are cracking up too. “Think we should go make sure Carlos doesn’t actually kill him?” Lando asks with a grin.

You wave a hand dismissively. “Nah, let them work it out. Charles will tire him out eventually.”

Still chuckling, you lean back against the couch next to Fernando, who has an arm draped casually around your shoulders.

“Those two, I swear. Will Carlos ever stop seeing me as his baby sister?” You muse with a smile.

Fernando grins and shakes his head. “Doubtful, chica. But that’s how brothers are. He’s just watching out for you.”

From the other room, you hear a crash followed by yelling in multiple languages. You and Fernando share an amused look.

“At least he didn’t try to fight the whole grid again,” you point out. Fernando barks out a laugh at the memory.

“Give him time. The night is still young,” he says with a playful wink.

You laugh again, cuddling into Fernando’s side. Even with your brother’s antics, you truly feel so lucky to have this group in your life. Friends turned family.

As you hear Carlos’ angry shouts getting closer, followed by Charles’ panicked apologizing, you think to yourself that there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

2K notes · View notes

some-bunniii · 3 months

Text

Lucifer with an artist reader

・❥ You’re hosting an art class, and the nude model is someone you never expected

xx: it’s a long one y’all 😭 we’re still in the pre-dating era! Slowburn, anybody? Forget the crumbs, have the whole loaf of bread, my swans ☺️

warning: brief mentions of nudity & mild swearing

After Lucifer’s initial tour of the hotel, he started coming around much more often.

He was beginning to reconcile with his daughter, and that meant making up for all the years he had missed out due to his self-isolation.

When Lucifer came to the hotel for Charlie, he always made time for you.

At first, when you had still been busy working away at the paintings for the hotel, he had used the excuse that he was just coming over simply to “admire the art.”

Nevermind that he crossed the entire hotel just to look at some paintings, but you never pried him about it. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t waiting in anticipation for his visits.

Sometimes, he would lean against the door frame in silence, watching as your brush glided across the surface of the canvas. He dared not to disturb you while you worked. Too afraid he’d cause you to slip up and place your brush in the wrong spot, ruining your piece.

He never would admit it, but the soft, feather-like strokes you made always seemed to lull him into a state of tranquil bliss.

If he had the opportunity to sit there for hours and watch you paint, he’d probably drift off into a peaceful sleep.

It was ASMR for the King of Hell.

You weren’t always sure whether he was admiring the painting, or you. You were too concentrated on making a leaf of a tree, or the surface of the water just right to trace his gaze.

You’d think with Lucifer being the embodiment of pride and his rank as ruler of the realm, he’d have demanded your attention instantly.

Instead, it was you who usually spoke first. “Are you going to sit down?” You’d tease with a warm smile, greeting him with a bat of your eyelashes as you soaked your brush with fresh paint.

“Of course, I just wanted to see your progress, it’s looks beautiful as always.”

You had hummed a thanks as he strode over to the flat cushion in the middle of the room, and collapsed in it. He had now claimed it as his personal spot ever since he had first used it when you let him use his wings for reference.

Every time he made himself comfortable, he would exhale a large sigh of relief, like he just walked out of a noisy and over-stimulating circus show.

His tolerance for people in general was still pretty dicey, but here, in the quiet corner of the hotel, he could reset his mind.

And with you there? He didn’t feel so lonely. Even in your silence, your presence and the multitude of large paintings leaning against the walls was all he needed to keep his mind from drifting off into darker thoughts.

“Boy, do you work fast. I can’t imagine what Hell would like if you were the one running things.”

“Probably terrible,” You had laughed, “I may be able to create art under time constraints, but the pressure of an entire realm on my shoulders? We’ll let the super-powerful-fallen-angel deal with that.”

“There goes my vacation,” He had sighed dramatically.

Sometimes, he’d catch you humming to an ancient tune, and every time he’d ask you about it.

“What song is this?” He’d ask, genuine interest lacing his voice.

“Innsbruck, ich muss dich lassen”

“I’m not even going to pretend to know what that means”

“ ‘Innsbruck, I must leave thee’ ,” you’d laugh, “It’s a German song and is, you guessed it, from the Renaissance.”

“Oh, right. Germany. Yeah, they were our biggest influx of souls back in the early 1900s,” He replied, “Must’ve been fun people.”

You shook your head at that. Right, ‘Fun’, that was a rather.. surface-level take on what that country had gotten into during that period of time.

“You should tell me more about the Renaissance.” He’d ask with puppy-dog eyes, which always made you set down your brush and turn to him. A content smile spreading across your face.

Your knowledge of such a time always intrigued him, the Renaissance as a whole did. For so long, he had desperately clung onto the hope that some of humanity would go on to create great and beautiful things due to his actions. That his Fall wasn't all for nothing.

Slowly, that hope fizzled out, and Lucifer’s growing delusion that Earth mirrored the sinful realm of Hell in more ways than one plagued his mind.

And then you appeared, passionate about Man’s most beautiful creations. Art, music, long-ago writings of sappy declarations of love in the form of poetry, and times when humanity’s intellectual and innovative nature flourished.

“It was absolutely magnificent,” You’d start, drawing from the depths of your mind all the imagery you could remember from when you were alive, “Filled with all kinds of artistic expression, painters that filled the ceilings of churches with heavenly imagery-“

Lucifer had snorted at that. This era in time had such a romanticized idea of what Heaven and their Creators were like. He pitied their ignorance.

“-and beautiful music. They were known for bringing to life a worldview known as Humanism. It was meant to bring back ancient philosophy — like from the Greeks — to uplift people to participate in the betterment of humanity, and to perpetuate much more virtuous actions. There must be a whole city full of them up there, I can't imagine anyone from that period ending up down here with how protective they were of their moral code.”

He’d always listen attentively in silence as you educated him. Sometimes, he’d even pull out the classic yellow rubber duck toy he held so close to his heart, and begin to fiddle with it as you spoke.

When he worked on them in your room, he’d curate them especially for you.

“Look! This one can refill your palette with the bestest freshest paint!” He’d exclaim as he wiggled it in the air, “And it still quacks!”

Every time, you’d pull up a cushion across the table from him, and rest your chin on your hand as you watched in amusement as he demonstrated his work.

In this instance, he squeezed the sides of the duck and it let out a pathetic Sqeaaooo and a glob of paint slid out of its mouth and plopped right onto the table. It splattered, leaving a few droplets on his pretty white overcoat.

Lucifer was a messy fella, and times like this made you growl quietly and reach for a wet cloth from your cleaning bucket. Hastily trying to rid his clothing of the bright red paint. Your movements across his sleeve made his body tense, and his breath quicken.

For someone who easily flustered you with abrupt acts of affection like the first time you met, Lucifer had the uncanny ability to turn his face as red as his cheek spots when you displayed such care towards him.

“It's still a work in progress.” He’d bashfully assure you every time something like that wouldn’t go as planned.

You’d wish Lucifer displayed such creativity outside of the yellow bath toy, but you promised yourself to help him down that path.

You could only imagine how many ideas this man had stored in that head of his, and you had a feeling you’d get him to wake up eventually. The thought of being there for him — with him, made your cheeks hot.

When it was finally time for him to leave the hotel — sometimes hours later, you’d walk him to the door of your little atelier and he’d turn to you, with that charming smirk and half-lidded look.

“Aren’t you going to say goodbye to Charlie?” You had ask, as he adjusted his hat and coat to depart.

“I already did before I got here,” he replied nonchalantly, as if you two existed in completely different buildings. Nevermind that she was a flight of stairs and a few halls away.

There were no more bold kisses to the limbs from him after your first meeting, to your displeasure. Even thinking about it gave you feelings that tugged painfully at your heartstrings and made you beg internally for more.

You desperately wished for him to softly hold your hand once more, to feel his lips graze your knuckles, to drink in the warmth of his touch.

Instead, he clutched his staff tightly, and dipped his hat to you.

“Until next time, Darling,” his voice, like silk, had echoed as waves of gold surrounded him. In a blink of an eye, you were left alone once more. Your heart pounding just like the first time, and every time after that.

Today, your heart was pounding just as fast. Except there was no Lucifer in sight.

Three days ago, you got a call from a good friend of yours who ran an art studio on the other side of Pentagram City. She realized she had double booked her classes, and had begged you to take over one for them.

“I’ve never taught anyone before…” You had trailed off over the phone, apprehensive to the idea.

“Nonsense! You are so well spoken, and you’re fantastic at this kind of stuff,” She exclaimed, “It’s not that hard, all you have to do is sit there while they trace the model and step in a few times to give them some tips on techniques. They aren’t a beginner class, so they shouldn’t need much instruction. You’re also in charge of guiding the model with the poses, but I already have a sheet that has them all, so you just need to follow along.”

You stood there for a moment, thinking. This was something totally strange to you. What were art classes like in Hell, anyway?

“Oh, AND they are going to be nude. At least partially, we make them cover their um, nether regions. That shouldn’t be a problem for you, right? I mean, you get paid for it so…”

Your friend trailed off, and the line went quiet for a moment as you mind raced. You looked around the now -empty atelier, your paintings finished and hung up around the hotel. You had nothing that was stopping you from doing it, not your skills, your time, or even the fact that the model was going to be exposed. You were in Hell, seeing someone like that was an almost daily occurrence. Telling her no just because of your nerves was a douchy thing to do, and you were far above that.

“Fine.” You conceded.

“YAYY!!” She shrieked in happiness, and you had to yank the phone away from your ear before it could start to bleed.

The next few minutes were her telling you where, when, and what to do. You had listened intently, memorizing her words. You didn’t want to make a fool out of yourself in front of strangers that you were teaching.

After hanging up the phone, had you went downstairs and to the hotel’s lobby to inform Charlie of your new job.

“I’m really sorry if this interferes with me working here, but I just couldn’t leave her hanging.”

“Pffft, it’s fine,” Charlie had waved it off, “You accepting the position as my new interior design manager is more than enough, i’m just glad you’re getting out of your comfort zone like this!”

You sighed a breath of relief. Good, no issues. You were worried she would have said no, and the fact she knows about Lucifer visiting you? Well, you weren’t sure how she was taking that. You never dared to ask, nor did she make any kind of indication her feelings about that.

“What’s it like?” She had asked, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“It’s nothing too bad, I think I might actually like it. I just help them with their techniques on mastering figure drawing by using a model as a reference. My friend says they are still looking for one to pose, so hopefully they find one in the next few days.”

“Interestingggggg” Charlie responded, her eyes holding a mischievous glint to them. You could see the gears turning in her head, but what for, you had no clue. You didn’t ask either.

You had spent the next few days preparing, you even had visited the studio. It was very pretty, and the room you were in was small, but rather homey. You had more confidence with your ability to lead the class now after locating specific areas of importance.

Which lead you to present day. You were hurriedly scrambling around the room, grabbing anything of necessity.

Your eyes jumped to the clock, and a squeak of panic escaped you as the class’ starting time got closer and closer. Finally placing the last pencil in your bag, you raced down the stairs, beelining for the door.

“Where you going in such a rush, Hot Cakes?” Angel Dust called out to you from the bar, Husk next to him as he poured Angel another drink.

“To class, do you know where Charlie or Alastor is?” You questioned them.

A rush of wind tickled your back, and you whipped around to see the Radio Demon himself looming behind you.

“Hello, my friend!” Alastor’s toothy grin on full display.

“I heard you were looking for Charlie, unfortunately she left not too long ago. She said it was something of great importance, and that it could shape the future of the hotel. But do not worry, I am here to assist you!”

You placed your hands together into a praying motion, trying your best to appeal to the demon’s better nature. If he had one.

“Can you pretty, pretty please send me to the Regal Fortune Studio? I’m doing a class there and I need to get there on time.” You begged.

Alastor’s eyes squinted in thought. Before his smile widened more than ever.

“Alright, I suppose so.”

You didn’t get to utter a thank you before the demon snapped his fingers, and dark energy crackled around you. Cold suddenly gripped at your shoulders, and your vision blurred.

You squeezed your eyes shut, unsure of what would happen next.

‘Please don’t kill me, please don’t kill me’

Suddenly, light hit your eyelids and you slowly opened them to see the studio before you, just steps away from the front door.

You exhaled a sigh of relief, before yanking open the door.

The door to the classroom was slightly ajar, and you could hear faint voices inside. Indicating that everyone but you was ready to begin.

You crossed the lobby, ready to pull on the handle of the door, before a slight movement in the corner of your eye caused you to turn your head.

At the far end of the room, you could partially see long, blonde hair sticking out into view. Then, you heard the stranger speak to herself. Quiet grumblings of a feminine voice as they berated themself.

You raised an eyebrow.. could it be?

“Charlie?” You asked slowly.

The stranger squeaked, their hair pulled out of view. You heard a thump against the wall, as though they’ve pressed themselves against it in an attempt to hide.

You slowly tip toed the hallway, before whipping your body around the corner, surprising the mysterious figure.

“Charlie!” You shrieked in surprise at the sight of her, crouched against the wall. Her eyes widened in shock, and she let out a shriek of her own. Her eyes darted around, before she pulled herself up to meet your gaze.

“Oh my gosh heyyyyy, I didn’t expect to see you here!” She mocked innocence.

“Bullshit,” you retorted, “I told you where I was going like three days ago. Why are you really here?”

Sweat beaded on her forehead, and she bit her lip. As if she was deciding whether to tell you the truth, or another lie.

Suddenly, she let go of the breath she held, her shoulders dropping in defeat.

“Okay.. the truth is, when you told me you were hosting an art class I was so thrilled! For you, of course. But then, I thought about how much you and my dad were getting along! Then, I thought about how you guys seemed to have the shared interest of art. So I.. told him about the class?”

“And?” You questioned, irritation lacing your voice. You really did not have time for this.

“And I told him about how you were still looking for a model, and you know how he is. He doesn’t have a problem doing things like that in front of people, and he’s getting better at being around people in general..”

You gripped Charlie by her shoulders when she trailed off again, shaking her.

“Spit it out! What about your dad?!”

“HE AGREED TO BE THE MODEL FOR YOUR CLASS BUT I HAD NO IDEA THEY WERE SUPPOSED TO BE NUDE UNTIL WE SHOWED UP BUT HE JUST SAID GOODBYE AND WALKED INTO THE BACK ROOM!!”

You stopped dead, your breath caught in your throat. You turned your head slightly, eyeing the classroom door.

“Your dad… is in there… naked?” You finally managed to get the sentence out, your gaze returning to Charlie in a look of disbelief.

This was a joke, right? There was noooo way you were going to walk in there a minute and see Lucifer there. This was just a terrible (-bly good?) dream.

Charlie nodded in defeat, her head hung low.

“I don’t even have the mental strength to go in there. I couldn’t stop him, even if I wanted to. He was dead set on this.”

You rubbed a hand along your face, gathering your thoughts.

“Well, there’s no stopping it now,” You said, rolling your shoulders in preparation, “Guess I have a class to teach.”

“Have fun..?” Charlie smiled innocently at you. Her plan was working, after all.

You shot her a glare before crossing the lobby once more, and pulled open the door. You stepped inside, breath hitched, and gently shut the door behind you.

In front of you, four older women sat behind easels with a blank white canvas attached. If they noticed your arrival, they didn’t show it. Instead, they giggled in the direction of the slightly lifted stage. You couldn’t see who was on the stage, but the familiar voice with giddy amusement told you exactly who it was.

“You’re finally here!” Lucifer called, and you did nothing but stand there for a moment.

Straightening your back, you exhaled a deep breath, and walked forward. Right past the stage. You kept your eyes in front of you, ignoring the golden gaze that trailed your figure.

You positioned yourself between the platform and the women who had finally stopped giggling and whispering to each other, and cleared your throat.

“Hello, everyone. I’m your instructor for today, unfortunately Renee couldn’t be here today. We’ll be going over the usual though, figure drawing with the model present today.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, before opening them with renewed energy.

Slowly, you turned on your heels and pivoted in the direction of the platform. Your eyes widening at the sight.

Before you, on a long, red couch lay the King of Hell. Lucifer Morningstar, in all his glory. Shirtless, with no pants in sight. Thankfully, a thin, barely-hiding-anything sheet covered his waist section.

You met his gaze, a playful smirk etched on his lips. He wiggled his eyebrows at you, gauging for a reaction.

You made sure not to give him one. If he thought he was going a reaction from you in front of all these people, he was wrong.

“Let’s start by doing a quick sketching exercise, take about ten minutes to do your best and draw the model in front of you. Once the timer goes off, we’ll review and go over some techniques, before switching to a much longer pose.”

You clicked the timer, and the faint ticking of its gears cemented you into reality.

“Is that Lucifer?” One of the ladies whispered to her friend a chair over. Her friend shrugged, “I have no idea.. but boy, is he handddssoomee.”

You pressed your lips together, trying to ignore their gossip.

Sitting in the chair farthest from the group, you crossed your arms, your gaze resting on the floor. Was he looking at you right now?

You sat there for a moment, before realizing you couldn’t ignore him forever. He was the model after all. Soon you’d have to be helping him change poses anyway.

You looked up, drinking in the view. He was lazily leaning against the back of the velvet couch,

His hair, with no hat to cover it, stuck to his face messily with sweat. As he adjusted his head, a few strands of curls fell in front of his eyes. His intense stare slightly masked.

Was the room getting hot, or was it just you?

His eyes were locked on you, that stupid smirk still on his face. You sent daggers back to him.

He replied with a wave of his fingers.

You refused to let yours eyes travel any farther than his face, not ready for what kind of images your mind would give you regarding what was underneath the sheet.

“Did you know the Renaissance was pretty famous for constantly expanding its artistic art forms?” A voice smooth as butter filled the silence.

What the hell was he doing?!

“Believe it or not, the naked human was a very big inspiration for many of their paintings. No sheet in sight.”

Some of the women perked up in interest at Lucifer’s words. You couldn’t tell if they were actually interested in what he had to say, or just to hear his voice as it commanded the room’s attention.

“For an era so virtuous,” He teased the last part, reminding you of your discussion days earlier, “They so did love their scandalous marble status.”

He let that sink in, and you rolled your eyes dramatically at him. You couldn’t believe this was how Charlie planned on setting the two of you up.

A candle lit romantic dinner? Nah. A trip to the movies? Boring, apparently.

Were you against the idea of getting closer with the ‘Big Boss of Hell’? Of course not! He made you laugh and was actually interested in your ideas. This was just not how you expected it to go down.

“Keep talking, pretty boy!” One called from behind her easel.

Before he could speak again, the timer shrieked in your palm. You shot up from your seat, clasping your hands together loudly.

You turned your back to Lucifer as you began instructing the class, showing them a few techniques on how to straighten their lines, and how to hold their pencil just the right way that would give them a much thicker line for specific parts of the body.

“Alright, now, we’re going to have the model switch positions.”

Grabbing the paper that held all the different poses, you held it out to him, your finger tapping against the specific one in question. It showed the figure in a front facing view, one hand closed in a fist supported their chin, the other tucked neatly underneath. As if they were listening intently to some hot gossip.

“I’m afraid I can’t see what‘s on the paper. Perhaps, if you come a little closer and show me?

You groaned internally, he was enjoying this too much. You strided over to him. His gaze followed you, his grin only widening as you closed in on where he laid.

“You need to turn facing them,” You commanded the King himself. He pivoted, his body fully facing the group of gawking onlookers. He gave them a wink, and they hid behind their easels, their whispers fast and beathless.

“Now, you have to move your arm.. like this.” You spoke, reaching out one hand. You hesitated for a minute. You’ve never been so.. upfront with like this.

Reaching down, you gently circled your fingers around his wrist. Slowly, you allowed your hand to slip down, reaching his forearm.

His body was hot to the touch, and you felt like melting right then and there. Maybe it was time just to accept defeat, this man was just too good looking.

You felt the muscles of his arms shift, and you halted for a half a second.

Did he just tense?

Maybe you weren’t the only one who could be teased.

You guided his arm forward, and then up. Sliding your fingers, ever so gently, around his knuckles. You squeezed, and his hand enclosed into a fist. You guided it underneath his chin.

“Touchy today, aren’t we?” He spoke quietly to you, his voice dripping with velvet allure as you positioned him as the image on the paper showed.

“You be quiet.” You scolded him, trying your best to bring on your most serious face.

His quiet chuckle in response made you drop the face instantly. It was obvious you were pretty bad at this kind of thing, at least compared to Lucifer.

You grabbed his other arm, and gently tugged it underneath. Letting it lay neatly below him.

Taking a step back, you admired your work.

You were going to return to your seat, before a thought crossed your mind. You took a step forward, closing in on Lucifer again.

“And one more thing…” You started.

Using two fingers, you grazed the bottom of his chin, firmly pressing upward. Instinctually, his head followed the motion. He met your eyes, his gaze intensifying.

“Good boy.” You teased, your voice laced with a hint of sultry satisfaction.

You didn’t miss his pupils dilating into slits and his breath hitching slightly. You just turned on your heels, not giving him a second glance before returning to your seat.

You tilted your head at him slightly, looking at him through your eyelashes. Your lips curling into a provocative smirk as you gripped the timer.

Maybe now this would be an even match.

“Begin.”

Time flew by once more, and this time, Lucifer refused to meet your gaze. Instead, he was purely focused on the easels in front him.

“Tell me, my dear artist,” He began, addressing the demon woman before him. Her eyes widened when she realized he was speaking to her.

“If we were back in the Renaissance, would I make quite the muse?”

“Pardon?” The lady asked timidly, her voice coming out in a whisper.

“How about a statue? Think about that. Tall, Marble-skinned, and… lacking this rather uncomfortable cloth.”

The woman’s face turned bright red. Her mouth opened and closed, her tongue refusing to cooperate. Lucifer knew how to play this game well.

Then, he turned his head to you.

“What about you, stranger? Would you think i’d look good in such a form?”

You crossed your legs, leaning back in your chair.

“If the statue could stay quiet, while the class finished their work. Then, perhaps.”

The angel huffed, averting his gaze. He blew a few strands of hair out of his face, before continuing his blank stare at the wall.

The timer in your palm rang once more. You lifted yourself out of the chair. This was it, the last pose.

You strided back to Lucifer, his smoldering gaze on your figure as you approached.

For this pose, he needed to be off his stomach. You weren’t going to roll him like a log, or go anywhere near his torso. That was too brazen of an act for you to commit to, at least with all the eyes on you. Instead, you squeezed your eyes shut and gripped the white sheet. You tugged with all your might.

With an oomph he rolled along with it, he shoulder blades digging into the cushions as he landed exactly where you wanted.

Before the ladies could get even a glimpse, you hurriedly adjusted the sheet back onto him.

“Impressive, bending the devil himself to your will.” He commented as you continued to adjust his arms.

Ignoring him, you moved onto his legs, positioning them slightly.

“Careful~” He chided.

You said nothing to that either. Once he was in the correct pose, you released him. You glanced at his hair, now messily covering his face.

You reached forward and, splaying your fingers, pushed his hair back behind his head. You let your nails softly graze his scalp before you tugged them free.

“Sorry, can’t have your curls covering your face for the girls back there.”

“I bet they wished they were in your position,” Lucifer hummed “Few rarely are.”

You chuckled softly, “Please, the view looks better from back there.”

He let out an audible “Ha!” as the words left your lips and you turned away from him once more. You knew that must’ve stung, sending a blow to the prideful king’s ego.

Thirty minutes went by as you sat there, you spent more time examining your hands than meeting the gaze of the angel across the room.

This had turned into quite an eventful class, you couldn’t lie. You also didn’t expect such a shameless attitude from Lucifer, he was much more timid back in your painting room. Perhaps there was a side of him you still had yet to meet.

To be honest, sitting here, watching the clock tick by, you were pretty surprised this man had managed to stay near-perfectly still these past few hours.

Another thirty, and the timer rang its last chime. You had been positioned behind the drawing ladies, giving them critiques on their work.

You ignored the fact it was Lucifer you kept staring at on their canvas, instead simply regarding it as charcoal lines in need of straightening.

You wished them farewell at the doorway as they left. You hoped they had at least a pleasant time, since they’d have at least a good story to tell to their girlfriends over the phone.

Shutting the door with a soft thud, you sat there for a moment before your shoulders dropped in exhaustion. You honestly weren’t used to that kind of atmosphere, since your work consisted of you alone in a quiet room all day.

Taking a few steps backwards farther into the room, your gaze landing on the couch atop the platform. It was empty. Your eyes widened, did Lucifer just leave you here?

You rushed out of the classroom and strode into the lobby, searching for any signs of him.

“Wow, that little sneaky piece of-”

“I’m right here.” Came a familiar voice behind you.

You jumped, whipping around to find Lucifer dressed fully. Hat and all. Now this is what you were used to. Crossing your arms, you raised an eyebrow.

“What was that back there?” You motioned to the room behind you.

“My daughter invited me to look good in front of people and I did an outstanding job, as usual.”

“As the model? You couldn’t have just used your position as King to get a spot behind the easel instead?”

Lucifer grinned widely, leaning back against the wall. Could this have been his plan, and not Charlie’s? Now you weren’t so sure.

“Unfortunately, not many of us have a skill as perfected as yours with a brush.”

You accepted that praise. You had worked hard for it.

“And, not many people have as great of a photogenic face as me. So, we’re square.”

You chuckled, shaking your head as you walked away. Lucifer kept pace as you both exited the studio, heading toward the curb.

“That reminds me,” Lucifer halted, reaching into his pocket to fish for something.

You stopped beside him, the mystery item in his coat pocket piquing your interest.

“I fixed it!” He held the the paint-vomiting rubber duck out to you, wiggling it in delight.

“You did?”

“That’s right. This bad boy can now pop out six different colors, you just have to pull its beak.”

“That actually really cool,” You laughed, taking the rubber toy from him. You turned it in your hands, maybe later you’d pretty it up with some fresh paint.

You looked up at him again, his golden eyes shimmering from the bright neon backdrop. You have much more to say to him, but your thoughts were jumbled from the day. There was one, though.

“You know, next time you should just ask.” You gripped the duck firmly in the palm of your hand, lowering your arm.

“Ask what?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Luci. You’re telling me you hijacked my class because you had a change in career choice?”

His smile turned playful again, and he pivoted to face you, shrugging nonchalantly.

“Maybe, maybe not. That depends if i’ll be seeing you next week?” His eyes met yours with a questioning stare.

You gave him a warm-hearting smile, nodding your head.

“As always.”

His smile widened, and with a tap of his staff. Golden waves cascaded around you. It wasn’t cold, like Alastors. Instead, it was warm and relieving, like face planting into your pillows after an exhausting day.

As your vision began to obscure, you saw his face peak into the cascades of light, his hand reaching forward.

“I almost forgot.” His voice echoed, distorted by the magic as it circled them.

His hand enclosed around your own, and planted a kiss right onto your wrist. His lips lingered for a moment, as did his grip around your hand, as if your time together was too fleeting to let go.

You promised silently it wasn’t.

The light rushed over you suddenly, and you had to squeeze your eyes shut to keep from being blinded. Lucifer’s touch vanishing with your sight.

Feeling your feet planting on solid ground, your eyes widened to familiar surroundings of the hotel lobby. You were home, and Lucifer was no where in sight.

“Hey, Hot Cakes!” Angel Dust called, still seated in the same spot at the bar, “How’d it go?”

——————

🤍 alright, let me know what you think of this!! your comments are appreciated, esp if you have any ideas on what to do next!

💜 the kisses are getting higher! part 3?

#lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #did i do the sexy good?#my asexual ass is trying y’all #this man has been in one ep and we’re all snarling over him jesus

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lijojo · 10 months

Text

genshin men as one-night stands

premise: after a blurred night of passion, you try to leave your one-night stand's house. how do they convince you to stay?

tw: suggestive, minors dni

Spoils You Rotten

wakes you up to the smell of pancakes and coffee. usually, when you have one-night stands, you usually are quick to change and book it. but the smell of pancakes was just so heavenly, you let curiosity get the best of you.

when you get to the kitchen, you're welcomed to the sight of him in a frilly apron, flipping pancake batter on the pan. he hums to himself until he turns around to see you, gaping at him as if you'd just seen a ghost.

"good morning, love. do you want me to run the bath now? i know you're probably a little sore from yesterday. i have some scented candles in the cabinet, although i'm not sure which one you'd prefer so i wanted to wait for you to get up so you could choose."

"what—" you gulp, trying to process the sight before you.

he tilts his head, puzzled. "is something the matter, love?"

"i'm—i'm just surprised, is all," you try, "i didn't peg you as the type to have...um...one-night stands."

he chuckles, sliding the pancakes onto a plate. "i don't."

he turns to you, his eyes locked onto you. "you're not a one-night stand. i fully intend to get to know you better. now, i'd pick up that jaw off from the floor, dear. you're going to let the flies in."

snapping out of your bewilderment, you close your mouth.

"good. now, would you like to take a bath? the muffins should be done in ten. i can bring your breakfast over to you in a bath tray when it's ready. and maybe after..." he gives you an unexpected smile. "i can massage all your sore parts?"

zhongli, alhaitham, diluc, tighnari, kaeya, albedo

Will not physically let you leave the bed

you literally can't move. not even when you try. when you wake up, you find yourself in a bear trap. you're legs are tangled with someone else's their arms locked around your waist in a vice grip. instead of chirping birds, you hear the thudding heartbeat of their chest resting below your ear.

when you try to maneuver out of his hold, his arms only tighten around you more. he groans lowly in your ear, shifting a bit.

"what's the hold up?" he murmurs into the crown of your head. "stay."

so much for sneaking out unnoticed.

you stiffen at his morning voice. it's unexpectedly raspier than you'd expected. he takes the opportunity to kiss your forehead tenderly, a lot tenderly than a usual one-night stand would.

"i have some errands to run." it isn't entirely untrue. surely, there must be something you need to do today.

he stares at you for a long second before huffing. "five minutes won't hurt, those errands can wait."

"wait but—"

before you can brace for it, he's already turning on his side and taking you along with him. he nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses.

"you weren't thinking of leaving right after a night of intimacy, right?" he mused. "i thought you enjoyed last night. i certainly did."

you flushed at the memories. as much as you wanted to leave as you'd planned, it was awfully comfortable in his embrace. it was warm, soft, and welcoming.

"stay for a little longer, okay?" he cooed into your ear, pulling the covers over you. "at least, long enough for round two."

scaramouche, cyno, thoma, kaveh, itto,

Finds excuses to make you stay

the moment you make any sign of leaving, he's already calling for you to help him with something.

you try getting out of his grasp first thing in the morning? he's asking for a kiss on the cheek to wake him up, he can't get up without it. picking up your clothes off the floor? he's already offering you an extra change of clothes, not to mention helping you put it on. he even smiles at your flustered state. getting ready to leave? he's tugging your sleeve, offering his many amenities at home that are seemingly much better quality than yours: his cleanser, his cute headbands, his moisturizers.

and you can't say no. not when he's giving you those eyes. so you end up staying.

in a blink of an eye, you find yourself suddenly helping him smooth out the outfit he asked you to choose for him, hands running down his torso. leaning towards you, you can feel his eyes digging into your skin.

"thank you, sweet thing," he says, pressing a kiss on your nose.

"it's no problem," you mumble. "but i really—"

"how about staying for a cup of water?" he offered. "you know how important it is that you drink water first thing in the morning. it's supposed to be good for your skin. digestion too."

"well, alright—"

"and while we're at it, what about a movie? i have some classics i've been dying to watch and it's always better to watch with somone else."

you end up staying wayyy longer than you expected doing the small things: sorting through books, doing face masks, watching halfway through a movie, eating breakfast together, helping him look for butterflies on his front yard, getting the mail together. all while the two of you exchange jokes.

by the time it's well into the afternoon, you finally snap out of your daze, realizing the time.

"you just noticed?" he grins. "how cute. well, thank you for putting up with my antics, sweet thing."

he kisses you softly on the mouth.

"think of this morning as an advertisement for the other mornings to come, whenever you want to stay the night again. you won't regret it."

kaveh, itto, childe, ayato, kazuha, venti,

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beenbaanbuun · 1 month

Text

cockwarming w/ san

words - wordcount? not round here, partner 🤠

genre - fluff, nsfw

warnings - stressed!reader, dom!san, sub!reader, subspace, guidance, soft!san (both him and his penis), cockwarming, clothed, san manspreading…

——————————————————————————

thinking about cockwarming sannie… am i absolutely feral? definitely! ANYWAYS!!!!

you’re sitting on the floor, glasses slipping down your nose as you stare at the documents in front of you

not many of then make sense, but that could just be the tediousness of reading them setting in and slowing down your weary brain

all the words are moulding into one and entire paragraphs are jumbling together as you desperately try and focus

you so desperately want to reach for your phone and give yourself a break

but you remind yourself that you’re just looking for distractions which is really not what you need when you’re struggling to focus anyway

so you start from the top, attempting to read the paper from the beginning

and you don’t get very far when you hear the front door open and your attention once again slips away from the paper

you turn slightly, just enough to see san step into the apartment and take his shoes and coat off

the way his shoulders sink in relaxation is visible and he lets out a long, deep sigh of relief at finally being home

your papers are almost forgotten as you watch him make his way towards the armchair in the corner of the room and take a seat

in fact, as he relaxes, spreading his thighs out until there’s a perfect you-sized gap between them, the papers are the last thing on your mind

“hi, pretty,” he croons as he shuffles to get himself comfy, “good day?”

you nod, mouth going dry at the way his hand naturally falls to rest just inches from his crotch, his pretty fingers flexing a few times before settling against his thigh

his beautiful, thick thigh that is almost fully exposed by those little gym shorts he insists on wearing

you stare at it for a moment or two, noticing the way it flexes slightly against the hem

his honey skin is still slightly shiny from the residual sweat of his evening workout

just the thought of him using his pretty thigh muscles to lift himself up from a squat is enough to send your brain into a dizzy haze

“looks like you’ve been working hard,” he smiles, head dipping to gesture to the pile of forgotten papers on the table, “is that research for your thesis?”

it is, you think to yourself, not that you’d actually learned anything from reading, sorry, trying to read any of it

“yeah,” you answer him, “but it’s all so boring than i can barely even look at it without wanting to die. i’ve been at it for hours and i can’t tell you a single thing i’ve read.”

there’s a pout on your face as you mumble out your complaints; you’re adorable when you’re all moody like this

“learning isn’t linear, baby,” he chuckles, “the fact that nothing’s sticking in that little brain of yours probably my just means you need a break.”

“i’d love a break,” you admit, “but i’d also love to get through this pile of research by the time we go to bed, so…”

“so… take a break and go back to it later,” san shrugs, “not like all that paper is suddenly going to grow legs and run away, right?”

you scoff at his sarcasm and the smug look on his face, but you know he’s right; you probably should take a break…

“but i know if i take a break i won’t want to do it anymore,” you say, although the excuse sounds weak even to you

“then do it tomorrow; it’s not like it needs to be done tonight, honey,” and he’s right, so you nod, and he smiles

but the feeling of stress doesn’t go away as you pile up the sheets of paper in the centre of the coffee table

and it doesn’t go away as you save your thesis draft and close the lid to your laptop

your shoulders are still very stiff, and your head is still feeling weary from just how hard you’d been trying to focus

even when you slip your glasses off, a physical weight lifting from your face, your brain doesn’t slow down

it just doesn’t let you settle like you and san so badly want you to

he watches you fidget with your surroundings, eyes flicking to the pile of papers every so often whilst your fingers drum against the table restlessly

he sighs; clearly you’re going to need some help with this

“baby,” he says softly; you look at him and all he can see is stress written across your features, “do you want me to help you relax?”

your eyes flick over to him, still manspreading in the chair and looking the the picture of masculinity itself

you know it wouldn’t take long for him to silence your brain; not when he already has your brain feeling a little on the foggy side

you nod, mumbling out a small ‘please’ that he can barely hear

“come here then, baby,” he pats the inside of his thigh with his palm, the sound ringing around the room, “come sit with me, yeah?”

it takes a second for you to register what he’s asking you to do, but when it finally does, you feel your breath hitch in your throat

he hasn’t closed his legs for you to sit on, and the hand that rests on his thigh doesn’t shift to make space for you

why would it when there’s already a you-shaped space between his thighs?

you watch as he reaches behind him to grab the cushion from the chair, pulling it out and placing it on the floor between his feet

you cant stop the soft whimper that leaves your throat

“come on, pretty thing,” he coos, “you know it’ll help you.”

and you do know that, you really do

it’s exactly the push you know you need to take your mind off of everything, and holy fuck do you want it

so you shuffle towards him on your knees, inching closer and closer to that spot that seemed to be just made for you

he smiles at you as he watches you settle in on the cushion, the plush material taking the pressure of the cold, hard floorboards off of your delicate knees

you shuffle around a little, trying to get comfy before looking up at him, wide eyes looking into his own

and he can’t help but brush a hand across your cheek, chucking as you lean into his gentle touch

“my precious girl, aren’t you?” he whispers, running a thumb over you cheekbone, “working so hard; you’re so good, aren’t you?”

he shifts his hand until two of his fingers press against your lips

you separate them to allow his digits inside of the warm, wet cavern; he can’t help but fill with pride when he sees just how good you’re being

the tips of his fingers slide to the back of your tongue, caressing it slightly until he feels your throat constrict around them

he pulls them back slightly, instead pushing them down on the centre of your tongue to make your drool puddle up around them

“just let yourself stop thinking, okay?” he says as he plays with your tongue, “you’re too stressed, baby, and it’s not good for you.”

he caresses your wet muscle with his fingertips; you let your eyes flutter closed at the sensation

“turn your brain off for me,” his voice is soft as he talks you down into an all-too-familiar headspace, “be good for your big boy, hm? let me take care of you.”

and with the combination of your position between his legs, the fingers in your mouth, and his pretty words, you find it so incredibly easy to just… slip away

any thought of your thesis is gone and replaced with san

the worries about finishing on time, and the concerns about the reading you don’t quite understand; san

everything is just… san

you let out a small sound as you push your head down onto his hand, taking more of his fingers into your mouth

the weight of them on your tongue was nice, you decide, but not quite enough

they don’t quite hold the warmth and heaviness that your tongue is craving

it’s not quite enough to completely ground you like you know you need

“you want more?” he always has been so good at reading you; you nod around his fingers, “want your big boy’s cock in your mouth?”

you moan at the thought, desperately moving your head up and down to tell him yes

“does my precious girl want to warm her big boy up? is that it?” yes, yes, a million times yes, “want to wrap your pretty lips around me while you relax, hm?”

he chuckles when you pull off of his fingers and sit there looking at him through your lashes with a slack jaw

so pretty, he thinks when you stick your tongue out and blink up at him through those fluttery lashes of yours

pretty enough that you have him wrapped around your pinky finger

he really would do anything to make you happy, and it seems that what would make you happy right now is him in your mouth

so he wastes no time in reaching for his waistband and pushing it down his thighs to reveal his soft cock

he takes it in hand and holds it out for you, waiting patiently as you lean forwards to press a kiss to his pretty pink tip

“no teasing, baby,” he taps the blunt head against your lips, “open for me. warm me up like a good girl.”

his voice is smooth and buttery, and it makes you want to listen

you open you maw, rolling your tongue over your bottom lip and waiting for him to feed himself into your mouth

there’s a hand at the back of your head as his tip makes contact with the pink muscle

the hand pets your hair softly as it guides you onto the cock, pushing you further and further down until your mouth is stuffed almost completely full

“breathe through your nose, baby,” san instructs you as he pushes the tip of his cock to the back of your tongue, “come on, pretty girl; i know you know how.”

you don’t need the reminder, having done this plenty of times before, but you still like the guidance he gives you in that low cadence

you like his voice, and the way he tells you what to do because he knows just how much you don’t want to think right now

you close your eyes as you feel your nose brush against the smooth, sticky skin of his lower stomach

his freshly shaved pubes prickle you, but that’s the least of your concerns when your senses are just overloaded by the comfort of your boyfriend

the smell of his cologne mixed with his natural musk settles in your nostrils filling you to the brim with the familiar scent of home

and the way he sits in your mouth, hot and heavy and full makes you melt against his muscular thigh like it’s your own personal pillow

his hand on your head threads its fingers through your roots, fingernails scraping against your scalp in the most comforting way imaginable

a deep sigh leaves your mouth; one of relaxation and contentment

san hears it and feels his body ease into the chair

“good girl,” he hums, “so good for me.”

#ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez oneshot #ateez scenarios #ateez fluff #ateez smut #ateez fic #san fic #san x reader #san fluff #san smut #san oneshot

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struniolos · 5 months

Text

bags.

“cant you see me? i’m waiting for the right time.”

chris sturniolo x fem! reader.

synopsis: the one time chris convinces you to sleep in his room instead of nicks, and the truth comes tumbling out.

warnings: smut. minors do not interact.

the sound of chris’ mindless humming fills the air of his room, as you watch from his plush bed the way he thoroughly reads through your mid-term college paper. his hair falls over his eyes, and his legs sit apart. you could watch him like this for hours, how he just seems so calm and present- you try and capture these moments in your mind, like you could take a photograph with your eyes.

“honestly, i don’t think you should include the part about when your childhood dog died.” he speaks up, looking back at you.

you raise an eyebrow. “yeah, it’s not like it’s a core event that impacted my life which is exactly what the paper is supposed to be about.”

he quirks the corner of his lips upwards. “it’s just so depressing, you know?”

“my life is depressing.” you counter with a laugh, watching as he rolls his eyes.

“you asked for my feedback, and that’s what i’ve got. cut the dead dog story.” he says, trying to be as serious as chris sturniolo can possibly be.

you couldn’t help but smile at him, watching as he pushed his feet against the ground to sway his desk chair back and forth. his pyjama pants were definitely a sight to see, blue plaid. a secret, shameful voice in your head fantasised about how soft they would feel up against your skin. you glance down at your watch, which pulses to remind you of your sleep schedule.

“fuck, it’s 12am. i should probably head home.” you sigh, rubbing your eyes.

chris looks up as if he were a puppy. you imagined if he had dog ears they’d be perked up. “it’s too late! what if you get murdered or something on your way?”

“in my car?” you question.

he nods, wide eyed. “uh, yeah, what if someone, like, pretends to have been hit by a car then when you stop and get out boom! they stab you.”

“you sure it won’t be you? seems like you’ve had that planned for a while.” you chuckle, shaking your head. chris always had such strange theories and scenarios running around in his mind- if it was possible, you’d love to open it up and take a peak inside. a part of you wondered if you had a place in there somewhere.

he wafts you off with his hand. “you can sleep over, you know nick and matt won’t care.”

you hum in agreement, not particularly wanting to drive home at this late hour, not because of the potential murderers, but the fact that you were ready to collapse in a heap from how tired your brain was. “alright, i’ll go ask nick to pull out his spare mattress for me.”

“it’s so strange he has a spare bed for all his friends when they sleep over, like, just share a bed?” chris rambles, as he stands up and stretched his arms over his head, his stomach peaking out from under his white top. god.

“it’s not strange, it’s very thoughtful. he’s even got a spare cabinet of toiletries for when people stay over.” you point out.

“jesus christ.” chris groans, rolls his eyes.

“whatever.” you scoff, beginning to stand up off chris’ bed, dreading the thought of having to walk up two flights of stairs to get to nick’s room.

chris frowns at you, tilting his head. “you don’t have to go. why don’t you just sleep in here?”

“uh…” you try to muster up something, some dumb excuse for why you couldn’t. because i’m madly in love with you? because i won’t be able to control myself?

“so you’ll have a sleepover with nick but not me?” he grumbles, crossing his arms. “don’t make it weird. we’re just sharing a bed.”

“yes, exactly the point of why it will be weird.” you laugh.

“come on, it’ll be fun. we could watch a movie?” he suggests, a smile adorning his plump lips.

this flusters you, the thought of being so close, watching a movie together, alone, in his room. there was always someone with you, wether it be nick, matt, nate or madi. but not tonight- and that scared you.

“alright, i’ll stay for a bit but i’m not sleeping in here.” you tell him firmly, trying to lay down boundaries before you did anything stupid.

this seems to please chris enough, as he smiles and jumps onto the bed ridiculously, the weight of him bouncing the bed and making it squeak. a dark part of your mind thought about the other ways his bed would make those noises, but you shut it down immediately. once you sat down beside him, with your legs crossed, you scrolled through the netflix catalogue on his tv. you finally settle on she’s the man.

you can see chris in the corner of your eye scrunching his face up. “oh come on, really?”

“it’s a good movie!” you argue, hitting his arm playfully.

he scoffs at you. “so you’ve said about a million other movies that were all shit.”

“actually, could we not watch a movie? i’m really fucking tired.” you yawn, snuggling yourself into the duvet. you remain on top of it though, in a way of telling yourself to not get too comfortable. “i cant be bothered arguing about what to watch, anyway.”

“okay, well what did you want to do instead?” he asks, turning onto his side to face you, now. the only light in his room was that of the tv which illuminated his pale skin, his bright blue eyes glistening. it hurt just how gorgeous he was without even trying.

you shrug. “sleep?”

he nods, now rolling onto his back. you assume this means he is in agreement, but he doesn’t say anything. he just stares up at his ceiling fan, breathing slow. you watch him deep in thought, like his mind is really tinkering over something and gnawing at his insides.

“why don’t you want to sleep in here?” he suddenly says, turning his head slightly to face you.

you sigh. “because chris, it’s weird. we’re friends- we aren’t like, dating or anything. it’s not weird with nick, but with you…”

“with me what?”

your mind fogged with a cluster of everything. all of the stolen glances, the going places you knew chris would be there, always being at his beck and call because you were a ‘good friend’.

you sigh, deciding if you didn’t say anything now, you’d beat yourself up for it. “because...because i like you, chris, and i know you don’t feel the same. i know how you feel about relationships, they scare you. so it’s just easier if i set boundaries for myself and-“

“you like me?” he cuts you off mid sentence, now propping himself up on his side on his forearm.

your stomach sinks. there’s no turning back now. “yes.”

there’s a thick pause between you, and you prepare yourself for the worst. you squeeze your eyes shut, covering your face with your hands. why the fuck had you told him? you’ve ruined everything. now he will never want to hang out with you, and it’ll be awkward with nick and matt and-

“why have you never said anything?” he whispers, quieter than you’d ever heard him.

you swallow, biting your lips hard. “because i didn’t want to ruin not only our friendship but mine with nate, madi, matt, and oh god especially nick.”

chris nods slowly, like he’s really taking to what you’re saying, like he understands the weight of it and why you’d never said anything. why you’d always stayed quiet, and admired from afar. he touched his hair, mindlessly twirling a strand.

“nick never told you?” chris said softly, his eyebrows knitting into one. he looked sad, almost.

“told me what?” you whisper back, your heart now beating in your throat.

chris was never one with words, so when he leaned over and pressed his lips softly to yours, you understood this was his way of saying i like you too.

your cheeks were burning, as he cupped them in his hands. you both slowly began to roll over, with chris now hovering above you and his knee between your legs. you kissed him pathetically desperate, your body keening against his. you lips didn’t seperate once, as if you were breathing air into each other’s lungs and if you parted you’d suffocate. his hair tickles your forehead, his nose pushing into your cheek. you were waiting for yourself to wake up, that you had fallen asleep and this was only a sick part of your mind playing tricks on you. but it was real, he was real.

“fuck, i’ve wanted to do this for so long.” he whispers against you, as his hands roam down your body.

you gasp at the feeling. “you have?”

“mhm.” he murmurs, tugging at the hem of your shirt. “can i take this off?”

you nod, batting your lashes to look at him, and god, he was beautiful as ever.

“this isn’t going to ruin things between us, is it? because i’ll stop right now if it means you’ll never speak to me again.” he pleads, doe eyes looking at you wide and earnest.

“chris.” you whisper, your hand coming to hold his warm, pink cheek. “i would never not talk to you. i want this, i have wanted this.” more than you know you wanted to add, but couldn’t find the willpower.

“i want this too.”

you both assisted each other in swiftly discarding of your clothes, leaving you both only in your underwear. you felt so exposed, the fact he knew how to you felt and that your body was on display. he stroked your thigh as it came to curl around his back, his kisses travelling to your neck and collarbone. you moaned softly at the feeling, his warm lips lighting little fires within your skin. he bit at the plush flesh above your bra before removing it, his hands coming to hold and massage each mound.

you guided one of his hands down to your heat, begging with your eyes. “please.”

chris snaked his hand under your waistband, his slender fingers softly touching your folds. it was all so painfully soft, how he rubbed circles at your core while kissing you slow and deep. he shimmied your panties down, leaving them at your thigh. he dipped a finger into you, your velvet walls pulsating around him. your body begged for more, and chris listened. he was in tune with you, without having to say a word. he pushed in another finger, which elicited a deep moan from within your throat.

“that feel good?” chris murmured, his lips at your cheek.

“god, yes.” you whined, your body curling against his.

he pumped his fingers in and out of your wetness, as you clawed into his shoulders and shuddered against his bigger frame. you could feel him through his boxers, as he ground down against you. his pace increased as he felt you clench around his fingers, the sounds coming from you almost pornographic.

you moaned and cried for him, “chris! i’m almost- ah!”

your orgasm came strong like a thunderous tsunami, your legs stretching and your eyes rolling into the back of your head, your mouth hung open silently as no noise could possibly explain how euphoric you felt.

“mhm, that’s it.” he cooed, riding you through your high and praising you in your ear.

you would never be able to see him the same, never look at him platonically ever again. you knew this would ruin you. he kissed you deep, his tongue licking into your mouth.

“i want to feel you.” he moaned, grinding his constricted mound against your heat. “i want to be inside you.”

the weight of him on top of you combined with his honeyed words began to make you feel all hot and tingly again, as you pulled him incredibly close, your lips puffed and swollen.

“i want that too.” you manage, grinding up against him, the friction euphoric.

he pauses, looking down at you, his chain dangling in your face and hair flopping over his face. “are you sure?”

“mhm.” you hum, “need you.”

chris gives you one last firm kiss, before reaching down to pull his boxers to his thighs. your face flushed a deep maroon, watching as his leaking, pink tip pulsated. he rubbed himself gently, and you reached down to help him. he guided your hand up and down his length, and you felt yourself getting wetter. you shimmied your panties the rest of the way down, kicking them off your ankles. swiftly, he reached over to his bedside table drawer to grab a condom, ripping the packet with his teeth and gliding it down his shaft. you clenched your thighs with anticipation.

the brunette lined himself up with your weeping entrance, as you stroked his hair. you both watched as he slid into you, his tip disappearing into you. your jaw went slack, a pathetic moan tumbling from your plush lips. chris slumped over you once he had bottom out, his face in the crook of your neck.

“fuck, you feel so good.” he groaned, his hair tickling the nape of your neck. “can i move?”

“please.” you beg, as he lifts his head to lock eyes with you. you could no longer see the blue, they were merely bands around his blown pupils.

the first thing you felt was relief as he began to thrust in and out of you, his forearms leaning at each side of you as he held himself up. you knew it was quite vanilla, but thoroughly enjoyed being able to see his pink cheeks and open mouth as he moaned on top of you. his thrusts were passionate and deep, something you least expected from him. it felt ridiculously good, your body overcome with a warm fuzzy feeling deep from within you.

“faster.” you whimpered, holding his head with both hands, clawing into his soft dark hair.

he did as he was told. he picked your legs up, pushing them to your chest so you were folded in half. he began to snap his hips against yours, his balls slapping against your ass. he was impossibly deep, you swore you could feel him in your stomach. he grunted and groaned as he thrust, while you whimpered and clawed at his back. the noises coming from your bodies were ridiculously erotic, the wetness of your pussy and the moans escaping your throat.

“i want to hear you.” he growled, eyes dark and swirling with lust.

“ah, chris yes!” you cried, as he slammed deep within you, his hands holding the back of your thighs to keep you in place.

he quickly slipped out of you, and you almost cried at the feeling of being empty. he flipped you over so quickly you didn’t have time to register, your stomach flat against the bed and his chest flush against your back. he sunk back into you, and you pressed your head into the pillows, muffling your cries.

“oh my- fuck.” you moaned, your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

his hands found purchase on the flesh of your hips, gripping it tight and using it as leverage for his relentless thrusts. his body slammed against yours, fucking you into the mattress. he reached around between you and the sheets, rubbing your sensitive bud.

“i’m close! shit!” you swore, biting your fist as he continued to slam into you, your ass bouncing against his pelvis.

“me too, ah!” he grunted, “i wanna see your face when i fill you up.”

you moaned at the thought, hoisting one leg up and twisting your core so that you turn around to look at him. he had a sheen of sweat coating his body and his lips between his teeth, while his hair fell in his face and his arms tensed as he held you down. the bed frame squeaked rapidly, thudding against the wall. there was no way nick and matt couldn’t hear you.

“fuck!” you cried, your orgasm washing over you in a thick wave. your vision was blurred, and your body froze.

the feeling of you clenching around him must’ve sent him over the edge, as chris’ hips stuttered with a cracked moan coming from his throat. he thrust into a few more times, spurting his hot liquid into you. your eyes were lidded, a dumb smile overcoming you as you watched him puff and pant. he collapsed beside you, but you made sure to face him so you could admire his post sex haze. you both lay in silence for a while, basking in each other.

“i cant believe we just did that.” chris mumbled, his finger tracing mindlessly over your face.

“me neither.” you breathe.

he thinks for a moment, pushing his hair out of his face to reveal his pink cheeks, freckles spattered over his nose. “you think matt and nick heard?”

“definitely. secrets out now.” you say, scrunching your nose.

chris laughs, reaching his arms to envelope you into him. he switched the tv off, now leaving you in the pitch black. as you lay there, caged within his arms, you couldn’t help but let somber thoughts cloud you. you wondered how things would change, what would you two become? was this a one time thing? did he really like you back or were you just another warm body?

“do you really like me too?” you whispered into the darkness, nuzzling your nose into his chest to feel his heartbeat.

“i always have. i just never know what to say in these situations. i get stuck.” he confesses, his hands running through your hair soothingly. “girls scare me.”

you chuckle, shaking your head. “who knew, huh? chris sturniolo, ladies man…is scared of girls.”

he laughs with you now, squeezing you tight. “shut up.”

you find yourself lulled to sleep by his breathing and the feeling of him pressed against you. you’d never felt so comforted, like you belonged somewhere, more than what you did in that moment.

#god i’m bad at endings!#arghhhh #chris sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo edit #sturniolo smut #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo fanfic #my works #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolos #chris sturniolo x reader

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faevi · 5 months

Text

TABOO LOVE. - (gojo smut)

Scenario: Your parents & Geto Suguru are visiting you & Satoru’s new apartment. You’re nervous about having to keep such a big secret. You’re step-siblings & your parents thought it was such a wonderful idea to share an apartment in a new city. Good thing Satoru helps you relax. Before & after their visit.

Word Count: 18,762.

Content / Trigger Warning: female reader (she/her), dark content, STEPCEST (step-siblings), STEPBRO!gojo, daddy kink, cunnilingus, fingering, squirting, blowjob, face-fucking, breath-play (via cock), choking, unprotected sex, sexual intercourse, cowgirl position, creampie, cock-warming, spanking (impact play), dirty talk, degradation, humiliation, hickeys, marking someone, bruises, pain, dacryphilia, crying, big dick gojo, stomach bulging, cum denial, multiple orgasms, a stressful dinner with the fam(?), hiding a taboo secret, jealousy, everything is consensual, tit slapping, body worshipping, possessiveness, suguru is here too!!! not really a warning but if it piques people's interest, suguru temporarily shows interest in you, too.

I think that’s it?? Please let me know (kindly) if I accidentally missed anything and I’ll add it!

Note: Obviously please take note that this is dark content and contains something that is taboo - being step-siblings. Aka stepcest. Don't read if you don't like it (: It’s not just 18k words of smut, I did actually write the dinner scene, which was kind of rough to write basically 5 characters at once kldfjgdf. Instead of the usual 2. I haven’t edited this and yet again, not my best writing but, I hope people will still read and enjoy it ; - ;. Please let me know if you do!

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS, PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT!!!

Satoru could hear your anxious footsteps throughout the entire apartment, hand cupping his cheek as his elbow rested against the edge of the couch, watching you with slight amusement as you moved from room to room. He’s not as worried as you are about the upcoming scenario that will play out. Satoru clears his throat before calling out.

“Baby, just come and relax. Sit with your ever-so-handsome boyfriend.”

You look over your shoulder in the direction of his voice, choking on a strangled laugh at his words before head whipping around to double-check the set of drawers in the shared bedroom. The photo frames aren’t there. Good. Instead, just a cluttered mess of Satoru’s belongings. That was your idea.

“You should probably start calling yourself my stepbrother again, for practice. Don’t want you slipping up.” You couldn’t help but whine out dramatically, footsteps thumping down the hallway until you’re back in sight of Satoru. You stand there for a moment, gazing at him. Satoru’s eyebrow raises, hand extending out towards you.

Your boyfriend— Also known as your stepbrother, doesn’t seem nervous at all. In a couple of hours, your parents are visiting for dinner. Both of you were lucky enough to claim excuses to move to another city about a year ago and it’s been perfect. Your excuse was university and Satoru’s was work. Your parents didn’t even question sharing an apartment when it was noted that there were two bedrooms. Just being friendly roommates as well as step-siblings. It was way, way more than that to the pair of you. Deep down in your teenage years, you were always attracted to your stepbrother and desperately tried to be in denial. Until that one fateful night where you ended up in his arms after drunk-possessive sex; learning that he felt the same way towards you. That is a story for another time; feeling too stressed out to think fondly of your first time with your stepbrother.

Now there is no more hiding behind closed doors. Able to hold each other’s hands. Go on public dates. Lots of public affection— That was definitely a pleasant surprise to learn that Satoru is a sucker to hold onto you in public and not be ashamed. Even mutual friends from the city are utterly oblivious to your ‘history’ outside of dating. It’s impossible to just cut your family outright. Especially when love and good relationships are tightly bound. You still want your family. It’s just… Satoru was more than that. Good thing you both just have to be quiet about your passionate love affair, away from family and old friends.

“Y/N, snap out of it and just sit on my lap already. There’s nothing to worry about.” Satoru attempts to reassure you as he reaches out for you, fingers twitching with eagerness to touch you. He loves touching you. Can never get enough. His large hands manage to grab you by your hips and pull you in close. You prevent him from pulling you directly onto his lap, hand against his toned chest.

“How are you not nervous? Worried, even? Our parents are coming in about five hours and you’re just sitting there being all—“

“All?” Satoru asks, lips forming a playful grin as his fingers caress your hips, loving the sight of you squirming and pathetically trying to pull his hands off of your body. He knows your body craves him. All the time. Since day one or even before that day.

“Cute.” You sigh with feign annoyance and collapse onto his lap, unable to resist the comfort that is Gojo Satoru. His arms wrap around you and pull you with ease until you’re slumped against his upper body, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I am nervous, I just don’t see the logic of being your kind of nervous.” He jokes lightly, ignoring the jab of your elbow. Even dating, you both still have the habit of the bickering, playful sibling moments you developed through the teenage years of knowing each other. Not many years apart, in his defence. Not even blood-related. Didn’t /exactly/ grow up together. You met him when he was already in his upper teenage years. Those are the excuses he’d try to use if anyone found out and showed disgust. Satoru may have been protective of you when you were younger and still going through high school but, he never really viewed you as a close sister or anything. He cared for you but, in his eyes; His father and your mother ended up together. You were just there, ready to cause havoc and have him fall for you.

“They’re just staying for dinner, alright? We can handle that much. Sit opposite of each other and do that typical sibling shit.” He reassures, long fingers playing with a few strands of your pretty hair. He always liked your hair. You bury your face against the side of his neck and inhale deeply, wishing you could just soak in everything that is him. “But, I hate doing that. I came here to get away from it and to be with you properly. As lovers.” You confess quietly, voice shaking. Satoru’s face softens from hearing your words. Usually, people think he can’t be serious. Friends often joke about him not having a serious bone in his body. They’re all wrong. You know the real Satoru, every shade of him. His hand comes down to tenderly stroking along your back, pressing multiple kisses to the top of your head.

“I know, baby girl. It always feels close to impossible and I want to just kiss you whenever I want, without having to worry. It’s just sometimes, we have to go back to what we originally were— siblings. Step-siblings.” He corrects himself swiftly, nails grazing your back lightly. Not blood-related and never will be. “It won’t be every day, Y/N. Just a couple of times a year, maximum. Just for a few hours, okay?” He says in his low voice, feeling you relax into him.

You hate to admit that he’s right. It’s even a miracle that this is the first time your parents are visiting this year and they won’t be for Christmas. You should look at this as luck. You can do this. Just for a few hours. You’re beyond nervous about everything and sure, wish you could hold his hand over the dining table but… You can do this. Both of you can. You sniffle quietly, tilting your head to look at the wall, still clinging onto the white-haired male who easily towers above you, even when sitting. “Okay... There’s nothing that screams us being a couple out in the open, right? All tucked away?”

Satoru playfully rolls his eyes, fingers curling around your chin to gently coax you to look up at him. “Everything is hiding, even my monster-sized condoms. So they can think their charming son gets zero action at all.” Satoru adds jokingly, enjoying the sight of your expression twisting and smacking his chest. “Rather they think that than you fucking someone that isn’t me.” You grumble quietly, leaning in to bump your nose against his. “Ah-ah, Y/N. You know how I feel when you show your jealous side. Better watch your mouth before I fuck it and get cum stains on the couch from there being too much of my seed for you to swallow.” Satoru teases, feeling rather endeared that you made no rejection of ‘monster-sized’. To you, he’s so huge that you can’t even deny that. Satoru leans in to press his lips against yours eagerly; desperate to get his fill before the nerve-wracking night begins.

Every sensible thought went right out of the window as you responded to the kiss with your own eagerness. Hands coming up to cup his cheeks as your body presses against his, fitting against him perfectly like soulmates. You belong to him, thinking so when he’s able to leave you so breathless and your head spinning just from a single kiss. His soft tiers move against yours, slowly devouring you. His finger presses against the underside of your chin to keep your head in place, wanting to take his sweet time with you. The white-haired male’s other hand glides down to boldly grope your ass cheek, easily coaxing out a needy whimper from you.

“Nn, wait— We can’t, mmf..” You try to stop Satoru from going any further, but words fall on deaf ears. His long fingers splay out across your ass cheek, roughly tugging on the thin fabric that acts as a shield. “I don’t fucking care about making a mess, baby. We have plenty of time. Let Daddy ease your nerves, hm? Don’t you want Daddy to take care of you?” Satoru whispers hotly against your ear between deep breaths, firm hands pushing you further down against his crotch, cock already throbbing. It isn’t about him, though. Satoru wants to help you relax and he knows that his fingers alone can make you melt and keen for him.

Your head already starts to feel fuzzy and warm. People would probably tell you that you’re going to hell if they knew that you call, not only your boyfriend but your stepbrother; Daddy. Neither of you cared. It just felt right between you both. “Can we at least move to the bedroom?” You plead softly, feeling two of his digits drag along the wet patch that forms on your shorts. “Y/N, you’re so fucking filthy. Already getting so wet just from me fondling your ass and kissing you? You’re soaked.”

The humiliation drives you further, embarrassed as a hand clamps tightly over your mouth to muffle the sounds that dare to escape as the two fingers continue to drag up and down slowly. Satoru always enjoys humiliating you. He can be quite sadistic and the only one who can handle him is you. Still, Satoru isn’t /too/ evil and still prefers you to feel comfort and so he lifts you with ease, carrying you down the hallway, hand soothingly rubbing along your back once more. Your arms and legs wrap around his tall form, clinging to him so tightly. Satoru just finds it cute. It’s even cuter when you hug his arm, breasts cushioning either side as you try not to act jealous of a girl hitting on him. If only you knew that no girl could ever even compete with you. He’ll always be your lover and stepbrother. The world doesn’t matter to his selfish heart.

From a height, Satoru just drops you onto the bed that you both share, laughing at the sight of your playful glare, body bouncing from the mattress. The sight of his wide grin is more than enough to ease your mind. You love this man. “Shall I grab the camera and take some photos? Plaster them all across the walls for our parents to see?” He jokes, hand instantly grabbing a hold of your ankle and you move to kick him. “I’m supposed to be the bratty one, Satoru.” You say breathlessly, feeling his large hands tenderly massaging up your leg. He leans down to press a kiss to your ankle, bright blue eyes focused on your face. “You are the brat and I can easily put you in place. Babbling like a crybaby as your ass throbs. My sweet crybaby. All mine. Let me focus on making my girl feel good.”

Satoru gently drops your leg before he easily manhandles your body until you’re resting against the pillows, hands firmly keeping your quivering legs apart as he starts to lower himself to the ground, just at the edge of the bed. “W-Wait! Maybe we should— get a towel, or something.. So we don’t make a mess.. They’ll explore, I know they will.” You mumble out shyly, yelping from the pleasant sting of pain that spreads through your inner thigh, glancing down to see Satoru’s hand now soothing the pain. “Stop worrying. We have plenty of time.” He attempts to reassure you, though far too distracted by his lust to properly calm you down. Selfish? Maybe. Satoru just knows that you will end up relaxing and even chasing for more of his touch.

Making sure you’re close enough, Satoru wraps his arms around your quivering thighs to hoist you towards him, dragging your body across the neatly made bed before his face is buried against your cunt, inhaling the scent of your sex deeply. You whimper softly, shifting yourself onto your elbows to see the gorgeous sight you’ll never be able to forget. Your stepbrother between your legs. The white-haired male looks up at you from beneath his white lashes, tongue flat as he drags it teasingly along your covered folds, knowing that you’re only wearing booty shorts that are already soaking through. Your breath hitches from feeling the fabric rough against your sensitive clit, biting down on your lip in a pathetic attempt to silence yourself.

“Don’t,” Satoru warns, nipping at your inner thigh. “Our parents aren’t here yet, I want to hear you.” He says, unwrapping his arms around your thighs and hooking his long fingers beneath the elastic band of your shorts. You couldn’t help but huff, looking off to the side and your teeth not holding your lower lip anymore. You wouldn’t dare disobey him. “What if they decide to surprise us and arrive early?” You question anxiously, though not stopping as Satoru guides your legs up so he can tug your flimsy pair of shorts up the length of them. “Then they’ll see their son eating out their beloved daughter and enjoying every moment of it.” He states and you can hear the smirk in his voice.

“Step..” You hastily add, flustered. Though, you couldn’t deny that deep down the thought of being caught with him is so arousing and Satoru knows that. You’ve often gotten riled up by his filthy words about potentially getting caught. Satoru’s large hands grip your inner thighs to force them open and you drop your upper body back down to the bed, a hand coming to cover up your face and Satoru eagerly takes the pretty sight in. Your needy pussy coated in your juices already, giving it a light sheen beneath the bedroom light and looking even more enticing. “Fuck, you’re dripping so much. Even anxious, you won’t ever stop thinking of Daddy’s cock.” The white-haired male states, soft lips curling up to form a grin.

His humiliating words just go straight to your cunt, hands covering your flustered face. You could practically feel how wet you are just by shifting your body and Satoru wastes no more time. Arms back around your thighs to hold them in place, he dives forward to press a sloppy kiss to your slick-covered folds and dragging his long tongue through them, groaning happily as your sweetness already begins to fill his mouth. Tasting the juice always reminds him of the first time he got to taste his stepsister’s pussy and that he refused to turn back ever since. You belong to him now and he’ll eat you out any chance he can get. He’s a lover of it and always leaves you stunned because what kind of man loves to eat a girl out?

Gojo Satoru. That’s the kind of man. Beyond addicted to it as his tongue continues to hungrily lap up your slick and you whimper loudly, hands gripping onto the blanket beneath you as your body already trembles from the pleasure that surges through you, directly from your hot core. “D-Daddy..” You stutter out softly, impatience starting to form as Satoru continues to take his sweet time; just his tongue sliding up and down between your folds, not even touching where you truly want to feel his tongue. Satoru hums, already reading your mind, but doesn’t relent. No one tells him what to do, especially you… Well, when it comes to being between your legs. He’ll happily oblige for anything else.

Time seems to tick by, your taste permanent on his tongue and with one final swipe of his tongue, he finally pushes in a little further. Slick smearing on his cheeks as he buries in, your folds parting for him and he continues to just lick up your mess, though the tip of his tongue now teases your tight entrance, swirling around it. You moan out pleasantly, feeling the sweet daze coming over you and your hand comes down to weakly grip his white hair, pulling. “So fucking good..” Satoru murmurs, voice muffled thanks to being ‘busy’ with his mouth. His tongue teasingly glides up until it meets your throbbing clit and you gasp at the sudden sensation you feel, pulling further on his hair until his scalp aches.

His laugh is soft, pressing sloppy and needy kisses to your clit, eagerly making out with it as if it’s the last day on Earth. You used to be embarrassed by hearing the loud slurping sounds, as it meant you were making too much of a mess, but your stepbrother loved it. It’s a beautiful sound to his ears, aside from your voice. So, naturally, you’ve grown to love it, too. His tongue swirls gracefully around the sensitive nub, teeth occasionally grazing against it to coax more of your whines to leave your lips. You’re dripping so much that it’s already causing stains on the blanket, but you’re too blissed out to care at the moment, just so happy to have his mouth against your hot cunt. Satoru knows he’ll have to calm you down afterwards, though.

His large hands soothingly caress along your thighs that still quiver. You’ve always been sensitive to his touch and it sure does boost his ego and eagerness. Nails graze along the soft flesh and you’re whining as the tip of his tongue repeatedly flicks against your clit, your stomach already feeling hot and tight as the urge to climax grows.

You know that only Satoru has been able to make you come just from his mouth, previous partner would refuse anything sexual asides from blowjobs to benefit him. You briefly remember Satoru snorting obnoxiously when you told him in his bedroom back at the family home and wanting to show you how a lady should be touched. It was the morning after your first time with your stepbrother. The point was definitely proven and addiction grew on both sides.

“Daddy, please—“ You choke out between soft pants and the white-haired male’s tongue drags flat across your clit, looking up at you. “Hold it in.” He orders, voice loving yet rather menacing. A threat. He brings one of his hands down, two long fingers parting your folds as he drags his tongue between to break the strings of slick before his other hand shifts further down until one finger teasingly glides across your entrance and he coos as he watches it clench from the sudden touch.

Cheeks stained with your slick, he presses multiple kisses to your clit, lips wrapping around the sensitive nub to suck on as his finger slowly rubs against your hole before he presses the tip in and slowly pushes the digit in. You whimper as you feel the length of his finger slide in comfortably, velvety walls snug around it. Already, you just want to let go. Especially as he continues to suck on your clit and now the single finger slowly pumping inside of you. You can feel it drag along your inner walls, only to thrust back in, curling slightly to find that sweet spot.

Just as the second finger joins the first to finger you slow and deep, a jolt of pleasure shocks through you when they rub against the sweet spot inside of you and a string of moans just spills out of you, eyes rolling. It feels so fucking good. “Daddy, please... Just let me—“

“No, you’ll come when I say you can, baby.” He says so sweetly despite the harsh words, lips curl to form an open smile as his tongue slides out, saliva mixed with your juices dripping back down onto your cunt. You whine, tears in your eyes when he denies you and your body just feels so tingly and warm. So relaxed and like jelly as he continues to pump the index and middle finger inside of you. Satoru couldn’t get over how your walls squeezed so deliciously around his invading fingers— something he’ll never get used to, truly. It just leaves him excited to have you tonight once the whole ordeal is over.

His cock throbs in his sweats, but he does nothing about it. He did not try to grind against the edge of the bed or even bring his other hand down to relieve himself. This is all about you. His beloved stepsister, who happens to also be his lover. You’ve been uptight for weeks about tonight and he’s always eager to help you relax. Whether through bedroom activities or something else. Satoru presses a loving kiss, a final one to your clit before he scatters kisses, tongue dancing across your inner thighs. Your body is twitching, feeling so hot and desperate to just let go as his fingers continue to slide in and out with ease, thanks to your slick. They continue to abuse that sweet spot and leave you sobbing softly for your release, tears glued to your long lashes.

“Look at you, my pretty crybaby. Not from my cock either.” Satoru mocks lightly, though incredibly endeared by you. The tall male lifts himself until he’s hovering above you, leaning against his elbow at the side of your head. He grinds his long fingers into you and you look up at him, almost blinded by the tears in your eyes. He’s dragging this out for so long and you could barely think anything incoherent. Just drunk off of the pleasure and feeling so hot. “You want to come?” He asks tenderly and you notice how messy his face looks, the bottom half covered in your juices. It just sends a flush of neediness down to your cunt from how pretty he looks, the hair even looking so soft and fluffy. You couldn’t form words between your filthy moans so all you can do is nod, face twisting from the ecstasy you feel. Satoru grins a little, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your temple, his voice low and husky. “Go on, stepsister.”

His fingers pick up the pace and you can’t even express the light annoyance you usually feel from him calling that because it’s shameful how easily he can read you. It turns you on. The whole stepsibling thing is so taboo in society, but the pair of you not caring. Fuck, yeah it’s hot that your stepbrother is the best at eating you out and everything else. Hell, even riling you up. He just knows that you find it thrilling to go against the norm and aside from that; you deeply love him for more than that. He isn’t just your sibling that you’re not related to by blood. Not just some stepbrother you met during your teenage years and have to pretend he annoys you like siblings do. Not just some stepbrother you sit next to as ‘Clueless’ plays on the television screen for the last family movie night before moving out and your hand secretly holding his in the dark. Not just some stepbrother who promises your mother that he’ll take care of you in the big scary city. He’s your boyfriend and more. Soulmate, even.

You gasped sharply as his fingers thrust into you rapidly, gliding in and out so quickly. Your inner walls could barely cling onto his fingers, only squeezing around. The pads of his fingers rub against your sweet spot and you’re choking through your sobs of pleasure, arms wrapped around his bigger form to hold onto him, as if afraid you could sink into the mattress. “A-Ah, Daddy— Feels so— Nngh!” You cried out and you could feel it rapidly approaching. He shifts his fingers within you, rubbing the sweet spot still but now his wrist moves up and down rapidly and fuck, you know what he’s going to make your body do for him. “N-No, ah!!”

With a high-pitched cry of ecstasy, Satoru swiftly pulls his fingers out and you are gushing. Sprays of your juices spurt out from your throbbing cunt and your body trembles through the addicting high that continues to crash over you. Your mind is wiped clean and all you can do is hold onto him as your pussy squirts. Your nails dig harshly into his broad shoulders, forehead pressing against him and Satoru holds you through your orgasm, soft praises falling from his lips. His entire attention is on the heavenly sight of the mess you just made. Still making as the last spurts escape and he soaks it all in, not giving a damn that his arm is also dripping with your juices. You’re so going to murder him when reality hits you. He doesn’t care. He knows you like it deep down, even despite future scenarios giving you anxiety.

“Satoru…” You slur out in your sweet daze, your body still feeling so warm and jelly-like. The white-haired male smiles down at you, crystal blue eyes full of love. “Less anxious now?” He teases lightly. You know he cares about your well-being more than you do at times, even if he teases. You feel your walls clenching around nothing, clit throbbing and slowly coming down from the high. You slump against the bed with a content sigh, pulling him down against you and he obliges, eager to get some cuddling in.

Until you realise what’s happening and gasp in shock, pushing him up so you can sit upright, eyes wide in horror as if witnessing the scene of a crime. There’s a damp patch on the edge of the bed and even a mess on the carpet. “Satoru!” You whine, gripping hopelessly onto his shoulder. “We have to clean this up, they’re going to be here soon. Oh my god, why did you have to be— So hot.” You grumble, nudging against his shoulder. Satoru lets out a delighted laugh, slightly amused by your outburst and presses a kiss to your forehead, shifting himself until he’s standing. “Go take a shower, babe. I’ll clean everything up. Don’t worry and just truuuust me. Please?” He quickly adds, lips curling to form an innocent smile.

You easily melt because of his charms and stand up, only to stumble into him from your legs being so weak from the orgasm you just went through. His arms loosely wrap around your waist, gazing down at you as he smirks. “Not even with my cock, mind you.” He sighs and you can’t help but shake your head, lips twitching as you hold back your smile. His cockiness is attractive and you will not admit that to his face. You glance down towards his crotch at the mention of it, noticing how his cock seems to strain against his tracksuit pants. “I’ll take care of it.” Satoru says when he notices where you’re looking, though secretly wishing you would. You couldn’t help but pout, wishing you could just wrap your lips— or even your fingers and help him feel good. There’s no time. You manage to coax your legs into walking in the direction of the bathroom.

“Oh, by the way… Your high school crush is coming tonight, too.”

You pause in front of the bathroom door, hand on the doorknob and turn around to face the white-haired male, feigning an innocent smile. “What?” You ask and watch as Satoru shrugs, hands stuffed into his pockets. “Dear diary, Suguru said hi to me today when he came over to chill with Satoru. I swear I creamed my panties when he smiled at me. I like him soooooo much. Satoru’s best friend is so hot.” He dramatically whines with his voice shifting to a higher pitch and your jaw drops in shock; not from the fact that there’s an extra person coming tonight, but the fact that your stepbrother read your diary in secrecy back when you were both teenagers.

“Satoru, you read my diary!? I never said I creamed my panties!” You squeal with frustration, stumbling towards your boyfriend to repeatedly smack his firm chest, though no actual strength behind it. Not that any of your genuine strength could hurt the older male. Satoru finds himself grinning to the point of his cheeks hurting, laughing at seeing you become so flustered and gently holding onto your wrists, not stopping your punches. “Couldn’t help myself, was curious who my little sister was crushing on at the time— Maybe cause I wanted it to already be me, but sheesh. It was my best friend instead. That would have stroked his ego.” Satoru jokes, arms draping around you and begins to shuffle towards the bathroom.

You huff a little, curled fists against his chest as you look up at him. “Suguru is hot, I’m not going to deny that... Maybe I was already crushing on you deep down but didn’t want to admit it— Either way, why are you only telling me now that Suguru is coming? Now we have to be even more cautious! He may not be our parents, but he’s an extra person and Suguru is seriously… perceptive. We’re doomed, he’s going to find out.” You whine, slumping against Satoru, arms draping by your sides in defeat.

Satoru rolls his eyes and opens the door behind you, gently nudging you into the bathroom. “He’s not that perceptive, relax. Everything will be fine. No one will find out about our love, I promise. Evidence is currently in hiding and we’re not going to make out in front of them. We got this, Y/N. We’re a team.” He says, gently bumping his fist against your forehead and you couldn’t help but smile softly. He’s right. “A team… Okay, well— It will be nice to see Suguru. He’s hot, after all.” You state with a playful smirk before closing the bathroom door in Satoru’s face.

Jealousy briefly surges through Satoru, but he’s able to calm himself down before giving you what you want; him riled up. He just scoffs quietly. “Don’t forget who made you squirt with just his fingers! Enjoy your shower.” He shouts through the door as he hears the sound of water. With a playful shake of his head, Satoru looks down at his crotch as he turns around before the mess on the bed.

“…Cleaning can wait.”

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

The gentle chime of the doorbell is heard through the small apartment and dread crashes over you. It’s time. Satoru is next to you, both of you standing just off to the side and out of sight of the peephole. Just in case one of your parents tries to eagerly look through. His hand rests on your waist, giving a gentle squeeze. His eyebrows are knit together to form a slight frown. He just had to help you calm down from crying out of fear and anxiety only an hour ago. “H-How’s my face?” You ask with a pitiful singular laugh as you look up at him. “The most beautiful I’ve ever seen. Are you ready? It’s just for a few hours.” Satoru says, knees bending a little so he can meet you face to face.

You inhale deeply, frantic heartbeats calming down at the sight of your boyfriend’s face. It’s cute when he looks all serious and concerned. You glance around you. “Everything is clean, even the mess from before. There’s nothing they can find, Y/N.” He reassures and the doorbell goes off again. Your mother has always been rather impatient. You smile towards him and nod, reaching for his hand to give a squeeze. You didn’t need to say you’re ready, Satoru can sense it. He presses a loving kiss to your lips. “I love you.” He reminds you and your heart flutters. “I love you, too.” You return softly.

Satoru pulls away, large hands dusting off his front. He’s wearing an outfit that you always want to rip off— Just a simple white shirt that isn’t buttoned up all the way and black slacks. You’re currently wearing one of his favourite dresses on you. You smooth out the creases before you walk ahead of him, taking one final deep breath and a glance at Satoru before you open the door with a wide smile.

Three people stand before you and the lady is already pulling you into a crushing hug. “Y/N, my daughter! I’ve missed you so much. Are you eating enough? School isn’t too stressful? Oh, I just can’t wait to see the place.” Your mother expresses excitedly, moving on to hug Satoru. It may be her stepson but you all get along like a close family. Not being blood-related never mattered. Satoru wraps an arm around her, guiding her inside. “Hey, Mum. Good to see you. Come in.” He says, laughing as you didn’t even get to answer her.

You turn to face your stepfather and smile wide. “Dad! It’s been too long.” You say as you give him a tight hug. He pushes up his glasses before smiling down at you. He’s tall, just like his son. “Your Mother has been quite eager for tonight, let me go calm her down.” He jokes as he enters the apartment to greet Satoru. You look towards the last person, heat rising to your cheeks when you briefly remember what Satoru mentioned before. Geto Suguru is smiling politely, reaching in to embrace you. You don’t have a crush on him anymore, but it doesn’t mean you’ll never be flustered by his beauty. “Hey, Y/N. I hope Satoru hasn’t been too troubling to live with.” Suguru jokes, voice smooth and calming. He’s always spoken rather gently. Especially with you and Satoru.

“He’s an absolute pain sometimes, but he takes care of me as brothers are supposed to.” You say and Satoru scoffs from hearing your words. “She can be a pain too, y’know— Suguru.” He says, pulling the dark-haired male into the typical bro hugs that guys do before actually hugging the male properly. You couldn’t help but smile, happy to see Satoru pleased to see his best friend after so long. You close the door behind you, checking to see everyone’s shoes are already off and neatly in a row in the entryway.

Before they can even pull apart, your mother is already inspecting the lounge area, smiling wide. “Well? Show us around!” She says, hands rubbing together. Your lips quiver from anxiety and Satoru’s hand clasps on your shoulder to give a squeeze. It’s the only way he can touch you in their eyes. Typical sibling touches. “Y/N has been a madwoman with all the cleaning today, wanted it all neat just for you, Mum.” He says and you jab your elbow against his side to play out the sibling retaliation. Your father chuckles as Satoru pretends the elbowing hurt, rubbing his side. “Some things never change, hm? Still brother and sister with some rivalry.” Your stepfather says, following your mother.

You just knew that your mother would want to see every inch of the apartment, though thankfully respectful enough to not open drawers, where evidence such as couple photos are hastily stuffed between clothing. “I must send some photos for you to hang up on the walls, they look so empty.” Your mother says, hand patting the empty hallway. Family photos… Could they pass off as you and Satoru just being a happy couple visiting one set of parents if friends in the city visit? “I think some paintings would also be nice, make us appear like we’re totally art snobs.” Satoru jokes as he opens the door to the guest bedroom— ‘His’ bedroom. The parents peek inside as they laugh at how silly their son is. Suguru thankfully isn’t too bothered to see the apartment compared to seeing his best friend it seems and so he only lingers about in the background.

It’s set up rather neatly to look like Satoru’s bedroom, though the bed appears like it’s slept in with creases and not properly tucked and the laundry basket is filled to the brim with his clothing and items scattered about— You were anxious about it appearing like he lives in it and definitely never sleeps in your room. Satoru is slumped against the wall, arms casually crossed as he watches them look around with excitement. “Satoru, you need to be a bit cleaner. What would you do if you brought a girl home.” Your stepfather jokes lightly and instantly, your heart squeezes with jealousy at the thought of your stepbrother with another woman. He swiftly glances towards you, having to bite back a small grin and shrugs. “Think my charm will be more than enough to make up for it.” He says, brushing against so casually to lead your parents away. Perhaps the excuse could be a tight hallway, but you know it’s him trying to reassure you.

You walk alongside Suguru, who is just shuffling behind your parents who now walk to the bathroom that isn’t attached to the master bedroom. You look up at him, he’s always been incredibly tall. Just like Satoru, except not as tall. He’s grown out his hair even longer than before, only half tied up in a bun. Suguru notices you looking and offers a smile. “You must have been stressed, Y/N. About tonight… Though, I can imagine it’s often chaotic when you just live with Satoru. Are you able to get sleep?” He jokes and the white-haired male overhears, playfully sending a glare and you giggle softly. “Some nights it’s impossible.” You sigh, knowing your stepbrother would pick up the implication and have his ego inflate.

The bathroom is just like ‘Satoru’s’ room, with items looking half used, rather than new and rubbish in the bin. No one uses the bathroom, since you both use the one in the master bedroom. You rub at your eyes, finding it a little exhausting that every inch must be checked, but that’s just parents when it comes to their children living away from them and just how beneficial it is that their children get along fine enough to share an apartment. ‘Ha’, you think. They’d be horrified with the truth. You enter the master bedroom behind them, anxious eyes double-checking that nothing is in sight. You hate it. You want your photos back up and cute couple items you’ve gotten together, like plushies from an arcade or hell, even your sex toys out without a care.

“It’s so nice of you to let Y/N have the bigger room, Satoru. Such a good big brother you are.” Your mother praises, patting him on the cheek before she looks around. His lips curl up to form a smug smile, shrugging. “Gotta take care of little sis.” He says, words dripping with playfulness that only you can pick up. He wraps an arm around Suguru’s shoulder to lead him back out since there isn’t else to see, eager to just catch up with his best friend. Your anxious heart starts to settle down. It’s just the other basic rooms now— dining, kitchen and a study. It seems like you’re both managing to pass the test. Then, only dinner and dessert will remain and they’ll be out of here, maybe around 10 o’clock and you can return to clinging onto Satoru. Knowing you… You’ll probably cry in relief and he’ll pat your head. You sigh quietly. Even just a head pat would be nice and will help you through the night.

Soon enough, your parents do seem satisfied with the apartment that you’ve both chosen to live in and are now settling into their seats at the dining table. Your stepfather at the head of the table, your mother next to him and you next to her. Satoru is across from you, Suguru by his side. Everyone is starting to sit down, chatting amongst themselves. “It’s a lovely little place you’ve chosen, it just needs to look more lived in. Like a home.” Your mother says and you smile, nodding. “We’ve both just been so busy but I guess we can find some things both of us like to decorate… Nothing inappropriate, of course. Right, Satoru?” You ask through clenched teeth as you smile towards him, desperate to keep up the sibling act.

He rolls his eyes and holds his hands up. “No girls in bikinis, I promise. I’m an adult, y’know.” He retaliates lightly and you laugh, rising from your seat. “Please tell me you two don’t bicker all day and do get along.” Your stepfather says lightheartedly, looking towards his wife. “We get along fine,” Satoru replies with ease and you’re internally grateful that he takes charge of the conversation because knowing yourself? You would have screwed up the very second they walked in. You leave the dining room just as your parents start to ask Suguru how he is doing and if he’s taking care of himself, looking behind your shoulder to see Satoru glance towards you with a certain glint in his eyes.

You sigh out softly, thankful to be alone for a moment as you begin to prepare the dinner plates. You decided on a simple roast, far too lazy to do any cooking… well, more like too stressed out. Even if you secretly crave a comforting and warm bowl of ramen. Hell, even just simple miso soup would be nice. You carefully stack the full plates onto the tray and turn around, gasping sharply as you nearly walk into a much taller body— Satoru. “You startled me.” You huff, walking past the white-haired male and he swiftly plucks two plates from the tray to lessen the weight, leaning down to whisper against your ear. “Sorry, babe. Just wanted to check on you.”

His warm breath tickles your ear and his words provide comfort to your heart. Satoru is willing to risk things for even the brief moments and you’re thankful. Even if you do nervously glance at the open doorway of the kitchen. You follow behind him to return to the dining room, smiling when you see your parents laughing along with Suguru. The dark-haired male always got along with your parents and they’d often joke about how Suguru keeps Satoru in line. You place the plates in front of your parents before yours on your placemat, setting the tray aside. “Please help yourself to some garlic bread— I know, I know. Usually goes with pasta and not a roast. I was craving it.” You laugh lightly as you sit back down, next to your mother.

“It looks lovely, dear. Did you do it all by yourself? I hope your brother helped you..” Your mother trails off, eyes narrowing in warning towards Satoru’s direction. You’ve already ripped a piece of garlic bread to nibble on, hiding your smile behind it as you look towards your secret lover who sits across from you. The white-haired male sits up straight, fork dramatically stabbing into a roasted carrot that he bites in half. “Actually, I was in charge of dessert and no, I didn’t just secretly buy it. I’ve been learning to bake.” He grumbles lightheartedly and you smile even further, biting on the bread.

You know the truth. Satoru has indeed been learning; ever since he discovered how much you loved pastries and anything sweet, he picked up the hobby. It was sweet, really. It’s funny how girls in high school claimed that Gojo Satoru would be an immature boyfriend to have and be someone so selfish; just because he’s a bit loud at times and enjoys goofing off from time to time. They never saw what you could see and even now, you get to happily live with your loving boyfriend who takes such good care of you. Your mother’s eyes widen at the news, cutting into her meal before taking small bites. “That’s an excellent hobby, Satoru. Hopefully, Y/N doesn’t inhale it. You have to be careful, Y/N and take care of yourself.” She warns lovingly and you sigh softly, nodding. You know she’s just saying it because she cares, but you’re internally grateful you don’t have to hear it anymore.

“I eat most of it.” Satoru lies with ease as he continues to eat. Suguru snorts lightly beside him, taking a sip of his glass of wine that was prepared earlier. “I can vision that.” The dark-haired male jokes, winking towards you. You snicker quietly, nibbling on the end of a potato that you cut into. Satoru tilts his chair sideways to shove against Suguru lightly and steal a sliced piece of meat off of his plate. “Less dessert for you, Suguru.” He chimes happily, shoving the meat into your mouth.

The five of you continue to peacefully eat as you talk, giving life updates. Whether about work or college. It seems Suguru is thinking of moving into the city and you couldn’t deny your heart being squeezed by your anxiety. It’s not that you don’t like Suguru. You adore him, really. It would just be so difficult to hide what you have with Satoru if someone from your past is here… Still, Satoru would be happy and that’s what you care about. As you cut into your last slice of meat, you accidentally drop your knife against your plate from hearing your mother’s words and your stepfather humming in agreement, eager to hear. “Satoru, have you been trying to find a nice girl to date? You’re in your late twenties now. I’m sure pretty ones just flock to you. You’re our handsome son, after all.” Your mother expresses sweetly, eager to hear some gossip.

Your hands feel clammy. Heart sinking into your stomach at just the mere thought of your… boyfriend finding another girl to date. It would be so much easier. You feel too uneasy, desperate to feel some sort of reassurance from your stepbrother. Your eyes focus heavily on him as your leg slides under the table to bump against his foot. Quietly and in complete secrecy, you shift your foot to caress along his ankle, eyes refusing to look away from him. He’s not looking your way at all, nor looking affected by your touch as he just laughs a bit too naturally at the words, shrugging. “I don’t know, I don’t feel any desperation to find a partner. If it happens, it happens. Don’t try to put pressure on me, Mum. I got a job to focus on.” He jokes, your foot creeping just a bit further up his leg, applying pressure to make him really feel it. You’re utterly oblivious to a different pair of eyes glancing towards you before Satoru as he speaks, all attention focused on your stepbrother.

“Like he could get a girl. His confidence might scare them.” You finally joke as well, feeling defeated that Satoru didn’t even look your way as you teased him under the table, moving your legs to tuck beneath the chair and your shoulders deflate. It was stupid of you to be so risky, Satoru was right to behave like that. Your stepfather chuckles, setting his cutlery down. “What about you, Y/N? Any nice person at university?” He asks gently and you feel the heat rise to your cheeks, now having Satoru’s fierce gaze snap towards you and you couldn’t deny how searing it feels. You squeeze your legs together under the table, hands sliding between them and shrugging. “Haven’t been looking, maybe 'cause I believe too strongly in destiny. Time will come.” You laugh sheepishly, leaning back into your chair.

Satoru’s gaze softens on you, briefly thinking of the time back at the old home when you secretly snuck into his bedroom for cuddling and the topic of destiny came up. He couldn’t help but eagerly agree. That’s what it feels like. What you have together is destiny. Satoru stands up as he begins to stack the plates. “I’ll go prepare dessert.” He says, surprised to see both Suguru and his father stand up to help with the dishes. “Let us help you out, son. Y/N, it was really delicious.” Your stepfather praises and Suguru smiles towards you. “Agreed, Satoru must feel lucky to eat his stepsister’s cooking.” He says smoothly and you smile shyly towards him. You shift to talk to your mother as the three men walk into the kitchen.

The white-haired male exhales out softly, setting the plates down near the sink. “Thanks, Dad. Suguru, you as well. You can go relax.” He reassures and Suguru gives a nonchalant shrug, opening the dishwasher. “Might as well lessen the burden.” He says and Satoru’s father nods with eagerness. “Agreed, let me help out.” Satoru’s father says and Satoru laughs, approaching one of the top drawers and opening it. “Not going to deny help, less work for me—“ He pauses, looking down into the drawer and instantly notices a particular kitchen item that should definitely be hidden— or even burned. He slams the drawer shut with a bang and leans against the counter, trying to appear as casual as possible with his toned arms crossing his chest. “Actually, Dad? You travelled quite far, you should go sit down. Suguru and I can do this.” Satoru says, words hastily escaping his lips. His father blinks innocently, oblivious to his son’s behaviour. Suguru is standing behind Satoru’s father, eyes shifting to the top drawer with interest.

“Are you sure? You know I don’t mind—“ Satoru’s father begins and the white-haired male lets out a fake laugh, slightly strained. “I’m sure, besides I need some— bro time with Suguru.” Satoru quickly adds, forcing a smile in his best friend’s direction. His father looks towards Suguru and Suguru smiles wide, eyes shaping into crescents. “Yeah, bro time. I hope that’s okay.” He adds politely and Satoru’s father chuckles, holding his hands up. “Alright, alright.” He says before shuffling out of the kitchen. Satoru sighs deeply, body only relaxing slightly. His hands are still gripping onto the countertop anxiously and he forces out another awkward laugh. “Bro time.. Right, thanks for helping me out with the dishwasher. So— what’s up? Any ladies you’ve been interested in?” Satoru tries to ask casually, his voice strained and his back still against the counter. How the hell is he going to deal with this with Suguru still in the kitchen?

There’s a mischievous glint in Suguru’s eyes as he looks towards the other male, leaning down to slide a plate into the dishwasher, stepping closer to Satoru as he keeps his voice quiet enough so he can’t be heard by the others outside of the kitchen. “Oh, I don’t know. I do think this one girl is interested in me. Might shoot my shot. She’s pretty cute.” Suguru says, tucking loose strands of hair behind his ear that escaped his tied-up bun. Satoru shows interest, eyebrow raising as he steps closer, though one hand still blocks the top drawer. “What? Who? Come on, tell me.” Satoru whispers with excitement, lips curling to form a grin.

“It’s your stepsister. See, just now—“ He pauses, watching the colour drain from his best friend’s face and smirking a little before he feigns a thoughtful expression. “At dinner, I felt someone caressing my leg for a minute or so. Very slow and teasing, y’know? It felt really good to be touched like that. It was Y/N. I could tell…” He trails off and Satoru leans back against the counter, jealousy bubbling up within him. His knuckles begin to turn white from how tight his grip is on the counter. “Yeah? Is that so? My own stepsister, huh?” He asks, his voice tight and even resentful. Suguru steps closer, resting against the counter next to Satoru and leans in, voice laced with playfulness. “Except, she wasn’t even looking at me. Her eyes were just locked on you, refusing to look away.” Suguru explains, hand cupping his chin as he rubs it in thought, noticing a nervous shift in Satoru. How fucking obvious. Satoru lets out a small laugh, avoiding eye contact.

Fuck. So maybe Suguru is perceptive. He’s doomed. Even if the jealousy simmers down, he’s still so fucked. “Maybe she was just shy and didn’t want to look your way..” He lies, though despising the mere idea of it. He must have had his legs tucked under the chair for that one moment and you mistook Suguru’s leg for his own— Fuck, you were also probably seeking reassurance, Satoru realises. He didn’t know. Suguru scoffs, moving to stand in front of Satoru, a hand clasping his best friend’s shoulder to give a squeeze, making sure his voice is still quiet, even soothing so Satoru knows he means no harm. “You and Y/N are secretly dating.”

Satoru’s large hands drag across his face as he hunches forward, forehead briefly resting against Suguru’s shoulder. Fuck. “Suguru, fuck— Listen, I know it’s wrong, okay? I know it’s fucked up. I can’t help it, alright? I’m in love with her, I don’t care if she’s my stepsister.” Satoru tries to explain, words just babbling out nervously as he leans back up to look at Suguru’s face, determination in his eyes. “I love her. She loves me. That’s why we ran away to live here, so we can be— y’know, free. Listen, Suguru… You can’t say anything, please.” He pleads a light tremble of fear in his voice.

Satoru is never scared. This is surprising to Suguru and he holds his hands up to show innocence. “I’m not going to say anything, relax. Your secret is safe with me. You know I only want you happy. Y/N, too. It’s not like you’re blood-related so as your best friend? Easy to look past the whole taboo. Sucks I can’t make my move, though.” Suguru jokes and Satoru glares at him. Suguru snorts. “Jokes, jokes. Relax. Don’t want to be murdered by my own best friend. Still, though. It was rather risky for Y/N to do that. The leg thing. I thought she would know better.” Suguru adds, returning to the dishes and Satoru’s shoulders hunch forward, body deflating with concern. “Was it around the time of me being asked about my dating life? She was probably anxious and just needed comfort... Just wish I could openly give it to her.”

The white-haired male twists his body to look down at the counter, crystal blue eyes shifting towards Suguru. “Don’t even react—“ Satoru threatens before opening the drawer. Instantly, Suguru is hovering to see inside. Directly in the middle of the clutter lays a wooden spoon, black writing across the curved surface of the spoon. ‘Y/N’s spanking spoon, spanked lovingly by Daddy Satoru.’ Little hearts are drawn around it and Suguru has to cover his mouth to muffle his amused snicker. Satoru elbows him before a hand comes up to grip his white hair, desperately trying to think of what to do with it. There’s always that slim chance of his stepmother opening the drawer. He wouldn’t put it past her. “I need to get rid of it,” Satoru says, reaching to grab it.

Suguru snatches it up to inspect it. “Wow, so this spanked your stepsister’s ass, huh? Daddy? Why do you keep it in the kitchen?” The dark-haired male teases and Satoru tries to snatch the wooden spoon up. “It’s a spoon! Since when were you such a brat, give it back.” Satoru huffs, only to raise an eyebrow when Suguru tucks the end into his pants and pulls his oversized sweater over it. “Can’t get rid of something so precious, hm? I’ll go hide it in her bedroom… Well, your bedroom, too. Can I stay over tonight? Just tell your parents that I’ll use the couch if they happen to ask.” Suguru suggests, lips forming a smug grin.

Satoru’s cheeks are flushed red with embarrassment but he pretends to not feel such an emotion and grins, gesturing for Suguru to go. “Thanks, go hide it. Yeah, you can stay… I’ll have to tell Y/N that you know about us. She’s going to be mortified when she realises how you figured it out. Maybe I’ll just fuck the mortification out of her.” He says, moving to the fridge to grab the plate that contains a cake. Just a simple sponge cake, covered in cream. Suguru scrunches his face up. “TMI, Satoru. I may not mind hearing Y/N’s sex life, but definitely not yours.” He teases before swiftly leaving the room to avoid Satoru’s retaliation. His hands are laced ever so casually behind his back as he enters the dining room.

You look towards him, raising an eyebrow as he begins to walk towards the exit. “Just going to quickly use the restroom, if you don’t mind Y/N?” He asks and you nod eagerly, smiling. “Go for it.” You say before turning back to talk to your parents, answering their eager questions about the university. Satoru on the other hand, leans his arms against the fridge for a moment, gazing blankly at the cake. He’s so relieved. Truthfully speaking, Satoru always wished just one other person knew of his secret love affair with you. Someone who also knows that you’re both stepsiblings who happened to grow up with each other during their teenage years. Even further relieved that it’s Suguru, his best friend. Thankful to not be judged or criticised. Just accepted. If Suguru had rejected it, Satoru would have thrown him out of the apartment and refused his parents’ questions. He’s not afraid to admit to himself that he’d choose you over anyone else. If it meant packing up and moving elsewhere for good, he’d do that, too. Where no one could reach. Anything to be with the one he loves.

Heart and mind now feeling at ease, Satoru grabs the plate that holds the cake and carries it into the dining room, dessert plates already set in the middle of the table. You perk up at the sight of Satoru, though try to play it off as if it’s the cake that catches your interest instead. “Oh my! That looks delicious, Satoru!” Your mother praises as Satoru sets it down, grabbing the knife as he neatly begins to cut even slices to dish out, smirking a little. “Naturally, I’m good at everything.” He says lightheartedly and you press your lips together to prevent a smile from appearing. Anyone else would find his cockiness to be obnoxious and yet, it’s just one of the many things you love. Hell, your stepbrother has taught you to be more confident in yourself. You help with the plates, setting them in front of your parents.

Suguru happens to arrive just in time, gripping Satoru’s shoulder to give a reassuring squeeze. The white-haired male relaxes. The ‘spoon job’ is done. Everyone is settled down now and you refuse to even try to touch Satoru under the table, just focusing on taking small bites of the sweet cake. You can’t prevent the soft moan from escaping as you lick the cream off of your lips. Your parents are oblivious to such sounds, but Satoru is looking right at you, fingers tightening around his fork. Suguru has to cover his amused smile, pretending to wipe his mouth.

“Y/N, I hope it’s okay that I stay over tonight? Satoru has already agreed.” Suguru says gently and your heart sinks a little. You like Suguru. Obviously. If it was during high school, you would be running to your room to squeal and jump with joy. Now though… you were hoping to be able to unwind and be free with Satoru. To have all stress gone and to cling to your tall lover. Now you’ll have to keep the act up. You force a polite smile, nodding. “That’s completely okay, Suguru. I’ll set up the couch for you when Mum and Dad leave for the night.”

Your parents gush about the lovely idea for Satoru to have even more time with his best friend, finishing the slice of cake before they relax in the chair. Everyone is finished and not wanting to bother with the mess later, you stand up to collect the last set of dishes. Satoru shifts to move and you hold your hand up. “Don’t worry, I can do it.” You reassure, allowing Satoru some time with your shared parents before they’ll be leaving soon. You love them, really. You just feel exhausted. Hopefully, with time, it will become easier to hide things to the point that it won’t feel like an act. You doubt it. With one arm managing to balance the plates, you use your free hand to grab the leftover cake.

You enter the kitchen to start hastily stacking the plates into the dishwasher, along with the cutlery. You eventually turn it on for a normal wash before you begin to clean the kitchen; wiping over the benches and putting items away back into their original spot. Finally, you slide the cake onto the bottom shelf and close the door. You look towards the time on the microwave and relief washes over you. It’s past 10 o’clock. The dinner seemed to go relatively fast, thankfully.

You return to the dining room to witness everyone starting to stand up and feign disappointment. “Oh no, is it that time? It went too quickly.” You whine, lips naturally pouting. Satoru’s gaze momentarily softens when he looks at you, knowing that you’re relieved; even if you do love family. You follow them through to the lounge and then towards the exit of the apartment. Suguru decides to stay back to give the four of you space. You could hear your mother rambling, not taking in anything she was saying. No offence to her, of course. You’re just a bit tired. There are quick kisses to cheeks and your stepfather is expressing for your mother to hurry up because he doesn’t want to stay up for too long. With final embraces and shoes on, both you and Satoru wave goodbye before closing the door.

You slump against the back of it for a moment, eyes wide and blank as you think back over everything. Every conversation. The tour through the apartment. Your limited affection with Satoru. Nothing… seems to be obvious. The night was a success and even tears of relief glued to your lashes. Satoru’s hand gently rubs your back soothingly, tall body leaning over you as he whispers. “It’s all over, baby. You can relax now—“

You absolutely cannot. Quickly, you move away from his touch and glance nervously towards the lounge room where Suguru is lingering. “Satoru, you know that’s a lie. Keep the act up.” You insist gently, prying his large hand off your shoulder as you move towards the lounge room, lips forcing a polite smile. Satoru follows behind you, trying not to show his amusement. “Right, let me prepare the couch.” You say, turning towards the hallway.

“Actually, Y/N. I think I might use the guestroom if that’s okay. Just so you don’t have to deal with such troubles.” Suguru says lightly and you find yourself frozen on the spot. “You— You mean Satoru’s room? You want to sleep next to Satoru?” You ask, voice straining and laced with jealousy. Only you’re allowed to sleep next to your stepbrother. “No, I mean the guestroom. I assume Satoru will want to sleep with you since you’re both dating.” Suguru finally explains, biting back his laugh that threatens to escape.

Dread crashes down over you and you twist around to face the pair of tall males and Satoru is already laughing, a hand pressing against his toned stomach. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I had to wait until our parents were gone—“ The white-haired male begins to explain through a soft chuckle. He feels guilty for laughing at your shock, but he knows that you’ll find the situation to be funny later on. Satoru is quick to wrap you up in his arms, pulling you against his firm body. He isn’t scared to shower you with affection, even if Suguru just discovered the ultimate secret. Suguru smiles slightly, rubbing the back of his neck and you’re just completely baffled, automatically leaning into your boyfriend. “Did you tell him—?” You ask timidly, fingers curling into the front of Satoru’s button-up shirt.

They both shake their heads. “It was my leg that you were touching… Honestly, I was flattered at first, and won’t deny such thoughts. I looked at you, but you were looking at Satoru and refusing to look away. I just put two and two together.” Suguru explains as gently as he can, not wanting you to feel embarrassed. Too bad you’re instantly flooded with the emotion and bury your face into Satoru’s chest, voice muffled. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry… That’s so embarrassing, I-I just... I just gave us away so easily, Satoru.”

Satoru brings a hand up to stroke the back of your hair, ruffling it up a little. “It’s fine, love. Honestly, I’m glad that Suguru knows and just accepted us. You can just be yourself in front of him now, hm?” Satoru says gently, voice deep and soft. Still, you smack his chest lightly as you pull away, pouting. “You always have your legs out under the table, why did you change!” You whine, lips starting to curl as Satoru barks with laughter, head tilting. “We both have long legs and take turns. It’s been like that since school.”

You sigh heavily, pulling yourself out of Satoru’s arms, although already missing the comfort. One of his hands lingers against your waist. Your face feels hot as you look towards Suguru, who as always, smiles towards you. “I’m so sorry that I touched you like that.” You apologise, voice somewhat small. Suguru gives a light shrug, holding his hands up to show he holds no grudges. “You’re fine. I would say I enjoyed it but your boyfriend would cut my head off.” He says rather slyly as he looks towards Satoru.

Already, Satoru’s lips are pressing together and eyebrows creasing in concern as he tugs you back towards him to wrap his arms possessively around you from behind. Butterflies form in your stomach as your hands gently grip his arm that’s wrapped around your neck, giggling softly. “You may be my best friend, but no way. She’s all mine. I’ll fuck her in front of you if I need to.” Satoru bluntly states and you choke on your saliva from the childishness, though desperately trying to ignore how the butterflies seem to flutter wildly before being burnt up by the fire ignited within you. His possessiveness is so hot. “S-Satoru!” You squeak, bumping into his taller form that continues to cling to you.

Suguru pulls a face at the boldness, though curiosity appears in his gaze that lands on you. It was fleeting before he looked towards his best friend instead. “What are you, some alpha?” Suguru snorts, palm rubbing against his eye. Satoru grins, almost like the Cheshire cat as he rocks side to side, chin resting on top of your head. “Might want to wear earplugs tonight, Suguru. You might hear my beloved stepsister cry out from my fat knot.” He retaliates and your hand briefly covers your face, feeling so hot and flushed. It’s almost embarrassing but, his filthy words always arouse you with such ease. You feel your panties becoming damp under your dress. You really want to go to the bedroom now. Too many hours spent stressing and you just really….

You fake a yawn, nuzzling back into Satoru, still wrapped up in his possessive yet rather loving embrace. He feels so warm. “Very funny, yes— Anyways, I think it’s time we all hit the hay…” You trail off, glancing nervously towards Suguru in hopes of him not seeing right through you. He does, but he’s a nice guy. He smiles warmly, grabbing his backpack that he left by the edge of the couch. “I agree, I’m so thankful I won’t have to hear Satoru’s snores at least. Am I able to use the bathroom to freshen up?” He asks and Satoru is too distracted by you to even be offended by the light insult. His hot gaze is only on you. He could see through the lie from the second you faked a yawn and uttered the first word. “Yeah, go for it. I guess we’ll see you in the morning, Suguru… Thanks, by the way. For accepting our secret.” Satoru murmurs, long fingers gently combing through your hair.

Suguru simply nods. “That’s what friends are for, goodnight. Enjoy your sleep.” He says, emphasising the last word before he walks down the hallway. You turn around to look up at Satoru, his crystal blue eyes meeting yours.

You’re both thinking the same thing. -------------------------------------------------------------------

Finally, in the comfort of the bedroom that you share with your boyfriend; aka stepbrother, you sigh out in relief, already reaching to unzip your dress. Your soft fingertips meet a set of other fingertips that seem far too eager to unzip. Your tiers curl into a fond smile, bunching your hair up to let it be out of the way as Satoru begins to glide the zipper down, taller body leaning down so his lips can press lovingly against your bare shoulder. He’s trailing kisses gently up towards your neck, warm breath fanning across your smooth skin. “I’m so proud of you, baby girl. You did so well tonight. I know it must have been tough.” Satoru whispers, voice sounding raspy. He needs you. Badly.

His praise easily melts you, shimmying out of your dress until it pools around your bare feet. Satoru knows that you’re an absolute sucker for praise and that you often try to chase the wonderful feeling of making him proud. You behave so well for him, no matter the situation and so, Satoru finds himself always proud of you. Still, you’re emotional from having to deal with something so stressful and tears begin to pool, make-up already smearing cause of it. You love your parents, you do. It’s just obvious they can’t know and you hate it so much. You hate that you have to hide your love for your stepbrother.

Satoru isn’t an idiot. Even with your back to him, he can tell that you’re starting to cry and honestly, he’s not surprised. You’ve been so tense for weeks. Ever since it was announced by your parents. You wouldn’t ever relax unless he coaxed you into it or lovingly distracted you. His smile is soft, firm hands on your bare shoulders to move you until you’re facing him. “D-Don’t look at me, I’m getting all gross.” You whine, hand pitifully trying to cover up the fact that black lines from mascara are gliding down your cheeks, mixed with your tears. Small hiccups escape as you try so hard to hide.

“Y/N.” He laughs, completely endeared as his large hands come up to tenderly cup your cheeks, thumbs rubbing at the wet make-up, not caring that he’s smearing it further. “Firstly, I’ve seen you cry so many times since we were teens. Not a new sight for me. Secondly, you’ll always be beautiful and take my breath away every single time.” His voice falls into a whisper, unable to stop himself from leaning down to capture your lips with his own, kissing you with passion. You gasp against his lips and he pours all of his love into the one kiss, hands refusing to part from your cheeks as his lips move slow and hungrily against your own. Your fingers curl into his shirt that’s already half unbuttoned, desperate to pull him flush against you as you return the kiss, your tiers moving in sync with his own.

Neither of you part, becoming so breathless and yet refusing to be the first to pull away. His taller body is leaning into you as he continues to kiss you with loving eagerness. His tongue glides across your lower lip and you happily oblige, parting your lips to allow him to take further control as his wet muscle dominates your mouth. Every passionate kiss will always remind you of your first kiss with Satoru. He rubs his tongue against your own before sliding across every inch of your mouth, eager to claim. He can still taste the sweetness of cream lingering and it causes him to groan softly.

Satoru, addicted to kissing you; found it so difficult to pull away. He presses multiple kisses to your saliva-coated lips before he leans back to exhale air. His crystal blue eyes are clouded with complete desire and you look up at him, eyes full of mutual feeling. He couldn’t help but chuckle softly from your cheeks stained with your make-up, though noticing you’re not crying anymore. He’s thankful for that, even if usually the sight of your tears causes a raging hard-on. “Y/N..” Satoru mumbles, hands caressing along your bare sides and admiring your choice of lingerie. Soft pink lace. He realises it’s hard to have a favourite colour on you when you make every colour seem so perfect.

“Go relax on the bed, I’ll be with you in a moment,” Satoru says, pulling away. Instantly, your hand latches onto the back of his shirt, looking up at him with wide eyes. You don’t want him to go for even a second, that’s how clingy you can get and it’s an absolute weakness of his. “Where are you going, Daddy? I want— I want to touch you. Make you feel good, it’s my turn now.” You insist, briefly thinking about when he was between your legs several hours ago. Satoru’s heart squeezes, easily melting from your cuteness and plants a quick kiss on your cheek. “Just listen to Daddy.” Satoru says, prying your hand off of him as he playfully rolls his eyes. “I’m trying to take care of you, you’ll see.” He finishes.

You pout a little, absolutely hating to be away from your stepbrother, but you can’t resist obeying. Especially since he’d easily put you in your place. Even when he’s feeling sweet and wants to make love. You carefully step out of your dress, grabbing it to rest it on the chair at your dressing table. Not wanting to waste time after you noticed he left to go to the bathroom, you climb onto the king-size bed and crawl to the middle, flopping down. Wait— What is that? You feel something solid beneath you and move to tug the blankets down, eyes widening in shock when you see the spanking spoon hiding beneath the covers and take hold of it, face feeling flushed. “Oh— So that’s where he put it.”

You turn around to look at Satoru who is snickering with amusement, a damp cloth in his hand. “He? You don’t mean…” You trail off, suddenly remembering. Suguru asked to use the bathroom before and oh my god, that means he’s seen this. Satoru’s knees rest against the edge of the mattress, reaching forward to take hold of it with his free hand, smirking from witnessing your shocked expression. “We did well with hiding evidence, Y/N. We just forgot the one small thing.” He says, deliberately dragging the round end of the spoon across your thigh, patting it a few times and you’re whimpering softly, muscles tensing up and hands coming down between your thighs.

Satoru is delighted by your reaction. He knows you tend to enjoy pain by his hands, though you both know the difference between pain for fun or punishment. Context matters, after all. Even if you enjoy a good spanking, you hate to be punished because it means you need to be corrected. The spoon is usually used for the latter. He leans forward to press a kiss to your temple, setting the wooden spoon on his bedside table before he tenderly cups your cheek, bringing the damp cloth up to your face and starting to gently wipe the smeared make-up off. “My good girl, I don’t think tonight calls for pain. Even the fun kind. I just want to make love to you.” He hums softly and you smile softly towards him. “I’ll still rile you up, just saying.” You whisper, fingers playfully walking up his toned thigh, approaching his crotch. He looks down at your hand, gulping quietly.

“Every time we do something is making love, in my eyes. Rough or soft. Loving or mean.” You express, hand reaching the area to cup, giving a light squeeze and your palm starts to rub against it. His breath hitches, managing to wipe the last of the mess from your face and smiles knowingly. “Can’t deny that you’re right, beloved stepsister.” He purrs softly, setting the damp cloth down next to the spoon. Even so, Satoru rather craves to just take time and be gentle tonight since you’ve been stressed. Remind you that everything is okay and it’s all over. Does his fingers twitch occasionally with the urge to be rough? Sure. He’s no idiot and knows he enjoys how pretty you look, and how sweet you sound when it is like that, but you’re just as pretty when it’s not played like that. Just always pretty.

He raises an eyebrow when your hand presses against his firm chest and he follows the pressure until he’s lying down on his back, head against the pillows. “You really love to mention the whole step-sibling thing, don’t you?” You laugh, not particularly denying that you enjoy hearing it. His lips curl to form a playful smile, broad shoulders shrugging as his hand comes up, finger slipping beneath the bra strap. “What can I say, taboo turns us both on. Besides, you know I love you beyond that.” He says, voice sounding rather distracted as his crystal blue eyes refuse to look away from your hands.

With the hint that he gave from tugging on your bra strap, you couldn’t help but giggle softly. He’s so obvious. An impatient man who wants the underwear off so he can properly ‘admire’ you as he regularly tells you. You remember your teenage years when you often wondered if Satoru was a ‘boob man’ or an ‘ass man’. You got your answer on day one when you both first fooled around; he loves both equally. A first for a male, in your opinion. You always heard teenage boys obnoxiously state their preferences, but at age 18 and Satoru hitting 20, you realised just how different your stepbrother is. He appreciates the body as a whole and when it comes to you? You often tease him for being a simp with how he worships you and he doesn’t care. Simply because you’re just as much a simp as he is when it comes to worshipping him in return.

Your hands swiftly unclasp your bra, though slowing down as you pull the straps until both arms are out. Satoru’s stare is hot and heavy, fingers twitching against the blankets. You offer a sweet smile before finally discarding the underwear to reveal your breasts rather confidently. You used to be so timid, but Satoru has taught you to love yourself more. He groans, hands coming up to dramatically drag across his face until his mouth is covered and he’s not looking at just your hands anymore, but your breasts. So soft and pretty looking. Even your nipples seem to already harden from being exposed. “Fuck, I’m so lucky. Suguru must be fuming.” He jokes, prompting you to swat at his chest and laugh.

“Stoooop, Suguru doesn’t see what you see.” You say as you gracefully shift yourself until you’re straddling his lap, not wasting time to teasingly rub your ass against his crotch, feigning innocence as you just act out trying to get into a comfortable position by wiggling. Satoru couldn’t even tell you the truth that Suguru expressed interest in you, far too distracted by the friction of the clothing rubbing against his already hardening cock and the pleasant pressure that is your weight. Satoru just lays there, allowing you to do as you please for the moment; feels so good to have you on his lap after all. He manages to exhale a sigh. It sounds strained. “What if Suguru did see you that way?” He asks breathlessly as your hips continue to roll in small circles, body fluid and graceful. Your hands come down to unbutton the rest of his shirt, noticing the spike of jealousy within the white-haired male. You start to feel giddy again.

“He’s handsome, I had a crush well before you.” You begin and Satoru rolls his eyes and looks off to the side, large hands cupping your bare thighs to give a rough squeeze. A warning. He loves the guy. It’s just that you belong to him and no one is ever going to take you away from him. You grin, utterly endeared by the jealousy and lean down as your hands spread the open shirt, your breasts pressing directly against his naked chest, a hand caressing soothingly along his side. “But I’m not interested in him anymore. My eyes only see Daddy. You’re so hot when you get all jealous.” You whisper, lips hovering over his.

Fuck, he can feel your soft, squishy breasts pressing against him and he only wants more. His strong arms wrap around your waist to keep you flushed against him, nose rubbing against yours. “Prove it to Daddy. Show Daddy how much you love him, stepsis.” He whispers in return and your lips already hungrily press against his, muffling your whines. You waste no time, eager for more and so your lips begin to travel towards his jawline, nipping at the flesh. You’ve been uptight for far too long and finally get to let it all out and relax with your lover, Satoru. Some may think it’s crazy to call passionate sex as relaxing but honestly, that’s what it feels like to you. It can be both thrilling and calm. Calm in the sense that you can just let go and feel good, especially afterwards. Satoru, your amazing partner (stepbrother) may have eaten you out this morning and even made you squirt, but you still felt a bit too stressed cause tonight wasn’t over. Thank goodness it is now.

“Gon’ mark you, Daddy. Can do that now. Girls at work will know to back off— Boys, too.” You grumble lightly, tongue sliding out to teasingly dance across his warm skin and Satoru laughs breathlessly, his hands reaching down to cup your ass cheeks and give a rough squeeze. “Possessive little thing.” He coos, breath hitching as you bite down on the side of his neck to suck harshly and you couldn’t help but moan happily, so delighted to be able to mark him up now. You pull away momentarily to admire the dark purplish bruise that formed, pressing an innocent kiss to it before you move in to form another. And another.

His neck is scattered the various hickeys, also varying in different shades depending on how harshly you went. His cock is throbbing beneath you, pleased by the aching pain he felt during the process. His large hands continue to fondle your ass, squeezing hard to the point of feeling your supple flesh filling up the gaps of his long fingers and it entices him to the point of spanking your ass roughly. You yelp from the jolt of pain that soon forms into a nice tingly feeling in your ass and he gives another spank, nails dragging across the flesh. “Thought you weren’t going to be rough, Daddy.” You tease, wet tongue trailing saliva down his chest. “Your ass is impossible to resist. Your needy cries, too.” He breathes out softly, stopping you from going any further down by tightening his grip.

“Stay still, baby.” He whispers against the top of your head, voice heavy with lust. You lay against him, not daring to disobey anything he commands. You love to please him. As you nuzzle against his hickey-covered neck, you whimper from each hard smack that lands on your ass, feeling the spanks alternate from cheek to cheek. Smack! Your body jerks up against his body as he lands a hard spank, causing you to sob out quietly. The stinging pain feels so good, causing you to crave more. Smack! Harder this time. “Were you really trying to touch me under the table tonight? Maybe you’re just a bit of a slut who wanted to get a reaction out of Suguru. Such a naughty girl.” He teases and you frantically shake your head, hands clinging onto his broad shoulders and breasts squishing against his chest once more. He knows that’s not the case. You’re just so cute to tease and naturally, you’re just so naughty that humiliation drives you further. More eager. He doesn’t relent with the hard smacks until you’re sniffling against his neck and his hand feels far too numb, unable to feel a thing.

“Mm, good girl. That’s enough, I promise.” He says, hands giving your now throbbing ass cheeks a soothing squeeze. You pull away with a small huff and lips naturally pouting, eyes appearing wet. “Can I please just touch you now?” You plead, wanting to focus on him from the beginning. Satoru grins wide, eyes lighting up with excitement as his arms rise until his hands rest ever so casually behind his head. “I can’t resist touching your gorgeous body— smacking it, too.” He pauses, looking at you. Is he too sadistic? He couldn’t help but question. The question is swiftly answered by a reassuring kiss on his lips. You’re masochistic and so you both make a great pair. “Touch me, baby.” Satoru whines out dramatically, snapping you back to reality.

You bite back a smile from how cute he can be, leaning down to press loving kisses along his well-defined abdomen, tongue dragging along the toned lines, nails grazing along his sides. Satoru’s lips latch onto his lower lip as he watches you, crystal blue eyes darkening as he enjoys the slow yet steady show. You’re able to wiggle down now, his hands not stopping you and you pull up for a moment, hovering as eager hands unzip his black slacks and you hook your fingers beneath both the pants and underwear. “Let’s get the annoying stuff out of the way first, shall we?” You hum and Satoru happily obliges by lifting his hips.

With three rough tugs, you drag the clothing down his long legs until you could toss them to the floor, jaw dropping slightly at the beautiful sight of his now free and throbbing cock springing out of the confinements and slapping against his own lower stomach. Never. Never will you get used to the glorious sight of it. So long, curved and has just the right amount of thickness that leaves you for craving it. The pretty protruding veins from the base, up towards the bulbous tip, red and eager for a hand— or mouth. You smile a little, pleased to see it twitch before you. Satoru inhales deeply, half-lidded eyes focusing on you, rather than his cock. You love his cock. A blunt thought to have, but you do. “Babe..” He warns quietly.

You snap back out of your cock thirsty fantasies and drop your body down between his legs, laying comfortably. Satoru was right about buying an oversized bed, it makes the fun hassle-free. “Daddy, you’re so pretty..” You whine, leaning forward to nuzzle your face lovingly against his cock and already, one of his hands behind his head comes around to drag across his face, wondering how he’ll be able to control himself as you take your time enjoying him. Each praise you give to him; whether about his dick or his personality, always inflates his confidence and self-love. He’s peeking between two of his fingers, watching as you continue your loving nuzzle with ‘innocent’ kisses being pressed to his throbbing length.

You smile up at him, long lashes fluttering as you hold your hand out just beneath your chin, keeping your gaze on your stepbrother as your tongue slides you and you allow the drool to slowly seep out of your mouth and drip from your tongue. The saliva pools in your palm and Satoru groans in sexual frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re such a slut.” He says lovingly, breath hitching when your fingers finally curl around the thick base of his cock and begin to stroke slowly. Your saliva isn’t the ‘best’ lubricant in the world, but it’s enough to keep your hand from feeling too rough as you slide your hand up and down, wrist twisting with each pump.

“I just love it so much, Daddy. So warm and heavy in my hand. All mine to play with.” You purr, tongue dragging along the length of his cock where your fingertips couldn’t quite meet. You find yourself resting your head against his thigh, eyes focused entirely on his cock as it throbs in your hold as you continue to stroke his length with just so much love. It’s nice to just lay there and admire. Even if his thigh quivers slightly beneath your head and his stomach muscles tense up, trying his hardest to not rush you. How cute. You occasionally dribble out and spit onto your hand to continue with the slow strokes of your hand, enjoying the weight of his heavy cock, thumb rubbing the tip every time your hand slides upwards. You smile from hearing his heavy breathing and voice hitching every so often as your hand squeezes the thickness.

You notice pre-cum starting to bead at the bulbous tip and so you lean forward, hand wet with your saliva sliding down to fondle with his balls, giving a tender squeeze. “Fucking hell, Y/N…” He moans out, long fingers dragging through his white hair to grip on. You mewl softly in response, always loving how your stepbrother curses with your name. It always sounds so sweet. The flat of your tongue presses against the underside at the base before you slowly drag upwards, tracing along one of his veins and tasting the saltiness. Your eyes met his just as you brushed the wet muscle along the tip and moaned in sync with his low ones as you tasted the pre-cum.

“You’re so delicious, wan’ taste you every day.” You express your wish as your tongue playfully swirls around the head of his cock, one hand soothingly stroking his toned thigh as the other continues to fondle and squeeze his balls with just so much love for the older male. “I’ll make you taste me every day, even if it means choking you with my dick, princess.” He sighs heavily, enjoying the slick velvety feeling of your tongue sliding around the leaking tip of his length. You hum in response, his harsh words only fueling your actions and drenching your panties further. You do always feel like some omega in heat around your stepbrother. Unaware of it, you roll your hips against the bed, focusing entirely on Satoru and making him feel good. Nails scrape along his thigh as your hand trails up towards his abdomen, eager to feel him.

It was several minutes of just your tongue swirling and lapping up the pre-cum and you finally wrap your soft lips around the head and suck gently, cheeks hollowing as you begin to bob your mouth nice and slow along the first two inches or so, just savouring the taste of him and length weighing down against your tongue, twitching in your mouth. Your soft moans send vibrations along his lengths and Satoru’s hips buck upwards, causing your mouth to take just a bit extra. To prevent yourself from choking, you keep your jaw slack, bobbing your mouth steadily now, eyes refusing to look away as the white-haired male’s face scrunches up; brows furrowing and lips parting as he grunts out your name.

Your mouth feels good. Too good, even. So warm and wet, inner cheeks rubbing along the sides of his length as your tongue caresses the underside. He notices drool seeping out from the corners of your lips and a breathless laugh escapes. His hand coming to stroke along the top of your head, voice low. “So damn cute, stepsis. Drooling and looking so depraved.” He says as he teasingly pulls on your hair until your scalp aches and you whimper softly. With your jaw relaxed you take more of his delicious length into your mouth to savour on, swallowing around it to tighten your mouth and prompt him to grunt, hips bucking slightly once more from the pleasant tightness of your mouth.

Satoru, being the greedy guy that he is; cups the side of your head, close enough for his fingers to lace together behind your head. You sense what’s to come, knowing your stepbrother very well and whine softly, eyes closing tightly. Instantly, he grinds his cock into your mouth, forcing you to take more and more until your lips are stretched right around the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat. Your loud gags are muffled as his hips thrust roughly, his hands moving your head with ease to meet each movement of his hips, forcing you to take it all.

You’ll never deny the fact that you love him taking complete control and fucking your mouth as he pleases. Slow and deep. Fast and rough. All of it. You’ll take it all cause you’re just as greedy as him. Perfect for each other. His throbbing cock slides down your throat and you swallow helplessly to try and contain yourself from choking too much. You have to rely on breathing heavily through your nose, but even that feels near impossible when he presses on the back of your head firmly so your face is pressed into his lower stomach, nose buried against a neatly shaved area. Saliva smears across your face as he continues to move your head as he pleases, head tilting back as he groans out happily, addicted to the pleasure that surges through him from having your mouth around his cock, nice and snug.

“So— fucking good.” Satoru pants out as your lips drag along his saliva-coated length. He can hear you breathing frantically through your nose and so being the sadistic stepbrother that he is; Satoru yanks your head back down along his cock, leaning up so he can hug your head properly, locking you in place. Your hands weakly grip the blankets, throat tightening around his thickness that pulsates and you try to breathe, but you can’t. Satoru is lovingly suffocating you. Choking you with his length stuffed down your throat and arms embracing your head against him so you can’t move. It sends excitement right down to your core, whimpers muffled as you simply stay there, your head starting to feel light. Satoru is delighted and wrapped up in the pleasure.

“Aw, look at you. My baby sis choking on my cock and enjoying every bit of it. Such a whore for me, aren’t you? Only for me.” He pants heavily, eyes half-lidded as he looks down at the top of your head. His long legs are bending so he’s able to properly hold onto you, feeling your throat muscles hopelessly constrict around his length. Tears burn and nails claw at the blankets, feeling your head starting to pound from the lack of oxygen. Snot threatens to smear on Satoru as you pitifully try to breathe through your nose that’s pressed too tightly against him and it only makes him laugh, endeared by you struggling so desperately. The urge to climax reaches quickly, his stomach clenching and feeling so hot.

Finally, he lets go, fingers wrapping around your hair to guide your head back, lips dragging along his cock until there’s an audible pop, a sharp gasp following afterwards as you’re desperate for air. You feel all woozy and high for a moment as oxygen rushes back to your brain, your heart hammering hard in your chest. Satoru smirks, only being further aroused from how fucked out you already seem to be just from a bit of face-fucking and… well, choking, too. You cough a little, unable to stop the dry-heaving; Satory is relentless when it comes to blowjobs and you thrive off of it. Multiple strings of saliva attach your swollen lips to his cock, breaking when you pull back further and whine, voice raspy. “I lo- agh.. I love your— cock, so much, Daddy.” You manage to splutter out between deep breaths.

Satoru coos, only being reminded of how deeply he loves you, his stepsister. His hands tenderly cup your warm cheeks to pull you in between his legs, feeling your hands resting against his chest. “And I love you on my cock, so much. Whatever hole, I love your holes. I love you.” He whispers, pressing multiple kisses to your lips, deliberately lingering with each kiss despite you still trying to inhale deeply. A little struggle is so cute. His cock still throbs, leaking with pre-cum and your hand travels down between your bodies to wrap your fingers around once more to stroke, biting back a small grin.

“I love you, too.” You sigh happily, watching the way his brows furrow in concentration as your hand strokes so slowly. You both tend to confess your feelings to one another multiple times a day. Never annoying. It’s just like breathing. It feels normal. “Daddy took such good care of me for the past few weeks, especially today. So…” You trail off quietly, letting go of his cock and playfully smearing the saliva across his chiselled abs. It might have just been an excuse to touch them. Satoru slowly lowers himself until he’s lying back down, his heart racing with excitement. He hopes it is what he thinks it is.

You move until you’re sitting comfortably against his cock once more, angling yourself so your slick-covered folds spread across the underside of his length, one hand coming down to tease the bulbous tip as you grind slowly, sliding your dripping cunt along his throbbing erection and he hides his sounds of pleasure by laughing breathlessly. “Don’t wanna use one of my many monstrous-sized condoms?” He asks, voice dripping with playfulness. You haven’t used condoms since basically day two of being together, you went on the pill after the first night of making love. Never missing a day of it. Naturally, the pile of condoms stay like that; as a pile of condoms. Completely forgotten.

“Your stepsis loves being pumped full of her Daddy’s delicious cum.” You tease, noticing the way his eyes glaze over from mentioning the relationship you both keep buried. Both of you are so sinful and some would say have no morals. Neither of you cares. It’s fun to play around with the taboo. It’s even better that Satoru has such a huge Daddy kink. He loves being both for you. As well as your loving boyfriend. “Ah— Is your cock twitching from the reminder of what we are? You’re so naughty.” You mewl sweetly, your clit throbbing from the contact as it rubs along Satoru’s cock, sending tiny jolts of pleasure through your body.

His large hands grip onto your hips, teeth clenching. Satoru is getting impatient, even if it’s so cute seeing you grind against his cock like some bitch in heat. “Babe—“ He grunts out and you only smile, hands spread across his firm pecs as you grind, sliding from the base to the very tip. Finally, you decide to give him what he really wants; what you both want. One hand takes hold of his cock at the base, moving yourself until the leaking tip presses against your entrance.

You begin to lower yourself, breath hitching when the tip of his length pushes past the entrance of your tight hole. “Let me take care of you, Da-ah~.” Your words break apart as a needy moan escapes, sinking further. Your tight walls are forced to stretch right around the thickness of his cock as you continue to sink, face scrunching up as you whimper from the pain mixed with pleasure. It feels so good to be stretched out by his pretty cock. So long and thick, twitching inside of you. Out of instinct, you squeeze around his length and Satoru groans out from finally feeling your absolute tightness around his length. It feels so fucking good to him; to have his cock buried deep in your needy cunt, the warm velvety walls clinging onto him.

You don’t stop until you’re filled up and your ass meets his thighs beneath you. It was a bit of a struggle since he didn’t usually prepare you like usual— You were desperate to just have him inside of you, besides he already spoiled you this morning with his fingers and tongue. There was just a bit of a delay. You pant heavily, hands light on his abdomen as you try to get used to the feeling of being stretched out, always feeling like your beloved stepbrother stretches you out beyond what your pussy is made to take and yet, you always manage. You’re made for him. “Fucking tight..” He breathes out heavily, hand soothingly stroking your thigh.

“My perfect girl, looking so pretty when you’re stuffed with your stepbrother’s cock. Look at you— Always bulging, thanks to me.” He purrs out, the other hand coming up to brush against your lower stomach, teasingly pressing against it where the end of his length is able to make you bulge out slightly and you whimper from the pressure being applied, nails clawing into his warm flesh. “Daddy~.” You mewl softly, lips threatening to drool out saliva as you couldn’t even focus on keeping any part of yourself together. The painful ache of your walls seems to slowly subside, though lingering and you begin to roll your hips.

Your aroused juices just drip out, making a mess across your thighs and his. Not that either of you care. The mess just enhances the excitement. Your eyes are clouded with pleasure mixed with complete love for the white-haired male beneath you and for a moment, neither of you look away from each other; eyes locked. You rock back and forth, inner walls clinging onto his cock as you move, just for a few of the inches. You moan out happily, eagerly taking the pleasure that washes over you with each grind of your hips. “So pretty, so so pretty..” Satoru whispers, one hand gliding up until he cups one of your breasts to give a playful squeeze, coaxing a spill of needy whines out of you. He pinches the hardened bud, twisting it and you cry out, always being so sensitive to any touch he blesses you with.

He grins, eyes wide and alive as he watches you with deep fascination and feeling even more aroused as you begin to bounce. It’s slow and steady, hard enough for skin to slap against skin and leave the flesh tingling. Your breasts follow your bouncing as you move, your velvety walls squishing around his cock and both leaving you breathless for two different reasons. Your walls just squeeze so tightly and drag along every inch of his length. You swear you’re so tight that you can even feel the protruding veins that run along his cock. Thank god for no condom, you couldn’t help but think; thrilled to have him bare inside of you.

“So— Big!” You cry out, lifting yourself up to feel his thickness drag along your walls before you drop yourself back down, trembling from the pleasure that constantly wraps around you as you bounce on his cock. Your feet are flat against the mattress as you move, so desperate to slide up until only his tip is inside of you and then slam back down until he forcefully stretches you out. Your sounds of pleasure only increase in volume, with cute yelps and needy moans leaving your lips. Satoru is in absolute heaven to be able to witness the sight of you bouncing on his cock, hand occasionally slapping your tits to encourage you to go further, panting heavily. Your inner walls, no matter how aroused and wet you are; continue to cling so tightly around his length as you fuck yourself onto his erection.

His brows are furrowed in concentration as he focuses on the pleasure that surges through him, leaving his toes curling and panting heavily as his mouth hangs open. “So fucking good for me, baby. Fuck— You look so hot, feel so hot.” He groans, your wet cunt especially feeling warm as it clenches around him. His hands land on your hips to give a harsh squeeze and you whimper, tears in your eyes. It all just feels like too much already but in a good way. A way that you never want it to stop, you just want to grind your hips and ride his cock like the addicted whore you are for his length.

There’s a manic glint in those crystal blue eyes and Satoru slams his hips up, forcing his throbbing length in until balls deep and you scream out his name in ecstasy, hands weakly pressing against his chest. “A-Ah, ‘Toru! Daddy, feels so—“ Your words are cut off by your sob as he starts jackhammering into your tight pussy, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the air and obnoxious squelches from how wet you are. You didn’t care— Couldn’t care for anything asides from how you’re made for your beloved stepbrother and his cock hammering inside of you. His eyes focus on your dripping cunt, watching with deep fascination as his length rapidly appears and disappears.

The ecstasy continues to surge through you in pulses, each time his length slams up into your tightness, your stomach bulging a little from how deep his long cock goes. He’s taken control entirely and all you can do is sit there— hovering as his fierce grip holds you in place and thighs shaking. Tears spill down your cheeks as you continue to sob out for him. “Daddy! Daddy, ah— fuck!” You wail out happily, eyes rolling upwards as you stare at the ceiling. Your mind feels completely wiped, all thanks to his length that drills into your tightness, cock dripping with your juices and Satoru just feels delirious from it all, especially as your inner walls flutter around his length and clench. He’s grunting with each snap of his hips, nails digging into your hips.

Both of you feel it rapidly approaching as he keeps up the pace. Your breasts even start to ache from the constant bouncing. Blindly, your hands find his to desperately hold onto and ground yourself, gazing down at him with eyes completely clouded over. “You’re so beautiful, baby. All mine, too. Got it? No one will take you away from— fuck, me.” He groans, voice low and breathless. You nod eagerly to his words, tightening your fingers on his hands. “Pl-Please, I wan’ cum, please, Daddy. It feels so— nnn..” You choke on a needy sob, face scrunching up.

You appear so utterly fucked and Satoru finds it beautiful, wishing he could burn the image of your face when you’re stuffed full of his cock into his mind. He tugs you down by your hands until your body is pressed flushed against his own, letting go of your hands to hug around your waist and trapping you against him. “I’m going to come inside of you~. Even if you don’t want it, you won’t stop me.” He purrs against your ear and you whimper softly. You want him to pump you full every time. He pulls his hips back until only the tip is in, lips brushing against your jawline. “Let go, stepsis.” Satoru whispers before he slams back into your tight core, groaning as he can never get used to your soft squishy walls clinging onto his cock.

You cry out from the sudden rough thrust and he continues. Thrust, after thrust. The final one, his cock sliding into you and you completely let go as he told you to. Your body trembles hard against his own, face scrunching up and your eyes closing tightly despite the tears of pleasure they spill and you bite down hard on his shoulder to try and muffle the sounds. His long fingers wrap around your hair to tug back gently, pulling your mouth off of him. “Don’t silen— fuck..” He grunts out as your walls repeatedly squeeze around him and his orgasm rapidly approached until he’s coming inside of you, his cock throbbing hard as strings of sticky white cum pumps inside of you. Satoru has always had a large amount to spill and so you feel so full as he spills it all inside of you, barely moving his cock. He’s panting heavily as your filthy cries continue to escape your swollen lips, clinging onto his body so desperately as if you’re afraid you’ll fall if you don’t.

The high is beyond everything else, like usual when it’s with Satoru. All you can see are stars. Mind blank and lips parted, your clit pulsing through the orgasm. Your body still trembles and despite feeling his own perfect high from the love-making, Satoru’s hand soothingly rubs along your back, head refusing to leave the pillow. “Ah…” You exhale out, finally feeling your body calming down. Eventually, you start to giggle softly, elated from just having sex with your stepbrother. Satoru smiles faintly, amused by the giggles and keeps his strong arms wrapped around you.

“What are you so giggly about?” He asks, voice raspy. You shake your head and snuggle against the side of his neck, refusing to move. “Just got a good reward, that’s all.” You joke lightly and Satoru snorts, knowing full well that he would have been intimate with you - whether tonight went right or wrong. “My good girl.” He praises sweetly, voice laced with playfulness. You tilt your head to look up at him, eyes full of complete love. He shifts his head a little, crystal blue eyes meeting yours. Your hand comes up to brush strands of white hair out of his eyes.

“I refuse to pull out, by the way. Give me some cock-warming.” He demands lightly, lips naturally pouting. You grin a little and press a kiss to his lips. Multiple times. “You know how much I love to cock-warm you, stepbrother.” You purr, resting back against him. Satoru couldn’t deny it. It feels good, having his cock just surrounded by this lovely warmth and slick-covered walls clinging onto him. He knows he’ll have to pull out eventually so you both can clean up but… just for a bit, he’ll enjoy this. Satoru loves it when you lay on top of him, your weight against him offering him comfort.

“I love you, Y/N. I really am proud of you. I know it was stressful and it probably looked like it didn’t faze me at all, but it did. I’m relieved we both got through it all.” Satoru says, thumbs gently caressing your bare back. You smile softly. Of course, he was stressed out, too. Satoru just kept himself together through the stress so that you could rely on him. Your stepbrother… really is so wonderful. Best step-sibling you could ask for and especially the best lover. “I love you, too. Proud of you, too. You know that, right? Always proud.” You respond, nuzzling into him. There’s a brief pause between you both before you remember something. “I hope Suguru couldn’t hear us..” You mumble, cheeks feeling hot.

“I doubt he could hear me, but he definitely heard you. You’re fucking loud, babe.” He jokes and you gasp, lightly smacking his shoulder. “I am not!” You whine and Satoru only chuckles, tightening his hold. “You are, but you’re my loud girl. All mine.” He huffs, biting your bare shoulder. You roll your eyes playfully, but smile and rest your head against his shoulder once more.

Whatever.

You’re happy to be loud when it comes to your stepbrother.

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luveline · 6 months

Note

Girl pls pls write stripper reader and Spencer where she thinks he would never date her bc she’s a stripper and just a sprinkle of angst with lots of comforting fluff and Spencer reassuring

thank u for requesting! ♡ fem, 1.5k

cw mentioned past domestic/workplace abuse, unhealthy eating habits

Someone broke into my apartment. 9:14AM

Spencer reads the message under the table but forgoes discretion when he registers what it says and who it's from. He excuses himself from the round table, something he isn't even sure he's allowed to do, and hurries out onto the landing.

You answer on the second dial. "Hey, did you see my text?" you ask.

"Are you okay?" He squeezes his phone.

"I'm not sure. I'm fine, but my lock is busted and the door won't stay shut."

"Where are you?"

If you're surprised that he's steamrolling, you don't show it. Spencer leaves work to meet you at the coffee shop you've chosen for refuge, your eyes tired, a small bag of your most important possessions hanging on a slumped shoulder. He hugs you straight away.

"I'm fine," you say into his neck.

He hugs you tighter. "That's good," he says, feeling useless, fingers stroking little paths into your shoulders. He pictured the worst from your text, and seeing you in person is the only true mitigator. You'll talk down bruises and black eyes —you have in the past.

He pulls the story from you as you walk back to his apartment, shoulder to shoulder in the cold street. "It was open when I got home, the door, but I did what you asked me to."

"You didn't go in?" he confirms proudly.

"Not at first."

"You really won't call the police?"

"I texted you."

Spencer takes the strap of your bag from you and throws it over his own. "I'm not that kind of cop. I'm not really a cop at all."

"No, you're a fed, which is worse. The girls at work told me to stay away from you." You wipe under your eyes sluggishly. Sleep clings to you like a shadow trailing behind you, ever-present.

He puts his hand behind your back, worried you'll fall up the steps to his apartment building. "They think I'll what, extort you?"

You shake your head, something sad in the slow side to side. "Girls like me have no business around guys like you."

"You probably get too much business from guys like me."

You laugh, but you both know it's not what you meant. Spencers noticed it more and more lately, nothing so obvious until now, this dead set belief you hold that he's one type of person and you're another. He gets that your work isn't what you wanted for yourself when you were growing up. He knows it isn't easy, even on your 'good' nights. It takes a toll to be seen as you are, nothing left private. But you've always said you liked stripping as much as anyone should like their job. "It's a job," you'd said, having barely known him, tired and hungry, curled up on his couch with nowhere else to go. "Only the luckiest get to really enjoy work. S'why it's called work."

He'd hoped, perhaps in a self-absorbed way, that having more support might make you feel better about yourself; he wanted his friendship to give you some confidence, basically. Before you met Spencer there was no one else you could depend on. It's why you stayed working for a man who broke your wrist until Spencer weaselled his way into your life and made you a bed in his living room for the time it took to get you out. His credentials helped, of course, but you survived it because you're resilient. You're awesome. You've done everything you can with what you have and you don't think it's enough.

You and Spencer take the elevator to his floor, and for the twenty seconds it takes to get there, you let your cheek rest on his shoulder. He's just about to drop his head on top of yours when the doors open, and the slice of quiet you'd both savoured slips like sand between his fingers.

"I can go back and get some of your stuff," he offers, guiding you the short walk to his door. He passes you the key rather than struggle with the lock himself.

Your hand shakes as you push down the handle. "There's nothing worth going back for."

"Don't say that, you have all your clothes there, your couch. You have things. I'll take my car."

"You hate driving."

"I'd hate someone robbing you even more."

"Robbing me again," you correct, holding the door for him.

You didn't have anything worth the trouble, it seems. You keep your savings in a locked box hidden in the bathroom that they couldn't find, and though your apartment is clean and bigger than the one you lived in before Spencer met you, it's mostly empty. You don't have a TV, you're not a collector. They took the radio off of the refrigerator, your microwave oven, and a box of cosmetic jewellery worth chapel change.

"But it's your stuff. You deserve to have stuff." Spencer drops your bag gently and his with less care by the door.

"It's only until the locksmith can come tomorrow," you say with a yawn. "Let the junkies lavish in my stuff for the next twenty hours."

"That's not a problem for you?"

"I don't have the luxury of that being a problem for me, Spence. What am I supposed to do? The locksmith can't come–"

"There are a hundred locksmiths."

"Not that I can afford." You shrug out of your jacket. "Spence, listen to me. It's okay. I can't ask you to do that, anyways. You've done more than enough for me already," you say, sitting on the couch. You perch for a moment like you're trying to be polite until fatigue overtakes you, and you sink into the cushions with a relieved sigh.

Spencer crosses the space between you and kneels by your feet to untie your shoelaces.

"Don't do that," you mumble, hand over your mouth as a second yawn in as many minutes catches you.

"Why not?" He slips your shoes off, letting his hand rest on your ankle. "Wanna watch that weird cooking show–"

"Why aren't you at work?"

He climbs onto the couch next to you, unafraid to sit shoulder to shoulder. "You were having an emergency."

You rub your face with both hand. "I knew I shouldn't have called you. You can't just leave work because of me, Spencer, what if you get in trouble?"

"Someone I care about needed my help, and Hotch understands that." Spencer puts on his big boy pants with a wince. "Do you get that?"

"I don't really… I don't…" You falter. "We're never going to work. You'll never…"

"I'll never what?" he asks insistently, voice lilting up with a little incredulity. He can't help it.

You refuse to answer, turning your face from his.

Spencer knows what you're going to say. He's bad with girls but he's good at recognising human emotion; he sees the same insecurity in himself as he does in you. He knows the feeling.

You're not right, is the thing.

Spencer would kiss you if he thought that would change your mind. But tired as you are, angry with yourself, defeated, he knows it's not a good idea. He takes your hand instead, sewing your fingers together with a deliberate slowness. He brings his other hand to them and strokes the back of your index finger with his thumb, careful not to disrupt your press on nails. He knows they have a tendency to come off with too much pressure, and you're always losing your glue.

"If they really need me to go, they'll call me. But I'm staying here." His thumb moves down to your knuckle. You have little calluses and cuts and bruises everywhere from dancing. He's seen the contusions that line your thighs on a semi permanent basis. "When was the last time you had something to eat?"

"Spencer," you murmur.

"Let me take care of you, please," he says, hand curling around your wrist with extreme gentleness. "You need to eat. You need to sleep. Let me worry about everything else for once, I want to."

You still don't look at him, but you sink down an inch at a time until your cheek is on his shoulder again, like it had been in the elevator. Hesitant, you wrap your arm around his stomach.

"I'm so stupid," you say.

He wonders if that's a placeholder for what you really want to say. You think so little of yourself sometimes, but it's like you've told him before. Not everyone has the luxury of enjoying their job.

"You're amazing." Spencer feels like he's on fire everywhere that your skin touches him. Is he saying the right things? "You are. You're the only person who doesn't see that."

"The only person here, maybe."

"You should always be here, then. With me. That way I can remind you."

You sound more like yourself when you answer, though tiredness lines every word, "Thank you, Spencer. I don't deserve you."

"Yes, you do."

Spencer rubs your hand until you fall asleep, and then he buys you a new toaster oven on his phone, and an industrial security lock. He doesn't know what it'll take to convince you that you deserve him, you deserve better, but he's gonna try.

He presses his cheek to your temple and focuses on the softness of your skin where it touches his.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

2K notes · View notes

brnesblogposts · 2 months

Text

Stuck

bucky barnes x reader

a/n miscommunication & close proximity trope is all i’m gonna say, it’s very fluffy once well- read it and find out reblogs appreciated!!!

“You’ve gotta be shitting me” Bucky speaks under his breath, frustration evident in his body language and tone. A feedback sound started on the speakers on the ferris wheel.

“Ladies and gentlemen there seems to be some technical issues with the ferris wheel, remain calm and stay seated and we should have it back up and running soon”

You heard a heavy sigh escape from Bucky as his head hung back in defeat.

“They said it’ll be fixed soon, won’t have to be stuck with me for long Buck” Trying to cut the tension that sat between him and yourself only earned a side glance from the man beside you.

You looked down to the car just beneath you “STEVE, NAT!! ARE YOU GUYS OKAY??!” Their heads whipping towards you as you spoke at a far too loud volume.

“WE’RE OKAY! YOU?” Natasha replied back and you gave her a thumbs up, her and Steve getting back to bickering and giggling about whatever they were talking about. Meanwhile you were sat next to Mr Grumpy-

“Can you stop moving,” he spat out without looking at you. Bold of you to assume you were getting somewhere with him, even on the brink of considering him a ‘friend’ but that idea was shot down quickly.

“I’m not moving, it’s probably the wind or maybe it’s you and you don’t realise” Tapping your fingers on the barrier that held you in place, he turned to you and gave you a bitter look which only made the situation more awkward and tense.

“How’d i get dragged onto the ferris wheel anyway” He huffs.

“Because, Steve and Nat are your best friends and also Nat is really scary and saying yes was easier than saying no” You looked down at the two as you spoke, their flirting ever so obvious even from your height.

A few minutes passed where nobody said anything, you both avoided eye contact and it gave you time to reflect on what you could’ve done to make Bucky so impassive to you, you’d barely talked to him because if you tried he disregarded you or made an excuse to leave as soon as possible. You really wanted to be his friend too. It’s awkward when the four of you go out and Steve and Nat obviously want to do things together as a couple making you stuck with Bucky and him with you. At least being civil is all you want, for Bucky to be able to hold a conversation with you longer than a few seconds.

“Are you cold?” His voice broke you from your thoughts, you were shivering and you hadn’t realised as you were so deep in your head. You looked at the goosebumps on your arms and turned to him,

“I guess I am, yeah.” you laughed at your ignorance for not noticing your body temperature drop. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Bucky starting to take his jumper off.

“What are you doing?” You furrowed your brows at his action, there’s no way he was about to give that to you, he doesn’t even like you, you don’t think so anyway based on every interaction you’ve had with him ever.

“I’m giving you my sweater?” Now he was confused, it was quite obvious to him what he was doing, why else would he take off the jumper and sacrifice himself so you could be warm? He’s a gentleman first if anything. He got it over is head and handed it you, you took a second to take it as you were flabbergasted at his sudden kindness towards you.

“Oh.” You broke your gaze from him down to the jumper “Thank you,” you smiled gratefully and put the jumper on. The sleeves swallowed your hands, which helped because they were freezing before. Then you looked back at Bucky who now sat next to you in nothing but a black t-shirt “Are you not cold?” Once again furrowing your brows in his direction.

“Not as cold as you” He was looking straight ahead at the city view from your spot at the top of the ferris wheel. Reading his expression was impossible and you were really trying to—

“Okay well uh— thanks again.” You repeated your thanks as you snuggled into the jumper that now enveloped you, “So.. kinda awkward, huh?” You tried cracking a joke laughing a little as you did so which made Bucky turn to face you, analysing his features which you didn’t notice softened as he saw you smiling.

Bucky coughed awkwardly “Uh-“ He let out a small laugh too “Looks like Steve and Nat aren’t bothered by this disruption at all” His tone was lighter.

“Those two wouldn’t notice the world ending while they’re gazing at each other like that” You laughed again, Bucky liked that sound.

“So in love, it’s sickening” He retorted with a shake of his head and a smile which earned a glance from you, just a brief one before you looked back down at your sweater paws as they rested on the barrier, Bucky has noticed and he found it endearing, he felt warm whenever he saw you smile or heard you laugh and every time your thigh accidentally touched his due to your close proximity he swears a bolt of electricity travelled through him making his heart beat faster.

“I think it’s cute” You had a small pout on your face as you spoke, still looking down towards your two friends “imagine being stuck on a ferris wheel with someone you love, not the worst thing in the world in my opinion, it’s kind of like an impromptu date where you have no choice but to talk because the other option is incredibly awkward silence” You fiddled with the sleeves of the jumper.

“I guess, but what if you were trapped on a ferris wheel with someone you liked who you knew didn’t feel the same, that’s awkward all on its own” He was playing with a thread on his jeans as he spoke, you noticed.

“How would they know if the other person didn’t feel the same? Had they asked?” You inquired as the tension between you grew once again because the situation was too close to home.

“Isn’t asking embarrassing though?” Bucky asked breathily, like he was nervous.

“I don’t think so.”

“You don’t?” He looked at you.

“I mean the worst that can happen is they say no and you’re sad for a bit but you’d move on eventually” You smiled but you weren’t looking at him.

“Right, yeah” He coughed awkwardly again and the silence resumed until he broke it about a minute later “Uhm” clearing his throat again Bucky decided it was now or never “Are you doing anything Friday night?” He closed his eyes for a brief second because there was no going back now.

“No, why?” You looked at him and smiled, maybe he’d finally be your friend, that was progress and you could work with that.

“Would you uh- like to get dinner with me? Like a date..?” He avoided your gaze as he asked.

“What” It caught you off guard and you responded without thinking.

“Fuck” He swore to himself “sorry forget I said anything, I don’t know what was going through my-“ He began to ramble.

“Bucky no I mean, I thought you didn’t like me” His head turned to face you as he thought about your words.

“What? No I do like you” He furrowed his brows thinking back on the interactions you’d had where he hadn’t realised he’d been so nervous it came off as rude. “Shit i’m sorry, i’ve been an ass to you now that I think about it, I wasn’t trying to though, I thought I was uh- I thought i was disguising my attraction to you well because i didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, but I guess it came off dickish” He internally slapped himself at his mistake

“Oh, OH” The realisation and his admission hit you “Awe, Bucky,” you laughed at how silly it all was, if you’d have just talked to each other sooner this could’ve been avoided “Bucky I would love to go to dinner with you” You smiled at the man.

The ferris wheel suddenly began again and you were on your way down, both smiling like idiots and laughing whenever you’d glance at each other, two idiots that had liked each other this whole time who didn’t know it. You both stepped off the car and down the stairs smiling and giggling still and approached Natasha and Steve,

“What the hell happened up there?” Natasha laughed because she had never seen the two of you so cosy before, Steve raised a brow but you two only burst out laughing again and started walking ahead of them and snickering as they both stared in confusion and disbelief.

#avengers #writerblr #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x fluff #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes headcanon #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x female reader

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gojos-thot-patrol · 7 months

Text

a let my demons get a little silly with it here

Now Loading, Kinktober Week Two...

Synopsis: Ryomen always got what he wanted, it was a simple rule of life. And ever since he caught your scent, you were all that he wanted- your previous bond mark be damned. And you must have wanted him too. Why else would your window be open in the middle of your heat? Kinks: Omegaverse, Breeding, Marking, Knotting, Scent, Dub-Con, Non/Con, Somnophilia, and Infidelity. Reader Discretion is Advised.

Sukuna was going to fuck you. He was going to have you on your back, legs spread as he filled you to the brim, breeding you like a bitch while covering you in his bite marks and scent. Sukuna was sure of this fact from the first time he caught your smell in the air, light and warm and made for him. You were made for him. It was only a matter of time until he took what was rightfully his.

The only problem was you were marked, and sadly, it wasn’t by him. Worse yet, it was by some weak asshole who barely even had the ability to mark someone. Some feeble excuse of a man who probably didn't know what to do once he got your panties around your ankles, much less what to do when you were in your heat. The only thing worse than you being bonded to that douche canoe, was knowing it only happened so you wouldn’t be bonded to him.

Okay, so “bonded” wasn’t really the right word there. “Sacrifice” was closer to the actuality of the situation, but still! You were literally destined to be his, and one asshole wants to play hero and fuck it all up? It drove him fucking mad, what right did that limp dick think he had to interfere? He caught himself clenching his fist and jaw. He needed to calm down before he hurt someone, especially since the only person nearby was you.

Sukuna watched from a distance as you lounged under your tree, finding comfort in the forest instead of the inherent danger you should feel. He had suppressed his scent enough he was sure you hadn’t noticed, your calm demeanor conveying that fact. He could have you right now, release his scent and take you where you sat. But, that wouldn’t have done anything about your bond mark. No, to take care of that Sukuna had to be patient. Which, was a real fucking drag because if there was anything Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t it was a patient man.

🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

He remembered the first time he encountered you. Almost a month ago now, while he was taking his regular walk through the woods. He could still feel the full body reset that happened when he caught your aroma, the smell of apple and clove working its way through his nervous system and grabbing his cock his heart in a chokehold. Suddenly, his lazy stroll through the woods was a hunt to find out what decadent creature had made such a perfume.

And that’s where he found you. Sitting contently in a floral field, making a fucking flower crown of all things, and surly waiting for him. He saw your hands falter and your eyes widen as he approached, no doubt because you finally picked up on his pheromones. He could feel the smirk forming on his lips.

“Well, what a nice surprise,” He hummed as he approached you, “I wasn’t expecting to find anyone else out here.” You immediately fell into a low bow before him. Good, you knew your place.

“I’m sorry my lord,” You apologize, though you weren’t sure why. You knew of the warlord Ryomen Sukuna. You knew he owned your village, as well as the villages surrounding it. But to your knowledge he didn’t police who was allowed in the woods. Still, you’d rather not risk upsetting him.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing out here, all alone?” He asked, eyes tracing the way your back curved into the bow.

“My mate and I moved closer to the forest recently, I was exp-”

“Your mate?” The vitriol in his tone made your stomach revolt and ignited your fight or flight system. You didn’t even know what you had done wrong.

“Y-yes?”

“Stand up, look at me.” He demanded. You did so without hesitation, your omega body naturally inclined to follow the alphas commands. When you did, you were hit with a fresh wave of his aura, the smell of whiskey and cinnamon filling your senses and making your joints feel weak. You were caught between your need to honor your bond mark, and the need to fall to your knees for the man in front of you. You whimpered softly as he grabbed your chin and shoved your head to the side.

Sure enough, right there on your scent gland were faint teeth shaped scars. If he wasn’t specifically looking for them, he wouldn’t have seen them at all. Still, the fact it hadn't been refreshed didn’t negate the fact that it was there. You were unequivocally spoken for.

“You don’t smell marked.” He scoffed as he released your head, taking a step back.

“It’s new…” You muttered. He may not have been able to smell your mate, but the stench of a lie was familiar to him. Especially one as piss poor as that.

“If it’s new then you should reek of him, Wench, don’t lie to me.” He growled. You looked down as your shame rolled over you.

“He’s a beta.” HE’S A BETA?! Sukuna had felt rage a lot in his life. Some may even say it was his default setting. But the rage he felt at being cucked by a beta was unlike anything that he had felt before. He felt his fingers twitch with the need to wrap around someone's neck, and the urge to burn down this entire forest was a hard one to fight. He choked back his molting hot fury with a simple reminder: Beta bond marks don’t mean shit. He could easily still have you. He just had to wait for your next heat cycle to do it, when your hormones were high and looking for something more…substantial, then a betas nub.

“How cute, being mated to a beta. I’m sure you’re crazy for each other.” He sneered. You wished. Leaving every heat cycle woefully unsatisfied and frustrated might have been worth it if you had actually loved the man. If your union to him wasn’t purely survival.

“He provides.” You settled on a half truth to keep from lying, one Sukuna definitely picked up on.

“What’s your name Omega?” He demanded.

You told him your name in a soft whisper. Cute name. He’d be sure to have his servants look into you and your records.

“Well Omega,” He said, making a point not to use the title given to him. To remind you what you were. “You should probably get back to your beta. It’s not safe for a pretty little thing like you to be out in these woods alone.” It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know that was a warning and a threat, the edge in his words making that much clear. You nodded to the warlord, before making your way home. You fought the urge to sprint with everything you had in you, knowing better than to activate his prey drive.

He watched as you did, noting your refusal to run. Smart girl. He could feel his mouth watering as he watched your hips sway, and his body buzzed with the need to have you under him. He took a deep breath to recollect himself before making the walk home. He’d have you soon enough.

🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

He kept a close eye on you in the weeks that followed. Learning about how your marriage was arranged through his servants, and how your marriage was failing from watching you. To your credit, you did try in earnest to make it work. You were the perfect mate. You kept a tidy home, always had dinner ready, and were always happy to get on your back for your husband.

And yet it did nothing. That asshole still acted as if he was gods fucking gift for “saving” your life, and as if you didn’t do enough. Dinner was never right, there was always an issue with the house, and every morning Sukuna could smell your dissatisfaction from the night before- still rolling off you in waves. It was pathetic that a creature as divine as you was wasted on swine like him. The good news was that your scent was evolving. As the leaves changed colors your fragrance got thicker, and sweeter in some aspects. You clung to your beta even if he was woefully unequipped. Your heat was coming.

A fact you were all too aware of. You could feel it pooling in your stomach and feverish on your skin. The effects were already starting, and you knew this one was going to be hell. Your mate thrashed in between your legs, chasing his high in you. You felt close, so close. Your body was trembling with anticipation, electricity buzzing under your skin. All you needed was his knot and-

He pulled out of your quivering cunt, cumming on your stomach with a guttural moan. Oh, right. He didn’t have a knot. You whined as he painted you white, wanting to snap at him for wasting his load. You held back though, knowing that, in reality, the last thing you wanted was his pups. You watched as he rolled off the bed and grabbed his pants.

“W-wait, but Naoya-” You panted, “I’m so close, please-”

“You’re gonna have to finish yourself, I’m gonna be late for my train.” Your “mate” groaned as if you were an inconvenience.

“But…” You whimpered, then let it go. You knew better than to argue, and besides. Your climax was already fleeting. “Do you have to go?” You asked softly. You understood that, as a beta, Naoya couldn’t sense when your heat was coming like an alpha could. You accepted that. What you found hard to accept was that he still planned a business trip during your heat cycle, despite you explicitly telling him that you would need him.

“Yes, Sweetie,” He said it with so much ire and hate, you would have rather he called you a bitch. “This is my job. It doesn’t stop because you’re horny.” He snapped, tired of having this conversation again. His venom shut you up. You watched as he quickly got dressed, then grabbed his bags and rushed for the train station. You fought tears as you went to clean yourself up. Were you really so unloveable?

You often wondered what the worse fate was, being sacrificed to Ryomen Sukuna or being trapped in a loveless pair bond. For years you knew without doubt it was being sacrificed to the warlord. You were always grateful to your father for selling you to the beta, saving you from what would no doubt have been a cruel and untimely death. Naoya may have been cold at times, but surely he wasn’t as bad as Sukuna.

Or at least, that’s what you used to think. Before you had actually met the man, and felt the way your body reacted to his presence alone. Suddenly, the so-called king of curses invaded your every thought, and life trapped in a passionless marriage felt like a prison sentence. You thought about Sukuna constantly, especially in the days leading up to your heat. You chased his faint scent on the wind, traced his markings in your dreams, and envisioned him to endure your husband's advances.

It left you a wreck. Especially now, as night fell and your body temperature rose. Your fingers were doing absolutely nothing for you, and wouldn’t for at least the next week. Which, was rather conveniently when your husband was due to return home. You knew your heat bothered him, but you never knew it bothered him this much. Resentment grew in you the more you thought about it. If he didn’t want a fucking omega, then why the fuck did he pay for one?

You tried not to think about it as you opened your window, hoping the cool night air would do something to help cool down your feverish skin. You lived far enough away from the other villagers you didn’t really have to worry about a wayward alpha finding you. And at this point, you weren’t sure you would care if one of them did.

You settled into your nest, albeit a bit reluctantly. The faint smell of your mate clung to it, and despite your bond mark it brought you little comfort. More just frustration. It didn’t smell right anymore. You quickly took off your sleep pants, finding them unbearably hot, leaving you in just a tank top and soaked panties as you drifted off to sleep.

Sukuna could try and say that he was just out on a stroll to enjoy the moonlight. That he enjoyed the peace that the dark brought with it, and was only out to clear his mind. He would be lying. The truth of the matter was Sukuna had been keeping tabs on you. And while your bitch of a mate may have been inflicted with brain worms, Sukuna was not. He knew you were alone, and in heat. And he fully planned to take care of you, in ways your beta couldn’t dream of doing.

Walking to your little shack at the edge of the woods felt like wading into a warm lake, your trail becoming thicker and thicker in the air as he made his way to you. It was intoxicating, and he couldn’t stop the visions of you whimpering underneath him from entering his mind. Needy and alone, fuck. He could feel his blood rushing in his veins as your scent laced into his senses and his psyche, and his cock ached for you.

He wasn’t shocked to find your window open. Of course your window was open. You were waiting for him, your true mate. That fucking beta be damned, you wanted him, why else would the window be open? He crawled into your room on instinct more than much else, your body calling to him like a siren's song. The reality of your heat hit him like a train as he took in your visage. Sleeping not-so-peacefully in your marital bed, mindlessly rutting into a pillow drenched with your slick. He fucking hated that you were reduced to fucking pillows.

He was right here, you just needed to let your proper alpha take care of you. Let him protect you, let him fuck you until you can’t walk, let him fill you to the brim- until you’re overflowing, let him fix the fucking stench of your nest. He was on your bed and spreading your legs before he even fully realized what he was doing, ripping your slick drenched panties off of you. On a normal night, he would have touched you and known you were burning alive with a fever. But tonight? He was molting lava with his own forced rut, and he didn’t even notice yet.

Mates don’t need to ask before taking care of their mate in heat, so he doesn't even bother waking you up before shoving two fingers into your weeping pussy to get you ready for him. You whine out softly, back curling off of the bed as he thrusts his fingers in and out of you sharply. He smirked as he curled his fingers up, listening to your breath catch in your throat.

“Fuck, Sukuna..” You whimpered in your sleep. Of course you called out his name, you were his omega. You chose him, you were meant to be with him. Soon, there would be no doubt about that. After he covered you with his scent, after he marked you as his and only his, and when your stomach was swollen with his pups- pink haired, four eyed and undeniably his.

He shrugged off his robe, his rock hard cock burning with need and dripping pre-cum. He ran his dick up your slit, gathering your divine slick on his angry red tip. He felt the tension in his shoulders finally dissolve as he pushed into you, finally at home where he was supposed to be. He growled as he sunk in to his base in one swoop.

You jolt awake with the sudden intrusion, your cunt torn between pushing the intruder out and sucking him in deeper. “Wh-wha…?” You were given no time to try and catch up to the situation before the assault on your g-spot started, leaving you a moaning mess. Sukuna lifted your hips, holding your body with just his forearms as he changed the angle he fucked you in to fuck you deeper, harder. He needed it to take.

You looked up and saw a shock of pink hair and sharp tattoos through bleary eyes. On the surface your body revolted, knowing this wasn’t your mate and he was not meant to be touching you. But something deeper, more primal rejoiced at feeling the alphas fat cock. “Fuck, fuck, more..” You whimpered, bucking your hips in time with his thrusts. You could feel his knot swelling inside you and all you wanted was him. Nothing had ever felt more right.

Sukuna had fucked a lot of omegas during his ruts. He ran through whores like they were nothing. But none of them had ever felt like this. Your pussy was made for him, so perfect as it milked his cock. Your body reacted to him perfectly. You were made to be his. You were his. Every inch of your skin, every breath you took, every smile you gave you were his. He’d prove it. He grabbed you in a bruising grip as he bent over you, capturing you in a demanding kiss and taking what little breath you had away in a clash of teeth and tongues. You belonged to him.

He growled lowly, as he pulled back, throwing your ankles over his shoulders as he pressed his body weight into you, folding you in half. “Fuck, you’re so good,” He groaned, “So fucking tight for me Baby Girl. Gonna knot you, fill you with my pups,” You didn’t know if he was talking to you or himself but it didn’t matter. A thought that should have been deeply revolting to you as a marked woman had never sounded more euphoric.

“Yes, please,” You begged into his ear, “Fuck me, it’s s’ good. Fill me, I- I need you.” you slurred together whatever words you could grapple with. You felt drunk on the feeling of euphoria, you almost forgot sex could feel so good. Your words, albeit a bit jumbled, electrified the part of Sukuna’s brain that had already decided he was your mate. You didn’t just want him, you needed him. You needed him. Of course you needed him, you belonged to him. You were his and his alone.

His his his his-

Then he smelled it. In the sea of apple, clove and cinnamon whiskey a sharp mildew scent hit his nose. The fucking mold of your “bond mark.” Sukuna saw fucking red, his body seething with rage as he remembered you weren’t truly his. No matter how deep he fucked his seed into you, or how much of his skin touched yours, you weren’t his.

Not yet anyway.

He plunged his teeth into your scent glands, right over your previous bond mark. You howled as he did, a wave of ecstasy rocking its way through your heated body and decimating your shocked nervous system as you came all over him. Aftershocks of your orgasm pulsed through your cunt in time with his thrusts, sending static electricity through your needy body. You instinctively dug your fangs into Sukunas scent glands, an act you were never able to perform on your (former) beta mate.

The relief that washed over him as you completed the bond mark was unlike anything he had ever felt before, and it left him in ruins. Cumming deep inside you, painting your womb white. The warm feeling he filled you with actually worked to (somehow) cool the raging inferno in your bloodstream, and you finally found relief from the hell you had been in.

You stayed connected, him holding you close while he waited for his knot to deflate. You thought about Naoya. You had never been able to properly mark him because he didn’t have scent glands for you to mark. It met you were never really bonded, not like how you were bonded to Sukuna now. But, he was technically still your husband. This was his house and his bed you were getting fucked by a perfect stranger in. How would he react when he found you here with the warlord that owned the land? Would he find you here?

Would you regret it?

You didn’t have time to really consider the ramifications of your actions before Ryomen was moving inside you again, and the last thing you wanted to think about was the boy that abandoned you. You whined underneath him, bringing your hands to tangle in his hair. He pressed his forehead to yours in response.

“Still with me Omega?” He asked as he started to pick up the pace, making you whine underneath him.

“I’m here my lord,” You mumbled softly.

“Good,” He punctuated the word with a sharp kiss before straightening up, “Cause it’s gonna take more than just that to knock you up.” He chuckled as his hips started to piston into yours, setting a punishing pace. The natural curve of his cock was seemingly designed to bully your hypersensitive g-spot, stimulating your body back to life as you gripped the sheets under you.

“Aww, look at my pretty little omega,” Sukuna cooed mockingly as he fucked his cum back into you, “All fucked out and full. Feels good to actually cum after spending so much time with a limp dick, doesn’t it slut?” Apparently, all it took was him getting to cum once for him to find his voice.

“So good, so fucking good.” You whimpered, “So big, so full…” And you had no problem feeding into it. His claws dug into your hips, leaving bruises defined enough you could take his fingerprints off of them. He watched the way your tits bounced as you tried to feebly hold onto the sheet, attempting to ground yourself however you could. He watched his bulge appear and reappear in your stomach with every thrust. He watched the way your skin glistened in the moonlight, begging him to mark it. He watched the way your eyes fluttered and glazed over with dazed pleasure.

But the real show was happening where the two of you were connected. Where your slick coated his cock, creating a foamy ring around the base. Where your natural lube mixed with his load, making the most vulgar sounds as he fucked your quivering cunt. God, he couldn’t have asked for a better mate.

Your warm pussy hugged him perfectly, begging him for more and pulling him even deeper into you with every thrust. Every movement of your hips sent a wave of euphoria through him, and he desperately chased both of your highs. He wanted to see you cum. He didn’t get to the first time.

He wouldn’t make that mistake again. You were finally finally his after months of coveting you. Of watching you, of needing you wanting you, of imagining you, you finally belonged to him. He was going to see what you looked like when you came for him god damn it!

“You gonna cream for me again Sweetheart?” He growled, “Squirt all over my dick like a good girl? I know you are, I can feel it, fuck-” His words fell apart on his tongue as you clenched around him. Stars blotted out your vision as your second climax started to creep up on you, slowly tingling up your spine and taking over your body. You bucked your hips into his erratically, chasing the high only he could give you. Sparks of bliss exploded under your skin as you felt him start to swell again.

And suddenly he felt way too far away. You needed him closer. You needed his scent, his skin, him. You ripped one of your hands away from the bedsheets and reached out, trying to communicate what you wanted. His head tilted to the side and he scoffed as he looked at your outstretched hand.

“Words slut, what do you want?” He growled.

“My mate.” You whimpered. He was immediately leaning down to you, pressing his chest to yours and letting your fingers intertwine with his. How could he deny you your mate? Your body exploded into a thousand sparks of ecstasy where his skin ment yours. His scent wrapped around your senses like an old blanket, cozy and familiar and safe. You whined softly and closed your eyes to embrace for impact.

“No.” He growled, using his free hand to pull your hair and force your eyes open, “Look at me.” He demanded. Your watery eyes held his fiery ones as you moaned pathetically under him.

“I’m so close..”

“Then cum for me.” The floodgates opened and you were suddenly drowning in a sea of ecstasy and dopamine. Your hips thrashed against your will and your legs shook like the last leaves on autumn trees. You swore you saw entire galaxies be born before your eyes as you were hit with one of the hardest climaxes of your life. Your eyes watered as they looked into his, your skin felt flushed against his touch, and your grip on his hand tightened.

“Fuck, Ryomen…” He hadn’t heard his first name spoken in years. His body slammed into yours as his own climax hit him with a brick. He fucked you as best as he could through his knot, riding out both of your highs as he filled you to the point of overflowing and then some. His entire body was racked with euphoria as he came harder than he even thought possible.

He collapsed on top of you, rolling you both to the side so he didn’t crush you with his body weight. For a while, the only sound was of the two of you trying to catch your breath. You felt his arms wrap around you and calloused hands rub your back gently to sooth you. He kissed your neck almost sweetly.

“You’re doing so good sweetheart,” He praised in a whisper, one soft enough the wind threatened to take it away, “So good for me.” It made your stomach flutter. His presence was instantly calming, much more so than your ex’s. You might have even fallen asleep, if you didn’t feel him start to move again, still rock solid inside of you.

🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

Your body was sore the next morning when you woke up, but the fever had subsided for now, finally giving you room to breathe and think about literally anything other than lust. The first thing you noticed was that you were not at home. You jolted up in bed, a soft whimper leaving your throat.

“Silence, woman.” That was when you registered the body next to you in the bed. You looked over to see Ryomen, fully annoyed at being woken up. “You’re safe. I’m here.” He grumbled as he pulled you back into his side. You weren’t sure what was more impressive, that he managed to return to (what you assumed was) his home after last night, or that he managed to carry you with him.

“Sukuna-”

“Ryomen.” He corrected you with a dangerous growl. You paused, a bit taken back.

“Ryomen,” You accepted the correction, “what happens now?”

“Hopefully you go back to sleep.” He sighed, irritated to have been woken up at the ungodly hour of 12 pm. While he was still in rut no less! He didn’t get a lot of chances to sleep during this time, and neither did you. You needed the rest.

“No, I mean with…with,” You didn’t know how to put it.

“What, you mean your cuck ex? Don’t worry about it.” He didn’t hide that he was irritated with you for bringing him up first thing in the morning.

“....Is he going to be hurt?” You asked softly. Sukuna felt his lip twitch.

“If I have it my way, yes.” He didn’t mince words. Why the fuck did you care so much about that loser anyway? You thought about your mates words, then nodded.

“Good.” You said, finally settling back into Ryomens arms and relaxing into him. He didn’t hide the smile that tugged on his lips. He knew he loved you.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・ Taglist ・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

thank you lovlies, for supporting my work! @sk8ttles, @blkkizzat,@littyasatittyyy,@ketchupsush1 and @risuola

If you wanna get on the tag list, comment: here!

And if you wanna read week One, you can find it: Here!

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader smut #alpha!sukuna #omega!reader #omegaverse #jjk omegaverse #abo #sukuna abo #sukuna omegaverse #ryomen sukuna x reader smut #ryomen sukuna x reader #kinktober #trick-or-kink 23

2K notes · View notes

tenelkadjowrites · 7 months

Text

Video Girl - Seonghwa x Reader (NSFW)

📼 Summary: On the cusp of 1998, your quiet life working at a department store is upended when an attractive new coworker named Seonghwa awakens your desire for sexual exploration.

📼 Word count: 22k

📼 Genre and warnings: smut one shot. coworkers to lovers. fem pronouns for reader. use of a camera during sex. oral sex. unprotected sex. creampie.

📼 fic playlist here.

this fic is not meant to represent seonghwa in any way, shape or form.

Monday, October 6th, 1997

“What happened to the stack of CDs I put right there?”

“Right where?”

“Right there,” You gesture to the empty space that once housed a cluster of CDs that needed to be put on the shelf.

Your coworker, San, pops his head up from where he had been busy sorting through one of the boxes of new inventory. His brows furrow while staring at the spot as if he could magically make the CDs appear.

“What was it?”

“The new Janet Jackson album.”

“The new…oh shit, wait, I might’ve knocked it into this other box,” He ducks back down out of your view and you hear him wildly rummaging around.

With a sigh, you slump against the shelf and stare out at the store which closed half an hour ago. Now, you’re stuck restocking new releases in the CD and VHS section for another hour before your shift ends. At least there are no customers, you think gratefully.

“What’s it called?” San asks, still trying to find what he accidentally misplaced.

“The Velvet Rope, I think,” You reply, wishing your feet didn’t hurt so much.

The stack of CDs really isn’t that important but you just needed an excuse to take a break. It’s been a long day, working a double to cover for someone else, and you were sick of being here about three hours ago. The vest you have to wear while clocked in has long been discarded, tossed onto the counter as soon as the last customer finally got the hell out.

“Wait, I found it,” San says with the same enthusiasm of someone completing a lifelong goal. He circles around the aisle, holding the pile of CDs, “Where should I put them?”

“I’m just stacking them next to Mariah Carey,” You reply while taking them out of his hands and turning back to the shelf, “I don’t care.”

“Fine by me.”

You’ve worked with San for two years now and know him as well as one can know another coworker. He rarely missed a shift, probably because he enjoyed flirting with the women who wandered into the electronics section too much. There were two things San liked to do outside of work: work out and go clubbing with his best friend, Wooyoung. He was good looking to the point that even the ugly work mandated vest couldn’t take away from his jawline sculpted out of marble.

“Thanks for helping me out,” San says.

“It’s cool, dude. I really did not feel like working in my department tonight.”

“You’re sick of organizing all the tube tops? Don’t see any of them you want for yourself?” He jokes, knowing how bored you are of working in the women’s clothing department.

You make a face. “Ugh, as if.”

San leans against the shelf, crossing his arms. “Did you hear about the new guy they hired for the men’s department?”

“No,” You reply, uninterested.

“I heard he’s good looking,” A thought strikes him and in an alarmed tone, he goes, “You don’t think he’s better looking than me, do you?”

You shove the last CD onto the shelf although it teeters close to the edge. You stare at it, willing that it doesn’t fall and when the case stays in place, you finally turn your attention to San. “Why, worried you’re going to no longer be the Resident Hottie?”

“Pfft, no. But…you’ll let me know, won’t you?”

You lean down and pick up one of the boxes of CDs, balancing it on your knee until you get a better hold on it. “Why are you buggin about a new hire?”

“I’m not buggin about him,” San protests quickly.

“Yes, you totally are. I’m sure he’s nothing special. Don’t worry about it,” You turn away from San, getting ready to head down another aisle to finish putting the CDs away, “I can’t even remember the last time we hired someone who impacted me outside of asking and then promptly forgetting their name.”

San looks mollified, taking comfort in the fact that everyone knows he is the hottest guy working in the store. You plop the box down, sorting through it to see what to put away first.

The routine is comforting in that sort of mind numbing manner, the same pace of your life unchanging with no disruptions on the horizon. Tomorrow, you’d wake up and be here again to sort out ugly women’s clothing and clean up the fitting rooms after old ladies leave piles everywhere.

That’s how it always goes, how it will continue to go.

Tuesday, October 7th, 1997

“I don’t want this one,” A customer declares, thrusting a crushed velvet mini dress into your arms, “Or this.” A denim dress is tossed as the customer saunters off back into the aisles of clothing racks.

You stand there, momentarily bunching the fabric in your hands with irritation before collecting your features into a pleasant expression. You go back to organizing the clothing from the fitting room racks to put them away. There are two hours left in your shift and your feet hurt yet again.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt,” A voice cuts cleanly through the music being piped into the building. It is deep, almost melodious and you look over your shoulder curiously, expecting to see a lost looking man trying to find something to buy for his wife or girlfriend.

There is, in fact, a lost looking man standing there but his blue vest indicates he’s a coworker. The slightly confused expression combined with the outfit leads you to believe this is the man San had been talking about the other night.

“I just started working here yesterday and the person who was supposed to be training me called out so I’m running the men’s department alone. I just had some questions and was hoping you could help me.”

The man is tall and slender with black hair carefully combed. The ugly blue vest does nothing to take away from his uniquely pretty face – beautiful brown eyes with a strong nose, perfectly straight white teeth and full lips. In his hands is a small collection of clothing, long fingers splayed out across to stop it from tumbling onto the floor. His shoes look brand new, the shine making it obvious. A belt loops around his small waist, wearing simple dress slacks.

You’re so used to going through the motions at work, typically zoned out that only something absolutely wild could shatter you from that usual feeling. Seeing someone so pretty against the backdrop of the woman’s department brings you up short.

“Uhhhh,” You go before managing to collect yourself swiftly, replying, “Yeah, I can help you,” Your eyes fall onto his nametag, and you tentatively say his name aloud for the first time, “Seonghwa.”

He smiles, a sort of strange smile in which he looks vastly uncomfortable, saying your own name after reading it from your tag. You trail after him, cutting through the organized racks of the women’s department into the general shitshow of the men’s.

For some reason, it was impossible to keep a full team in the men’s section. They always quit or just stopped showing up. Over the two years you worked here, you normally didn’t speak to anyone in the men’s department too much since they never seemed to last long. That meant the department always looked like a group of wild school children tore through it regularly and today is no exception.

Seonghwa takes you to a large box dumped unceremoniously onto the counter near the men’s fitting rooms. “I was told to process these returns but I don’t…actually know how to do that,” He admits bashfully.

“Oh, it’s not difficult. I can show you.”

He looks relieved, thanking you. As you begin to show Seonghwa the process, you sneak a glance at his face out of the corner of your eye. His eyelashes are long, his lips prettily plump and his skin seemingly perfect. What planet did this dude come from? You wonder, unsure how someone like him stumbled into working at a store like this.

“You know how to fold the clothes the right way?” You ask at one point.

“Yeah, I’ve worked retail before in my last town.”

“Oh, you moved here?”

Seonghwa looks up as you hand him a particularly ugly dress shirt made from a shiny fabric. In the horrendous fluorescent lights which make almost everyone look garish, he seems to be immune.

“Yeah, just a couple weeks ago. Not far away, just a few towns over.” He quickly changes the subject off himself, “Have you worked here long?”

“Around two years.”

“Do you like it?”

“It’s retail,” You reply dryly, “I think it is the same everywhere.”

The corners of his lips turn up for a second. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Seonghwa turns his attention back to the pile of clothes, folding them swiftly. You watch the way his long fingers smooth out the fabric before expertly folding it. Every movement of his seems to be precise and completely under control, a far cry from yourself.

“Are you settling in okay then?” You ask, trying to wiggle more information out of this professional handsome guy who for some reason is working at this shitty store instead of modeling overseas somewhere.

He carefully folds another shirt while replying, “Yeah, I’m doing alright. Have you always lived here?” Another deflection. It’s growing obvious Seonghwa doesn’t want to talk about himself.

“Yeah, I have. It’s really nothing special though. Pretty generic place.” You study his face while asking the next question, “Why did you pick here?”

Without missing a beat, he goes, “It was convenient. What do you like the most about living here?”

You find his answer curious but decide asking Seonghwa questions is pointless because he only swiftly tries to put the conversation back on you.

Stumped by his question, mostly because nothing really comes to mind, you finally settle on, “The weather is alright.”

He tilts his face in your direction at your answer, one eyebrow slightly raised. “That’s it?”

You shrug, “Yeah, I guess.”

His gaze is heavy on you, a beat too long before turning his attention back to folding the clothes. You swallow hard, wondering why you feel so unnerved. As beautiful as Seonghwa is, he has the sort of intense presence that knocks you a little off balance, almost as if he can see some part of yourself that most people cannot.

“Alright, finished.” His voice brings you back to the moment as he picks up the clothing, “Do I just put them back now?”

“Yup, that’s it. Do you want me to help you?”

“No, I got it. I should start learning where everything goes,” He turns to go and then stops, looking over his shoulder, “Thanks for your help. I appreciate it.”

“It’s no biggie. You can pop over again if you have any other questions.”

He smiles again, exposing the most perfect teeth you’ve ever seen. “Alright, thanks. Talk to you later.”

You give him a small wave, turning around to head back to your section, wondering why you feel so thrown off balance over someone you’ve known for ten minutes.

“So, how is he?”

“Who?”

“Don’t play coy with me,” San says, leaning closer to you, “The new guy.”

You’re in the break room, poking at the unappealing lunch you brought. The break room is covered in tacky motivational posters, a bulletin board filled with random flyers about things like worker safety, requesting time off and a garage sale ad. A small TV in the corner shows the local news. The image, as usual, is extra grainy due to the bad signal off the cheap antenna. There is no break from the harsh fluorescents even in this room.

“You saw him, didn’t you?” He presses.

You relent and reply with a casual, “Yeah, I saw him.”

“And? What’s he like? Is he hotter than me?”

Another noncommittal shrug. “He’s…different. He’s friendly, don’t get me wrong, but he seems distant. I guess he moved here from a town nearby. That’s all I know about him.” San is staring at you with a serious expression on his face. You shift uncomfortably in the hard chair, finally glaring at him. “What?”

He points at you sternly. “You do think he’s fine.”

“What?” You bluster. “Where the hell did you get that idea?”

San gestures wildly. “It’s written all over your face! We talk about every new hire in detail and now suddenly, you give me a couple of sentences. What spell did he cast on you?”

“No spell,” You say crossly, irritated at somehow being too obvious when believing you played it cool, “You’re caring too much about my opinion.”

He slumps back in his chair, crossing his arms, pouting. With a sigh, you push your meal away and turn to face him.

“Come on, dude. You’re giving a new hire way too much power. Everyone knows you’re all that and a bag of chips. You think the confused old ladies who still don’t understand what a cordless phone is are not gonna be charmed by you? That they’re suddenly going to head to the men’s department instead?”

“They tip me, you know,” San says defensively, “That’s why it’s important to me. They give me a couple of bucks when I finish explaining what a portable CD player is compared to their 8 track.”

You skirt around the fact it is against company police to take cash tips from customers, opting to continue reassuring him instead. “Don’t give someone else so much power. I mean, look at the size of your arms. No one in the store can compare with that.”

“That’s true,” He says begrudgingly, “Fine. And I’ll give the new guy a shot only cuz you think he’s fly.”

“I don’t – will you stop –” You sputter.

San stands up, snatching his work vest off the table and slipping it back on. “Alright, I’m going. Talk to you later.”

You say bye, now alone in the break room. Normally, you relish the quiet moments here without a coworker talking your ear off. But you’re longing for a pointless discussion, some sort of distraction from the fact that you’ve spent ten minutes around Seonghwa and are seemingly attracted to him.

You’ve fallen into such a routine between work, occasionally going out on the weekends, and watching TV that suddenly finding someone hot is like an electric bolt to your chest. Things have been quiet for so long, in both your mind and life, that the last thing you want to deal with is forming an attraction to a coworker.

Luckily, Seonghwa seems intent to keep mostly to himself. The emotional distance should help, you think, should make it easier not to get swept up in some guy.

Wednesday, October 8th, 1997

Once it hits 4pm, all you care about is punching out and getting home. You’re so wrapped up in this that when you turn around to dart out of the back room, you collide immediately into Seonghwa.

It’s like striking a wall. Even though he’s slender, his body is firm, resulting in you ungracefully flailing for a moment. His hands go to your upper arms to steady you, allowing yourself to recover from toppling back against the wall.

“Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.” You’re embarrassed by being so spaced out.

Seonghwa, who you have successfully avoided all day, doesn’t seem to be impacted by the collision. He’s still in his work vest but today he’s wearing a long sleeve black shirt. His hands rest on your upper arms and your eyes drop to his fingers, taking note of how they look against the fabric of your clothing.

He clears his throat gently, a mild noise of embarrassment, before dropping his hands back to his sides. “No, I should have let you know I was behind you. My shift is done too so I was just punching out.”

You shuffle to the side, letting Seonghwa finish up. Your heart is beating quickly in that annoying way you’ve been trying to avoid since your last relationship. You should just say goodbye now and head out. But your feet refuse to obey and you find yourself lingering to walk out with Seonghwa.

After shaking out of his work vest and tossing it unceremoniously into his locker, he leans against it, watching as you fumble with your own lock.

“How was your day?”

“Uh, it was alright. What about you? You settling in okay with everything?” You successfully open your locker, shoving your own work vest in there and grabbing your bag.

Turning to meet Seonghwa’s gaze, your eyes unintentionally flick down to his torso. His long sleeve shirt fits him a little too well, is a little too snug, and you’re now acutely aware of his small waist on top of the fact he’s definitely in shape.

“Yeah, it’s going well. A bit disorganized but it’s fine.”

The two of you are leaving the backroom together, cutting through the electronics section. San is milling around in front of a display of Tamagotchis which is already half empty. He glances up and notices you, waving.

“Hey,” He goes, “Oh, you’re the new guy, right?”

You’re secretly hoping San doesn’t embarrass you. Even though you denied thinking Seonghwa is attractive yesterday, you know that San doesn’t believe you for a second.

Seonghwa introduces himself and then glances at the display. “These things go fast, don’t they?”

“Tell me about it. I end up having to restock the display every shift,” San replies disgruntled, “I don’t get it. An electronic pet?”

“I had a Tamagotchi,” Seonghwa muses, “It kept beeping while I was sleeping so I shoved it in a drawer and forgot about it.”

“What happened to it?” San asks.

“It died,” He replies seriously, “I felt pretty guilty.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” San says just as grimly.

You glance between the two men and their bonding moment over a dead Tamagotchi before clasping your hands together. “Okay, well, this has been truly touching but I don’t wanna miss my bus. See you tomorrow, San.”

As you turn to leave, you hear Seonghwa mumble a quick goodbye before catching up with you. “You take the bus to work?”

“Yeah, no car.”

“I can drop you off at your place if you’d like.”

You glance at him in surprise. “You don’t even know if I’m completely out of your way or not. We could live on opposite sides of one another. On top of that, how familiar are you with the town? You got a map in your car or something to help you get home afterwards?”

Seonghwa looks perplexed. “I guess I didn’t think of that.”

The doors glide open as you step out into the late afternoon air. The temperature has dropped since this morning, a chilly bite that cuts through your t-shirt. Seonghwa had the right idea with the long sleeve, you think. Feeling flustered by his invitation to drive you home, you stop walking and turn to face him.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to come across so harsh. I just wouldn’t want you going out of your way on my account.”

“I get that,” He replies, a wind kicking up and blowing some of his hair into his eyes which he impatiently brushes back, “But I really don’t mind. I need to learn where everything is anyway.”

Chewing on your bottom lip, you fight the urge just to agree. Logically, you should just take the bus home. If you’re trying to steadfastly ignore the fact that Seonghwa is attractive then obviously being in his car will not help things. But on the other hand, being alone with him also sounds too good.

“Alright, fine. But if you get lost, I warned you.”

He smiles and you can feel it in your chest. Following him to his car, which looks as though it has seen better days, you get into the passenger seat and toss your bag on the floor, looking around. A pair of small dice swing off the rearview mirror, the only decoration in the car. There is nothing else to learn about Seonghwa in here – the car is neat, clean and smells nice.

He stretches out his long legs in his seat, starting the car. You are trying very hard not to stare at him, not notice how smooth his skin is nor how his muscles pull against his long sleeve shirt.

You open your mouth to tell him your address when suddenly Wannabe by the Spice Girls begins to blare out of his car speakers. Startled into silence, you can only watch as Seonghwa looks mortified, quickly slamming his hand down onto the eject button which spits the CD out of the player in his car dashboard.

He grabs the CD swiftly while going, “Uh, I didn’t know – I forgot – ‘’

“Seonghwa, it’s fine,” You reassure him, “It would be stranger at this point if you didn’t own that CD.”

He turns his body to grab something off the back seat, plopping the CD holder into his lap. Quickly, he opens it, flips to a random page with a spot available and hastily shoves the disc inside before closing the big binder of albums. Seonghwa seems to collect himself after a second or two, returning the binder to the backseat and quietly clearing his throat while turning on the radio. Sunday Morning by No Doubt quietly fills the car.

“Alright,” He says, neatly skirting around the Spice Girls incident, his hands wrapping around the steering wheel, “Help me get to your place.”

You give him a couple of directions and soon enough Seonghwa is on a main road. You make a mental note to eventually Map Quest some stuff for him later so he can learn the town layout faster.

Wanting to fill the silence before your brain gets swept up in the mental image of sitting in his lap, you go, “Are you excited for Halloween? Hopefully we don’t get stuck working late.”

“Do you usually do something for Halloween?”

Of course he deflects immediately. You should have known better than to ask Seonghwa a question about himself. “Sometimes. Last year I went to a party but it was a total buzzkill. I don’t know what I’m doing this year.”

“Do you like horror movies?”

“They’re okay. Do you?”

“Yeah, I like them.” Wow, finally an answer out of him! Progress.

“Oh, wait, turn right at this light,” You say as Seonghwa shifts into the other lane.

At the red light, he looks out the side window and says, “So far, this is near my own place. Maybe we don’t live too far away from each other.”

“Maybe.” Did you dare ask another question? “Do you live alone?”

Seonghwa hesitates for a moment and then replies, “Yeah, I do. What about you?”

You spare an extra second to study his face. Every interaction with Seonghwa, while friendly enough, gives you the feeling that he is constantly holding back in some respect. Aspects of himself are carefully hidden, making you wonder what he is like behind the perfectly pleasant façade he shows at work.

“Yeah. Do you like living alone?”

“It’s a little different than what I am used to,” Seonghwa says carefully, glancing at you for a moment.

You point to a road ahead. “You can turn down here.” After he does so, you ask, “What are you used to?”

Seonghwa’s hands tighten around the wheel. You get the sense he is struggling to answer, torn between talking about himself and staying private.

“Listen, Seonghwa,” You begin, “I get the sense you really don’t like talking about yourself. That’s fine. I don’t want to come off all ‘hey, tell me your life story’ and shit. I know we just met.”

There is another red light and the car stops. Seonghwa tilts his face to look at you. You’re struck again by how handsome you find him and how his intense gaze startles you into silence.

“It has nothing to do with you. I don’t mean to seem so closed off.” He turns his attention back to the road, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel before saying, “I moved here because my girlfriend and I broke up recently. I’m not used to living alone because I lived with her.”

“Oh,” You mumble as the light turns green, feeling awkward, “I didn’t mean to – I mean…”

“It’s okay,” He reassures you, his attention back on the road, “I’m a private person but I don’t want to come off rude.”

Quietly, you point out the next turn. It doesn’t take long to stop at the small apartment complex you’ve lived in the past year. Grabbing your bag, anxious to get out of the car after fumbling straight into making Seonghwa feel as if he needed to explain himself, you stop just in time to remember he might not know how to get to his own place.

“I can figure it out,” He claims while you rummage in your bag for a stray sheet of paper and pen.

“No, no, you were nice enough to drop me off. What’s your address?” After he says it, you scribble down rough directions that he can follow and thrust the paper in his direction. “Here, this should help.”

When he takes the paper from you, his fingers brush against yours. Your breath catches at the small touch.

“Listen, I meant what I said,” Seonghwa says, “You don’t need to feel bad.”

“Yeah but I didn’t want you to talk about anything negative like a breakup. That is way uncool of me. It isn’t any of my business why you moved here or who you live with.”

“True but I also don’t wanna come off like a jerk.”

“You weren’t, I just…” You’re struggling to find a safe sentence to land on. How did you not say that you wanted to learn more about him because you were immediately attracted and therefore curious? “Wanted to be friendly. Since we work together.”

“We’re chilling, don’t worry about it. Let me walk you to your door, at least.”

“You don’t need to do that,” You protest even though your heart skips a beat.

“I don’t mind.”

You know that you’re probably supposed to refuse again until Seonghwa relents and even though you still have anxiety from the misstep of having him open up about his past, your desire to be around him for longer wins out. You nod in acceptance, getting out of the car and rubbing your arms in the cold air, reminding yourself to bring a hoodie tomorrow.

Seonghwa circles around the car, waiting for you to shuffle over. The apartment complex isn’t anything special, just two floors and a run down looking pool in the middle that is currently closed for fall and winter. You lead him up to the second floor, stopping in front of your apartment. Seonghwa is peering over the railing to look at the pool. Some of his black hair falls in front of his eyes. His hands are shoved in the pockets of his pants to keep them warm. Your eyes drop to his slender waist and you swallow hard. Everything about this man seems to have been specially created to drive you up the wall.

“You ever use the pool?”

“Not really. Why, do you like swimming?”

“I do. My apartment complex doesn’t have a pool though.”

Without thinking, you offer, “Well, when the pool reopens, you can come here.”

He looks over at you, something flickering across his eyes quickly. Straightening up, he nods, giving you a small smile. “Alright, that sounds sweet.”

Shifting the weight of your bag onto your other shoulder, you go, “Well…thanks again for the ride. Try not to get lost on the way home. Do you work tomorrow?”

“I do.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

Seonghwa lingers for a moment. Once again, you get the feeling he is restraining from doing or saying something that might expose too much of himself. It is a curious thing, you think, especially given that you just assumed the whole ex-girlfriend thing is why he was being so reserved. Maybe that’s just him as a person though. Just really private and constantly filtering his behavior through a thousand nets.

“Alright, talk to you later.”

“See you later, alligator,” You reply and immediately chastised yourself for ending on such a corny line.

Seonghwa turns around, walking back towards the staircase. You trace the curve of his shoulders underneath his shirt, getting a brief mental image of your hands flat against the top of them while you’re under his body. Shaking your head to fend off the fantasy, you turn away.

He’s probably incredibly boring in bed. He’s an attractive guy but he’s so mild mannered and pleasant in an easily digestible way. Why get distracted into some annoying crush when the end result won’t be worth it?

Thursday, October 9th, 1997

“Wassup?” San plops down in the chair next to yours while gesturing at the TV. “You watch this?”

Once again, it is mid-afternoon in the break room. You’re eating lunch, staring at the grainy image on the TV that is showing a Buffy the Vampire Slayer ad for the new episode on Monday night.

“No, do you?”

“Nah but Yeosang records it every week to watch.”

Yeosang is San’s roommate. That information doesn’t really surprise you seeing as he also watches The X-Files religiously.

“Well, I bet he will enjoy this episode,” You squint, looking at the ad closer, “About a gigantic reptile thing in a frat house.”

It is at that moment that Seonghwa steps into the break room. He is wearing a short sleeve black shirt today along with the ugly blue vest and a pair of black jeans. San waves when he enters.

“Hey, dude. Are you on break?”

“Yeah, I am.”

San kicks out the chair on the other side of you, motioning to it. “Wanna chill with us?” When Seonghwa isn’t looking, he winks at you. You fight the urge to punch his shoulder.

Seonghwa nods, stopping to get something out of the fridge before settling in next to you. He catches your eye and gives you a small smile. Your cheeks feel warm so you turn your attention back to your sandwich but you can still feel his gaze.

“Damn, I wanna see this,” San interrupts whatever the hell was passing in between Seonghwa and yourself.

“I think the title is kinda goofy though,” Seonghwa remarks.

“You don’t like I Know What You Did Last Summer? I think it sounds a little mysterious. You know, it’s by the same writer as Scream,” San nudges you, “What do you think?”

“I think I haven’t seen Scream so that sentence means nothing to me.”

“Whoa, what, you haven’t seen Scream?” Seonghwa’s attention is back on you, “The sequel comes out soon. You should watch it. It’s really good.”

Slightly desperate for something new to discuss with Seonghwa that didn’t involve asking questions leading to awkward moments, you leap at this opportunity. “Alright. I guess I can see if Blockbuster has it.”

San scoffs. “Are you serious? I’ve been asking you to watch Scream for months – ow!” He winces as your foot collides with his shin under the table.

Seonghwa frowns. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” San wheezes, “I always forget about the metal bar under the table. Just whacked my leg against it.”

“He’s fine,” You say quickly, shooting daggers at him.

Seonghwa tilts his body in your direction and goes, “I own Scream. I can bring the VHS tape tomorrow if you’re also working.”

“I don’t have a day off until Sunday so I’ll be here. But are you sure? I don’t want you to lend me anything…”

“Yeah, it’s okay. Don’t go to Blockbuster. I always do and then forget and end up owing them an annoying amount of late fees.”

San has quickly forgotten the shin kicking incident and nods in agreement. “He’s right. Avoid it if you can.”

“I’ll bring it tomorrow.”

“Okay, well, thanks.”

“Hey, when you’re done watching it, can I borrow it? Yeosang still hasn’t seen it either,” San goes, “He’s so bad at watching movies.”

“Yeah, that’s no problem,” Seonghwa replies, “I’m still unpacking but I know where it is.”

“Great, thanks dude,” San exclaims before turning his attention back to the TV.

San says something else but you don’t really hear him because Seonghwa is still looking at you. Even though Seonghwa is friendly yet distant, your body seems to react to him in a way that takes you by surprise every time you’re close. It’s the warmth of his body so near combined with his toned arms and perfect skin. The effect is slightly dizzying. Toss in the fact you haven’t had a crush on someone since your last relationship ended three years ago, you are struggling between thinking his personality doesn’t match up with yours and wanting to throw yourself at him. The entire thing is confusing.

Seonghwa’s lips are slightly parted as if he was going to say more but falls silent while staring at you. There is something brewing in his eyes, something you haven’t seen before. It’s intense and your stomach swoops as if leaping off a cliff. His hand presses down hard against his knee to steady himself. He suddenly looks away towards the window, cutting the moment short.

You’re breathless, wondering what the hell that had been about. The way Seonghwa looked at you mingling with the feeling that he was reigning himself in, closing something off – you don’t know what to make of it. Could it be he also is attracted to you and is trying to hide it? In all your interactions with him, he’s been kind and considerate but nothing indicated he saw you in a physical way.

You force yourself into focusing on whatever San is saying, trying to push all the swirling emotions out of your mind.

Friday, October 10th, 1997

You sigh, plopping down on your bed, stretching out. Work today was a chore but Seonghwa had given you his copy of Scream. With San bothering you to watch it quickly so he could let Yeosang borrow it, you figured you’d just watch it tonight before going to sleep.

Leaning over the side of your bed, you rummage through your bag until your fingers feel the edge of the VHS tape. Pulling it out, you gaze at the cover for a few seconds, lost in thought. You’re thinking about how Seonghwa looked today right before his shift ended. You were on your break and he was at the lockers, tugging a hoodie over his head. His white shirt lifted up so slightly that if you hadn’t been already staring at him, you wouldn’t have noticed the quick glimpse of a few inches of hard abdomen. That was enough to send your body into overdrive, something you still hadn’t calmed down from when he came over to hand you the Scream VHS.

“Thanks,” You mumbled quickly, hoping that he didn’t have the ability to read your mind.

“Not a problem. You can just give it to San as soon as you’re done with it. I’m not in any hurry to get it back.”

He gave you that same easy going smile, the type of smile that made you wonder what he would be like if his kind demeanor cracked and he had you pushed against a wall with his lips against your neck.

“Right, yeah, cool.” You said in what you hoped was a casual tone.

When he turned around to leave, your eyes lingered on his waist before turning your attention back to your food, the VHS tape in your lap like a heavy weight.

Dragging yourself back to the present moment, you pull the tape out of the sleeve, finding it a bit curious there isn’t a sticker with the movie name on it. You wiggle to the edge of your bed, shoving the tape into the player. There are a few seconds of VHS tracking and then the picture pops into view.

You’re staring at a palm tree against a blue sky, slightly out of focus. The tape goes grainy for a moment and then the camera swoops downward. Someone’s face comes into view, filling up the lens before their hand pushes the camera away while they are laughing.

Uh, okay, this is not what I thought the movie was gonna look like, you think while squinting at the TV.

“Can you get the camera out of my face?” comes a familiar voice.

“Stop, you love when the camera is on,” A woman replies coyly.

The shot snaps into focus then, showing Seonghwa against a wall. He is wearing a sleeveless white and blue striped shirt, his black hair ruffling in the wind. The sight of him is like a punch to your chest, knocking the air out of your lungs. His smile is bright, completely different from the ones you’ve seen at work. It is unguarded. Even his posture is relaxed with none of the slightly stiff professional nature he has at work.

Entranced, you can only stare as the scene continues. Seonghwa runs his long fingers through his hair, his smile turning into a grin.

“So do you,” He counters.

You can hear the sound of ocean waves just off screen. He turns his face to the side, the camera lingering on this for a moment before it lowers for a second, showing a wooden pathway. It cuts suddenly, immediately shifting into another scene.

Seonghwa is standing on the beach now, slipping his shirt off and tossing it onto the blanket that is on the sand. You didn’t think it was possible to see him look so comfortable in his own skin. He doesn’t seem to be shy at all, staring at the camera with a challenging look on his face. On top of that, the sight of Seonghwa shirtless is bowling you over. He is toned, tanned and has muscles you want to press your hands against.

“What?” He goes.

“Nothing,” The woman says, “I can’t film you getting into the water?”

“You’re just filming me undressing.”

“Well, it’s not the first time, is it?”

He rolls his eyes but there is a good natured expression on his face. He shoves his thumbs into his swim trunks, tugging them down half an inch before exploding into laughter and turning around, jogging towards the water.

Another cut. New scene. This has to be him and his ex. I need to turn this off. It’s obviously not meant for me.

Seonghwa is sitting at a table in a diner, looking over a menu. He raises his eyes, making eye contact with the camera then he laughs again. He looks relaxed, his smile bright and posture resting comfortably against the booth.

“You look wicked good tonight,” The woman remarks and Seonghwa playfully shakes the menu in her direction.

“Good thing you’re getting it on camera, right?”

“Exactly.” She zooms in a little more. “Do you want to tell the imaginary audience what we’ll be filming later?”

“Oh, well, I think the imaginary audience knows by now what we like to film,” He says with a mock seriousness that makes your heart constrict. “Isn’t that right?”

The woman giggles and the scene cuts suddenly. This time the camera is in a bedroom with the lens focusing on Seonghwa once again. He is shirtless, close to the camera.

“You gonna keep it on while I fuck you?” He says in a low voice.

The woman doesn’t reply, just giggles.

Seonghwa’s eyes drop for a moment before locking back onto the camera. You’ve never seen such an expression on his face – a combination of lust and reveling in the fact the entire thing is being filmed. It is as if the exterior you’ve seen on him since he began to work at the store is all bullshit, a lie in which he hides behind, and you’re seeing him for real now through the lens.

“Maybe I’ll film you when my cock is down your throat,” He continues, “You want that?”

The woman titters again before going, “Yeah, I want that.”

Seonghwa grins, moving back a little so that his entire body is in view. The low light makes it difficult to fully make him out but you can see the curve of his shoulders, the stiffness against the fabric of his boxers, and the way he motions for her to come closer.

“Then give me the camera and get on your knees,” He says sternly while lowering one hand towards his boxers, starting to pull them down –

The sight of Seonghwa about to expose himself finally snaps you out of your shock. Quickly, you lean over and smash the eject button on the tape, yanking it out of the machine and dropping it to the floor as if it is going to burn you.

You stare at it, breathless, your mind spinning. It didn’t take a genius to figure out where that tape was going to lead. After all, people still talked about the tape of Pamela Anderson and Tommy Lee; it had been covered in media for months and was still often a topic of conversation.

You are aware Seonghwa just moved and the tape must be misplaced. Do you tell him? Do you just pretend you watched Scream and not mention it? But San wanted to borrow the copy as well. Obviously, he couldn’t get his hands on it. You could lie and say the tape didn’t play. But the excuse wouldn’t work because Seonghwa would try it on his own player and realize what was really on it. You could pretend you lost the tape and destroy it. But that also didn’t seem right. It wasn’t your tape, after all, and eventually Seonghwa could put the pieces together and believe you kept the tape to watch or worse. It felt as if the only choice would be to come clean to Seonghwa and let him know he accidentally gave you the wrong tape.

On the other side of things, you couldn’t believe how different Seonghwa was on camera. There was such a relaxed, casual demeanor to him. He seemed more at ease in front of the lens than in reality. For the first time since meeting him, it felt that you truly saw him. The quiet confidence, no hint of shyness in the way he spoke or removed his clothes. On top of that, his body was absolutely banging in a way that made your thighs clench and hands bunch up in your blanket.

Then give me the camera and get on your knees.

You think about that moment in the break room when Seonghwa’s eyes were heavy on yours and his hand gripped his knee. The little bit of his true personality coming through before being shoved back down, perhaps? Just an hour ago, you thought everything about Seonghwa had been figured out. Not anymore.

Your mind flashes back to his smile and the expression on his face while the camera filmed. Unguarded. Exposed. Hiding behind nothing and leaving everything, including sex, on a VHS tape.

What would such a thing be like? A small voice in your head wonders.

Saturday, October 11th, 1997

“Hey, good morning.”

You jump out of your skin, slamming your locker door shut and turning to see Seonghwa standing there.

“Hi, Seonghwa! How’s it hanging?!” You exclaim loudly with such false cheer that you inwardly wince.

Seonghwa outwardly winces. “You’re at an excitement level I can’t quite reach given we are at work.”

Then give me the camera and get on your knees.

You make a garbled noise in response, eyes darting all over the place. You can’t stare at Seonghwa’s face because then you think of his unguarded smile. You can’t stare at his chest because then the mental image of his abs pops into view. You can’t even look at his small waist, something that had been giving you great pleasure to sneak glances at during the week, because you’re picturing the way he was tugging down his boxers.

“Are you…uh…feeling alright?”

“Yeah, just didn’t sleep well,” You say quickly, “Tired.”

His eyes move to your locker and he gestures to it. “Oh, did you watch Scream?”

Your head turns sharply. The VHS tape is poking out of the top of your bag. You stammer out a collection of gibberish, stalling for time. You didn’t want to have this conversation right now; you had been picturing it after work, maybe in his car or something. Not in the break room before it hits ten in the morning.

Seonghwa looks perplexed once again. You don’t blame him.

Finally, you settle on, “I would really like to discuss the tape with you.”

His features brighten. “Yeah, sure.”

“After work?”

Confusion once again but he slowly replies, “Alright.”

You scurry past him, shouting your goodbye while exiting the room and hurrying to the women’s department. Seonghwa’s smile from the tape is still blazing across your brain in vivid colour and no matter how much you try not to think about it, you can still see the lascivious look in his eyes as he began to remove his boxers.

You’ll tell him after work, you think desperately, even though it will be mortifying and he most likely will never speak to you again.

As long as you get through this shift without losing your cool, everything should be fine. Just don’t think about him on the tape. Don’t think about him having sex and recording it. Don’t think about how relaxed he looked. Don’t think about how sexy his body looked.

Should be simple.

You manage to avoid Seonghwa the entire day, including an awkward moment where you wedged yourself into a clothing rack as he walked by. You were worried about blurting out what was on the tape in the middle of his work shift or even worse – admitting that you were curious about how he filmed himself doing such things and how it felt to let go with a camera on. In quiet moments when a customer wasn’t bothering you, your mind travels back to him like an overplayed record.

You have a difficult time wrapping your head around the Seonghwa on the tape and the Seonghwa in reality. Always polite, yet distant, always kind but professional, in the few days you’ve known him, you’ve bounced between wanting him physically and believing his personality would keep a deeper connection from potentially forming.

But on the tape, you viewed Seonghwa as to how he truly is. There is no façade when the camera is on him. You see him unfiltered. The hint of mischief in his smile, that sense of freedom when he was jogging towards the waves, his quiet confidence when he was talking dirty – why were such things hidden in his day to day life?

By the time the end of your shift comes, you are anxious to get the tape and tell Seonghwa you need to talk. Since you were finishing shifts at the same time, you figured you’d wait for him in the break room. It is a little past seven by the time you enter. The break room has a couple of employees milling around but not San, who snuck out an hour earlier in order to hit up the club with Wooyoung.

Standing in front of your locker, you reach for the lock but as your fingers graze the cold metal, you realize with a jolt it is unlocked. With a small sigh, you realize San must have opened it earlier. You had a bottle of ibuprofen in your locker that he would use occasionally and eventually gave him your locker combination so he would stop bothering you.

But as you reach for your bag, your eyes narrow. Heart thudding, you rummage around in it with growing panic. The VHS tape isn’t in the bag. The tape isn’t in the bag.

“What the fuck?” You hiss in between your teeth, your heart plummeting.

You are about to upend the bag onto the floor when Seonghwa’s voice cuts through. “Hey, finishing up too?”

Surprised, you jump, flattening your back against the locker, clutching the bag against your chest. “Seonghwa! Hey! Hi!”

“Lots of enthusiasm for work today,” He notes, removing his work vest. His slender fingers twist the dial on his locker. You stare at them, momentarily transfixed. He glances at you. “What?”

“Nothing. No, that’s a lie. Seonghwa, I seem to have misplaced the tape.”

“Oh, Scream? Nah, San came to me earlier and said he noticed it was in your locker. I told him you watched it and he grabbed it before he left to give to his roommate. He said he was cutting out early to head to the club or something. Yeosang…that’s his roommate, right? San mentioned that Yeosang was gonna watch it with him and everyone else later tonight.”

Every word out of his mouth, every word tumbling out of his beautifully plush lips, makes you want to sink into the planet’s core. The panic that had been wiggling in your brain while looking for the tape is now washing over your body like a cold wave.

You picture Yeosang, whom you have only met briefly before, hitting play on the video. A room filled with his friends plus San and Wooyoung. The video starting, them seeing Seonghwa. How long would they let the tape run? Probably to where you ejected it. Enough for them to know what is on that tape, enough for them to know what Seonghwa does for fun.

You drop your bag to the floor in shock, reaching out for Seonghwa. Your hand grips the front of his sweater. His eyes widen in surprise.

“Seonghwa,” You say in a choked voice.

He looks a bit flustered, eyes darting over your shoulder to see if anyone else is seeing this. “H-hey, I…” He swallows hard. “I…”

“Seonghwa, that movie isn’t on the tape.”

His nerves, possibly because he thought you were literally throwing yourself at him during work, are now washed away in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Scream is not on that tape. It’s…something else,” You steel yourself, plunging forward, “It’s a home video. Of you and your ex.”

The colour immediately drains from Seonghwa’s face. Your grip loosens on his shirt, watching as he goes through a myriad of facial expressions before settling on something that looks blandly neutral. You’re amazed at how quickly he collects himself.

“I didn’t watch it,” You say hurriedly, talking a mile a minute, “Well, I watched like 3 or 4 minutes but then it was starting to get a little….anyway, I shut it off then. I was going to tell you. I brought it back today so I could tell you after work. I just didn’t think San was going…okay, it’s fine. It’s fine. We’ll page him. He’ll know to call here, right? I’ll just page him.”

Seonghwa takes a slow deep breath. You can’t tell if he wants to scream, cry, or punch something. His calm demeanor does nothing to relax your own nerves. You don’t know what he is thinking. You go back to digging through your bag, pulling out the tiny phone number and address book you keep in there. Quickly, you head to the break room phone, yanking it off the receiver while flipping through the book to find San’s beeper number. You page him, hurriedly inputting the phone number of the store before hanging up.

“Okay, we’ll just wait here for a few minutes. He’ll call back.”

You aren’t sure if Seonghwa heard you. Looking over your shoulder, you see him standing in the same exact spot, his back to you.

“Uh…Seonghwa?” You say tentatively. “Are you freaking out?”

He turns around then, his features still amazingly collected in an extremely calm appearance. “Do you know where San lives?”

“Where he lives? Yeah, I do. Oh, you want to go there?” You glance at the clock. “Yeah, I mean, it might be too early for him to be at the club. But shouldn’t we wait in case he calls?”

“No,” He says curtly, “You’ll come with me and show me where his place is.”

“Oh – oh, okay. Yeah, sure. Let’s go.”

You can hardly keep up with Seonghwa’s long strides, scampering behind him as you exit the store and into the chilly weather. Tightening the hoodie you’ve managed to shove yourself into while following him, you get in his car silently. Even though Seonghwa is amazingly calm, you can tell he is on edge. The veneer he portrays to the world is on thin ice and you can almost feel the roiling tension under his skin. He starts the car and the radio plays softly.

Pulling out of the parking spot, Seonghwa gets to the exit and grunts, “Tell me how to get to his place.”

“Okay,” You say, adding on, “You’ll take a left at the light,” You hesitate before going, “Seonghwa, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen.’’

His hands tighten on the wheel, the only indication of his stress. “It isn’t your fault. I should have checked the tape before I gave it to you. Due to my move and breakup, things are all over the place. I don’t even know how it ended up in the Scream case.”

“Even so, I should have turned it off immediately. I just…” What do you even say? I was entranced by how different you were on camera. I’m deeply attracted to you and I want to get to know the version of you that was on the tape. I’m curious about what you do for fun. Maybe a little too intrigued for my own good.

“It’s fine,” Seonghwa interrupts you swiftly, “I really don’t want to discuss the tape while this is on.” He gestures to the radio which is currently playing Supermodel (You Better Work). “Just a little too ridiculous for me right now.”

You fall silent, the words tumbling around in your chest. “A right up here,” You mumble after a couple of minutes.

You know it is a morally grey area to keep thinking about Seonghwa in the bedroom, talking openly about getting his dick sucked and filming it. You know it’s wrong to wonder what the rest of the tape looked like. Your curiosity feels like a mark against your moral code.

Fifteen minutes later, you have pulled up to the apartment complex that San resides in. Getting out of the car, you study the building, trying to remember what number his apartment is.

“The door,” Seonghwa points, “You don’t happen to have a key to get into the foyer, do you?”

“No. I guess we can buzz and see if anyone answers. But I…I can’t remember his apartment number.”

He looks at you swiftly. “Please try to remember.” You can tell it is taking him great effort to keep his voice even and not start shaking you.

But you’ve only been here a couple of times so nothing appears in your head. Seonghwa takes off towards the door, giving you no choice but to follow. He stands in front of the door, looking around to see the chances of someone coming by so he could slink in after them.

“You remember it yet?”

“No, sorry.”

He turns to the set of apartment numbers written out across the buzzers and randomly hits one. No answer. He presses another one.

“Is this your plan?” You ask.

“Yes,” He replies calmly.

“What are you going to do if someone answers?”

“Lie.”

You aren’t sure what to say. This is yet another new side of Seonghwa, one driven by the desperation of someone seeing the tape and finding out what he’s really like.

On the fourth buzz, someone gruffly goes, “Who is it?” The speaker crackles.

“Hi, I live a few places down from you and forgot my key,” Seonghwa says smoothly, “I’m so sorry to bother you. I just wanted to get buzzed in real quick.”

“Yeah, whatever.” The door clicks open and the speaker goes silent.

Seonghwa grabs the door handle, shooting you a look as he holds it open. You slip past him into the entrance of the building. Once you stand in the foyer, staring at the row of small mailboxes, the apartment number bounces back into your brain.

“It’s #1117!” You declare, happy at your brain’s ability to recall such a fact.

“Great, let’s go,” Seonghwa says while walking towards the elevator, pressing the button.

The foyer is silent as the two of you wait for the elevator to come down. You bounce on the balls of your feet a little, your nerves getting the best of you. You’re worried about Seonghwa, you’re worried about someone seeing that tape and his secret getting out and you’re still dealing with the fact your mind won’t drop mental images that it shouldn’t be thinking about.

In the elevator, Seonghwa exhales slowly. It is the only sign of tension brewing in him. You marvel at how calm and collected he is. If you were in this situation, there would be no chance of being in control. You’re barely in control of your emotions now, dealing with something that technically would have no impact on your life.

The doors glide open and Seonghwa marches down the quiet hallway. His steps are muffled against the carpet, coming to a stop in front of San and Yeosang’s apartment. He rings the doorbell but there is no reply. He tries again. Nothing.

“Maybe they really have gone to the club already,” You suggest.

In response, Seonghwa bangs his fist against the door before resting his hand against the wood, closing his eyes. You can feel the energy crackling off him, just like that moment in the break room the other day - that same sensation of him wrangling himself under control, shoving his real self into a small box and tying it up with a bow.

“Do you know what club they go to?”

“Yeah. It’s nearby.”

“Let’s go.” He turns around to return to the elevator.

“Wait,” You hurry after Seonghwa, “We’re just going to go to the club and what?”

“Ask where the tape is. If it’s in the apartment, I’m going to ask for San to get it for me. If he still has it on him, I’ll just ask for it back.”

“How are you going to explain why you need it so badly without…you know.”

The elevator arrives and he steps inside. “I don’t know. I’ll figure it out when we get there.”

You stand next to him, feeling the warmth off his body. He’s wearing a form fitting white sweater today due to the temperature and you cannot help but notice how it lays across his chest. His black jeans are also snug against his slender waist. It is difficult to look at him and not picture the images of him on the beach and in the bedroom. Cheeks getting warm, you stare steadfastly ahead at the elevator doors, which finally open to release you from the ever growing tension.

Back outside, Seonghwa is hurriedly walking back to the car. The sun has fully dipped below the horizon now, the last strands of dying daylight long gone. You cross your arms, the cold seeping into the fabric of your hoodie.

“Seonghwa,” You say tentatively as he reaches the car, “Do you wanna talk about it now? Since Rupaul isn’t playing, I mean.”

“I really don’t.”

“I don’t want to make things awkward between us.”

His hand, hovering over the handle of the car door, drops back to his side. His eyes are on you, focused in a way they haven’t been since the news of the tape landing in San’s hands were uttered to him. You suddenly feel exposed.

Seonghwa crosses the small gap in a couple of seconds, looking at you intensely. “What do you want to talk about exactly? You want to discuss something, surely, and I don’t think that it is about your apology.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” You mumble quickly, balking at the way his eyes tear through your defenses.

“You want to know more about the tape? You want to know what I do in my spare time?”

“N-no!” You lie, “No, I just didn’t want this to mess up anything between us.”

Seonghwa shakes his head, pulling away from you and exhaling slowly before he loses his cool. “There isn’t time to sit and chat about everything. Can you please just get in the car and tell me where this club San goes to is?”

You nod silently and Seonghwa turns around, getting into the car. Rooted to the spot for a moment, your heart thrumming in your chest, you try to ignore that little voice in your head – a voice entirely new, one that you don’t know what to do with.

What if you stopped getting yourself back in control, Seonghwa? What would that look like? I want to see what it looks like. I want to see what the real you is and I want to keep pressing against that exterior until it cracks.

You’ve never dealt with such a desire before. It is as if a giant dog is tugging you along on a leash and you can’t pull it back. You can dig your heels against the pavement, yank on the leash and beg for the dog to stop but it doesn’t work. The little voice in your head, the centre of your curiosity about Seonghwa mixed with your attraction to him, is a dangerous thing.

Perhaps it isn’t just Seonghwa who is always struggling to remain cool, calm and collected in every situation. Maybe you’re not so different from him.

Twenty minutes later, Seonghwa is parking at the club San frequents. The place is crowded with a line snaking around the outside of the building. Seonghwa stares at the line quietly after turning off the car. You know what he is thinking – time is important and he isn’t going to waste it waiting in a long line with the risk of the bouncer saying no. His fingers are curled lightly around the steering wheel, his brows furrowed together in concentration.

“What’s the plan? You gonna gank someone’s VIP pass?” You joke lightly.

He shifts, pulling his wallet out of his pocket and opening it. His fingers glide across the bills inside as he counts them quickly before looking in your direction. “How much cash do you have on you?”

“What?”

“I’ll pay you back,” Seonghwa says impatiently, “We’re just going to bribe the bouncer and skip the line.”

“Is – is that allowed?”

“No.”

“Oh. Uhm,” You fish your wallet out of your bag. “I have a hundred bucks.”

“Great, and I have two hundred,” He holds out his hand, wiggling his fingers at you.

“Wait, we’re going to give the bouncer three hundred dollars?” You ask incredulously.

“No, we’re going to start with a hundred and go from there,” Seonghwa explains, “They might be content with that. Your money is last resort.” When you hesitate, he sighs. “I told you, I’m good for it. I’ll pay you back immediately. I’ll pay you back tonight. As soon as I get the tape. Don’t start wiggin out on me now.”

“I am not wiggin out,” You say defensively, “I just have never bribed someone before.”

“Technically, I’m bribing. You’re merely watching.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, an awkward silence settles across the car. Seonghwa neatly averts his gaze, pretending to be fascinated with the money in his wallet. You swallow hard, unable to stop yourself from thinking about the tape.

You thrust the money at him which he takes with a mumbled thanks before getting out of the car. You look down at your hoodie and work pants, unable to recall if this place has a dress code or not. Probably, given the long line. You sigh, opening the car door and trailing after Seonghwa.

He stops at one point, looking over his shoulder at you. “Are you comfortable pretending we’re on a date?”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m going to bribe the bouncer under the guise that I’m trying to impress you. Can I put my arm around you when we get up there? I won’t do anything else.”

“How do you come up with this shit?” You say without thinking, “The entire night, you just seamlessly come up with these ideas and lies and stories.” Every interaction we’ve had before tonight has been pleasant and normal to the point where I thought you were attractive but a little boring, is what you don’t add on to the sentence, and now I’m seeing all sorts of sides to you I never thought lurked inside.

Seonghwa ignores the question, instead asking one of his own. “Are you comfortable with me putting my arm around your waist?”

“Yeah, fine,” You mumble although the idea of him touching your body is making your skin warm.

“Alright. Try not to look so nervous.”

Seonghwa walks towards the club with a confidence you cannot hope to possibly mimic. Gone is the easy going attitude he carries at work. Instead, he acts as though he owns the place and is merely popping by to give it a look. His arm circles around your waist as the bouncer comes into view. You can hear people complaining about him cutting the line but Seonghwa doesn’t pay them any attention.

His arm around your waist is distracting in an agonizing way. Every nerve in your body has awakened to him and the desire is dizzying. As you approach the bouncer, Seonghwa nods his head in the man’s direction, extending his hand outward and slipping the hundred dollars in his palm.

“How’s it hangin?” Seonghwa asks casually, pulling you closer against him.

The bouncer glances quickly down at the money and replies evenly, “Could be better.”

Another hundred dollars is given and the bouncer pretends to study his clipboard and nods, moving to the side. “You’re on the list. Have a good night.”

Seonghwa nods, guiding you past him and into the club. On the way in, he brings his lips close to your ear and murmurs, “See? Didn’t even need your cash.”

You’re feeling slightly in awe of the Seonghwa on display tonight – gone is the fake work personality, just someone tackling the situation at hand in whatever way would work best even if it included lying. His arm is still around your waist, his body angled at a slight slant as he leads you through the crowd of people and onto the main dance floor.

The music is loud, cramming your skull immediately as a crush of people squeeze against Seonghwa and yourself. The flickering lights dance over Seonghwa’s hair as his grip tightens on your waist so the two of you don’t get separated. He pulls you along until he finds an alcove, releasing his hold and facing you.

“Do you know where they’d be?” He shouts.

“The dance floor! San always talks about dancing a lot when he’s here!” You yell back.

Seonghwa scowls. “I fucking hate clubs!”

Your hand reaches for his, pulling him out of the alcove and towards the main dance floor while This Is Your Night blasts so loudly that you can feel it vibrate along your bones. Wiggling through the vast swarm of people, you successfully make your way to the main dance floor. It is impossible to find San in the crush of people. Seonghwa tugs on your hand, getting your attention while pointing to a large staircase leading to the second floor.

You nod and he takes the lead, quickly lost in a sea of gauzy club clothes in colours that could cause someone’s retinas to bleed, seeing more cleavage and mini dresses than you thought possible in one space. Your hoodie and work pants and lack of high heels have you receiving a few confused glances as Seonghwa works his way through the crowd.

Of course, you also notice that Seonghwa is attracting a lot of attention in his own way. No one seems to care that his outfit isn’t club attire in the same way they cared about yours. While making your way up the stairs, you can hear giggles follow as people check Seonghwa out. This sparks an intense irritation in your chest for reasons you can’t fully explain.

Standing on one of the stairs, you gaze out across the dance floor, squinting to try to spot San or Wooyoung. Someone bangs into your side, cursing at you standing there. Seonghwa turns around sharply, glowering at the woman with such an intensity that she scampers up the rest of the stairs, wobbling on her strappy sandals with huge heels. His hand is on your lower back protectively.

“We are standing right on the stairs,” You shout at him.

“I don’t care,” He says crossly, “They can move around us. The staircase is huge.”

Seonghwa’s gaze is steady on yours and for a few seconds, time seems to stretch out. The music becomes background noise, his hand against your back, his body facing yours. He has one strand of hair that has come out of place, betraying his inner turmoil that he has been attempting to hide all night.

You bring your hand upwards, pushing his hair back into place before you can stop yourself. He reaches for you, fingers gently wrapping around your wrist. Your breath catches, thrown off by his touch and the intensity of his stare. For a brief second, you think it is finally going to happen – the fissures that have formed in Seonghwa’s carefully constructed polite personality are going to shatter –

But then, over his shoulder, you spot San weaving his way away from the bar, holding two drinks over his head, heading towards a small table where Wooyoung is.

“I found them!” You exclaim and the moment passes as Seonghwa looks over his shoulder, eyes narrowing as he spots San.

He swiftly turns around to head back down the stairs, holding onto your hand again. His impatience is exposed through the way he practically shoves his way through the crowd. The time the grumbles are not of admiration but of annoyance. Seonghwa doesn’t seem to care.

San’s eyes widen when he spots you and one eyebrow raises at the sight of Seonghwa holding your hand. Suddenly embarrassed, you pull your hand away from him although Seonghwa doesn’t seem to notice. He’s on a mission and only one thing is on his mind.

The print on San’s shirt defies logic and reasoning, distantly reminding you of a Taco Bell you stepped into a few weeks ago. Paired with even more colourful pants, you are unsure how it took this long to spot him in the crowd.

“What are you two doing here?” San exclaims loudly.

Without preamble, Seonghwa goes, “I need the Scream tape back.”

“You came all this way for that?” He asks confused.

Wooyoung slides out of the small booth he was occupying, plucking the drink out of San’s hand. Tonight, he’s wearing a nylon dark pink button up with three of the buttons undone, exposing his tanned chest. His pants are so tight that you aren’t sure how he even got into them.

Wooyoung waves at you and goes, “Who is your friend?”

“New coworker,” San exclaims over the music before turning his attention back to Seonghwa. “I don’t have it. I gave it to Yeosang when I got home and he took it with him when he left.”

Seonghwa’s hands flex at his sides, a motion only you notice. “Where is he?”

“I think he’s out with Mingi and Jongho tonight. They were gonna watch the movie at Mingi’s place. We were going to meet them there later.”

“Where is he now?” Seonghwa grinds out between clenched teeth.

San is picking up on the tension, glancing at you but your expression gives nothing away. “Is everything alright? Why do you need the tape back so badly?”

“I’ll explain later. I just need it back tonight,” Seonghwa replies.

Wooyoung, who has been silent this entire conversation, his eyes bouncing between the two men, throws his arm around San’s shoulders while pointing at Seonghwa, still holding his drink. “Who is this guy? I like him. He gets right to the point. He’s very money, you know what I mean?”

You interrupt quickly. “It’s to do with me, San. Please don’t ask any questions.”

It’s a lie, of course, but you know San will respect your request. You can feel Seonghwa’s eyes flick to you for a second.

“Yeah, it’s no problem. I don’t mean to be pushy. Yeosang is at the minigolf course. The one with the big wizard in the middle, you know it?”

“I do, yeah. Thanks for the help.”

“It’s all good,” San replies.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna hang?” Wooyoung asks Seonghwa, “We’re just getting started here.”

“I appreciate the offer but we gotta bounce. Nice meeting you.” Seonghwa is already turning away, eyes darting towards the exit.

You give the two men a small wave and then it is back to being smushed in the crowd, wiggling through the writhing bodies as the music pulsates around you. You’re walking behind Seonghwa, his hand searching for yours so the two of you don’t get separated. Your fingers curl around his and you find yourself studying the curve of his neck, the way his shoulders look in his sweater. From this angle, you can just make out the muscles underneath the tight fabric.

Seonghwa glances over his shoulder to make sure you’re alright. You can’t read his gaze; something shifts behind it, ever changing and unfolding. In that moment, it feels as if you’ve known him forever, in a thousand different locations across a thousand different universes.

Back into the night air, Seonghwa turns to face you. “Do you know what minigolf course San was talking about?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Great, come on.” He takes off across the parking lot towards the car. His back is illuminated by the neon from the sign of the club, dousing him in a bright blue that his hair soaks up.

You follow, catching up with him as Seonghwa asks, “What are you gonna tell San when he asks why you needed the tape?”

“I don’t know. I just said that because I knew he would drop it.”

“Well, you bought us time,” He remarks, opening the door to the car, “Tell me how to get to the minigolf course.”

Back in the passenger seat, you can still feel the tension rolling off Seonghwa. Unable to help yourself, you try to reassure him. “We’ll find Yeosang there. I’m sure he will have the tape on him. It’s nearby too.”

Seonghwa brushes off your words. “Just tell me how to get there.”

It takes fifteen minutes to get to the minigolf course. A large garish wizard hat juts out of the centre of the course, covered in purple lights to make it glow. There is an assortment of other tacky objects sticking upwards – palm trees, a poorly made replica of the leaning tower of Pisa, a UFO that used to rotate five years ago but has since broken down and not been repaired.

Seonghwa gazes at the sight through the windshield, clearly assessing the situation before getting out of the car. You take off after him, fighting the urge to grab his hand. It made sense in the club, not here.

As you approach the entrance, the sound of top 40 radio plays loudly over speakers. Seonghwa bypasses the ticket booth completely, instead opting to head directly onto the course. But a bored looking employee glances up from the magazine he’s reading and gets to his feet quickly.

“Whoa, hey there, homeslice. I need to see the ticket.” He extends his hand out to Seonghwa.

“I’m not playing,” He says quickly, “I just am getting something from a friend.”

“Sure, I can just let anyone pass by without a ticket,” The man rolls his eyes, “No ticket, no entrance.”

“It’ll take less than five minutes,” Seonghwa protests, the agitation at being so close and so far starting to get to him.

You hover by his side and quietly go, “Seonghwa, let’s just go buy a ticket.”

“I don’t want to buy a ticket. The ticket is for playing minigolf and I’m not playing,” He grinds out, staring at the attendant, “So, just let me in.”

The attendant, who is stuck wearing an ugly polyester blue button up, looks positively thrilled at finally having something interesting happening. “No can do, dude,” He says gleefully.

You grab Seonghwa’s upper arm, briefly distracted by the firm muscles underneath, before carting him away from the entrance. While gesturing to the ticket booth, you go, “Let’s just buy a ticket. Do you really wanna throw down with the guy working the minigolf course? We won’t get to Yeosang that way.”

“I don’t care,” He says stubbornly, “He’s being an asshole.”

Your irritation gets the best of you. “If you could wrangle your repressed anger under control for two seconds –”

“My what?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, Seonghwa. The entire night, you’ve been furious at me and just won’t say it. So, you just shove everything down and ignore it and pretend you’re so calm and collected but you’re not –”

Seonghwa takes a step towards you. His demeanor is icy cold now. “Not everything is about you,” He replies in a tone that could frost over a window, “As much as you want it to be.”

Your eyes narrow. “What the hell does that mean?”

“If I’ve been repressing anger all night, you’ve been holding back too. The multiple attempts to steer the conversation back to how sorry you are, how you found the tape, how little you watched of it.” Another step closer, close enough to touch now. “Why don’t you stop bullshitting and just admit you wanna ask me questions about the tape and what I do in my spare time?”

You hadn’t thought it was that obvious. Seonghwa striking the centre of your heart with his accusation makes your breath catch. You can’t bring yourself to reply.

“The tape not only has me on it but also my ex. It violates her privacy for anyone else to see it, not just mine. That’s the most important thing going on right now, not you having some sort of sexual awakening at seeing a few minutes of it.”

You make a strangled noise in the back of your throat, knowing Seonghwa is correct but also feeling exposed at the same time. He stalks off past you, going towards the ticket booth. The employee at the entrance is gawking at the two of you although he didn’t hear anything said.

“You and your boyfriend are pretty intense,” He says over the din of top forty music.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” You mumble, looking over your shoulder at Seonghwa.

Seonghwa is smiling casually at the person working the ticket booth. All earlier signs of irritation are wiped clean from his beautiful face. He is chatting as though he doesn’t have a care in the world. Was I really that obvious? Or is he just that good at reading people? You are embarrassed but manage to make your facial expression look as placid as possible when Seonghwa returns to you.

“Ready?” He asks as if the two of you hadn’t just been at each other’s throats a couple of minutes ago.

After you nod, Seonghwa thrusts the tickets at the attendant who takes them in an over the top gesture and tacks on, “Have a good night!”

Entering the minigolf course, you stop to grab one of the little putters. Seonghwa notices and drawls, “Really?”

You hand it off to him. “Yes, really. You wanna blend in or look like the weird guy stalking across a golf course?”

He takes it, holding it daintily with his long fingers while studying it. “You were right. About the ticket. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

You’re holding your own putter now, staring at him. “I know. I wouldn’t think clearly in your situation either.”

Seonghwa looks at you for a long moment. You get the sense he wants to say more but he gives a small shake of his head, turning his attention back to the course. “Come on. We’ll just start at the first hole and wander around until you spot them.”

The next ten minutes are spent navigating the busy course which includes a moment where Seonghwa ducks to avoid a little kid swinging the putter and another where you almost lose your footing and awkwardly trip off a tiny fake bridge. There are a few questioning glances shot in your direction as the two of you bypass playing completely while you try to spot Yeosang.

Finally, near the gigantic wizard hat, you spot him along with who you assume is Mingi and Jongho. Yeosang, in baggy jeans and an oversized green hoodie, looks to be talking very animatedly with a tall man who is wildly gesturing. The other man is watching them with an amused expression on his face as if it is a very funny TV show.

“There they are.” You nudge Seonghwa to get his attention. “Are you doing the talking or am I?”

“You start and I’ll follow. Yeosang is familiar with you and doesn’t know me.”

“Alright, let’s go.”

You cut across a particularly ugly ice cream cone that is the centre of hole number ten and call out Yeosang’s name. He looks up in surprise but waves when he sees you.

“Wassup? Didn’t know you like minigolfing,” He says as you and Seonghwa stop in front of the group. “Mingi and I were just having a disagreement about how many hits he took to get the ball in the hole.”

The tall man, who is dressed entirely in acid wash denim, protests. “It was four strokes. You’re saying five and that’s not true.”

The other guy, who must be Jongho, goes, “Can we please move on? I want to get an Icee.”

“In this temperature?” Mingi asks, momentarily distracted.

Jongho tugs on his long sleeve, wearing a plaid dress shirt with all the buttons undone, a black t-shirt underneath, topped off with a simple pair of jeans. “It isn’t that cold in this.”

Seonghwa, who is already radiating an intense energy that will be overflowing at any second, swiftly interrupts, “Sorry, but I was talking to San and he said you had the Scream tape?”

Yeosang nods. “Yeah, it’s in my bag. Oh! You must be the coworker he is borrowing it from?”

“That’s right. I just need to see it for a second please.”

“Sure,” He turns around, scooping his bag off the ground which it had been unceremoniously dumped on and pulls out the tape, handing it to Seonghwa. “There you go.”

“Thanks so much,” Seonghwa replies calmly.

He immediately pries his fingers into the slots and begins to unspool the tape, wildly tugging it out onto the ground. Everyone, including yourself, falls silent, watching as Seonghwa then drops the plastic shell onto the ground and begins to take the putter to it. His hair falls out of place as he beats the shit out of the VHS tape with the putter, the shell cracking from the sheer force at which he strikes it.

“This dude is wacked,” Mingi mumbles.

“I heard Scream was a good movie,” Jongho says, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Guess we won’t find out now,” Yeosang replies dryly, “I suppose we’re watching Mystery Science Theater 3000 tonight.”

Seonghwa exhales, his cheeks puffing out while doing so, tossing the putter to the ground while scooping up the remains of the VHS tape. He runs his fingers through his hair although it doesn’t fix it.

“Thanks guys. Have a good night.” Seonghwa says as if he just didn’t go postal in the middle of the minigolf course.

He glances at you before taking off back the way he came. You give an apologetic look at Yeosang, unsure what to say and settling on nothing. Following Seonghwa, who is still holding onto what little of the tape remained, with the cheery pop music playing over the sound of laughter and people talking, you aren’t sure if speaking right now would help him. Does he need comfort? Is he relieved? He showed no hesitation in destroying the tape immediately. Had that been his plan the entire night?

Luckily for the attendant working the entrance, the exit loops around the other side of the course, taking you both into the parking lot before Seonghwa can start bickering with him again. He drops the pieces of the plastic casing into the nearest trash can although he is still holding the film, wrapping it carefully around his slender fingers.

“Seonghwa,” You say tentatively and he stops, looking over at you.

In the lights of the parking lot, Seonghwa is a slim figure with his black hair glowing. His breathing is slightly uneven, his features not nearly as collected as they’ve been all night. There is something raw wiggling underneath the surface of his composure, something you desperately want to touch.

“I’ll take you back to your place now,” He says roughly, “Come on.”

You don’t know what to reply with so you merely nod. A few minutes later, the car is pulling out of the parking lot and back onto the main road. You quietly tell Seonghwa how to get to your apartment from here. The tape is in his lap, the film nestled like a snake in between his thighs. You wonder what he will do with it. Set it on fire, maybe. He seems intent on destroying it completely. You understand why but still feel a pain of regret in your chest. There would be no viewing the rest of the tape now.

You suddenly feel very tired. Between work and the entire events of the sex tape, you’re ready to crawl in bed and sleep in tomorrow. You lean back in the seat, staring idly out the window. The radio is playing music quietly and Seonghwa doesn’t say a word. You still get the sense he is wrangling himself in. Does he do that all the time? Why bother? Why shield yourself from people to the extent he does? You see his smile from the tape in your mind once again. To your surprise, you feel a spark of jealousy buried in your chest. His ex got to see the real Seonghwa while you’ve been seeing his façade. You want to know him like that. You want to touch him like that.

The silent admission to yourself is unsettling. It’s been ages since you’ve wanted someone. Your attraction to Seonghwa earlier this week seems easier to digest when you thought your personalities wouldn’t be compatible. But his words outside the minigolf course were correct – those few minutes of him on your TV screen are making something deep inside you stir.

The streetlights swim lazily across Seonghwa as he drives silently. They blend in with his white sweater before appearing on his tanned skin, small pools of light that travel over his body before eventually being lost behind the car.

When he parks at your apartment complex, he goes, “I’ll walk you to your door.”

This time, you don’t refuse. Back into the cold air, you stop at the outskirts of the pool near the staircase to the second floor.

“Seonghwa,” You say again, your hand resting against the cold metal of the banister, “Now that you got the tape, and everything is sorted out, I really –”

“Don’t,” He says swiftly, “You’re going to apologize again. It isn’t your fault. I already told you that.”

“I know what you said,” You are two steps up on the staircase, looking slightly down at Seonghwa, whose hand is inches from yours on the banister, “But outside of the golf course…”

“Was I too harsh?”

“I just don’t understand why you’re pretending all the time,” You say after a beat of silence, “When I met you earlier this week, you were pleasant enough. But it’s obvious that isn’t what you’re really like. Just the few minutes of the tape showed that to me. And I’ve caught it once or twice before, at work, when you are obviously shoving your real self back down. Throughout tonight, I’ve seen glimpses of who you actually are – the quick lying, the flashes of irritation, your nerves at someone seeing the tape…I just don’t understand why you hide it everywhere but on a VHS tape.”

There. You said what you’ve been thinking the whole night. Seonghwa’s face doesn’t change the entire time you speak. But you aren’t fooled by it anymore.

Seonghwa places his feet on the first step of the staircase. He’s extremely close to you now; his body’s warmth seeps into your skin. You fight the urge to place your hands against his chest to pull on his sweater so that he will kiss you.

You aren’t sure what his reply was going to be but you aren’t prepared for the way his voice drops to almost a murmur. “You’re really intrigued about the tape, aren’t you? I wonder what makes you so curious. It is the idea of letting the camera see all of you for who you truly are? Is it just the idea of fucking and recording it that you find so compelling? Maybe both.”

You’ve gone still, frozen in surprise at the words leaving his mouth. He leans forward, his lips so close to your ear that your heart skips a beat. “Do you regret turning the tape off when you did? Your conscience prevailed; you did the morally right thing in a few minutes. Others would have watched the entire thing. But some part of you wishes it kept it running so you could watch me fuck my ex, listen to what we talked about. You know, I was so focused on getting rid of the tape, I don’t even know what one this one contains. We filmed so many,” He lingers on the last word as your brain fills up with mental images of tape after tape of Seonghwa, “What happened in the first few minutes of the tape?”

Shakily, you manage to whisper, “You were on a beach. And then in a diner. Finally, a hotel room.”

You don’t see Seonghwa smile but you can feel it, like an arrow in the dark, so fast that the sensation is gone in a second. “The vacation tape,” He pauses and continues, “I prefer being on film. Being seen. I feel comfortable and at ease. The camera misses nothing. The lens cuts through everything. All the noise and the bullshit. It isn’t about watching it back later. It isn’t about sharing it. I fill a tape, shove it in the collection. Destroy them when the relationship ends. Rinse and repeat. It’s about capturing that one moment and putting it on film. Everything when the camera isn’t on feels like bullshit. I feel like bullshit.”

“Why?”

Seonghwa shakes his head. “Dunno. Just always have. I only exist when the camera is on. Otherwise, I can’t be myself. Been that way forever. I’ll ask you again – did you regret turning the tape off?”

It doesn’t even enter your mind to lie. “Yes.”

“You wanted to watch me fuck my ex? Or did you want to be on that tape with me?”

Your body is growing hot all over. You wish Seonghwa would touch you. His hand is so close to yours that you would settle for him just to brush his fingers against your skin.

�� “Yes,” You whisper so quietly that if he weren’t so close to you, it would have been impossible to hear. You aren’t even sure what question you’re answering. Maybe it is both.

But Seonghwa pulls away abruptly then. With his warmth gone, it feels like a hole has opened in your chest. He runs his fingers through his hair but you take note of the slightly uneven way he is breathing. You want to grab him, see him for who he really is with no pretenses, have the camera lens on his body while he –

“I need to get home. I won’t be able to relax until I finish destroying the film,” His eyes trail along your body quickly and it feels deeply personal to have Seonghwa look at you in such a manner, “Goodnight.”

You don’t want him to go. You want him to follow you to your apartment and fuck you silly. But he turns around and in a couple of seconds, he has rounded the corner, leaving you alone with your thoughts, your desires and the briefest glimmer of the man Seonghwa truly is.

Monday, October 13th, 1997

“You gonna explain why Seonghwa opened up a can of whoop-ass on a VHS tape in the middle of a minigolf course on Saturday night or am I not privy to that information?”

You stifle a groan, unable to duck and dodge San any longer. You had yesterday off, which didn’t end up being as fun as it sounded, due to the fact all you did was lay in bed running the events of Saturday night over and over in your head.

And you still hadn’t come up with any sort of realistic story to tell San about the tape especially since Seonghwa had opted to destroy it with a minigolf putter.

“It’s complicated,” You finally settle on.

San’s eyebrows shoot upwards. “Complicated? Should I be concerned about your little work crush? Could he be a little…unwell?”

“He’s not unwell,” You say defensively, “It’s just complicated. Can you just drop it, please? It was his tape, after all.”

“Just makes no sense. You said the situation had to do with you. But why did Seonghwa go postal on the tape like that?”

You’re starting to get a headache. You’ve had way too much coffee before coming into work and your nerves are frazzled between the idea of seeing Seonghwa and how much time you’ve spent analyzing his words to you Saturday night before he left. Yes you told him on the staircase, yes you wanted to watch the entire tape, yes you wanted to see him have sex with his ex and yes, you wanted to be on film with him. A jarring admission, one that you’re still grappling with.

“San, my break ended a few minutes ago. Just please, for the sake of our friendship, I’m asking you to drop the entire thing.”

He holds his hands up in a gesture of innocence. “Fine. Consider it dropped. However, it is not forgotten.”

“I’ll take it, thanks,” You reply, heading quickly to the exit. “Listen, I’ll help you with inventory sometime this week, okay?”

“You’re just sucking up to me.”

“Yes, but you hate inventory,” You fire back over your shoulder.

“I do so I’ll accept it!” He calls after you.

Back in the store, you meander your way towards to the women’s clothing department. Part of you is desperate to run into Seonghwa while the other part is dreading it. What do you even say to him? Just a simple hello? How can you look him in the face knowing his entire personality is carefully curated bullshit to hide who he really is? How can you talk to him after what he said to you last night? How can you hold a conversation when you are so desperate to have him?

You end up avoiding the shortcut through the men’s clothing section. Even so, your eyes carefully scan the area for any sight of him among the racks of ugly dresses and t-shirts. Once you’re safely in the dressing rooms, reorganizing and cleaning out the mess people leave behind, you relax slightly.

You wanted to watch me fuck my ex? Or did you want to be on that tape with me?

Seonghwa’s words bang around in your brain no matter how much you try to push them away. Even as you go through the motions of work, your mind lingers on how warm his body was so close to yours on the stairs, the low timber of his voice in your ear, and how he saw through you and all your pretenses.

In fact, you’re so swept up in work and your thoughts, that you don’t realize Seonghwa is in the dressing room area until he says your name. Flinching in surprise, you look over your shoulder.

He stands there in his blue work vest, his arms so full of clothes that it looks like they could spill onto the floor at any second. Seonghwa’s face is beautifully impassive. You get the sense he has also been avoiding you.

“Wanted to drop off all the women’s clothes that ended up in the men’s dressing rooms before my shift ends,” He explains in a clipped tone.

“Right. Thanks.” You move closer, trying to take the clothes from him.

But there is simply too much and a good portion falls onto the floor. Your hands brush against his in the mess of fabric, sending your heart racing so quickly that it almost makes your chest hurt. Seonghwa is staring at you through his long lashes although his eyes dart away when yours meet his.

You manage to wrangle a good chunk of the clothes away, tossing it onto the small table at the end of the hallway that you use to organize them. “You can just dump the rest here.”

Seonghwa does so and then an awkward silence settles across the empty dressing rooms. The store closes in ten minutes. You didn’t think you’d be seeing Seonghwa at all today. We filmed so many he had whispered, teasing you with the mental images of whatever lurked on those tapes.

“Do you want any help?” He offers.

“I got it, thanks,” You say quickly, knowing the longer he stands next to you, the higher chance there is at the conversation going sideways.

His fingers are touching one of the t-shirts, his expression unfocused. “I wanted to apologize.”

You hesitate and then go, “For what?”

“I was pretty…intense Saturday night. I also talked to you out of line at the end there,” He swallows, staring at the pile of clothes as if they were a fascinating creature, “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”

You feel stuck. It would be simpler to accept the apology and put the entire thing in the past. But a much larger part of you has shifted since discovering what Seonghwa is really like, brought to life by his words and the images on the tape, growing louder every passing moment. It is difficult to ignore these new feelings inside your chest.

“It’s all good. It was a stressful situation. I think it would make anyone start trippin although San is asking questions and I have nothing to tell him. It is a little harder to come up with a story when you…beat the shit out of the tape in front of everyone.”

“Yeah,” He looks at you sheepishly. “I lost my cool for a sec.”

“Cracked your pleasant exterior there,” You joke quietly.

His lips twist up into a smile for a brief second. You’re feeling hot all over, knowing it would be far easier just to let the conversation stop here. Easier to return to the way things were before the tape. Let Seonghwa be a work crush and nothing else.

“But, uhm,” You pick up a shirt, carefully folding it so that you don’t have to look at him, “I didn’t mind how you talked to me. At the end of the night.”

Seonghwa’s breathing changes slightly, something you wouldn’t have noticed a few days ago. But it is as if viewing the tape, learning about who he is and spending Saturday night with him has synced you up to Seonghwa in a new way.

“Is that right?” He finally replies, his voice even and without emotion.

“Yeah, I’ve been…thinking about what you said,” Your voice trembles slightly, betraying your nerves.

Seonghwa moves ever so slightly closer to you. Relief swoops through your body at his close proximity. “What about it?” He murmurs.

You take in a small breath and go, “I was thinking about asking you to come over. Tomorrow night.”

He hesitates for a small second. “To your place?”

“Yeah. I mean. If you’d want.” You are a mixture of anxiety and desire.

But you push through it to look at Seonghwa’s face. You recognize the expression this time – he is teying to maintain his calm exterior, aware that he is at work and in a public setting.

“Should I bring anything?” He asks in a forced nonchalant voice.

Your grip tightens on the shirt. After spending all day trying to dodge Seonghwa, you can’t believe how you’re cracking after a couple of minutes around him. But perhaps avoiding him was your own way of denying what you wanted.

“Maybe your camera,” You say with forced casualness.

But the words seem to crack Seonghwa. He moves closer to you, just as close as the time on the staircase. In a strangled voice, he goes, “You’re not making fun of me, are you?”

Surprised, you exclaim, “What? No, not at all.”

His hand reaches out for you but then thinks better of it. Falling back to his side, he flexes his fingers. His voice drops to a whisper. “I work a closing tomorrow but I’ll come over afterwards.”

You’re done work at five tomorrow which gives you plenty of time to get ready for…whatever you’re getting into. Seonghwa’s gaze is heavy, his energy buzzing. You want to push him, crack him open fully so that you can experience what he is like without any barriers…and maybe you want the same thing for yourself too. You want to know what it would be like being stripped away of all things you carefully hide behind without even realizing it. You just didn’t know that such a thing was so desired until you saw Seonghwa on that tape.

You nod, wanting to say more but nerves getting the best of you. He pulls away, trying to control his breathing. There is a slight flush of colour creeping up his neck. You get a vivid mental image of being on top of him, your hands against his chest, taking him fully inside you –

Quickly, you look away, afraid your thoughts might be all over your face. Seonghwa wishes you a goodnight, leaving the dressing rooms quickly before the energy crackles and explodes, spilling out into work.

He works so hard to keep everything separate, after all.

Tuesday, October 14th, 1997

You’re looking out the window of the living room, staring at the unremarkable view. The neon of the Taco Bell sign washes over the street, bathing the cars in the bright colour for a second or two as they drive by. You can just make out the interior, a swirl of pink, blue and purple, like a little lighthouse in the night.

You don’t think you’ve never felt so nervous staring at Taco Bell before.

It’s past ten which means Seonghwa will be here in about twenty minutes. Having invited him on a whim, driven by a combination of lust and curiosity, you’re now dealing with the reality of what you suggested. In asking him to bring his camera, you’ve basically admitted to him and yourself that you want to see what filming together would be like. And while you’re aware that you can change your mind and tell him to forget it once he arrives, the truth of the matter is that you don’t want to do such a thing.

Your attraction to Seonghwa has only been heightened since seeing the tape, and your own sexual exploration seemed to be spilling out of you with a mighty need. As nervous as you feel, you also have no interest in denying it any longer.

You aren’t sure how long you stare out the window, spacing out, but a soft knock at the door startles your thoughts away. Exhaling slowly, you cross the small living room, opening the front door to see Seonghwa standing there.

He’s wearing a very colourful button up tucked into a pair of blue jeans. A bag is slung over his shoulder and his hair is a little messy from the chilly wind. Your heart skips a beat violently at the sight of him.

“Hey. Oh, uh, come in,” You say awkwardly, moving to the side as Seonghwa walks past, “How was work?”

“Fine, the usual. You know how it is. I like your place.”

You blink. “Really? I don’t think it’s anything exciting.”

He glances over his shoulder. “Well, I didn’t say it was exciting. I just like how comfortable it looks.”

“Thanks. How are you doing with unpacking your own place?”

Seonghwa places the bag on the coffee table while replying, “Besides the mishap with the tape, it has been uneventful.”

He speaks of the tape so candidly now although given the circumstances, why wouldn’t he?

“Did you and your ex live together long?” It no longer felt awkward to mention his last relationship – so much is different now with Seonghwa.

“We did although that seemed to be our undoing. Only lasted a few months after we moved in together,” He replies while turning to face you. “For the sake of honesty, I haven’t been with anyone else since my relationship ended. Does that bother you?”

“No because I haven’t either. I find those things…distracting. I just was focusing on work and other things in my life.”

“Am I a distraction?”

“What?”

He repeats himself.

Your cheeks grow warm. “I mean – technically, yes.”

Seonghwa is fighting off a smile. You can tell by the way he tilts his face away from your direction to look at your TV.

“Do you want anything to drink?” You offer.

“Just some water is fine, thanks.”

“Alright. Uh, please sit down. Don’t feel like you need to stand there.”

You scamper out of the living room, wishing your nerves would settle. Now that he is here, you feel scattered. Your attraction to him has grown tenfold in the last few days and you can’t remember the last time you’ve wanted someone this much.

Returning with a couple of glasses of water, you sit down next to Seonghwa on the couch. Desperate to fill the silence, you turn on the TV, immediately blasted with a Surge ad.

“Listen,” Seonghwa says after a few minutes, “We don’t have to do anything tonight. I don’t want you to think I went into anything with expectations.”

Hurriedly, you reply, “I know that.”

“I understand you’re curious because the concept is new to you. But that doesn’t mean you’re going to be into it.”

You turn to face him, your fingers wrapped around your glass of water. Seonghwa tilts his head in your direction.

“I am curious,” You say quickly, “And I don’t really understand why. I’ve never thought about something like that until I saw those few minutes of the tape. And I…” You swallow, feeling shy. “Well, I only think about it with you. I was attracted to you right away but…you seemed so…nice. As if there wasn’t a lot going on underneath the surface. So, I assumed the attraction would never deepen. But after I saw the tape…I felt like I saw you.”

“And?” He prompts.

“And I was intrigued. At you. At the idea of filming stuff like that. The idea of a camera around, catching all these private moments. I started realizing how much you pull yourself under control, how you’re wearing a mask all the time.”

“Everyone wears a mask in public. Most people just don’t realize it.”

“You think I’m realizing it now then?”

“Maybe. I don’t want to speak over your feelings or pretend I know what you’re thinking of. But yes, you’re right about me. I struggle with being vulnerable, being myself. I always switch into this false personality. I don’t even mean to do it.”

“But you don’t do it while recording.”

“That’s right. Something about seeing that little red light on switches it off.”

“And what about…” Your shyness deepens.

“Filming myself having sex?” After you nod, Seonghwa goes, “It just turns me on. Makes sex better. Makes me more relaxed. In that moment of filming, I feel free. Capturing those moments of pleasure…it feels crucial to my enjoyment.”

“Has everyone you’ve been dating into it too?”

“After I realized how much I like it, yeah. When the relationship ends, I destroy all the tapes. Just out of respect. Recording it isn’t really about watching it back anyway. It’s just about that moment of filming the intimacy of it.”

You fall silent, battling more questions and your ever growing desire for Seonghwa. He turns his attention back to the TV, although you get the feeling he really isn’t engrossed in the episode of NYPD Blue playing. Your eyes land on the large bag he brought.

Could you record yourself sleeping with Seonghwa? Knowing that moment would be captured on a tape with him? It’s all you have been thinking about since discovering Seonghwa’s secret. But now that you can make it a reality, your nerves are still battling for dominance.

“Could I see it?” You ask suddenly, “The camera, I mean.”

“Sure,” He replies, leaning forward and pulling the bag towards him.

Unzipping the bag, he pulls out a large and chunky camcorder, resting it in his lap. He runs his fingers along the side where the spot for the tape opens while saying, “I was reading that they’re making these new cameras that are apparently a lot smaller and would be digital, if you could imagine such a thing. Would make filming a lot easier than this heavy thing.”

“So you don’t…hold it during…”

He laughs. “No. I just plop it down on a table or something during sex. But if the digital cameras end up truly becoming a thing, I suppose I could hold it during sex. Or you could,” He immediately realizes what he casually said and looks embarrassed. “Not that I meant – I don’t mean to assume that we would sleep together. Or you would be comfortable filming anything.”

You reach for the camera, grabbing it out of his lap and into your own, studying it. It isn’t as though it’s your first time holding such a thing but it has been a while. “How do you start recording?”

“You insert the tape and then press this button,” He leans closer, showing you where it is located.

You study his face, eyes lingering on his lips. “Where’s the tape?”

Seonghwa meets your gaze for a beat before moving away to retrieve it from the bag. He presses a button, the side popping out so he can insert the VHS tape. Snapping it shut, he says, “Then you can hit record. Each tape can roughly film for two hours.”

You hesitate for a moment before reaching for the camera. Your fingers touch his, an electric vibration that sparks along your skin. You can hear Seonghwa’s breath catch slightly but he relinquishes the camera. You look into the camera’s viewfinder while popping the cover off the lens.

You know what you want – Seonghwa and the exploration the recording will bring. Even though it is something you’ve never thought of until that moment you saw Seonghwa on your TV, with his beautiful smile, toned chest and low voice talking dirty, it seems to have awakened something deep inside you. Something that won’t rest, won’t stop, until you explore your desires.

You press down on the record button, making sure Seonghwa is in frame. You know he can see the red light, aware that you’re recording.

“Tell me about the first time you filmed yourself having sex,” You ask bluntly.

Seonghwa raises an eyebrow although the chuckle he emits makes it clear he isn’t offended. “You interviewing me now?”

“A little.”

“It actually wasn’t my idea, if you can believe it. My girlfriend at the time brought it up to me one night after she noticed how much I liked recording home movies.”

“Did she notice how comfortable you seemed on camera?”

“Yeah, she did. It felt like a natural progression to me like oh, why hadn’t I thought of it? I was always trying to get in front of the camera ever since I can remember. But she was the first one to suggest taking it that far.”

“Were you nervous?”

“No.” Seonghwa looks relaxed now. The tension you hadn’t even realized he carried has now softened, his shoulders are lowered while he leans against the couch, still facing you. His hair grazes against his cheek from the angle. You catch yourself admiring his face, the slope of his nose, how his fingers rest in his lap. “No, I felt comfortable right away. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You ever think about filming yourself having sex before?”

“No, absolutely not.”

“Not until my tape.”

“That’s right.”

“You like filming me?” He asks and after you nod, he goes, “This time, you don’t have to shut it off before it gets to the good part.”

“A little cocky now, don’t you think?”

He gives a casual shrug. This is the Seonghwa you saw on the TV – relaxed, confident, letting each emotion come easily without judgement. This is the Seonghwa you’ve wanted.

You lean back against the couch, the camera still recording in your lap while motioning to the front of the TV. “Why don’t you show me how comfortable you are in front of the camera?” You can hardly believe the words after you say them. I guess it isn’t just Seonghwa who shows new sides of himself to the camera.

But Seonghwa only grins at your request, getting up and standing in front of the TV. He pulls the colourful shirt from the confines of his jeans, his fingers swiftly undoing the buttons to expose a thin white tank top underneath. Your heart rate is already accelerating at the sight of the fabric resting against his taunt stomach.

“Is this what you wanted?” He teases and your thighs clench at the fact you’re hearing that tone of voice being used on you now.

“Don’t be coy.”

Another grin. Yes, Seonghwa is correct – that little red light on from the camera changes him entirely. He shrugs out of the shirt, exposing his shoulders before it falls to the floor. Wearing just the tank top now, he hooks his thumbs into the front of his jeans, staring at you with an expression that looks almost devious.

“What?” You say defensively.

His grin widens. “Nothing. You’re just obvious.”

“What does that mean?”

“Come here and I’ll show you.”

You stand up, holding the heavy camera while ambling towards him. He reaches for the camera, taking it out of your hands and placing it on the top of the TV stand, giving the lens a view of your faces down to just under your shoulders.

After he finishes positioning the camera, Seonghwa turns his attention back to you. He is as close to your body as he was the other night on the stairs. Your breathing is uneven, aware of the camera on you, aware of everything you’ve been secretly thinking about is going to come to fruition.

“See?” He murmurs.

“What?”

Seonghwa smirks while running one finger down along your arm and your body shivers in response. “That. How much you want me.”

“Well, some of us aren’t experts at hiding ourselves all the time,” You counter.

His lips hover just above yours, hands coming up to cup your cheeks. Your body is screaming for Seonghwa, your brain buzzing with need, lips parted in anticipation.

There is no witty retort from him. Instead, Seonghwa kisses you. Softly at first, enough to shake the centre of you. His lips against yours makes you feel slightly delirious as if not realizing you were dying of thirst. The camera’s gaze remains steady on both of you while the kiss continues. His tongue slips past your lips, exploring your mouth so tenderly that your hands hold onto the band of his jeans to steady yourself.

Your whimper is muffled against the kiss, face warm, body responsive to this man you’ve only known for a week – and only truly known for a few days. Seonghwa’s hands are in your hair as yours circle around his small waist, pressing him against your body. He is stiff in his jeans but still his hands travel downward until they rest on your ass, squeezing it. The kiss continues, growing deeper, hungrier, breaking briefly so you can pull off his tank top.

You are pressing your hands against his hard stomach, running up along his chest until curling them around his shoulders, breathless at the sight of him. His skin is warm, inviting, and the sight of him in just his jeans is incredibly sexy.

�� Seonghwa brings his face to your neck, kissing along there while his grip on your ass tightens. Your eyes flutter closed for a second. The barriers of your clothing are becoming an annoyance now. You want more of him, you want all of him.

When you open your eyes, they land on the camera. A silent observer, missing nothing, no judgement to be found.

“Seonghwa,” You whisper and he stops, pulling away just enough to look at you. His eyes are hazy with lust, lips parted prettily. “Come with me to my room,” You pause for a second before adding, “And bring the camera.”

In your room, the camera is once again propped onto the top of the TV which gives it the perfect angle of the bed. When originally purchasing the second TV at a yard sale, a friend had questioned needing another one. Now, you’re grateful for it – where else would the camera filming the two of you go?

You are still fully dressed, something Seonghwa looks to rectify from the way he gently nudges you into view of the camera while he stands behind you.

His hands are on your waist, skittering upwards until your shirt is pulled off, tossed onto the nearby dresser. In just your bra and sweatpants now, acutely aware of the camera, your breathing grows uneven. Seonghwa’s hands continue to travel, now onto your bra, squeezing your breasts together. He is kissing along your neck once again, his lips a soft whisper along your skin.

He tugs down on the bra, exposing your tits not only to his hands but to the camera as well. The entire thing feels more intimate than any other sexual encounter you’ve had before; the camera adds to the feeling as strange as it sounds in your head.

Seonghwa’s hands are warm. He cups your breasts, thumbs brushing across your nipples. You’re soaking wet, overwhelmed by the desire you’re experiencing for him. He rolls your nipples in between his fingers, pinching them a little, allowing the camera to take in the sight of him groping you like this.

You tilt your face in his direction and his lips find yours once again. You like how Seonghwa tastes in your mouth – it is familiar, almost as if you’ve kissed him before, kissed him a thousand times. When he pulls away, the look in his eyes is heavy, laced with lust and stripped away from any pretenses he usually carried so close to him.

You brush his hands away from your body, instead grabbing him by the waist band of his jeans, moving him closer to the camera on the top of the TV. Unbuttoning his jeans, you rub him through the denim, taking note of the way his breathing catches.

You lean towards the camera, moving it to the shelf underneath the TV, giving the lens a perfect view of you on your knees in front of Seonghwa. You look up at him, unzipping his pants and pulling them down until his boxers are exposed.

The camera can’t catch his facial expression but you can see it – the way he looks at you with his plump lips slightly parted, his eyes dancing across your hands down to your breasts. It isn’t just giving yourself over to him, it’s giving yourself over to the camera too.

Your hands rub against the bulge in his boxers, feeling the warmth through the fabric. Your hands dip into the band of his boxers, pulling it down until his cock springs free. Gently wrapping your hand around him, you bring your tongue across the head, sweeping across it once, twice, three times. Seonghwa exhales slowly while you begin to pump his cock, looking up at him. The camera’s gaze is steady on the two of you, the moment you take his length into your mouth captured on film.

Your tongue presses against the tip of his cock for a few seconds before taking more of him, filling your mouth with his length. Your other hand goes to his balls, fondling them while your tongue presses along the underside of his shaft.

Spurned on by the soft noises of pleasure that escape Seonghwa, you begin to bob on his cock. Sometimes, he pops out of your mouth, the tip of him a sticky sweet mess of your salvia and his precum. It glistens in the low lights before you take him once again, as much as you can. You enjoy the way he fills your mouth, stretches out your lips with his thickness.

Seonghwa’s eyes close, his head rolling back as a guttural groan topples from in between his pink lips before he curses sharply and pulls away. His cock slides out, precum smearing against your cheek.

With a small shake of his head, he goes, “I don’t wanna finish. I want to feel you wrapped around me.”

Seonghwa helps you up, scooping the camera off the shelf and back onto the top of the TV. This time he puts more care into the angle, asking you to sit on the bed while he looks through the viewfinder until he looks pleased with it.

“Look at you, big shot director,” You tease at one point.

He raises his eye from the viewfinder. “Hey, it’s your debut,” Seonghwa says gravely but the twinkle in his eyes makes it evident he’s joking. “Lay sideways on the bed for me, will you?”

“Yes, sir,” You are still poking at him.

When he seems satisfied, Seonghwa circles back to the bed. He crawls up along your body, stopping to remove your sweatpants and underwear. You’re completely naked with him on camera now while his lips travel across your stomach, stopping at your breasts. His tongue flicks over your nipples and he gently bites down on one, tugging on it with his teeth just to hear you gasp.

Seonghwa is skin to skin with you, not an inch in between your bodies as he finally kisses your lips. Your legs curl around his waist urgently, tugging on his bottom lip with your teeth until he groans in response.

It is simple to enter your pussy, having been wet for Seonghwa since he stepped foot inside your apartment. His length fills you swiftly until his hips touches yours. The next kiss is messy, a mixture of muffled moans and whimpers as Seonghwa goes still, allowing you to get used to the sensation of being filled with his cock.

His hands snake up along your arms, gently pinning your hands above your head, just at the edge of the mattress. Almost lazily, Seonghwa rocks his hips. The motion is small, just enough to send shocks of warmth and pleasure through your body. You groan out his name in a plea for him to move faster but he doesn’t obey.

“Sorry, my boo, but I’ve been thinking about this all week and I want to take my time,” Seonghwa declares, your hands entwined together, “I saw the way you looked at me when we first met, saw the disinterest flicker across your face when I drove you home the first time.” He moves his hips, pulling almost completely out of your hole. “And I went home that night and thought about inviting you over, teasing your body until you crumbled and begged for me.” He thrusts now, all the way back inside, until your hips meet once more and you gasp, your fingers curling around his for something to hold onto.

You can recall the memory, the way you mused that Seonghwa was too pleasant, too kind in that sort of neutral, placid way that meant even though he was beautiful, he faded to the background of your memory. But there is your side of things too…

“Your veneer isn’t perfect,” You counter with a small gasp when he rocks his hips again, “Maybe to others but not to me.”

“Is that right?” He growls.

Breathlessly, you explain, “I got the feeling multiple times you were holding back, hiding parts of yourself. You were so restrained all the time.” You remember the moment in the breakroom where he flattened his hand against his knee, wrangling himself under control. “But sometimes, I would see pieces. It made me want to crack those parts open, see you.”

Seonghwa is moving your legs now, sliding his arms under them so that they fold closer to your chest. He is still as near to you as he can get physically. But the angle change is intense and you grab the edge of the bed, gasping as he begins to pump his cock deeper into your cunt.

“And now?” He prompts but you can’t focus on the conversation anymore, not when his cock feels this good and he’s finally fucking you at a pace that only heightens the desire and pleasure. After your garbled moan, Seonghwa goes, “I’ll take that as your answer.”

Your eyes flutter open, the red light from the camera like a spotlight. This moment - captured either forever or until Seonghwa and you were to break apart. Tiny parts of yourself, combined with Seonghwa, in this intimate moment for the camera lens.

Your thighs shake, your pussy tightening around Seonghwa’s cock as your orgasm approaches. He keeps up the steady pace, the bed shaking with every thrust, your legs bouncing with each jerk of his hips. Your knuckles are white from clutching the edge of the bed, your bedsheets tangled around your fingers as Seonghwa pistons his cock into your wet cunt.

And then your orgasm begins, Seonghwa’s name a shattered piece of glass on the tip of your tongue as your hips meet his. The pleasure blots out everything; it is so exquisite that you lose yourself entirely to him.

Seonghwa pulls out, allowing you to stretch out your legs. “I want to fuck you from behind,” He says, his hands on your thighs, “Will you let me?”

You know that means facing the camera, allowing it to capture every expression on your face. You nod and Seonghwa helps you get into position on all fours, your ass in the air and hands pressed against the bed. He runs his hands over your ass before tugging you down a little, towards his cock.

“Seonghwa,” You say, looking over your shoulder at him. His hair is messy, his breathing rough, but all his protections over his personality are gone. He looks sexy, inviting, warm, all yours. “I want you to finish in me.”

He stops for a moment, glancing up at you before nodding. You turn back to the camera while he enters you once again. You gasp loudly – he feels much different from this angle and your eyes almost roll back into your head from how amazing it is. Seonghwa doesn’t stop this time. He immediately begins to pump and you curse roughly as his hips smack against yours.

One hand reaches for your hair, pulling it on it in a sharp tug, keeping your head up so that the camera captures your ever changing facial expressions. You like that it’s being filmed, both you and Seonghwa’s faces being recorded as you chase the pleasure your bodies can give.

He grunts out your name as he fucks you, releasing his hold on your hair so that he can grip your waist. Your hands shake and you finally relent, lowering your front half onto the bed. This allows him to fuck your cunt even deeper. You’re cursing loudly, begging him to keep going because you’re going to cum again. He doesn’t stop and you’re sure that the camera is going to show a thin layer of sweat across his forehead from how quickly Seonghwa’s hips snap into yours, his balls smacking against your ass, your wet pussy taking him easily.

Your hands grip the bed sheets, face down in the bed now, trying to muffle how much noise you’re making because of the neighbors. Seonghwa is grunting, panting, his fingers digging into your soft flesh as his cock pounds into your sopping wet hole.

Your orgasm starts suddenly, without any warning, and your back arches. You bring your ass backwards, trying to meet his erratic thrusts. At the same time, Seonghwa groans out your name and it sounds like gravel against the bottom of a shoe. He begins to spill inside of your cunt. Together, you both cum, in full view of the camera. His warmth overflows and when he pulls out, you can feel him dripping out of your cunt.

Legs like jelly, you fall against the bed, completely exhausted. But Seonghwa slides off, reaching for the camera and bringing it onto the bed. He plops it briefly onto the sheets while his hands go to your hips, rolling you onto your back.

“What?” You mumble, slightly dazed.

“I want to see your cunt filled with my load,” He explains, bringing the camera close, peering through the viewfinder.

His other hand gently spreads your lips apart, showing his cum leaking out from in between your folds. It’s lurid, completely pornographic, and you find it thrilling.

“You’re a perv,” You tease him.

His finger dips into your cunt, scooping up some of his cum. His hand trails up along your body, along with the camera lens, and when his finger is against your lips, you open, sucking his cum clean off.

“And what are you then?” He says.

“Your new girlfriend,” You reply boldly.

Seonghwa pulls away from the viewfinder, his eyes meeting yours. In the now quiet room, the only noise is of his soft breathing mingling with yours. The past is wiped clean, replaced with the new tape, the collision of two people caught on camera, entwining together both physically and mentally.

“That sounds perfect to me,” is what he finally says and you can read in between the lines – you aren’t just privy to Seonghwa’s true self through a camera lens anymore. You get access to him all the time.

You smile up at him, fucked out completely and never been more content.

Seonghwa returns the look, his finger hovering over the button to stop recording.

“What do you want to do now?” He asks.

You think for a moment before going, “We should –”

And his finger presses the button, ending the tape.

the end.

#ateez fics #ateez smut #seonghwa fics #seonghwa smut #seonghwa x reader #kpop fic #video girl #100 notes #500 notes #1000 notes

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gyuzgrl · 13 days

Text

her //kmg//

summary- with your marriage in shambles, you find yourself at your wits end when Mingyu's infidelity comes to light. heated discussions ensue.

PLEASE WAIT FOR PT 2 I'M NOT LETTING HIM OFF THAT EASY !!!!

Mingyu never thought he'd end up here. As tears brim over your cheeks, hurt evident in your eyes, he feels his world collapse.

Sure, he'd only married you because his father arranged it, but as your relationship comes up on its first year, he's developed certain feelings towards you. Feelings you can never know of. Feelings he thought you'd never return.

Your marriage has never been a point of envy for those around you. It's common knowledge that you and Mingyu hate each other's guts. You've made your peace with this- or at least you thought you did, until this morning, when your breakfast was interrupted by an unexpected voice message.

'hi, it's me- um I think you left your tie at my place last night... d'you wanna come get it? I've uh, I've bought that set you told me to get last week. call me back, kay? see ya'

The words ring clear as day in your head, even now, as you sob into your palms, hunched over in bed.

Filled with dread, you waited for your husband to leave the house, heading to work. You knew he would've heard the message- her message- sometime during the day, and so, you waited.

Waited for the call-

"I'll be home late today- there's an issue that came up last minute. don't wait up."

There. That same excuse you've heard night after night, for months on end. Your heart breaks when you realise that Mingyu's probably gone to see her everytime he had to 'stay late at the office'.

Although you knew going into this marriage that there would be no love, no romance, you couldn't help but hope. Hope that one day your husband would wake up and realise that he's been in love with you all along. Hope that one day the fighting and screaming would cease. Hope that one day he'd look at you like you matter to him.

Hearing the practiced ease with which Mingyu lied to you, you felt your last straw snap. No love, you could deal with. No intimacy, you could self satisfy. But no respect? Taking you for a fool, playing around behind your back, lying? You've reached a new low.

What's worse is, despite knowing that he's in the wrong here, you can't help but wonder what she has that you don't. What can you do to make him love you? How can you make him want you?

Mingyu's neglect has done permanent damage to your self esteem, and now you find yourself caught in an endless loop of obsession.

Evening rolls around and you're alone, in your big apartment, surrounded by cold, white furniture. Your house is spotless. It's clean and neat and unfamiliar. You can't call this place home. Not when nobody really lives in it.

Tears threaten to spill from your eyes as your mind fills with thoughts of your husband's infidelity. He's smiled at her, undressed her, touched her. Fuck, he probably looks at her and sees the ghost of what could've been.

No, you tell yourself. You cannot possibly be crying over a man who doesn't care about you. Where is the self respecting woman you once knew? The one that would stand up tall, make her presence felt.

Hours pass by like this, and the house grows dark. You haven't moved from your position in bed- scrunched up, hugging your knees close. You haven't eaten all day. You haven't thought of anything but Mingyu's betrayal.

There's a sharp jangle of keys sticking into the door, and you know he's here. You can't bring yourself to move, can't be bothered to greet him like you usually do.

His bag lands on the couch outside with a dull thunk, and he makes his way to the bedroom.

You should move- pretend to be asleep so he doesn't try to say anything, turn to the side so he doesn't notice your pain- but you don't. You can't, rather.

Mingyu walks in, head hanging low. He notices your frame, hunched up on the mattress, and his shoulders tense.

"you're up" he says to you, as if to confirm.

You stay silent.

"y/n?"

More silence.

Flicking the lights on now, Mingyu takes a step towards the bed, now noticing the red hot flush of tears streaming down your face.

"hey what's-" he draws closer, arm reaching out to thumb away your tears, "you're crying,"

So you did end up crying.

All the mental pep talks you gave yourself about self respect and how he doesn't deserve your tears, clearly didn't do much.

You lift a hand to your cheeks, feeling the wetness of your tears.

"oh", is all you can manage, wondering when you started crying, sitting dumbly as if under some sort of spell. Your eyes, unfocused, stare blankly at the wall in front of you, and your lips begin to quiver.

"what's wrong? oh my g- please don't cry" Mingyu panics, reaching out to grab your face, but your words have him freeze.

"don't. don't touch me."

Your voice is a whisper, trembling like a leaf, but it carries a dangerous certainty.

He backs away instantly- "is everything oka-"

This time you turn to the side, facing him properly, and something within him just knows that you know.

"oh." he breathes, eyes flashing with guilt.

"when were you going to tell me?"

When he fails to respond, you push further, voice laced with a dangerous mix of hurt and rage.

"how long have you been seeing her for? goddammit Mingyu I know you don't love me- I know you aren't happy but god how could you do this to me? to us? you have to remember, I'm just a woman at the end of the day. I'm only human- fuck" you break off into a sob, letting your words, your emotions free. It was reckless- being so raw- but there's nothing to lose anymore...

You've already lost what little you thought you had.

Your watery, blank eyes tremble upwards to meet his, and you see his face contort with an unrecognizable kind of pain. You've never seen him like this before.

"whatever you wanted, whatever you needed- you could've taken it from me, I'm your wife Mingyu. god, I feel so fucking stupid waiting for you all this while to just love me- and you've been crawling into someone else's sheets? Do I disgust you so much that you won't even touch me to satisfy yourself? Do you hate me so mu-"

"don't you dare." Mingyu interrupts, jaw tensing, "you can call me a liar, a cheat, an asshole I don't care but don't you dare try and tell me how I feel- not when you don't fucking know anything."

Your brows pinch together, an insurmountable rage boiling inside you, and you rise to your feet, standing as you face your husband.

"oh, I, don't know anything? What about you then, Mingyu? What do you know that I don't? I'm telling you how I feel 'cause I fucking see it. I see the way you look at me with that unamused, tired look in your eyes, I see how you don't talk to me, I see how you leave your stupid fucking ties at some girl's house 'cause you'd rather fuck her than touch m-"

You can't bring yourself to finish your sentence. Somehow, saying what you already know, makes if feeler so much more real. You can't bear the thought of him not loving you, not wanting you.

"you think this is what I wanted? you think I wanted to look for someone else instead of touching you? fuck y/n after all the screaming and fighting, you think I didn't wanna reach out and hold you? everyday when I get home you think I don't wan- fuck do you really think I don't wanna talk to you and hear your voice and feel you?"

You shake your head, slightly afraid of how Mingyu's eyes have darkened, taking on a crazed hue.

"my arms would never have comforted you, y/n. You thought me a stranger. How could I touch you, knowing damn well you don't want me like I want you?" He stops, chest heaving with bottled emotions, and his words ring in your head.

'you don't want me like I want you'

Trembling hands ball into fists, punching his chest as tears stream down your face. How dare he? How dare he assume that you didn't want him- that you didn't love him?

"you fucking idiot" you sob, fat tears rolling down your cheek.

There's a short pause as Mingyu derives meaning from your words, and his eyes widen.

"y-you mean to say that you lo-" he chokes back a shudder when your hands grip at the fabric of his shirt in wordless confirmation. A hand wraps around your fist, pulling you closer, and your eyes widen.

"what are you doing-"

"what I should've done a long time ago."

A swift tug has you stumbling forward, right into him, and your lips meet. Mingyu's free hand splays against your lower back, dragging you nearer- as close as physically possible- while he devours you like a prisoner on death row receiving his last meal.

It's a messy, desperate kiss, but the sparks it sends flying over your body has your knees growing weaker and weaker. His lips cradle yours, sucking, tugging, pushing, as he holds you like there's no tomorrow. Tears prick your eyes once more, but this time it's different.

Now you can feel his emotions, feel his love.

The longing, the yearning he's felt all this while, comes pouring out into the points where your bodies connect. His touch sends fire burning all over you, chasing away your despair and replacing it instead with red-hot desire.

Mingyu's tongue pushes into you, licking at the seam of your mouth, circling your tongue as he discovers you in a way he never has before. You can't help but whimper at his actions, and you find yourself getting lost in him. No sound- other than your heartbeat, thudding in your ears- is audible to you. Nothing. It's as though you're underwater, and your hearing is muffled- except this time, it's him you're drowning in.

Aching lungs remind you that air is a necessity, and you both pull away, a string of saliva connecting your crimson lips to his. The rapid rise and fall of your chest tells Mingyu to give you time, but his body doesn't listen.

The taste of you is addictive.

He pulls you in once again, ignoring the helpless gasp you let out in response. Trailing up your back, Mingyu tangles his hand into your hair, letting his palm cradle the nape of your neck. The plush surface of his lips feel sinful against yours- leaving you in desperate need of more. His tongue swipes at the seam of your mouth and you let him in, giving him access once again.

The hand holding your wrist crawls up to your palm, interlacing his fingers with yours, and squeezing tight, as if to reassure you, as if to say- 'I'm right here, I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere'

"Mingyu," you breathe against his lips, "do you reall-"

You feel his lips quirk up into a smile, letting his canines show ever so slightly, and he moves down to your neck, right below your ear.

Sucking harsh, wet love bites into the sensitive skin, he whispers-

"I love you more than words could even begin to describe"

His breath ghosts over your ear, spreading goosebumps all around your body and you shudder at the sudden stimulation. Pulling back, you look him in the eye, lust and love brewing in your own.

"so show me"

It's as though you've awoken something within him- something he's been trying to tame, to control. There's a fire burning in his eyes, dancing with danger, with desire. Without warning, Mingyu pushes into you, closing the space between your bodies, and you let out a pitiful whimper.

"will you let me?" he takes in a sharp breath, feeling your body against his.

You stare up at him, wide-eyed, and nod. Mingyu taps at your thighs, and you jump right away, trusting him blindly to catch you.

"good girl-" he rasps as his hand travels down to squeeze the curve of your ass.

Mingyu sucks bruises into your skin- neck, chest, jaw- wherever he can, and you let him, not caring about who sees them. You tip your head down to do the same, but something stops you.

A bruise.

He tugs you back, searching your eyes.

"what's wrong?"

"she's kissed you here"

He sighs.

"we don't have to do this- I've j-"

"no! no I want to- I want this god I want this I just- can I do something first?"

He nods.

"anything you want, my love"

Mingyu places you back down and lets you push him onto the bed, laying him down on his back as you crawl on top of him. Stradling his waist, you begin to unbutton his shirt, letting the crisp white fabric fall slack against your fingers.

"you're mine now, you got that?"

"all yours baby, only yours" he breathes as you part his shirt.

Your eyes skim over the hickeys painted over his chest and your heart twists painfully in your chest. Unshed tears sting at your eyes, and immediately Mingyu sits up against the headboard, holding your face.

"I'm so sorry- I- fuck we shouldn't-"

"no."

"baby..."

"no- I want these-" you motion to the bruises on his chest, "I want these off of you"

Mingyu nods silently, leaning back against the headboard, and you continue your actions. Lowering your face to his throat, you find a red-ish splotch, and attach your lips to it, sucking into the tender skin so hard it breaks, leaving a purple bruise behind.

He winces as you move to the next one, sucking harder and harder each time, desperately trying to erase the past. Observing this, Mingyu's face softens. A gentle, guilty smile stretches past his lips and he brings a hand to pat the back of your head, tangling his fingers into your hair to pull you closer- flush against his bare chest.

A yelp escapes you as you lose your balance, falling forward into him. He wraps his arms around you, holding you still as he says-

"I'm yours," He squeezes around you, nuzzling into your neck, "I can't change the past, and I'm sorry for everything I've done- sorry for hurting you the way I did"

You can feel how rapidly his heart thuds against his chest, beating on the door of his ribcage as if it wants to be let out, as if it wants to jump out of his chest, into your hands.

"it hurts," you sniffle, "it really hurts"

His fingers rub soothing circles into your skin, trying to melt away your pain, feeling his own heart shatter into a million pieces. This is of his own doing, though. Only he is to blame.

"lemme make you feel good, hm? let me show you how much you really mean to me,"

You nod, letting him move you as he pleases, until you're under him, nestled comfortably between the pillows, with him hovering over you. The veins of his forearms tense deliciously as they hold his weight, and you feel your body grow hot.

Soft moans slip out of your mouth when he lowers his face into the crook of your neck, sucking red marks into you- gentle, yet firm. His lips suction your skin, teeth nipping at the chosen spot until your skin breaks, before letting his tongue soothe over the crimson bruise.

Like this, he carves a path down your neck to the collar of your shirt, stopping right at your cleavage.

"this okay, my love?" he stares up at you, one hand shifting to tickle the hem of your shirt

"mhm"

Gently, like you're made of glass, he undresses you, gasping when he realises that you're bare underneath.

Your skin catches him off-guard, and Mingyu finds himself transfixed. Like an anchorite discovering the face of God, he stares at you in wonder, in awe, finally feeling complete.

The intensity of his stare has you nervous, and you lift your arms to cover yourself.

"do-don't stare," you mumble, cheeks growing hot as his eyes burn holes into your skin.

"can't help myself- you're so beautiful,"

"Mingyu please," you whimper, feeling wetness pool between your legs, "I need you"

Feverish hands roam over you, and his head dips into the valley of your breasts, pressing soft, wet kisses to your skin. Mingyu closes in on your breast, letting his teeth nip gently at your hardened nipple, and you gasp, feeling your body light up at the motion.

He grins against you, repeating the action and you let out a trembling whimper.

"don't tease" you plead, threading your fingers through his hair, "need you so bad Gyu,"

"I could kiss you all my life and never get enough,"

Enough said. You tug him up, pushing your lips together once again in a messy kiss. Mingyu grinds into you, and you gasp at the prominent bulge poking out of his trousers. He uses this to his advantage, pushing his tongue into you, letting the wet muscle trace over the corners of your mouth as if to memorise every texture, every taste.

You chest flutters, and you whimper into his mouth, almost losing your composure when he begins to carve a path from your lips to your stomach, leaving gentle kisses down your collarbones, chest, tummy.

Stopping at the waistband of your shorts, Mingyu looks up at you, eyes practically begging that you allow him to undress you.

"please" you whisper, head tipping back into the pillows when his hands smooth down your sides, hooking under your shorts to pull them off. Keeping his eyes trained on yours, he tugs the fabric down, tantalisingly slow.

The sensuality, the intimacy of this act finally becomes known to you, when your eyes stay stitched together, as if connected by string.

Once you're left completely bare, at his mercy, he kneels.

At the foot of the bed, as if it is your alter, Mingyu kneels, letting your ankles rest on his broad shoulders. He presses tender kisses to your limbs; ankles, calves, thighs, making his way up to his very own pot of gold.

Liquid gold.

"baby you're dripping-" he groans, almost frustrated with how stunning you look, splayed out and wet, all for him.

His kisses inch closer and closer, moving from your thighs to the tender flesh right next to your sex.

You know what comes next.

"oh"

Your lips part, settling into an 'o' shape, when Mingyu licks a long, fat stripe up your slit, stopping at your clit to prod gentle circles with the tip of his tongue.

For a man who's hasn't as much as kissed you before, he sure knows how to work your body.

Perhaps you were just made for one another.

You feel the thick trickle of arousal seeping out of your hole, and Mingyu laps it up, letting his tongue dip into you slightly, curling up to cup every last drop.

"fuck you taste divine," he groans, voice low and gruff, "better than everything I've imagined-"

Your heart swells.

"you thought abou- f-fuck Mingyu right there"

He smirks against your cunt, humming a quick affirmation that sends a jolt up your spine.

"thought of you every night, wanted to hold you, feel you-"

You gasp, gulping thickly at his words, and your mind grows fuzzy, filled with cotton as you feel your body beginning to float away.

Mingyu brings his lips around your clit, suctioning the sensitive bud out of its hiding as his tongue laps at it. Your grip on his hair tightens, and your mouth hangs open- whimpers slipping out, beyond your control.

Without warning, Mingyu slips a finger into you, pushing his way in. Your back arches off the bed, and your hips snap up, but he holds you down, basking in the long drawn moan he manages to rip from your throat.

The stretch of your walls around his digit has you whimpering and writhing under him, and you can't help but wonder how big his cock is, how it would split you open for good if his fingers are already almost too much.

As if he read your thoughts, Mingyu winces at the way you suck him in.

"so fuckin' tight-" he gasps, jaw dropping in awe at how your tiny little cunt stretches to accomodate a single finger.

With the way Mingyu worked his tongue against you, and his finger into you, it's no wonder your orgasm begins to build. You feel your body tense, on the verge of release, limbs and stomach tightening as he works against you.

"please- don't sto- oh" you shudder when his tongue presses harder.

The great wave of pleasure rises, up and up, higher and higher, ready to come crashing down any moment now, when suddenly, he plunges a second finger into you, ripping your orgasm out of you with such force, your legs tremble as a string of moans and profanities leave your parted lips.

Mingyu scissors into you, fucking you through your orgasm, as your arousal drips down his fingers, down his wrist. Your legs shake uncontrollably as he pistons in and out of you, and you shudder.

"w-wait I'm still-"

"sensitive? mm I can tell" he smirks, lowering his face back to your cunt, tongue lapping at your juices eagerly.

He prods the muscle into you, bullying it's way beside his fingers to collect the remnants of your orgasm.

"fu-" you gasp, feeling your body convulse.

Cupping his tongue, Mingyu drags your wetness up your folds, spreading it over your clit before licking firm circles around the sensitive bud.

You moan, helplessly, and your body is ablaze, nerves standing on edge from the intensity of your previous orgasm.

As he continues his assault on your overstimulated sex, you feel another orgasm build at record speed.

Feeling you clench up around his fingers, Mingyu pushes harder, licking tighter circles into your clit, and you come undone within seconds- shocking both yourself and him.

"that's it, that's my good girl," he sighs, secretly in awe of how responsive you are to his touch.

He pulls his fingers out of you, and you whimper at the sudden loss.

"patience," he soothes, tongue trailing up his wrist to the tip of his finger, taking in your arousal.

Your breath hitches at his actions.

"you taste too fucking good to waste any of this"

Rising off the floor, he licks his lips, staring down at you with adoration painted plain as day on his handsome face.

His knee presses between your legs, and you feel the bed dip under his weight. Swift hands unbuckle his belt, undoing the clasp with one hand while the other works at his buttons.

Before you know it, Mingyu's pants are off, leaving him in plain black boxers and an opened shirt. He peels his top off, tossing it to the side, staring into your eyes.

"you can touch," he rasps, tugging you up to sit before his naked torso.

Your body listens before your brain can comprehend his words, and you let his hand pull your wrist up, placing your palm flush against his abs.

Your jaw drops.

He's rock solid. Years of hard work and dedication have defined the ridges of his muscles, and your mouth waters at the sight. You trace over each contour, each ridge, before turning your attention to his arms.

Those were another story altogether...

The thick, sturdy flesh of his biceps tense under your touch, rippling as your fingers pushing into them, testing how firm they really are.

answer: very.

Your nails rake down his arm, drawing over his veins, and he sucks in a sharp breath, feeling his cock grow painfully hard.

You notice, and tug his boxers off, gasping when you see his cock spring free.

It's huge. It's long and thick and veiny, flushed red at the tip with pent up energy. You bring your hand to stroke it as gently as possible, and he hisses, hips startling when you make contact with his dick

"baby," he pleads, using one hand to cup your jaw, tilting your head up to face him, "say it again"

You're confused for a moment before realisation hits.

He wanted you to say that you-

"I love you," you state, loud and clear.

His eyes darken, jaw tensing as he grits out, "again."

Mingyu pushes you down, laying you on your back, and you speak, voice meeker than before.

"I love you,"

He let's out a shaky breath.

"again"

"I love y-"your voice is a whisper now, cutting off into a stunned gasp when he pushes into you.

"oh my god," you tremble, your voice small and frail.

The girth of his cock is nothing like you've ever felt before- not with other men, not even with the toys you use. He eases himself into your tight cunt, going as slowly as his body let's him, and your eyes screw shut.

"uh uh, eyes on me,"

You look up at him, eyes wide as your brows scrunch up. Your jaw falls slack, and you can't stop your throat from opening up to release the filthiest sounds known to man.

"that's it, shh- takin' me so good," he shudders, eyes honed in on the way your face contorts in pleasure.

With each inch his pushes further, your thoughts disappear one by one, until all that's left is him.

"Mingyu" you choke out, nails clawing at his exposed back, "I love you"

Whatever seemed to have been holding him back snaps for good, and he bottoms out in one swift motion, earning a loud moan in response.

You feel your lungs burn as he pulls all the air out of you, feel how deep he is inside you.

Mingyu pulls out, leaving only the head of his cock inside you, before slamming back in, one hand on your hip, pulling your body closer, harder.

His head drops to the spot below your ear and he let's his teeth graze the delicate cartilage.

"I love you," he whispers, his breath sending shivers down your spine. "I love you so much,"

Angling his hips, he pulls your thighs up over his back, and his cock burrows deeper inside you, hitting a spot no one ever has before.

"Mingy- oh my godd" you drawl, voice shaking as he thrusts into you with force enough to power a tiny village.

The sheer girth of his cock has your walls pressing into him, squeezing so tight you can feel each ridge and furrow of his veins.

"so fuckin' perfect- m-made just for me-" His voice is a whisper. He pants into your ear, groaning everytime you squeeze around him.

The solid, steady snap of his hips into you has your head spinning. His size has you losing your mind, and soon enough, you're thoughts are limited to him.

"Mingyu Mingyu Mingyu-" you sob, tears streaming down your face at how he abuses your cunt, how he makes you feel so fucking good.

"I know, pretty, I know," he soothes, pressing a kiss to the spot under your ear, before pulling himself up to look at you again.

The sight before him has his eyes widening. It's as if his world stops. Hair fluttering around your face, skin glistening with a thin film of sweat, lips red and parted as you moan his name through thick sobs and teary, glistening eyes- fuck, how could a person be this beautiful?

"I love you," he shudders, looking you in the eye as his hand trails down to fiddle with your clit, rubbing lazy circles into the flesh.

Your head falls back, tipping into the pillows, and you choke out a strangled- "I love y- m'all yours Mingyu"

Gaining newfound access to your throat, Mingyu kisses greedily at the exposed skin, groaning as your cunt clenches down around him.

Your sounds- nothing short of pure sin- echo around the room, bouncing off the walls. The air is heavy, steaming up with the heat emanating off of your bodies. After all this time, the wait is over. He's finally yours.

As your moans turn shrill, increasing in volume and pitch, Mingyu's own voice grows breathier, and you know you're both close.

On the verge of falling deep into the cool black embrace of pleasure, you clutch desperately at each other, rutting into one another as if there was no tomorrow.

His thrusts grow sloppy as your cunt clamps down on him, and you feel your orgasms rip out of you like a whirlwind. You claw at his back as your body shakes under him, releasing your third orgasm, and he groans deeply into, riding through his own high.

Hot spurts of cum dribble out of you, forming a frothy white ring around the base of his cock- still thrusting into you.

"f-fuck Ming- please," you blubber, tears staining your cheeks, "s'too much-"

His hips halt their reckless movement, and he pulls out of you, watching as your combined orgasms trickle out of your hole.

"too much?" he asks, bringing a hand up to stroke you cheek so lovingly your heart melts.

"mhm," You nuzzle into his palm, "but it was perfect."

For a moment he stares into your eyes, guilt panging in his chest at how you look at him with so much love, despite all that he's done.

"we'll talk over breakfast tomorrow, hm? let's just- let's just stay like this for now"

You nod, letting your eyes flutter closed, and he shuffles beside you, pulling your limp frame into his chest.

The haphazard thudding of his heart tells you how nervous he is, how he's afraid to lose you, and you smile.

"hey," he mumbles, sleep taking over.

You hum and it reverberate in his chest.

"I love you"

"I love you too, Gyu"

"I'll spend the rest of my life making up for how we started," he places a soft kiss to your forehead and you mumble something incomprehensible, already drifting off to sleep.

A fond smile takes over his lips, and he sighs.

You're the best thing to have happened to him.

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