#all my failures crush your successes / about

[andr0medafallen]

Sometimes I'm like "Damn, Elliot, why do you have absolutely zero of your shit together?" and then I remember that I'm 19 years old and will be a junior at university in one month starting her undergraduate research in which her name will be the first listed, and also that I pay my bills and have a 3.8 gpa and think that maybe i'm doing okay.

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ pocket powerhouse ]❜

━━━ .°˖✧ requested by @klerns-birdie ˚₊ ⊹

ft. logan howlett x f! reader x wade wilson — xmen, marvel

╰₊✧ entering the void with their tiny, mighty companion┊1.4k words

setting: deadpool & wolverine (2024) worst! logan contains: canon typical blood & violence (and murder lol), reader is described as short & cute, super strength mutation, reader is the one who kills sabertooth in this one, fourth-wall break

➤ author's note: this was funnier in my head

they had you surrounded on all fronts, some standing before you and others on armored vehicles, holding their weapons and fists up ready to strike at any moment. if they didn’t clearly have bad intentions, then you would have been flattered at this little welcome party gathering together after only a few minutes of being sent into the void. they probably heard the ruckus wade and logan were making since they simply couldn’t keep their hands off of each other.

meaning, they couldn’t stop beating each other up and using any means necessary to shed blood or break bones despite it all being healed within the span of seconds.

you find the only successful way to get them to stop trying to kill each other is by threatening to kill them first, throwing a punch into the ground to destroy it under you as a means to grab their attention while shouting that you’ll decapitate them if they continue.

they listen to you most of the time and drop the mini battles, not because they believe you would actually do it, but because they believe they are humoring you by doing so (and because they know to sit down and shut up when a pretty woman tells them to). with super-strength as your mutation, you could do it with ease, they know you can— it’s just so difficult to think that such a cute little thing who pouts when ignored and is frequently used as an armrest due to short stature would ever do anything of the sort. you still have yet to act on your warnings, only depending on bloodlust-filled glares to settle them down much like a teacher waiting for her noisy class to be quiet.

logan thinks you all bark and no bite, wade compares you to an angry bunny, it’s safe to say they take what you say with a grain of salt, exchanging amused looks and admiring how cute you are when yelling profanities and gory details of how you’re going to maim them. (blah, blah, blah, proper name, place name— backstory stuff)

the three of you cringed at the failure of johnny storm, grimacing when his balls probably got crushed on a metal pole and every time he hit his head before getting captured. his end goal was clearly to escape, but you didn’t quite know how he was planning to get there when he set himself alight and started flying.

“i know you!” a large man with flowing blonde hair jumped off the tank, landing with a heavy thud on the compacted sand.

“oh my god, that’s sabertooth, peanut’s brother,” wade explained.

“brother? they don’t really look anything alike aside from being… uh… feral?”

“well you see, apparently there are some discrepancies about that. the author isn’t sure about anything because her bitch-ass still hasn’t watched any of the x-men movies or done her research. something about ‘being too busy with real life,’ can you believe that?”

“okay, you lost me when you started talking about ‘an author,’ but lay off her!”

sabertooth growled at logan, “ready to die?” 

“hey, don’t threaten him! i don’t care if he’s your brother, he’s my friend!” you interrupted, walking up to him, acting nonchalantly like he was a teddy bear when he was truly a grizzly. he was much taller than you too, towering over you and leaving you in his shadow.

“get outta my way, girlie” he barked, extending his claws, prepared to sink them into your flesh. “you’re lucky you’re cute, or else i already would have killed you.”

“aww, thank you! but i can’t accept compliments from someone who wants to kill my friend, so to that, i say ‘fuck off!’”

before he could let out a roar about how you should know who you’re talking to or swipe his claws at your face, you lifted your hand and slapped him across the face. it was much like a dramatic slap from television shows where the girl finds out her boyfriend is cheating on her or something, except his head went flying off into the distance and sprayed blood everywhere. it happened so quickly that his body stood there for a second before flopping over.

“oh my god!” wade exclaimed, cupping his face in his hands from surprise before excitedly clapping them together, “oh my god, that’s my girl— that’s our girl! see, that’s what happens when you enlist a y/n on your team, i told you that it was a good idea to take her with us!” he picked up the decapitated head and waved his arms around, paying no mind to the dripping red iron spilling on his costume, “you bitches saw that? she’s cute ‘n tiny but mighty, and she’ll absolutely fuck you up!”

the victory was short-lived as they took advantage of logan’s adamantium skeleton and other large pieces to scrap to trap all of you to a magnet. normally, this would be a breeze for you to get yourself out of, but you got hit in the head and quickly fell unconscious for them to ship you all away to cassandra.

when you finally woke up, you’re tied back-to-back with johnny and find your two companions in a similar position. “are you guys okay?”

“they’re asleep, but i’m okay,” logan answered, voice uncharacteristically amiable. despite being just as annoying as deadpool, he liked you a whole lot more and never spoke to you as roughly as he did to him. you were sweeter, more empathetic and understanding that he needed his own space, and, he isn’t going to lie, very easy on the eyes. “and you?”

“i’m okay! my head really hurts though…” you winced and shook your head a few times, trying to get the pounding sensation out. “god, this place is crazy. first we get teleported to this junkyard and then—”

“did you really mean what you said back there?”

“what did i say?”

“well… you…” god, he felt stupid, he was about to back out and say ‘nevermind,’ but he knows that you wouldn’t have let him go so easily. “you said that i was your friend…”

“yeah! you are! i mean, i killed your brother for you even though you could have done it yourself, putting myself in danger just so that you didn’t have to— you better consider me a friend too!”

he should tell you that you shouldn’t call him that nor think of him that way since nothing good ever comes out associating with him, but he can’t bring himself to say the words he’s routinely told others to successfully push them away. something about the look in your eyes, the way they sparkled when you looked at him. something about your smile, toothy and full of hope for the future to make up for his lack of. something about you makes him keep his mouth shut.

instead, he looks away, muttering a quiet word of thanks.

you tilt your head in slight confusion, not understanding the depth of your statement yet and how it managed to pull a word of gratitude out of a man who was in a constant state of irritation, but it made you irrationally happy and giddy inside.

wade was murmuring a few unintelligible sentences before coming to, and despite wearing a mask that covered his entire face, you could envision the mild look of disgust behind the leather as clear as day. “ew, why are you smiling like that??” he took a glance at you and then back at him, repeating the process a few times. “what the fuck? you guys can’t have a love story and leave me out of it! i’m the reason you two even met—” he finally seemed to process the situation from the close proximity with logan, looking him in the eyes through the white fabric of his mask and trying to find a way to loosen it to no avail. “how long have i been asleep?”

“not all of you was asleep.”

johnny seemed to wake up as well, beginning to tell a whole bunch of exposition about this place you were trapped in, something about a monster that would swallow you up and a “her” who runs this entire place. he laughed at the notion of evading this woman’s grasp, but wade thought otherwise.

“nah, we can take her! i have a pocket powerhouse and the wolverine on my side, i’m not scared of anything!”

no one quite believes him, but it’s nice to see that your optimism has rubbed off on him.

[livelaughpeg]

I'm writing this from a throwaway account, because you know...Scientology.

I want to preface this post by saying I am not one of those "I knew it all along!" people. I can't stand that attitude. I was pretty ambivelant towards Neil Gaiman. Prior to the allegations, I didn't hate him but I wasn't that interested in him as a person either. I don't think you can always tell when someone is a bad or good person simply by the topics they write about. If that was the case we'd be arresting every horror writer on earth.

But one thing that did always rub me up the wrong way was the way he talked about getting work.

I borrowed and read "Make Good Art" (a small book based on a speech he gave to graduates at the University of the Arts) at a time in my life that I was really struggling to get by (I still am to some extent, but in a different way). I expected to see some practical advice. Instead it was a bunch of glib shit like:

I got out into the world, I wrote, and I became a better writer the more I wrote, and I wrote some more, and nobody ever seemed to mind that I was making it up as I went along, they just read what I wrote and they paid for it, or they didn’t, and often they commissioned me to write something else for them. Looking back, I’ve had a remarkable ride. I’m not sure I can call it a career, because a career implies that I had some kind of career plan, and I never did. The nearest thing I had was a list I made when I was 15 of everything I wanted to do: to write an adult novel, a children’s book, a comic, a movie, record an audiobook, write an episode of Doctor Who… and so on. I didn’t have a career. I just did the next thing on the list.

Life is sometimes hard. Things go wrong, in life and in love and in business and in friendship and in health and in all the other ways that life can go wrong. And when things get tough, this is what you should do. Make good art. I’m serious. Husband runs off with a politician? Make good art. Leg crushed and then eaten by mutated boa constrictor? Make good art. IRS on your trail? Make good art. Cat exploded? Make good art. Somebody on the Internet thinks what you do is stupid or evil or it’s all been done before? Make good art. Probably things will work out somehow, and eventually time will take the sting away, but that doesn’t matter. Do what only you do best. Make good art.

Yeah, well, no shit. If you're a writer or artist you probably do anyway. Whether you get paid for it or not, whether you draw fan art or original art. But the point of Gaiman's speech was to give advice to people who wanted to be paid for their art. To make a career of it. Making art every day isn't always enough. You have to pay the damn rent, you have to eat, you have to network and do social media and promote yourself, and you have to do it while thousands of other people are doing the same thing in a massive crowd of people who want the same thing. Practical advice is much more valuable than platitudes and theory.

I am not a writer, I'm an illustrator, and let me tell you that for most people, 'getting your foot in the door' isn't a one time thing. Quite often you have to work at getting your foot in the door again and again until you become established, and it's very easy to be forgotten. I still feel like I'm in that stage now.

I watched my peers, and my friends, and the ones who were older than me and watch how miserable some of them were: I’d listen to them telling me that they couldn’t envisage a world where they did what they had always wanted to do any more, because now they had to earn a certain amount every month just to keep where they were. They couldn’t go and do the things that mattered, and that they had really wanted to do; and that seemed as a big a tragedy as any problem of failure.

The implication was that he was successful because he wrote every day and his friends weren't because they didn't, because you know, working a second job is tiring. He called this a tragedy, but there was something very glib about the way he narrated this.

I think someone had more financial cushion that he was letting on.

And yes, sometimes it does work that way, (some people are very lucky and make all the right connections) but Gaiman was getting Big Jobs right off the bat and something about that never smelt right to me after the way he talked about it.

And then I saw Jeff's tweets. Oh, that's why...

I suspect the truth is he was living off his family's money and connections, and while I don't think there's anything inherently wrong with that if you're a struggling artist, his family are Scientologists, and I don't think he ever struggled.

I suspect it's all a lie.

[formyloveoflove]

The Bear S3 and the Choices We Make

Ok. After a second watch of S3, I'm feeling a little bit more optimistic about the future. Trust - it's a sad ending. It's my worst nightmare for Sydney. But there's still hope, and that all lies in what Carmen and Syd decide to do next. Season 3 Spoilers - read at your own risk :)

In S3 E10 Forever, we see our two mains go through a breakthrough. Starting with Carmen, he finally confronts his former boss (who has a name, i think, but fuck him, I ain't using it). It's the first (and only time) that we see Carmen proactively voice his resentment. He avoids his mom (rightfully so imo). He never got the chance with Mikey. But he approaches him, expects the man to have repent (maybe), or at the very least, have a little remorse.

He doesn't. He regrets nothing. In fact, he takes credit for Carmen's success: his hard work, his skills, and his talent. He tells Carmen that he should be thanking him, and that's not even the worst of it. No, for me, it is when he says

Carmen: My life stopped. Chef: That's the point, right? [...] You wanted to be great. You wanted to be excellent. So you got rid of all the bullshit, and you concentrated, and you got focused, and you got great. You got excellent. It worked. You're here. Look at all this

Sound familiar? It should. It's the same sentiment that Carmen said in the Season 2 finale. Remember, he said,

I wasn't here. Right? What the fuck was I thinking? Like I was going to be in a relationship? I'm a fuckin' pyscho. That's why I'm good at what I do. That's how I operate. I am the best because I didn't have any of this fuckin' bullshit, right? I could focus, and I could concentrate.

Carmen's thoughts about himself aren't even his own. They were drilled into him by a man who wouldn't piss on him if he was on fire. He was emulating the abusive behaviors and patterns that crushed him, that gave him "uclers, panic attacks, and nightmares" on the people that he cares about. On his sister, on Richie, on Tina and Marcus. and especially on Sydney, who is the only one who knows exactly how bad it can get. He's hurt those closest to him. He hurts them daily. And for what? And for why? For his own ego.

And this realization leads us to Carmen's first cry.

For three whole seasons, we see this man lose his idolized brother to suicide, witness his alcoholic mother physically, emotionally, and mentally abuse him, and experience mental degradation to the point where it affects his physical health. Not once did he shed a tear. This is the first time Carmen Berzatto lets himself cry. And I think this is the best thing for him. If he chooses to acknowledge the err of his ways, turn back course, and begin again, I think The Bear could be what he wanted it to be. He needs to decide to stop running, stop fighting himself and everybody around him. He needs to let go. Let it rip, right?

However, if this is what he decides to do, the cards ultimately fall into Sydney's hands.

If anybody's been through hell and back, it's Ms. Sydney Adamu. All season she's been forced to work in a volatile environment, putting herself between Carmen and whoever's the victim of his anger. She has her ideas shut down, her skills demeaned, and her credit is outright non-existent. Staff keeps quitting; they're not making any money; and Cicero and Co. is doing some shady background shit.

She's trapped, but not really. Not until she signs that Partnership Agreement. But like she told her dad in S2 E9 Omelette, she doesn't think she has another one in her. She can't have The Bear fail like Sheridan Road. She doesn't want to make the same mistakes she did last time. She wants to grow and learn and make her mark on the industry - prove she's not a failure.

She's waiting for Carmen to make good on his promises from The Table Scene, but he's not.

"You deserve my full focus." But his focus is not on her. Remember the Carmen that noticed when something was off with her? Remember the "say more?" or the "what's up with you?" Remember when they worked together, when the menu was truly theirs? Where was Sydney's "margin" moment? What did Carmen do this scene that signaled to Sydney that he was there and present.

"I couldn't do this without you." He does everything without her. Don't even get me started. From the menu to the list of nonnegotiables. Syd gets to make no decisions after being forced to make ALL the decisions. What is she there for? To be Carm's wrangler, his doormat? What has he does to convince her that she is invaluable?

He's egotistical. He's verbally abusive. He's the exact person that she warned him not to be. That he assured her that he wouldn't be in S1 E3 Brigade. She said,

You know I think this place could be so different from all the other places we've been at. But, in order for that to be true, we need to run things different. [...] But you just didn't really listen, and if this is going to work the way I think we both want it to work, I think we should probably try to listen to each other. The reason why I'm here, and not somewhere else or for someone else, is because I think I can stand out here. I can make a difference here. We could share ideas. I could implement things that make this place better. And I don’t wanna be wasting my time, working on another line or tweezing herbs on a dish that I don’t care about.

He didn't follow through the first time, so she left. But now, it's different. She's put her blood, sweat, and tears into this place. She's made a place (a home even) at The Bear. Leaving is not as simple anymore.

S1 Syd would've taken that CDC offer in a heartbeat. But building something and it failing (like The Bear. like Sheridan Road.) is terrifying. Slowly but surely, Carmen has been chipping away at her confidence and her fire. So much so that good things, like The Offer or the review of her risotto from The Beef, don't feel like good things.

Sydney's Panic Attack is HUGE for her character. We see Sydney at her lowest: her most frightening and vulnerable. She's uncertain. She's in a constant state of panic. And the person that she trusted with her fears and insecurities facilitated this, drove her to this point. It's heartbreaking. I cried when I saw it. No one would blame her for jumping ship. At this point, I encourage it (but she has to talk about it, acknowledge it. no running).

Now, if Carmen decides to change his ways, he'd have apologized to Sydney twice without changed actions. She'd have to believe him after many, many broken promises. At this time, she doesn't trust him, can't rely on him. But when having to decide between staying or going, will she try to trust him again?

Will she? Should she?

That's where I'm at so far. I have more thoughts, but I'll write those out when I get back from my weekend trip.

[blackhairedjjun]

improvisation - c.yj

pairing: choi yeonjun x gn reader | genre / tropes: fluff, a little bit angsty?, fake dating, university au, friends to ???, open / ambiguous ending | word count: 725 | warnings: food mentions

part of my 300 followers event (event masterlist)

prompt - UNCERTAIN: while pretending/acting/undercover, the sender says “i love you” to the receiver, but whether they meant it or not is left unknown. (requested by @mazeinthemoon - maybe jjuni who’s normally very shy about his feelings and then when undercover he uses it as the opportunity to say how much he loves reader? :( )

author's notes: hi moon!! thank you thank you from the bottom of my heart for being one of my earliest and biggest supporters, it truly means a lot ♥ i love shy!jjunie and i love the fake dating trope a lot so i'm glad i got to write them both for this prompt! i hope you enjoy!

“so yeonjun, how did you win our little bear over?”

“mom,” you groan, “don’t call me that in front of him…”

yeonjun glances at you with a giggle. “why not?” he says, his teasing smile making your heart beat a little faster. “it’s cute and it suits you.”

your mother grins at him and nods; your father looks up from the chicken he’s eating to raise his eyebrows in approval. at least his impromptu comment is having the intended effect, you think. yeonjun is playing the role of the perfect boyfriend as if he were born for it.

“anyway,” he says, leaning forward across the tiny table in your dorm, “we met in class…”

the story that you and yeonjun tell your parents is mostly true, with a few embellishments that you practiced the day before. the two of you did meet in class, and the two of you did end up being partners for a major project there. you did end up becoming his study buddy after he failed a test, and he did become your lunch buddy after he saw you eating alone. 

but yeonjun talks about how cute you looked on the first day of class, or how warm you sounded when you comforted him after his failure — details he insisted on adding during your rehearsal, and you’re absolutely sure he made them up for dramatic effect. no way in hell would choi yeonjun, resident campus crush, think that someone like you looks cute.

when you call him a sweetheart for offering to sit with you at lunch after your ex-best friend ended your friendship, you know it to be true. but yeonjun calling you cute and warm? no, that can’t possibly be based on reality…

“i asked y/n to date me here in this dorm, actually,” yeonjun continues, his voice soft. “i ordered dinner for them, got all their favorite foods, played their favorite songs… and i said i love them.” he turns to you now, taking your hand in his and kissing it. “and i still do… i love you, baby.”

you freeze. this isn’t what you rehearsed.

but with your mother letting out an aww at your story and your father smiling, you can’t break the illusion. you intertwine your fingers with his and close your eyes, trying to calm the frenzied beating of your heart. why is he going off-script? what does this mean?

“i… i love you too, jjun…” you stammer. your hands are clammy and your face is hot. to your parents, you look like a blushing, lovesick mess.

at least you haven’t blown your cover.

一

the dinner is a success; you’ve managed to convince your parents that you’re happily dating yeonjun and not “languishing alone away from home,” as your mother feared. you should have felt contented washing the dishes while yeonjun dries them and puts them away. everything is going according to plan 一 right?

and yet your mind lingers on the one moment when your friend veered off-script. the soft “i love you,” the feeling of soft lips on your palm. surely yeonjun was merely improvising, convincing your parents of your heart-fluttering romance. but why did it make your heart flutter for real?

“your parents are nice,” yeonjun says as he dries the dishes you washed. “i see why you wanna impress them so much.”

his thoughts interrupt your from your reverie. you were thinking about his improvisation again.

“yeah.” you help him put the dishes away. “they’re a little crazy, but… they’re good to me.”

the question starts to rise in your mind and you feel your cheeks start to burn. all you need to do is ask him: “by the way, where’d that ‘i love you’ come from?” but your throat goes dry every time you try. yeonjun himself never brings it up. silence hangs between you; he looks up at you from staring at the dishcloth in his hands but he immediately turns away, his ears turning pink.

when the dishes are done, he manages to meet your gaze. his voice nearly cracks when he speaks.

“uh... s-see you with your mom again next week?”

“y-yeah... and practice what we’ll say the day before?”

“yeah, of course.”

you’re in such a daze that he’s out the door before you even know it, but he stops to look at you one last time.

“good night, y/n.”

“good night, yeonjun.”

and just like that, you’re left alone to your thoughts.

[the-californicationist]

¡Hola Cali! 🩷 Te dejé un mensaje con un DILF que pesqué hace algunas semanas, pero creo que se perdió por aquí o no pudiste leerlo. ¡Te extraño tanto! El trabajo me está consumiendo porque estamos en plena campaña política y solo quiero que termine, con el mejor resultado, e ir a descansar (y escribir).

Leí que estabas de vacaciones o algo así. ¡Espero que la estés pasando increíble! *Besito en la frente*

Vine con una idea que me está rondando la cabeza: Precio como candidato a Senador y Lector asesor, deciden mandar todo a la verg* y simplemente ACEPTAN QUE ESTÁN ENAMORADOS Y TIENEN SEXO CALIENTE Y DESORDENADO.

*guiño guiño*

Griss!! Lamento mucho la demora, mi amor. Espero que esto sea lo que esperabas <3

After serving in the SAS, John Price has decided to run for a seat in the House of Commons. You are one of his closest political advisors, helping him deal with a runoff election. The only problem? Your incurable crush on your giant, hot, bearded, future member of Parliament.

English translation of the ask: Senator!Price and Advisor!Reader, decide to send everything to hell and simply ACCEPT THAT THEY ARE IN LOVE AND HAVE HOT AND MESSY SEX.

Unfortunately, this fic is in English, but if you are looking for Spanish-language fics, please go read (and reblog!) @pricesugarwife and her amazing work!! She's the best!

The Runoff

The tremble in your hand wouldn’t be abated by the drink you clasped in it, the alcohol losing the battle against your nerves, and the brown neck of the beer bottle kept waving in little shivers, giving your fears away. You squeezed the glass tighter, feeling the sticky glue of the label you’d picked bare, its shards still caught under your fingernails, but you kept trying to control your muscles; mind over matter. 

Only the blue, hazy glow of the computer screen reflected in your eyes as you watched the election results come in. Down twenty-two, up seventeen, down four, up twelve; you watched the number fluctuate as if it was your life hanging in the balance. Hell, this wasn’t even your race. 

But, it sure felt like it was. You were entrenched in this campaign, elbow-deep in the muck of it, wearing its failures like dark purple bruises and its successes like lipstick-stained kisses, feeling the highest of highs and trudging through the lowest of lows. Every rally felt like a homecoming, and every debate put your nerves on edge. More than anything, you believed in your work. You stuffed envelopes and pressed flyers into the palms of your fellow constituents as if you were bringing them food for their empty bellies, passing out prayers for their unsaved souls. It was the most important work you’d ever done. 

You needed John Price to win. 

Being elected to the House of Commons was a big deal for an independent in his district. Luckily, John’s reputation quietly but effectively preceded him. His service to the RAF and SAS, his commitment to defeating agents of terror, his loyalty to the Crown – all of it gleamed just like the shining medals that hung on his chest, even if he grumbled about them. Despite his distaste for pomp, he sure did wear it well. The accolades looked good on his broad chest, each one more splendid than the last, all lined up in neat, indomitable rows. 

Maybe I should spend more time looking at my stat sheets than his uniform, you thought, feeling guilty at just how many times you’d turned on incognito mode and searched for his award ceremony on YouTube.

The video had a few hundred thousand views, but it felt like most of those were from you. Seeing him walk out on stage, every bit the hero they’d introduced him as, made your breath catch in your throat. His sharp hat, the starched fabric of his coat, the bright, red sash slashing across his big, heavy body… you wanted to feel him sinking his weight on top of you, that power stealing your breath away, crushing your ribs, stopping your lungs from gasping in their precious oxygen. You wanted to feel the cold of those shining brass buttons upon your breasts, their rounded edges curling and chilling your heated flesh. You wanted the stubble of his beard to burn your soft cheek. 

You wanted John Price, and that would be a huge mistake. The last thing he needed was tabloid pictures with a garish, screaming title like “MP CANDIDATE SNOGGING HIS OWN STAFF!” No, you wouldn’t embarrass him like that. You wouldn’t risk it. Even if the way that he looked at you across the war room table made you think that you could, you would never. His seat was too critical. 

You needed John Price to win. 

Your eyes flashed up to the screen, again, noticing a change in the counting. You watched the numbers slow their terrible give and take, the shifting ups and downs slowly trickling to a halt. You did a double take, checking the clock. The recount was over. It was a tie.

Your phone started to buzz. Then another. Before you took your next breath, it was vibrating fast enough to cancel out each subsequent ping, like a barrage of alerts, all fighting for the front of the line. You shut it down, hoping you could get a kill command through the thunderous notification storm. Finally, the screen went dark, and you saw yourself staring back through the black mirror, startled to see your sunken eyes, as if you were confronting a stranger. You kept the dead phone centered in your hand, gazing into your own face just a little longer as if to ask what she was looking at, daring her to flinch. 

“Yours, too?” 

A dark, smoldering voice rumbled toward you through the quiet of your shared office. You snapped your head to find him leaning against the doorway, the collar of his oxford missing its tie, unbuttoned thrice, wrinkled and lilting from sweat and rain and the stress of the day. His beard was shaggy, and his five o’clock shadow bristled across his neck, spreading on his cheeks as he gave you a half-smile, wiggling his dead phone in the air. 

“Yeah,” you sighed, coming back to yourself, “Don’t look now, but Twitter is going absolutely mental.”

You pointed your chin at the screen, tilting your head up and leaning back in your chair so that he could look over your shoulder. There was barely a meter between the wall and the desk, so between you and the chair, John needed to lean close to see the final score. As he watched the screen, you watched the pulse of his heart beat through the wide vein in his neck. You could smell his musk, the human of his earthly form filling your nose and mouth, then his aftershave, fading, only the woody base notes remaining. A lingering scent of his favorite cigars clung to his hair and clothes. He smelled like a fire, a whirling inferno of vanilla and licorice and sweet tobacco that you had grown to love, to crave. 

“Christ. A fuckin’ runoff. As if I haven’t put you lot through enough already.” He shook his head, crossing his thick arms across himself, sighing from a resigned frustration. 

“We wouldn’t do it if we didn’t believe it was worth it,” you murmured in a hushed half-tone, your voice almost gone from all the shouting and mayhem you’d been a part of earlier when they’d called for a recount, “We believe in you, John.”

His smile widened, not enough to show those straight, white teeth, but enough to soften his eyes as he looked down at you. He tapped you on the shoulder and motioned for you to come with him. 

As he disappeared through the door, you followed him into the office hallway, past the common room, scooting past half-dead interns, rabid with a new task. One of them was juggling three phone calls at once, but another was curled up beneath her desk fast asleep using a cheap fleece blanket for comfort. Your campaign office had been through Hell, and it was far from over. 

A few of them tried to stop you and ask some questions, but you put them off, telling them to take a breather, get their minds right before making another phone call, and you continued to follow John as he led you through the winding office maze. 

Finally, he pulled you into his office, grabbing your forearm with some force, and locking the door behind you. 

“Got a surprise for you,” he said, pulling out two white bags from under his desk. 

You smelled it before he revealed it to you, and you couldn’t help but gape in excitement,

“Is that… oh, my God. Is that Padella’s? Are you serious right now?”

You helped him tear into the bags like a feral hound, ripping at the tight plastic bow, pulling out the takeaway boxes greedily and without shame.

His grin was smug and satisfied as he watched you open the box and take in a huge whiff of the hot food, 

“Yeah, it is. The seafood alfredo, right? Your favorite.”

“John,” you said his name like he had given you something far more salacious than food, ignoring his rolling chuckle, eager to get a morsel in your mouth as soon as you could. 

“If I knew it’d get you to say my name like that, I’d bring it by every bloody night,” he laughed, hiding his pleasure under a joking tone. He leaned in closer to the open takeaway box, peering inside, “Go on, love. Give us a bite.”

“This is how you know I’m devoted to the John Price campaign,” you joked with him, raising your eyebrows with some sass as you prepared a forkful for him. You speared a juicy scallop, twirling some pasta around on the plastic tines of the single-use utensil, crafting the perfect bite for him. “Giving you first dibs?”

“Lucky bloke, me,” he said quietly, winking at you. 

You pulled the fork into position, lining it up with his mouth, and you watched him open up those full lips for you, showing you his flat, pink tongue that bent to anticipate the creamy taste of the pasta. You placed it gently inside, the act of feeding one of the most dangerous men in the world suddenly too intimate, too endearing. His eyes watched you through the whole ritual, only fluttering closed when he shut his lips and began to chew his bite, savoring the flavors. 

He let out a long groan, the sound of which made you want to squeeze your thighs together, your mind repeating it over and over like an echo, imagining your name falling in between his ragged, guttural sighs. You felt your cheeks run hot.

“Mm, fuck,” he smiled, talking with his mouth half-full, “That is damn good.”

You took your own bite, nodding, tasting the buttery alfredo, the perfectly-cooked noodles, and the light, savory scallop. It was almost better than sex. Almost. 

Sharing the same fork, since you only had the one, you and John traded bites, sitting in silence for a while before the conversation turned back to work.

“They wanna put us in the runoff in less than ten days,” he said ruefully, understanding that timeline would be a brutal one.

“Ten days? Are they trying to kill us? The interns are falling asleep standing up,” you sighed, exaggerating a little, but making your point. 

“You should head home. Get some rest. I’ll hold down the fort here, love,” John said, wiping a smear of stray alfredo off of his lip decisively. 

You balked,

“No. Absolutely not. I can’t leave you now, not when we’re this close to winning this thing.”

He studied you for a moment, leaning his hulking forearms on his desk, spreading his wide hands across the soft wood of its tabletop, letting you see the small muscles in his hands as they stretched and pulled across his bones. He looked down at the space between his palms, grounding himself before he spoke, his voice just above a whisper, 

“You make me feel like it’s actually possible.” 

You reached out, your hand holding onto his wrist, making him look up to meet your eyes,

“John. It is possible. You’ve got Stallworth’s endorsement. Marchande will lose if you can get the Labor constituents behind you. I’ve run the numbers. Believe me, you can do this.”

“I can’t do it without you,” he frowned a bit, his brow knitting together, the timbre of his voice low and steady. 

You smiled up at him, feeling his fingers lace themselves into yours, experimentally testing the boundaries of his touch, 

“I’m here until the bitter end,” you let out a short laugh, nervous from how good it felt to be held in his hands, “And probably even after that.”

John was silent for a while, his thumbs massaging your knuckles in little, slow circles, his touch becoming more and more sensual, and then, he abruptly pulled away, leaving your palms face up on the table, your fingers bent in the shape of a shallow bowl as if begging to be filled. But, you remained empty, so you pulled your hands back to your lap, suddenly unsure, your body wanting his touch but mentally feeling as if you shouldn’t ask for it back.

He looked away, staring past you at the closed door and muttered, 

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” You challenged, keeping your volume as low as his, not wanting to break the fading spell you had cast over each other. 

“I ask too much of you.”

You listened to the words as he sent them out, hearing two implications fighting within that one phrase. 

Too much of my time, or too much of my body? You wondered. 

So, you tried to make it easy on him. You didn’t want to be the distraction that ruined his race. You stood, closing up the box of food, cleaning off the tiny smear of alfredo that painted the corner of his desk. He stood with you, waving you off of the mess, taking over to clean it himself. 

The bag rustled, the box popped hollowly as he closed it, paper and cardboard and plastic all swishing and clattering, a cacophony of noise. And then… a deeply still silence. 

He was standing right in front of you, too close for you to think straight. You let yourself linger there, leeching the warmth from his heavy body and taking it into yourself, letting it seep into your skin. You vowed to keep the memory of it in some recess of your mind, saving it for dessert when you could be alone to savor its silky texture, tasting a ghost of all of the mirror universes where you knew what it felt like to be covered in him.

Suddenly, you felt his finger under your chin, a coaxing pressure, lifting your face to look at him. It was hard to look into his eyes. Some part of you knew that the moment he peered into them, when he studied what they were trying to hide, he would know your secret. He would be able to see all of your guilt, all of your stolen pleasure, all of the nights where your hand tried to replicate his presence, working itself between your legs to indulge in your fantasies about being taken by him, about serving him not as his campaign advisor but as his woman; his shelter and his release. He would look into your face and he would immediately know that you dreamed of being used like his own personal toy, helping him unwind after the stress of this election, putting all of his frustrations into you as he pounded himself into your mouth or between your spread legs, using you like a salve on a burn.  

But, you showed him anyway. Your eyes flicked up to his, and you let him see it. 

John towered over you, his shadow darkening your vision, framing you with his round shoulders. He had his thumb pressed just below your bottom lip, opening your mouth a little, watching your breathing crash heavy into your lungs.  

You stood frozen in place, watching as his neck bent over you, the great trunk of his body craning down, shading you, closing around you like the boughs of an immense oak, promising that you were safe here nestled in his roots, some sort of primal argument, convincing you to stay still so he could devour you in peace. A rabbit, statuesque beneath the snarl of a wolf.

His face was now upon yours, close enough for you to see the little silver scars that crossed over his cheek and brow, hints at a dangerous life, whispers of old pain. A light spattering of freckles littered the bridge of his nose, fanning out beneath those pale blue eyes he had fixed on your mouth, staring into it as if hypnotized.

Finally, when he was near enough to taste your air, to feel the heat of your breath against his mouth, his lips broke their seal, opening in anticipation of another first bite, another chance to sate a different type of hunger. 

His lips brushed yours, every moment taking an eon to pass, seconds stretching into thousands of hours, the office, the building, the city melting away from you like wax from a flame, the world giving way to dark infinity, and you opened your mouth to taste him, allowing your tongue to slip over your teeth so that you could know the sweetness of the smooth skin of his lip. 

The moment you touched him, you were taken. He crashed into you, his mouth to your mouth, his chest to your chest, scooping you up like a greedy falcon, trapping you in his arms, flying away with you. Or falling? You felt like you were falling; like you had leapt too high and now would tumble through the sky forever, whirling helplessly. He tasted of the rich alfredo, and of his cigars, buttery and rich, masculine and heady. He was prying your jaw apart with his own, eager to fill your cheeks with his broad, heavy tongue. John pulled back just enough to allow you to take a breath, but he returned, unable to stop himself, softly sucking at your bottom lip, slanting his mouth over yours, the fever in him beginning to cool. Then, he pulled back altogether, resting his forehead against yours, his eyes wrenched closed, his body heaving from his desperate breaths. 

He leaned back, staring at you with a worried look on his face, his voice deep and gravelly, a demonic purr, 

“I… I’m so sorry.”

You nodded, lowering your eyes, 

“I know. We can’t.”

“Can’t?” He panted, still reeling, looking at you like he was lost, like you knew the way out, “Do you want this? Me?”

You leaned your head into the strength of his hands as he cradled your skull, drunk on hope,

“More than you know. But, I don’t want to distract–”

John lunged at you, his mouth pressing to yours again, hurting you with his power. The weight of his jaw crashing into your lips, making you wonder if you would bleed from it, your own teeth cutting into the delicate membrane inside. But, he didn’t seem to care. He wasn’t concerned with your comfort. He was only there to consume you, to steal your breath, to drink your soul from your throat. 

He moved his body against you like a python, curling and squeezing you with his arms, constricting your movements, pushing and pulling you this way or that, whatever would give him deeper access to your pink tongue. His aggression shocked you, and it was everything you could do to just keep your balance, unsteady on your feet, your hands clutching at his waist for support. 

John’s kissing made you feel weak, like he was drugging you, forcing your mind into a daze. You tried to remember why you had tried to stop this from happening, unable to even imagine a consequence. You felt his hands wander away from your face, rushing down your neck, finding your breasts and roughly fondling them over your shirt. You’d ripped off your bra long ago, hot and tired, needing relief. 

When he realized that your heavy tits were hanging freely, hidden beneath your oversized button-down, you felt him shudder, groaning into your mouth at the mere fantasy of seeing them, of marking your nipples in dark hickeys as he suckled you, letting his teeth tattoo his claim on your flesh. 

You were brought back to the physical world when you felt your ass shoved into the long edge of the desk, stopping his forward progress. He pulled away from the kiss and stared down at you with a look that made you feel as if you might be in some kind of danger, even if you were relishing every fearful moment of it. 

John had only shown you this expression once before. You’d been working late again, trying to keep yourself awake by brewing coffee in the break room. There’d been an incident or two with one of the interns, a bloke who didn’t know how to take no for an answer. You’d shut him down twice, and now, you hadn’t realized he had followed you inside the small kitchenette. This time, he wasn’t asking, and when you felt his hand on your neck, you’d screamed, fighting back, but not making much difference. Mere seconds later, John had marched in wearing this same expression stretched across his face. 

It was a sort of ravenous joy, almost playful, but it was terrifying. He’d broken the intern’s wrist in his crushing grip, and then his jaw bone, striking the smaller man down to the dirty, tile floor with a single, cracking punch. Then, he’d stared at you, trying his best to control his visage, to push down that fiery arousal. Eventually, he was back under control, helping you out of the office, checking you for any wound, no matter how minor, worrying himself over you, promising that you’d never see that arsehole again. And you never did. You’d put it out of your mind until just this moment, always having more work to do. But now, you wondered if that intern was still walking around out there or if John had let his old ways return just for that evening. He was always good at eliminating threats. 

You had assumed that his feral heat had been for the fight, an expression of rage. But now, you thought that perhaps it had been for you. The thought that this reckless lad had dared to put his hands on something that John had claimed as his own, righteously possessive over you to the point of fury, baring his teeth and curling his lip into a lupine snarl, briefly revealing his wrath before tamping down on it and hiding it from you out of fear that you would not agree to be his. 

Now, he was not controlling his face. There was no polite gentleness in his eyes, no casual ease in his shoulders, no respectful distance between your body and his. No; now that you were in his grasp, he had no plans to let you go free. 

He grabbed you around your waist, his fingers cutting into your full form, squeezing your hips and lifting you with ease onto the desktop. He distracted you with kisses, lulling you back into a hazy, pleasure-filled lust, making you aware of his desire by shoving himself between your thick thighs, the threat of his heavy erection pressing through his slacks and onto the crotch of your jeans. 

Your body reacted on instinct. You felt yourself widening your legs and canting your hips to rub against his hardon like you were in heat, your biology doing everything it could to get his attention. 

But, you had it regardless. He tugged off your shirt with a deft sort of accuracy that took your breath away. When he let his eyes drink in the sight of your round breasts, peaked with smooth, puffy nipples, his rushed movements stilled, and you waited while he studied you, reaching out his fingers to see if you were as soft as you looked. As he discovered the truth, his big fingers wrapping around each of your heavy tits, applying pressure, caressing the sides of them, feeling the thin ridges of your stretch marks, plucking delicately at each nipple, looking up at your face to watch your reactions; all the while, you could feel the throb of his fat cock fighting to touch you through your clothes. 

Then, his touch became feverish again. Instead of a caress, it was a burning friction; instead of tender plucking, it was a shocking pinch. He was making you writhe beneath his hands, manhandling your tits to his own end, enjoying your whimpering cries of pain that fizzled into bright pleasure, the pressure of his dick against your sex making you aware of the growing wetness there, your panties proving your desire to you, warm and slippery. 

You reached up your hand to touch his chest, mimicking his affection, admiring the firm muscle that spanned beneath your palms. Your fingers found the gap between his buttons, running through the dense patch of hair that lay on his sternum, raking your nails lightly across his skin. He furrowed his brow, wanting more, looking down at your touch and starting to unbutton his dress shirt. Within seconds, he was peeling it off of his shoulders, leaving it rumpled and inside-out on the floor. 

Sitting up, you started to explore him with your mouth, letting your lips drag along his furry skin, licking your way across to his highest ribs, to that sensitive spot just below his armpit, changing your gentle exploration into a sucking, lustful kiss, aiming to leave a mark of your own. He let you bite him, enjoying the pain and groaning from it. Then, he grew impatient, and he fisted your hair at the nape of your neck, yanking you away from him, bending over you again, forcing you to kiss him as he pressed your jaw up to his, controlling your head. 

But, he did not have control of your hands. Without breaking eye contact with him, you began to fumble with his belt, hurrying to open the latch, moving on to his button fly, popping each one away to reveal his boxer briefs, the cotton of them soft across the back of your hand. You watched his face, chaotic and full of a decadent sort of desire, as if he couldn’t believe what he was feeling. 

He kept his hand in your hair and let you work his pants away, peeling his underclothes down as far as you could get them, glancing down as the pink, swollen head of his dick peeked over the hem as you revealed him. The head was pointing at his hip, trapped there by the wide elastic of his briefs. Now that he was free to move, his length stood at attention, fully erect with a girth that made you dizzy. 

“Holy fuck,” you gasped, muttering a curse under your breath. 

He jerked your head back, tearing your eyes away from his heavy phallus and forcing you to look at him instead,

“Something wrong, love?” 

You gave him a submissive look, curling your lips into a sly smile, your eyes wide like a fearful doe, 

“I don’t think you’ll fit.”

He smiled down at you, pleased by your appraisal, his gaze turning sinister,

“You’re not leavin’ ‘til I do.”

Quicker than you could breathe, he released his hold on your head and used both hands to ruck off your jeans in one violent pull. Your panties got stuck halfway, getting caught in the rough stitching of the denim. John looked down into your lap, staring at the silky fabric clinging to your wide hips, hanging off to one side at a messy diagonal, showing him the top of your unshaved mons. 

You heard him sigh through his smile, his hand reaching forward and ever-so-gently helping the edge of your panties back into place. You were confused. He was supposed to be ripping them off and fucking you stupid, but he slowed things all the way down, returning to his delicate caresses. 

John played with your breasts again, kissing your mouth, sucking on your neck. Then, he reached between your legs and touched you, his hand slipping over your covered pussy, groping you through the thin fabric. His fingers were warm, and the way he pressed them beside your tender clit made you tremble, your thighs shaking a bit as your legs hung off the side of the desk. 

He fell to his knees in front of you, his hands wrapping around the curve of your ass, pulling you as far forward on the edge of the desk as he could, throwing you forward like you were as light as a feather, his grip fierce and bruising. Then, he leaned forward, eager to put his mouth over your pussy, but you protested, gasping,

“John, my… my panties.”

He pinned his bright blue eyes on yours, looking at you unblinking, and leaned forward, showing you that he didn’t give a fuck about your panties. His hot tongue began to push and prod at your lips through the fabric, and you could feel your pussy clinging to the gusset, the wet cloth conforming to your shape as he licked and sucked.

As his tongue delved deeper, he discovered your sticky precome that had been soaking you right through ever since he’d found you staring at the vote count. He used his lips to suck on your folds, the knit of the fabric allowing only the tiniest bit of air to escape, making little chirping sounds as he applied more and more pressure. Then, you watched in a sick sort of awe as he took the gusset fully into his mouth, pulling it away from your body to suck your wetness from it like he was lapping up the last bit of ice cream from its cone. He even used his hand to loop it over his fingers, stretching out the thin triangle, making sure to get every last drop. 

By this time, you were pretty sure you had dripped your stickiness straight onto his desk, and you could feel your pussy slipping around on the smooth surface with every little movement. John decided to finally give you what you’d been whimpering for, and he pulled your panties aside to drink from the source. 

When the hot curl of his tongue finally connected, sealing wet flesh against wet flesh, you cried out, biting into your hand to keep yourself from being heard. You watched him eat you from your center, writhing his tongue deep into your hole and sucking on the head of your clit, using his bottom lip to reach that space underneath, teasing you within an inch of your life. Without thinking, your hand went to the back of his head, fingers raking through his hair, and you watched his eyes flutter, loving the feeling of your nails on his scalp. 

Your legs were partly resting on his shoulders, and John stood up quickly, slamming you back onto the desk and hauling your legs over with you, shoving your knees into your chest, putting your pussy on full display. You felt his fingers curve down through your wet lips and into the sensitive divot where you were leaking from. As he sank his hand into your hole, you felt like you were so close to coming. All of his licking and teasing had put you on the edge, and now that his thumb was sliding beside your clit and his longest fingers were stretching out your pussy, you felt the spark of an orgasm ignite in your belly. 

“Yes, love… That’s… ungh, fuck…” John felt it, too.

His hand was making all sorts of noise as he fucked his fingers up into you, the messiness only getting worse as your body flooded you with shock after shock of your orgasm. You were convulsing, your abs tight and protruding beneath your layer of fat, your feet pointed straight like a ballerina, all of your limbs frozen and tense, letting the orgasm wreck you and leave you boneless. 

He pulled away from you, gently removing his hand, and he bent his mouth to you again, aiming to taste your fresh come, hot and silky, coating you in natural lube, doing its absolute best to convince him to listen to his instincts and sheath himself inside of your body. 

But, John was careful. He pulled your legs back down to a bent position, one hand on each knee, prying you apart slowly, his eyes fixed on your flower so he could watch it bloom, covered in your sweet nectar. 

“You okay?” He asked, his voice husky and broken. 

You nodded, 

“Yeah, I’m more than okay.”

He smiled at you, using his hands to push your breasts together, playing with your nipples in his warm hands, pinching you cruelly and then soothing you in small circles, never letting you know when the pain or the pleasure would come. 

On the outside of your pussy, John rested his cock, spreading your outer lips with its weight to fit his girth right on top of your clit. He thrust forward, and you watched as the drooling head of his prick was shoved toward you. 

He humped himself against you in a steady pattern, pumping himself across your wetness, trying to relieve some pressure. Eventually, you thought he was about to come, but he stopped, slowing to a slick grind. He looked up at you and ran his palm down his face, frustrated and beyond horny.

“I wanna fuck you so goddamn bad.”

“So do I,” you moaned, rocking your hips up and down, adding to his thrusting friction, using him like a toy to bring yourself back to a shivering edge. 

“I don’t have a condom,” he confessed, helping you use his smooth head to massage the body of your clit. 

“I’m clean. I actually don’t think I’ve had sex since I moved to the city,” you shrugged, slowing down with him, waiting for his consent before giving in to your mind-altering want, “But, if you wanna stop, it’s okay.”

He kissed your ankle, holding your foot in his hand, leaving little licks and love bites down your calf as he warred with himself, 

“Haven’t been with anyone since Dahra.”

His ex-wife. She’d gone back to Urzikstan one day without so much as a note, packing a bag and leaving her rings on the counter. Apparently, when they’d finally met to fill out his divorce papers, he said that she looked happy in a way he hadn’t seen in a long time, so he signed without question. You remember when he had told you about it, three whiskeys deep and sharing a cigar on the roof of his loft, too late to go to the pub, but too early to stop drinking. He’d held your hand while he talked to you that night. You’d just thought he needed the support, and you tried to be a good friend. But now that he was getting himself off by slipping through your come-covered lips, playing in the mess that he made, you imagined that moment much differently. 

“I trust you,” you looked up at him through your lashes, holding your breasts and teasing your nipples between your fingers, your skin feeling as if you were electric, sensitive beyond comprehension, every touch and pinch feeling like ecstasy. 

Apparently, he didn’t need much convincing. In your next breath, you felt his head sloppily notching against your throbbing core, fitting snug in the soft entrance of your cunt, cradled there in your warmth. You gasped, enjoying the sensation of being gently licked by his cockhead in the center of your folds, filling a void, a missing piece slotting into place. 

Then, he met your eyes, staring into them with a fondness that you had only dreamed about, framed by that same furious arousal, like staring at a white-hot flame and knowing it could kill you but admiring its beauty anyway. 

“Hands on your knees,” he said, jerking himself a bit as he dipped into your entrance.

John watched as you grabbed your knees, pulling your legs apart, opening yourself up to him in the most vulnerable way, presenting yourself to him fully, without shame, all the guilt you’d been dragging around now gone, giving yourself to him freely and wanting him to take you like a prize. 

“So damn pretty,” he muttered to himself, staring down at your coupling, watching as he stuffed himself inside of you as carefully as he could, trying to let you adjust but unable to stop himself from thrusting deeper and deeper. 

He pulled himself all the way out and tried to sink into you again, his eyes snapping up to your face at the sound of a hiss coming through your teeth as he made his way through your tight muscles. You felt him stop, thinking he had hurt you, but you shook your head, 

“Don’t stop. I need you, John. I wanna feel so full.”

An animal noise escaped from his throat, and he rewarded your bravery, finishing the job with a snap of his hips, sealing himself fully inside of you. The root of his cock knocked the breath out of you, making you gasp in wonder at the sensation of being stretched beyond any memory. Yes, it had been a while, but you were no virgin. Nevertheless, John Price’s fat shaft was making you question whether you had ever truly been fucked before. His girth was changing your definition of the word.

If you had thought that he would treat you reverently, like you were made of precious lace, you had another thing coming. It was as if he had been waiting for this very moment, and he planned to take every advantage of the opportunity. Now that he had you, he used you. 

His huge hands scooped up your legs, silently instructing you to lock them around his hips, keeping your thighs wide as he rutted into you. You hooked your ankles together, admiring the pulsing feel of his large glutes as he thrust forward, feeling him squeeze and release, pounding himself into you with his heavy weight. 

John was too big. You had to admit that to yourself at this point. You could feel him stretching your hole, pushing your flesh beyond its usual limits. But, you were drunk off of the way his dick made you feel like you were constantly coming. You’d never truly been able to find your g-spot. Every now and then, when you had a really great partner, you thought that you’d orgasmed from the grinding thrusts of his rod, but it was rare. This, though, how John’s cock was spreading you, how you could feel him on all sides, the unimaginable pressure… he was hypnotizing.

He would pound himself into you, slamming his weight into your hips, and the shudder of your bones would make your body tremble. Then, when he was in, the pressure of his dense cockhead would flash a glittering wave of orgasmic pleasure through your core, making you think that you were about to explode. But, you never did. The pleasure never stopped. It never found a peak. It would just build and build in crashing, tumultuous waves, whirling through your blood like a cyclone, each throb feeling like spark lightning. 

Your mind was racing. Should I stop him? Is this normal? Am I gonna pass the fuck out? But, you couldn’t speak. If you tried to form a sentence or even a coherent phrase, he would bottom out again, flooding his shaft with your wet slick, and you would be overcome by another wave of bliss, nothing more than a warm sheath for his mighty sword. 

The edge of you lip was cool and wet, and you realized you were drooling, your tongue resting on your bottom teeth like a panting dog, helping you whimper and mewling your moans as you felt him mold you to fit. 

“Shit, you are still so tight, love. Can barely put it in. Squeezin’ me… fuck,” he was sweating, hoarsely groaning in long, deep breaths, his belly expanding and contracting as he labored over you. 

You didn’t reply. All of your words had been crushed into whining cries, helpless gasps. You took his hand and lifted it up to your mouth, placing it on your tongue, hoping he would fuck your throat with his fingers. The look on his face was one of desperate curiosity, wanting to please you, to serve you however he could. So, taking the hint, he curled his fingers away and pushed his first and middle fingers deeper into your mouth, exploring you softly. 

You moaned loudly from the relief and closed your lips around his knuckles, shoving him all the way in to the top of his palm, beginning to suck and lick him as if it were a heavy cock instead of his hand. 

His eyes rolled back in his head, and he tilted his chin up to the ceiling, his neck bulging with his ragged breaths. Then, he turned his gaze back to you, watching you comfort yourself with his fingers, suckling on them like a hungry calf, needy and persistent. 

“Fuck,” he exclaimed, “Tha’s bloody hot. Suck them deeper for me. Wanna feel your throat.”

You obliged him, your lips now reaching over his last knuckles onto the back of his hand and the callused ridge of his palm. If you stuck out your tongue, you could lick the middle of his palm, choking yourself with his fingertips and swallowing around them, clenching your throat in time with his thrusts. 

“Mmmf-fuckkk,” he rasped, his face set in an agonized fury, “Gag yourself again. Choke on me, love. Just like that.”

You knew why he liked it. You could feel his response. Because every time you choked on his hand, your body would heave, trying to get air, trying to fight him away, and your pussy would contract, milking his thick shaft like a strong, wet fist. So, you gave him more, ignoring your mind’s fear and confusion, mentally moving past it, focusing only on his pleasure, and yours. 

After a few more thrusts, the look in his eyes became one of concern, a worried flash of panic. He was going to come, and you knew it. 

John tried to pull his hand back, gently attempting to leave the warmth of your mouth, but you didn’t let him go. You held his giant wrist in both hands, gripping him cruelly, forcing his fingers even deeper, bobbing your head as if you were sucking his dick. 

“Gonna come. Fuck, I’m gonna – ungh. C’mon! Come with me, baby. Come with me. Lemme feel –”

He used his free hand to swipe roughly over your clit, changing those waves of cracking pleasure into a blistering orgasm, the heat of which seared over your whole body, making you feel like you had a fever. You felt yourself gushing between your legs, all of the wetness he had been churning within you being pushed out by the rhythmic clamping of your own muscles. You were screaming, but no one would hear you. All of your keening was subdued by his heavy hand, getting lost every time you choked for air. The only thing you heard was the rushing of breath from his spreading lungs and the creamy, slapping impact of his body against yours.

Then, a barking, guttural growl that he tried to hide, cutting it off and grinding his teeth to prevent himself from screaming as he emptied his load into you. You felt it hit your flesh within your core, like a burning splash of lava, shooting into you over and over, foaming and folding around the swollen head of his prick. His come felt heavy as it pooled at your end, deep in your belly, coating you like a glaze and settling over your womb.

You wanted him to stay inside of you forever, but he was finished and totally spent, his strength fading to a relaxed daze. You unhooked your legs and let him step away, feeling the loss of him in your mouth and your pussy, unable to even roll yourself off of the desk. So, you had to hang there, your legs unsupported, dangling wide apart, showing him exactly what he had just done to you. And he looked like he was enjoying the view. He stared down between your legs and watched his cream ooze out of your fucked hole, the flesh red and shining from its ordeal. 

There was nothing in his office for comfort. But, he needed to soothe you. Some instinct within him was screaming in his mind to hold you in his arms and keep you safe. So, he pulled you off of the desk, holding you in his arms, and guided you down to the carpet, sitting with his back against the wall and letting you lean against his body, keeping you in his lap with tired arms. 

You were both so sticky, but the sweat didn’t bother you. You were happy to rest your cheek on his shoulder, caressing his furry belly with your hands, trying not to pass out. 

“You alright, love?” He asked in a low whisper, “Did I hurt you?”

“Gonna be sore tomorrow,” you smiled, not lifting your eyes to look at his face, choosing instead to stare at how his soft body hair ruffled over your fingernails as you lightly scratched them across his skin. “Are you okay, John?”

“Worried about you. About this,” he murmured, some of his strength coming back to his voice. You looked up at him now, watching as he carefully crafted his next words, “Don’t want this to be a one-time thing. But, we can’t… I’m –”

“John,” you interrupted his turmoil, “In ten days, you’ll be in the House of fucking Commons. Then, you can do whatever you want. Until then…” You reached down and fondled his exhausted cock tenderly, making his body jerk from how sensitive he was, “I can be your little secret.”

He lifted your chin with his thumb just as he had at the start of this dreamlike encounter, kissing you tenderly, making sure he could feel your mouth against his, slipping his tongue over your lips just to reach the ridge of your teeth before pulling back again, his eyes turning back to that lascivious rage, 

“You don’t deserve that. I want them to bloody well know that you’re mine.”

You didn’t ask who “they” were. That was just how John spoke to you. It was always you and him versus them. The media, the Parliament, the world… it didn’t matter. They didn’t matter. But, you knew better than to let idealism cloud your judgment. 

“Be patient, John,” you caressed his cheek, “Win your seat. I’m not going anywhere.”

Finally, a small smile twitched on the corner of his mouth and he held you closer, hugging you to his chest,

“Not true,” he paused, looking down at your quizzical expression, a playful gleam in his eyes, “You’re coming to my flat, crawling in my bed, and letting me fuck that perfect cunt again.”

AO3 Link

[pjsk-writin]

hshfkcoeb REQUESTD OPEN okay so hear me out (may or may not have stolen this from my self insert) but like what if reader has their own sekai but is in another units group LIKE ITS A BIT ANGSTY LIKE “oh they found their true feelings to their own sekai within like 2-3 weeks and i havent found mine after like 2-3 years” so reader pulls a mafuyu main story and disappears into their own sekai for a few days with no warning (no one else is aware of their own sekai) and like one char gets access to it probably by snooping in their computer and just sees the sight of reader breaking down in said sekai $&2@9&/$; THE SEKAIS THEME CAN BE HOWEVER U CHOOSE BTW :3

can i request smth like that but with prsk boys (separately) + kanade? IDK I SEE IT JUST WORKING could be like where chars crushing on reader too… help is this complicated IF YOU DONT GET IT FEEL FREE TO IGNORE THIS thank you take care of yourself <3

OKAYAYAYYA SO . I LOVE THIS REQ SM BUT IF I DONT DO IT JUSTICE PLS LET ME KNOW </3 i just left readers sekai up to the readers choice lol <3 take care of urself too, i hope u like this !! <3

♡ MISSING TRUE FEELINGS - Akito Shinonome, Toya Aoyagi, Tsukasa Tenma, Rui Kamishiro and Kanade Yoisaki x Reader

Akito:

The concepts of the Sekai and true feelings were honestly still very confusing to Akito, but he's happy that him and VBS are all working and growing together

The concept of true feelings was confusing to him, but he always liked to discuss the topic with you. You seemed to know a lot more than he did, for whatever reason

What you never revealed was that you've been searching for your true feelings for years now, and finding someone who has so soon was...more than disheartening

You disappeared for a few days, and Akito grows immensely worried. Sure, he had a crush on you, but he really was worried for your well-being

He went over to your house, having been there multiple times, and called your name. When he got no answer, he went to your room, and his heart sunk

He could see you, on your computer, breaking down in your Sekai. He was panicking, immediately looking for a way in to reach you

The moment he reaches you in your Sekai, he pulls you into a hug. You're obviously startled, but he doesn't care, simply holding you close

"Look, I don't know what's happening, but I'm here for you, alright?" He looks you in the eyes, his hands resting on your shoulders, "I'm here through it all for you." And even if you still didn't know your true feelings, his support got you through <3

Toya:

When it comes Sekais, Toya doesn't really think hard about how they work. He mostly just goes there with his group, and works with them all through their true feelings

He's proud of VBS and himself for working through their true feelings, and he likes to talk about them with you. You were nice company, and you never seemed to mind

You did mind though, because you were someone who had been trying to figure your true feelings out for years. His success helped to highlight your own failure

You had disappeared for a few days, and Toya was more than concerned about it. He knew that he had to go see you, he didn't know what could've happened to you

He texted to let you know he was coming over, but you didn't even see the text by the time he got there. He looked around, immediately going to your room

The sight of you on your laptop, presumably in your Sekai breaking down, broke his heart. He looked around for a way to get to you before it was too late

The moment he entered your Sekai, he called your name to get your attention. He knew you were shocked, but he stood before you, itching to reach out for you

"You don't have to go through this alone." His voice was quiet, a new noise among your Sekai, "I found my true feelings, right? I'll try my best to help you find yours." His determination helped to inspire you. Maybe you really could find them after all <3

Tsukasa:

Considering that the Wonderland Sekai was made from his own true feelings, Tsukasa has learned quite a bit about true feelings and Sekais

Besides the other members of Wonderlanders, he really enjoys your company! He rambles about finding his true feelings to you because he's proud

Although you're also proud of him, you've been hiding the fact that you've been looking for your true feelings for years. You felt like you would never find them

Tsukasa notices your disappearance almost immediately, and rushes to ask around about you. You were his close friend, his crush, he was so worried about you

He loudly announced his presence when he entered your home, but when he received no answer, he went to your room. He was in for a shock, to say the least.

There you were, in your own Sekai, breaking down. He could see you through the screen, and immediately moved to find a way to get to you

When he reaches your Sekai, he immediately calls your name in the most worried tone, sitting in front of you and grabbing your hands tightly

"My co-star, what happened?" He listens if you tell him, he leaves you alone if you don't. Either way, he squeezes your hands in his, smiling at you, "You should know that I'm always here for you! I always will be." He's determined to be the star you need <3

Rui:

Rui is a curious soul, so he's always trying to find out as much as he can about Sekais and true feelings. He always craves to learn more and more

You were someone who always allowed him to indulge in his curiosities on Sekais and true feelings, but whenever he asked you on why you know so much, you dodged it

Truth was, you had been searching for your true feelings for years. While you liked being able to talk him through his, you felt very upset that you hadn't found yours

As someone who's pulled the disappearance act before, Rui knows to immediately be worried and look for you. He's been there for sure, he'll help you out

He goes over to your house, and immediately notices the absence of your presence. He goes to your room, looking around for any signs of you

He finds you then on your computer screen, breaking down all by yourself in your Sekai. It reminds him of himself, and he knows he has to reach you soon

"I can't say I know why you haven't found your true feelings yet, but I know what it's like to be alone." He looks you straight in the eyes, "You won't be alone through this anymore." He's so certain in his resolve that it helps you to believe him <3

He manages to get into your Sekai, and he doesn't say a word, sitting by your side and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. He leads you to rest your head on him

Kanade:

Seeing as Niigo's Sekai is made from Mafuyu's feelings, Kanade is more than used to the concept of helping someone find their true feelings.

She's always looking for people to save, people to help, and she met you through these searches. She always had the feeling that you were hiding something from her...

And hiding you were, because you had been searching for your true feelings for years, by this point. You had felt like Mafuyu was closer to finding them than you'd ever been

You disappeared for a couple days, and Kanade was already getting deja vu. She went through the same with Mafuyu, and she already knew she needed to save you

For once, she left her house in favor of going to yours, unable to shake off the feelings of uneasiness as she entered your room

Her gaze went to your computer, and she felt her need to save you grow more intense as she saw you in the middle of your Sekai, crying your heart out

She knew the ways to enter the Sekai, and she was quick to make her way to you, sitting just across from you. She didn't touch you, not yet anyway

"...I'll save you too." You looked up at her in confusion, only to meet her determined gaze, "You haven't found your true feelings, right?...I'll help you. I promise I will." You're another person that Kanade wishes to help save, and she'll do everything she can <3

[jeffstormer]

On Awards, and the Grief (and Growth) of Giving Up

I made a big life decision at the start of this year I want to unpack here today, for obvious reasons.

As of this year, I made the decision to formally stop submitting my work for any kind of award, event, or industry recognition tied exclusively to a public/fan vote. Further, I would not ask others to submit on my behalf, and would go so far as to ask people not to do so. I'd like to talk about why I made that call and what it means to me.

Before I do, a necessary disclaimer: No shade whatsoever to those who do submit to those kinds of awards, and campaign for those kinds of awards. I recognize the market value in that kind of thing; the personal validation that comes from a group of people announcing you as the best. I see that all, and I'm proud of you for earning that recognition. This is strictly one person's opinion.

With that said, why did I make that call?

The truth is, from the moment I entered the tabletop industry, winning an ENnie was, to me, the benchmark of success. It was the sign that I was good at this. I let it define my relationship to my art. I couldn't stop, couldn't be satisfied, until I held that trophy.

So, every year, I would submit, and every year, I'd fall short, and every year, I'd be crushed.

At times, I could look at the list of nominees and winners and feel confident that we didn't have a chance. Other times, I didn't feel that way. But I was always viewing my work in competition, which warped how I perceived art on the whole.

Eventually, I came to the realization: it's not going to happen, and all aspiring to this platform is going to accomplish is "making me jealous of my peers instead of feeling in community with them." To find real satisfaction with the work, it can't be through that kind of mechanism.

Which is to say: I gave up. I acknowledged "my work is never going to be the kind of beloved that puts me on that pedestal, so all I am doing is setting myself up for disappointment. Better to be personally proud of something, and recognize the contributions made in other ways, than to hold yourself in a system that grinds you down year after year.

There's no shame in admitting you're giving up in something. Sometimes, things are meant to be failures. Sometimes, your best will never be good enough. I can recognize the ways in which my work is special (we hold a world record in Actual Play that will, frankly, likely never be topped, maybe not ever in my lifetime at least), without holding myself accountable to a standard that frankly, doesn't apply to the kind of art I make.

That said, there's also a grief in admitting that.

It's an acknowledgment that, on some level, the goal that I set for myself was a failure. That awards I have previously wanted to win are permanently out of my grasp, that I have failed to achieve a goal. That I, on a very literal level, wasn't good enough to do the thing.

And that's tough. Moreso on some days than others.

But, in spite of it all, I feel great about this decision. I feel like I made the right decision for myself, my work, and my trajectory as an artist.

It has been a profoundly difficult year for me, 2024. For personal reasons I cannot get into publicly. For professional reasons I've spoken about elsewhere (feeling increasingly isolated from Actual Play as an artistic community and industry).

But in this one area--claiming my own satisfaction of the work and using that to guide my own way forward--I am content.

[jooniperbonsai]

Thanks For The Sub (ksj) | Chapter One

Pairing: Camboy!Seokjin x Gamer!Reader (afab)

Rating: 18+

Chapter One length: 11-14k 18,371 (OOPS LOL)

Release date: Fri. January 19, 2024.

Genre: Smut, fluff, angst, camboy au, gamer au, comedy, crack, slow burn (?), coworkers/boss/friends to lovers, an exploration of adults in their late 20s/early 30s

Summary: After a clip of you sucking at video games goes viral, you've become somewhat famous, with thousands of subscribers now tuning in each week to see you play. Overnight, you've gone from a sexually frustrated grad student who reads smut in her room to a gamer girl (or rather, a not-gamer girl). This would have been the perfect job, except it was never the job you wanted. Desperate for money to pay for grad school, you bounce between your new gig and working at a local restaurant to pay the bills, where your hot coworker-now-boss Seokjin plays many of the lead roles in your sexual fantasies.

Seokjin, two years post losing his fiancé and job within the same day, is tired of the rut he's dug himself into and wants to start over. Now 30 years old, he's stuck managing his family's restaurant where he harbors an insanely inappropriate crush on you on top of carrying one hell of a secret: Seokjin is also known as Jin, a successful gay-for-pay camboy on the streaming site Worldwide Handsome.

When the stress of the upcoming semester and the pressure to stream becomes more than you can handle, you seek out some much-needed stress relief online, only to discover a man who looks a little too much like your boss is staring right back at you.

Warnings for Chapter One: Swearing, cheating (not between main characters), big age gap between lesser characters that can be uncomfy, sex work, gay sex work when the worker is actually not gay (but everyone is chill about it), <- allusions to queer fetishization bc of this, feelings of shame and guilt, feelings of failure/depression, improper restaurant safety procedures, the existential crisis of your late-20s/30s that we all seem to go through, off-handed references to kpop culture including fanfics because I'm a clown and need to call us out sometimes, silly literary tropes, references to pregnancy (NOT reeader), boss-employee power dynamics, allusions to queer BTS members or relationships, cameos of au Seventeen Members (Wonwoo and y/n are besties). NSFW sex stuff: big dick Seokjin (of course), Seokjin with rolled shirt sleeves and cutting things in a kitchen, Daddy Dom Seokjin makes himself known, blindfolds, camming (obviously), f/m masturbation, lots of dirty talk, sex toys, degradation kink, praise kink, sexual fantasies at the worst moment, kink exploration, a lot cum (sorry), I mention the omegaverse as a joke, a sparkly pink dildo, seokjin has a massive collection of toys and he intends to use them, seokjin and reader are constantly horny, reader is kind of inexperienced, implied exhibitionism kink, implied voyeurism, implied public sex.

a/n: it's here (and longer than I intended but oh well!) this fic is inspired by a combination of fics from the lovely writing community on here, the copious amounts of smut I read, a dabble of my friends or my own experience, & the high drama of kdramas. I felt really compelled to write this fic after rereading "tip 143 (for ∞ seconds of love)" by minilouvre on ao3. I feel like the camboy/person trope is so fun to explore and I wanted to try my own take on it with our Seokjin, who doesn't seem to get as many fics written about him but absolutely deserves it. I also wanted to create space for a fic that explores the weird transition of late 20s-30s that both BTS and I (and maybe many of you) have experienced in the last few years. I hope you enjoy! I keep my inbox open, so lmk your thoughts!

xo - h

That’s it baby cum for me. 

Such a good little slut for Daddy.

Wish that dildo was my cock. 

Fuck this is so hot.

The tip jar was going wild. The mute button tapped long ago, tonight was by far the most successful night camming Seokjin had ever had. He would definitely be able to afford that new gaming PC after this. 

Thank god. After three hours streaming, he was getting tired of riding the glittery pink dildo. It was cute–a Christmas gift from one of his loyal subscribers– but admittedly, he hadn’t prepped well enough before putting it in an hour ago, and when he let out a pained groan as he sank down on it, he immediately knew he would be feeling it tomorrow, and maybe the next day. 

His only consolation was the five new top-tier subscriptions he’d received while experiencing searing hot pain. He’d clearly appealed to someone’s kink. Well, there was always something for everyone. 

Seokjin knew this well. Today was his two-year anniversary since his first livestream on Worldwide Handsome, an international gay live cam site. During those two years he had seen just about every kink requested, from wax play to autoerotic asphyxiation to something called the omegaverse; he’d sifted through the internet and researched enough on each request to decide which ones he’d be willing to perform, and which kinks were too much outside of his comfort zone. 

Now, with an apartment full of gifted costumes and drawers full of just about every type of sex toy known to the human population (and perhaps even some aliens if those toys held any accuracy), it was obvious that Seokjin was a knowledgeable and successful camboy who could fulfill so many men’s fantasies.

Except for the fact that Seokjin wasn’t actually gay. 

Which is, as it turns out, also something people are into. 

Two Years Ago

It wasn’t that Seokjin ever intended to be a gay sex cam worker, much less a camboy at all, but two years, four months, three weeks, and twelve hours ago, Seokjin hopped on a plane after finishing a week-long conference in Los Angeles. He’d booked the first flight out, eager to come home to his fiancé. 

During the week, he hadn’t heard much from her. He understood, of course. She’d mentioned before he left that during that week she would be busy catching up on work and finalizing a really important project with a looming deadline. She’d been stressed about it the morning he left, practically shoving him out the door with his suitcase. 

But he missed her desperately, especially with the distance between them, and he was hoping he could regain some of that intimacy by trying phone sex. They’d been having less sex recently, probably from the stress of work, but he still craved her every single day, just like he did when they were in college. 

For most of his and Soon Yi’s relationship, they were insatiable. In college, they were known for being embarrassingly public in their displays of affection, with Yoongi once catching them in the kitchen at a party with Soon Yi’s hand down Seokjin’s pants and Seokjin’s hands up Soon Yi’s shirt. At first, Seokjin wondered if he always felt so horny because of his raging hormones and the fact that Soon Yi was the first person he’d had sex with. But even three years later, on the night he’d proposed, they had to leave the restaurant he rented out so they could have sex in the car. 

Soon Yi was charming. She matched Seokjin’s wit, always ready to keep up with a joke and take it to the next level. She fit in effortlessly with his group of friends, remembering their birthdays and always showing up with a tiny treat for them, even if they hated celebrating. His parents adored her the moment they met her. She was frequently fawned over when she visited his work to bring him lunch or to just stop by and say hello. 

When his boss, Mr. Choi met her during the company’s annual gala, he told Seokjin she was enchanting, she was the moon that lit up the evening sky. Mr. Choi was also incredibly drunk when he said this, but he wasn’t wrong. 

Soon Yi glowed through Seokjin’s darkest nights like the moon. 

That’s why when she denied every video call request he made during his trip, Seokjin knew something was wrong. He felt desperate and needy, something he’d never experienced during their relationship. 

As he laid in his hotel bed, touching himself to their memories, a strange need overtook him: he wanted to remind her that despite all the work stress, they always got through everything together and ultimately, being intimate might help with reconnection. 

So at the end of his boring conference, he flew back, planning on surprising her when she got home with a delicious meal and sexy massage. Maybe he’d even use those silly novelty heart-shaped handcuffs Jungkook got him as a gag gift. 

He was ready to rekindle his love for the moon. 

What Seokjin wasn’t ready for was the fact that when he walked through the door of his house, the only moon he saw was that of Mr. Choi’s naked ass as he thrust into Soon Yi on the dining room table. 

As it became immediately apparent, Soon Yi’s “work project” was clearly what was playing out before him as he watched the only woman he’d ever been in love with writhe in ecstasy underneath his much older work superior. 

It would have been one thing to lose his fiancé, but in witnessing this entanglement, Seokjin also knew he’d lost his job. Due to the blur of his memory, his brain trying to erase what he’d seen, he wasn’t entirely sure when they realized he was home. However, by the time he had grabbed another duffel with some fresh, non work-related clothes from his dresser–after he breezed past his unmade bed that probably didn’t smell like him anymore–Soon Yi and Mr. Choi were half dressed and sheepishly waiting for him near the entry.

Seokjin couldn’t bring himself to look either of them in the eyes as he stated his resignation letter would be on Mr. Choi’s desk the following morning. 

When he arrived at Jimin and Jungkook’s apartment to crash, that’s when reality set in. What would he do now? He had no house to live in, no job to make money from, and he just lost the love of his life. 

His head was splitting from the idea of car payments, a mortgage under his name for a place he wouldn’t be living in, having to tell his parents, calling the wedding venue and paying that awful cancellation fee on top of not getting his deposit back. The extra zeros in his bank account were depleting fast and it wasn’t like he would be able to sleep on Jimin and Jungkook’s couch forever. 

After two weeks of dodging family phone calls, desperately applying to every job that didn’t sound like a scam, waking up in the middle of the night from the lumpiness of the couch or Jungkook’s horrible snoring, Seokjin felt like he was out of options. 

“I’m going to call my parents and tell them. Maybe I can work at the restaurant for the time being while I wait for callbacks. I have some money in my savings for my own apartment. I just can’t keep doing this,” he said. 

“Hyung, are you sure? You know that we don’t mind you being here as long as you need. Really, it’s not an issue.” Jimin was gentle as always, the concern on his face knitting his eyebrows together. 

But Seokjin knew he was avoiding the inevitable, so when he nodded and then called his parents, their warm voices on the other end felt like a sign he’d made the right decision after all.  

The next week, Seokjin began working at his family’s restaurant, filling in for shifts that were short, typically in the kitchen. Chopping and prepping the food for the chefs, dish washing, and anything that kept his hands busy were welcome distractions from the painful reminder of what awaited him outside of the restaurant. 

Soon Yi was pregnant. Seokjin found out one day when he stopped by to grab a load of his things to bring to his new apartment. While both he and Soon Yi agreed to sell the house, it appeared she was taking longer than him to pack. He figured this was because she would be moving in with Mr. Choi, who lived in the penthouse of a luxury apartment complex downtown. 

During their meeting with the real estate agent, Soon Yi had scribbled her new contact information and mailing address onto some forms with Mr. Choi’s details. Wealthy people always operated on their own timeline, one where they could hire a moving company to have everything neatly packed and stored within hours. 

Seokjin, however, was limited to an ongoing loop of back and forth where he crammed his car full of silverware, lamps, and his MapleStory figure collection Soon Yi once mocked him for collecting. As Seokjin continued to pack away his belongings, he saw it. In the guest bathroom outside of the kitchen, there were two positive pregnancy tests in the garbage can. 

Soon Yi was pregnant and the father wasn’t him. The last time they’d had sex was three months ago. She would have known by now if that were the case. 

A wave of nausea rushed over him, and somewhere between bouts of gagging and wiping tears from his eyes, Seokjin realized that things were truly over. 

Two months passed, and still he couldn’t find a job. While the restaurant gig was taking care of some of his bills, it was only a matter of time before Seokjin would be unable to take care of himself. At 28 years old, he’d have to move back in with his parents, which was next to impossible in terms of space, not to mention the fact that his brother and wife were living with them while their apartment was being renovated to better accommodate a life transition of their own: they were expecting their first child.  

Given his semi-recent discovery, being around a pregnant woman was something Seokjin didn’t particularly want a reminder of. 

“I don’t know what to do. Something has to give,” he said one day as he sat in Yoongi’s living room. A thick coat of snow was covering the earth outside, though from the sweat running down the back of Seokjin’s neck, you would never be able to tell. Yoongi always kept his home at the exact opposite of the climate outside, trying to quell the possibility he would have to experience any physical discomfort if he dared to ever leave his house, which he rarely did.

His friends all sat around him, quietly sipping their whisky or beer while the flashing light from the TV casted a kaleidoscope of colors across the coffee table. Hoseok nudged Taehyung, who’d fallen asleep at some point between the long pauses in conversation. Seokjin couldn’t blame him. 

It was late, much later than the invitation Yoongi extended typically lasted, but this meetup was different. Everyone had always known Seokjin to be optimistic. From a goofy dad-joke-making 18 year old until now, he’d consistently been a source of light. When Taehyung’s grandmother died a few years back, it was Seokjin who made him first smile again with a spot-on impression of his own halmoni as they slurped bowls of naengmyeon.

His hair was shaggy and unkempt, his smile fading quickly from his face after cracking a joke. His jokes were also darker, less silly and eye-rolling and more self-deprecating and sarcastic. It was like his life was draining from him before their eyes, and it was becoming nearly impossible to stomach. 

But concern doesn’t always lead to action, which is why they were sitting around in Yoongi’s living room hoping the whisky would give them some inspiration to find a solution to Seokjin’s problem that he wouldn’t immediately turn down. They’d scoured job sites together earlier, and anything in Seokjin’s former profession only led to him suggesting his next boss better be a woman or else he might have to keep his future girlfriend away from corporate events or dining tables. Other careers in his field were met with similar disdain. 

Seokjin wasn’t always this way. In college, he didn’t know what kind of job he wanted or where he wanted to end up, so he majored in acting, hoping that it would lead him where he would eventually develop some sense of passion. 

In a sense it did. During an internship with an entertainment company shortly after he graduated, his attention to detail, natural charisma, and flexibility showcased a skillset he didn’t even know he had, which resulted in him being offered a position in their corporate headquarters the following fall. He’d been there ever since. 

But Seokjin didn’t want to return to the same life he’d had. So much of his life up to this point had been the same, and it clearly didn’t work out for him, so why continue on? The only issue was that he once again felt like he was 18, trying to decide on a path to follow when he didn’t even know who he was anymore. Nothing was appealing to him. 

“What about video game streaming?” Namjoon suggested. “You love games, and you have all the equipment. You used to talk about doing that all the time.” 

“Yeah, hyung. You’re also really good at talking and stuff, so it would be fun to watch you do it!” Taehyung perked up at this suggestion, shaking off his sleepiness to contribute to the conversation. “I’ve seen how much streamers make with all their sponsorships and stuff, they don’t even have to work another job!”

The energy in the room picked up slightly as they waited expectantly for an answer. 

Seokjin grunted. “Okay, look. I would love to do that. That’s my dream job. But you’re forgetting something important. Those streamers didn’t just jump on the internet one day and then got thousands of subscribers and sponsorships to pay their bills overnight. Some of them took years to build up their following before they even started making money off of it. A lot of people actually lose money from game streaming. And I need money now. I don’t have that kind of time!”

Taehyung deflated, settling himself back into the couch next to Hoseok, who gave him a tender pat on his thigh. 

“But what if…what if you did a kind of streaming that made you money pretty much right away?” Jungkook offered quietly. 

Seokjin glanced over at his youngest friend, who was holding his empty whisky glass in his hands instead of looking at him. 

“What do you mean? Is there some kind of gaming livestream service that does that?” Now Seojkin was curious. 

“Um, well, not for gaming, exactly. I was just thinking. Um, you could always do like an OnlyFans or something? I have a friend who does it and she sometimes makes $1000 a night. And that would take care of–”

“You mean being a camboy? Jungkook, seriously? Listen I know we’ve all had a bit to drink, but that’s a ridiculous idea.” Seokjin snorted. “Besides, the market is flooded with people doing their own sex work. Maybe your friend is just really pretty or something to make that much from it, but I highly doubt I would make any money off OnlyFans because no one would even see me!” 

Jungkook nursed his bottom lip between his teeth as he was dismissed, his body mirroring Taehyung as he fell back into the couch cushions. 

“Hyung is right,” Jimin added finally, having spent most of the night settled quietly next to an even quieter Yoongi. “He wouldn’t make much money on OnlyFans. All the men on there are either ugly or buff, and Seokjin-hyung looks way too gay to appeal to that market.” 

Yoongi, who was sipping his whisky as Jimin spoke, spluttered into the glass as he lost his composure, falling into a fit of laughter. From the other side of the room, Hoseok joined in, clapping and gasping for air between laughs.

“Excuse me? What the hell does that even mean? Yah, stop laughing! It’s not funny!” Seokjin fought the smile that was trying to form on his lips. Okay, it was a little funny.

“Well, hyung, isn’t it obvious? Remember that one time we went to a gay bar and all those guys I tried to pick up tried to pick you up instead?” Jimin sighed as he glanced at Seokjin before reaching across the coffee table to grab a handful of cheese balls. 

“We’ve been over this. They weren’t trying to pick me up. They just told me I was really handsome and had fuckable lips. And they’re not wrong!” 

“Wait when did you guys go to a gay bar? Where was I?” Yoongi cleared his throat, finally recovering from his laughing fit. 

“You didn’t want to come, remember? I don’t know why you’re asking this, you never want to go anywhere. Anyway that’s besides the point. Seokjin-hyung and I went to the gay bar and he stole all of the guys I was hitting on because they wanted to make him their baby girl!”

Hoseok wiped a tear from his eye and chuckled. “Yeah, no, hyung I’m sorry but if Jimin is being passed up at a gay bar for you, you clearly give off that vibe. I can see it. You look all soft and plushy and like you would be the perfect bottom.” 

Seokjin tried to fight off the heat that was creeping up his neck into his ears, but after a few glasses of whisky, and the ungodly temperature of the room,  it was a failed mission to avoid being flushed.

Jimin shot a glare at Hoseok, who shrugged. “What? I meant it as a compliment!” 

“Well, thanks I guess. Now I know I look like I’m gay. That doesn’t seem to solve my problem here!” Seokjin looked over at Namjoon for backup, but all Namjoon seemed to be able to do was give him an apologetic smile.

 “No, I know, I know. We got off topic.” Jimin said, “Sort of. Listen, like I said before you wouldn’t be successful on OnlyFans, just because of what they market. But you could always market yourself differently. And I’m thinking, if you really need to make money fast, you could always work with what you’ve got going for you.”

The entire room went silent. 

“Wait,” Namjoon said, “you don’t mean…” His eyes flitted to Seokjin and widened in alarm. 

Slowly, everyone shifted as they realized what Jimin was suggesting, Seokjin evidently being the last one. 

How was he supposed to work with what he had when what he had was apparently drawing a different crowd of people from the one he was interested in? What did Jimin mean by marketing himself differently? Was he supposed to just stream on websites that were exclusively for gay men? 

Oh. That’s exactly what Jimin was saying. 

“Wh-Jimin what the fuck? You mean I should be a gay camboy? I know we just talked about me being attractive to men, but I’m not interested in them that way!”

Jimin huffed. “Well obviously I know you’re not gay. Otherwise we might not be in this situation.” 

Seokjin winced. 

“Sorry, that was unfair. It’s just…hyung, you’ve been so not like yourself lately. And you’re right, something needs to change. I know you’re not gay, but this still could help. Haven’t you heard of gay for pay? Like in porn and stuff a bunch of straight actors will fuck each other or some gay guy because it pays more than straight porn. It’s the same thing.”

“Only you don’t have to actually fuck anyone. Maybe you should remind him of that,” Yoongi added. 

“Right, exactly! Look, you don’t have to do it. But it could help you get by and pay bills in the meantime until you find something else that you want to do. And there’s a lot of sites where you can stream even once and get a direct payout the next day. It might be worth a shot.”

Seokjin thought about it for a moment. It didn’t sound completely awful. From what he’d seen from the times he saw cam sites out of curiosity, most of what happened was masturbating and talking to people. And he didn’t hate people. But something about it made him nervous. 

“I don’t know if I’d be okay with being watched. That seems embarrassing.” 

“Oh please, the number of times you and Soon Yi fucked basically in public is astronomical. You’re practically an exhibitionist,” Hoseok teased. 

“That was different! I was with her! Now it would be everyone watching just me up close and personal. Namjoon-ah, talk some sense into them. This is crazy, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know if it actually is, hyung,” Namjoon said lightly. “Jimin-ah and Hobi have made some good points. And I think…I think if you weren’t even just a little bit curious you would have immediately said no instead of going back and forth with them over it like how you flat out said no to the other stuff. Maybe you’re feeling a bit shy because it’s been a little while and you are trying to heal through the breakup and stuff, but you also don’t have to do it or you can do it once and change your mind after if you want. 

“It just doesn’t seem to me like this is the worst option for you. You get to talk to people, you can maybe have fun. You don’t see the people on the other side anyway, so if you wanted to pretend they were girls instead of guys you could, or turn off the comments probably? It’s not real sex though. And even if it was, is that so wrong? It’s not like you would be cheating on Soon Yi for doing this. I mean-”

“Thanks Hyung! I think we get it!” Jimin interjected, raising his eyebrows at Namjoon as if to say shut the fuck up. 

Seokjin felt his stomach sink. Is this why he was panicked at the thought? It wasn’t real sex, but it almost felt like he would be doing something wrong by doing this. Not morally against himself, but someone else. Maybe he was still hanging on to Soon Yi in ways he didn’t fully realize. 

He felt almost like a heavy weight was pressing on his chest and forbidding him from moving on. What would happen then if he tried doing this for himself? Would the weight still feel the same? He wanted to know. 

“Ah, fine, I’ll think about it.” He looked over at Yoongi, who looked relieved that the conversation was nearing its end. “You have anything to add to this? A final voice of reason?” 

Yoongi snorted as he jumped up to stretch. “Nah. Except, as your former roommate, ‘Seok’s got a point about the exhibitionism thing. You were way too into showing me your dick all the time and walking around naked when we roomed together.” 

The room erupted into laughter, Seokjin himself joining. This time his smile didn’t immediately fall from his face. 

Slowly, everyone else stood, bodies unwinding from furniture and each other. While Jimin ordered Jungkook and himself a taxi, Seokjin waited with him. 

“My only issue is, how do I pretend to be gay? Won’t they know I’m not?” 

Jimin scoffed as he nudged a sleepy and tipsy Jungkook into his shoes. “I don’t know hyung. You have an acting degree. Use it.”

A few weeks later, Seokjin held his first stream, nervously engaging with the handful of viewers trickling in and tried to deflect the discomfort he felt in his new spotlight.

“Um, hi everyone. My name’s Jin. Thanks for coming. You can probably tell, but this is my first time and I’m really nervous. I hope you enjoy the show.” 

Seokjin decided to shorten his name for his streams to help him feel like he was embodying a different persona, someone named Jin who may actually be gay. It wasn’t a big change, but it was nice to give himself some separation from Seokjin, the guy who was doing gay for pay to afford a new life.

Unfortunately, Jimin’s suggestion for Seokjin to act wasn’t as easy to implement as he’d hoped. Within the first half hour, viewers of his stream had noticed he was still nervous, and started asking him questions to get him to unwind, and hopefully undress. 

“Ah, yeah, uh, anal. I’ve done it once or twice, it’s nice.” It wasn’t a lie, he’d tried anal a few times with Soon Yi and did find it nice, but he also knew that this wasn’t what the question was asking. 

“Do I have a boyfriend? No, I’m single.” 

Slowly he began undressing, the heat of his half-truths causing him to feel like he was burning up. 

“Are you really gay? Well, what kind of question is that? I’m here aren’t I?” 

That question seemed to satisfy his audience for another half hour, until a new thread of people trickled in, asking him the same questions. He was running out of ways to answer.

I don’t care if you’re straight. You’re still hot. 

When he read this comment, he exhaled deeply. And from that one reaction, a flurry of others joined in. 

Yeah, idc either. You’re still so pretty. 

So hot if u were straight. Maybe I’d convert u. ;)

I’d let you put it into my ass and let you pretend it was a pussy.

For some reason, these comments began to fuel him. The attention was kind of nice. It reminded him of how he used to feel. 

Maybe he didn’t need to act gay to get what he wanted. Maybe he could just enjoy the pleasure of the compliments and company and see what happened from there? The weight he had been carrying around in his chest was feeling a bit lighter, and the comments were helping distract him from the pinches of guilt that he was doing something wrong. Because he wasn’t. 

Here, he was Jin, a sexy, flirty guy who could shine in the sky of his own making. 

Jin, the moon. 

That’s it. He was the moon.

Present

“That’s it, give it to me. Please, I’m gonna cum.” Seokjin hoped the words he moaned at his camera were true. He was so tired, and he wanted to be free from the stupid dildo.  

Lately, Seojkin has been having a hard time cumming on stream. He wasn’t sure why. For so long it had never been an issue, but streaming had begun feeling less like a fun way to relieve stress and more like an actual job. 

Never before was he so popular with his stream, and while it’s nice to see a larger deposit being made into his bank account each week, every time he came home from the restaurant and knew he was scheduled to do a cam show, his stomach knotted up with dread. 

The last time he felt this feeling was a little over two years ago, when hopping on planes to fly to mundane conferences or sitting in board rooms for morning meetings consumed all his time. Even during the period he was jobless, there was a tiny part of him relishing the fact that the work-related dread was over. 

And it returned with a vengeance. Seokjin tried everything, ventured into new kinks and even the game features of the website with the hope that he would feel the rush he used to love from streaming. But nothing really worked. It was now just his job.

He didn’t even want to stream for so long tonight, but because it was his anniversary, he wanted to make sure he ended on a good note to thank his viewers. 

One thing Seokjin’s viewers loved was seeing him cum. It was the part of his stream when he always earned the most tips. Jimin had been right. 

If Seokjin knew anything now, it’s that he had many assets worth using to finance his life, and his pretty face coupled with his big dick seemed to work for him.

But even as he stroked himself, precum dripping down the head of his cock, and even though he was riding the dildo in a way that would hit his prostate and finally give him an easy out, he could feel the edge pulling away.

“Fuck,” he grunted. He was losing it. He doubled down, rocking his hips to see if hitting a different sweet spot would do the trick. But it was to no avail; his cock was softening.

On his nightstand, his phone pinged, which only could mean one thing. Seokjin always turned his do not disturb mode on during his work hours, only allowing phone calls from his family or one alert from an app to pierce through the silence. This one was the alert.

It meant Y/N was online and you had just started a live stream of your own. 

You were one of this month’s top gaming streamers, bringing in more viewers than Seokjin had ever received during his top months of streaming. You were popular not because you were good, but because you were the exact opposite.

You were awful at most games you played, jolting at jumpscares over and over, losing in first rounds of Fall Guys or Dead by Daylight. One time you jumped into a game of Fortnite and were eliminated by a potty-mouthed child the second you landed. Your jaw hung open as the tiny, high pitched voice called you a bitchass before falling into a fit of laughter that had Seokjin himself in tears. 

You were inspiring. Sexy. You received dozens of comments every stream about how pretty you were or how great your laugh was, which you often didn’t read out loud but always offered a humble nod and show of thanks when you did. There was something about you that hit up the world around you, and though he wouldn’t so much as utter it out loud, Seokjin had a massive crush on you.

But Seokjin was also sort-of-not-really your manager. Unlike all the people pining over you in your comment section wishing they knew you in real life, Seokjin actually did. He saw you three times a week at his family’s restaurant that he was strong-armed into managing while his parents took the opportunity to finally travel and see other parts of the world. 

Seokjin stayed, not because he needed the money. Not that his pay was all that much anyway. 

Camming was incredibly lucrative for him, cementing his income in a way that allowed him to pay rent in a very nice apartment downtown. Seokjin was also someone who had always been smart with his finances and knew how to invest in the best trends. 

When his house with Yoon Si finally sold (after four months of her taking her sweet time to gather her last belongings and sign off on him putting it on the market), Seokjin took his cut and applied it toward a better streaming setup and some lower level stocks…and a special edition MapleStory figurine to celebrate the new chapter in his life. 

Seokjin’s family never seemed to question how he was able to afford his fancy apartment given how much money he made at their business. Well, they did ask once, but Seokjin orchestrated some simple lie saying he worked in cryptocurrency, and that seemed to be enough of an explanation for his family. No one wants to know how crypto works, which in the end worked in his favor. 

He’d planned to leave the restaurant about 8 months ago, but then you showed up one day asking about a job. The restaurant was within walking distance to your university, where you were getting your master’s degree in early childhood education. While the program you were enrolled in had some funding, you’d told Seokjin’s mother you were a student and in need of work. The following Monday, Seokjin walked in and found you with an apron tied around your waist, your bright eyes and smile shining back at him. He couldn’t bring himself to leave after that. 

A few months after you’d started working there, Seokjin and you had become somewhat friends, sharing stories about past jobs (minus some key details on Seokjin’s part), student observations you had to do for school, and your interests. You mentioned casually you were a livestreamer for gaming, never alluding to how popular you actually were.

Eventually, Seokjin convinced you to give him your username, batting his eyelashes dramatically and promising he would be your cheerleader. For some reason, that seemed to work, and later that night, Seokjin tuned in to your stream, one man among the thousands. From that moment on he let his crush become a safe thing where, like his own viewers, he could fantasize from behind a screen. Maybe soon he would actually ask you out on a date, taking your coworker relationship and transforming it into something more.

And then a month ago his parents left, leaving him with the roles and responsibility of manager. Which meant he was an authority figure who could arguably do whatever he wanted. Similar to how his boss in a way was an authority figure who could get whatever he wanted. That idea turned Seokjin’s stomach sour. He could never do anything about this crush now, not while you worked underneath him. It was too familiar and distorted, and he never wanted you to be in the position he was once in. It was completely inappropriate.

But try telling his dick that.  

Two days ago, Seokjin witnessed you in the kitchen bending over to pick up onion peels that had fallen to the ground. You definitely weren’t aware, but your skirt had ridden up a bit while you were working, and that meant he could see a tiniest delicate trim of lace on your blush colored panties. 

And despite the fact that Seokjin was 30 years old and had believed he’d gotten past his boner-in-public-just-from-seeing-underwear era during his teen years, he was evidently wrong. Because those panties and soft looking curve of ass didn’t just belong to anyone; they belonged to you.

This wasn’t the only time he got hard for you at work. Sometimes on days when there were no customers, he would watch you study at one of the tables, where you were prone to stretching your body after long periods of staring down, trying to unknot the tense muscles caused by sitting almost completely still as you tried to comprehend what you were reading. 

During those stretches, you would often let out the most sexual moans and sighs as you felt relief and it was enough to have Seokjin tucking himself under his belt like a horny school boy. God, what he would do to hear you moan underneath him, because of him. 

He thought about recording you stretching. He was addicted to your voice, your soft sighs. It would be so easy to just “leave” his phone in the booth behind you. Then he could hear it forever while he imagined what else made you moan. Did you like your nipples sucked? Did you sigh when you were being stretched open and felt full? How did you taste? 

And then Seokjin pulled himself together and realized how sickeningly perverted he was to be thinking about you like this as he stood hard and aching in the middle of his parents’ fucking restaurant.

He wanted you. So much so that now as he worked his cock in his fist, he let himself fall more into fantasy, one where you were watching, curious about the many toys and gifts around his apartment, wondering how you could reach the limits of what you wanted and needed to make you scream. He imagined that across town, you weren’t firing up your computer for a night of cozy games, but rubbing your pussy at the same speed he was stroking himself, wet and begging for him to cum all over those gorgeous tits, that wet tongue–

Seokjin groaned as he came, his entire body trembling as a thick load erupted all over his hands, chin, and chest. Normally he could control the direction to minimize the mess but this orgasm caught him a bit off guard, almost completely lost until it crept up with a burning need and coated him. He hadn’t felt that good in a while. 

As he panted and focused his eyes back onto the screen, his comments were flooded with praise and tips, viewers exclaiming how this might have been his best orgasm they’ve ever seen, which was saying a lot considering some of his subscribers had been with him from the very beginning, and there had been some pretty fantastic orgasms. 

He wouldn’t deny it, though. He felt looser in his joints, calm washing over him and breaking apart the bitterness that was in his gut from how lackluster streaming had been recently. He wiped his chin with a grin and reached for the towel next to him, ready to wrap up his show. As he delivered his thank yous, one comment drifting through the chat stopped him dead in his tracks. His post-orgasmic high was crashing as panic flittered into his stomach. 

Did you guys hear him moaning a name as he came? Who the fuck is Y/N?

She had to leave. If the king couldn’t overcome his malice, she knew she couldn’t stay. No amount of love she had for his son was going to make him see that. She’d told him she loved him despite the scar that ran over his left eye and down his soft cheek. She vowed to be good enough to marry him, do whatever it took. Yet the king and queen had laughed at her, had their guard hold his foot on her back so she couldn't stand up from her deep bow. 

Laughed as they stood from their thrones to welcome the guest’s arrival: the consort for their son. The prince stood with them, silent as he followed them through the open doors. Quiet like how he used to be back in the first days of when she met him last summer. In memory, she couldn’t even fathom how he was anything like the man she’d grown to love. Yet, looking up from the pulp of the floor, she’d seen him return to that man. 

Hadn’t the days she’d spent walking those palace gardens with him been enough? They’d stood together under the plum blossom tree in the middle of winter and he’d promised that he would love her even while the buds were hibernating. 

“We can watch them become flowers together in the spring,” he’d said. 

He had taken her to his bed that night. Used his sensuous tongue to lap at her sweet nectar. He devoured her heart and soul. Climaxed with her and held her through the heavy snow.

Where was that man now? She didn’t know.

She waited until well after nightfall, when even the latest bird twitterings were silenced by the call of sleep. She knew she couldn’t bring much, but she managed to slip into the kitchen after dinner to pull together a few scraps for the road. Where would she even go? The nearest village was at least a two-day walk and if he sent his men for her, she knew word would spread before she’d even arrived. 

Unless he didn’t send anyone for her, she realized, her stomach dropping with nausea. He wouldn’t send anyone for her. She knew this. It’s why Prince August stood in the throne room, lethal as ever, even with no sword in his belt. August. Sugar. Whichever person he decided he was in the moment. Her nickname for him didn’t matter anymore. He wasn’t sweet. His desire for power showed the bitterness in his heart. He had given in to his parents’ wishes, despite the times he swore he would never give them the satisfaction.

He was cruel. But even worse, she believed he wouldn’t be. She was a fool.

It was the darkest part of the night when she left the servant’s quarters. She’d miss the ladies and all their kindness, but she knew she couldn’t serve August his breakfast in his bedchamber after this. After knowing that the sheets she once laid in with him were now being laid in by someone else. 

She took the back route, near the interior of the garden, ducking behind the ornamental shrubs and skirting past the watchpost the guards usually abandoned at this hour with ease. All that was left was to make it through the courtyard and she would be free. 

She padded her way along the path. A light breeze of the pre-dawn was catching, fluttering the branches of the newly blossoming trees around her and blowing petals in their wake. She caught one in her fingertips and fought a sob. Plum blossoms.

Should she take one with her? For the memory? So that she could always have a part of him with her? 

No, she decided. It would be too much to remember this. Once she passed through those gates, she would not be the same woman she was. Holding her breath, she let the petal go, hoping wherever the wind carried it, it would find the peace she too was looking for. It swept to the end of the courtyard, over the gate that was now her future. 

This was a sign, she mourned. Not all promises were meant to be kept.

With a final look at the place she’d learned to call home, the man she’d learned to call home, she opened the gate, ready to forge into the unknown. 

“Petal,” she thought she heard his call, his nickname for her. Though when she turned around, he was nowhere to be found. 

She must’ve imagined it, wished for the impossible. As she took steps through the gate, she looked out at the world around her, the plum petal a few feet in front of her. Maybe she would take a piece of him with her, after all. It was too tempting not to. 

She moved, trying to ignore the tug she felt back toward the palace, the invisible string of fate she thought that tied her to August trying to tangle her back in. She wouldn’t do it. She wouldn’t go back. 

She bent down, clutching the petal tenderly in her palms and letting the first tears fall. 

“So that’s it, hm? After all that, you weren’t even going to wish me goodbye.” 

She rose swiftly, whipping around to the voice’s owner. 

There, leaning against the outer palace wall, was August. 

The alarm on your phone chimes, pulling you from the book in your lap. You’ve been reading all afternoon, the sun now taking its final bow before plunging the world into darkness. Soon you’ll have to turn the lights on, then it will be time for work. On your only day off. 

You groan, stretching your neck as you allow yourself to come back to reality. 

To some, it would be hard to call your job “work”. Many people dreamed of being professional game streamers. Who wouldn’t want to be paid to sit online, play games, and talk to people? 

You don’t. That’s the problem. 

Your ascent into gaming stardom was a fluke. About 9 months ago, you were in between semesters for your grad program and looking for ways to unwind. Your oldest friend, Wonwoo, was a pretty successful streamer who often hosted game nights to play with his viewers and friends. 

You frequently watched his streams, letting his soft voice be the perfect background noise as you studied and formulated the next lesson plan or behavioral assessment. You’d known Wonwoo for what felt like forever at this point, being his first subscriber, first moderator, and first kiss (not in that order). But your middle school kiss outside of the convenience store never led to anything more than that, as desperately as you’d wanted it to. 

Once he moved across the country, you let your crush die with the distance. The years turned faster and your twenties were spinning by with the revolving door of lovers you’d watch him pine over, cry over, and in one case, almost marry. Streaming then became one of your main forms of connection, and your role as his moderator tied some part of you to him out of loyalty. To imagine him as anything other than a friend now feels ridiculous. 

But that loyalty you have is also to a fault. When Wonwoo’s usual streaming friends bailed one night during a tournament, you subbed in…for a game you didn’t even know how to play. 

And to make matters worse, this was a game that required talking to each other on-stream, which meant you not only sucked major ass at this game, but Wonwoo’s 700 viewers that day were also subjected to your constant frustrated squeaks, swears, and embarrassed maws as you tried to key-smash your way to victory but ended up throwing the entire team’s game with your incompetence. 

Wonwoo wasn’t mad, though many others were. He knew what he was getting into when he agreed, and his streams operated with very few rules: no hate, no spam, and we are in this to have fun. And he did have fun. By the time the first round was over, he and most of the chat were losing it over your commentary. 

As he wiped tears from eyes and took in a breath, he read his comments. “‘Damn, I never heard a chick threaten someone with a plunger like that before’. Yeah, I’ll give it to you, Y/N, you got really creative with your insults in that. Hey, PartyShitty thanks for the sub! ‘I can’t BREATHE’, yeah I’m still trying to get it together. W00000000000000000ziiiiii–damn that’s a lot of zeros in that username–thanks for the 5000 points! ‘Is she hot’ uh, I mean, I don’t— 

“Oh shit, LetsGetIt15, thank you for gifting twenty subs! ‘Please, Y/N, start your own channel. I’ll be the first subscriber.’ Actually, no, I’ll be. But really, that's not a bad idea.”

Wonwoo navigated the rest of his stream with ease that night, but after it was over, he called you to try to convince you to start your own channel. 

“It could help with school at least! Or you could get that special edition of that one book you like with the dragons or the blue alien porn stars or whatever it is.”

“They’re neither of those things, they’re actually–”

“Whatever they are! The book that has people fucking nonstop and some plot. You know, the special edition cover that you keep talking about in your close friend story that you won’t buy?” Wonwoo said. “The point is, if you start streaming you could finally buy it and then stop talking about it and I won’t need to see sections about how hot you think their alien or fairytale or demon whatever cocks are.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh at his exasperation. “That won’t stop with me getting that book, just so you know. And if it bothers you so much, I can take you out of the close friend story. I didn’t even know you looked at my stories that much.” You didn’t know he still used Instagram at all actually. He very rarely posted. He mostly lived on his Discord channel talking about games with his subscribers or other friends.

Regardless, it was nice to know that he was trying to be aware of your interests, even if it was incredibly embarrassing. Although the copious amount of smut you read wasn’t something you always wanted to broadcast to the public, you’d still made some friends from online book communities over the last few years and enjoyed keeping them in the loop of your reading list.

Also, Wonwoo had a point. Streaming could help paying some of your school expenses…or get you more books. You told him you’d think about it, and while you weren’t completely in love with the idea of streaming, it did provide you with some steady income until you landed your job at the restaurant.  

After that conversation, you haven’t discussed smut or cocks since, and you’re honestly relieved, not because Wonwoo is hard to talk to about things, but because you are. Which is why streaming always feels a little uncomfortable and your position ironic, because you can barely have conversations successfully unless you really know the person to ramble about your interests to, or you can occasionally eke by with small talk. 

But streaming requires the spotlight being on you in some way at all times. It’s your face that is fixed to the corner of the screen, monitoring your every reaction. It’s your voice that echoes into the mic and responds to your chat. Sure, you have mods and some streamers don’t interact with their chat at all, but you don’t want to be like that. You’ve been on the other side before, and know that most people are just lonely and looking for connection. . 

From the moment you decided to do this, you were aware that because you were now a “gamer girl” you would be subjected to the three extremes of the comment section: chronic oversharers who tell strangers all their personal baggage perhaps in the hope that you will assume some role of therapist to them, people coming to insult your gaming (which is the point so that can’t impact you) or physical appearance, or sexually explicit comments. 

Over the months, you’ve seen many things flitting by on the screen, deleted in haste by your trusty mod squad, but it doesn’t stop the fact that you still see them. 

Those things you can handle. They are impersonal and a direct copy-paste of the same thing.

But when people compliment you? That makes you want to bury yourself under your covers and never come out. Because the compliments are always personal and touching a part of you that is authentic.

The people in your chat want to know you. They want to know what kind of music you like, your favorite foods and books. They ask if you have a boyfriend or girlfriend or partner, compliment your hair or the shirt you’re wearing or your gaming setup. It feels intimate. Almost like you could find these people and touch them and let them know you. 

But they can’t. Because the only thing that drew them to you, the part where you’re this funny, positive gamer chick who sucks at video games but is down for whatever, isn’t real. 

Spring Day Streams Y/N is a persona. You don’t stream because you’re her. You stream because you have to be her in order to survive.  

And now she’s taking up more time. Last month’s streams landed you Streamer of the Month, which thanks to the exposure, brought dozens of new subscribers and thousands of points, and that helped take care of some of your expenses for the new semester. Some. You’re still behind on your credit card bill. 

Also, more people means more expectations for streaming. So you’ve kicked up your streaming schedule from twice weekly to three times a week, with you occasionally hopping onto Wonwoo’s channel even if you aren’t streaming to mod. 

When you aren’t glued to your computer, you’re usually at the restaurant, in a cramped kitchen where you do the prep work, often alongside him, your sexy coworker-but-now-boss, Seokjin. 

The man you are quietly obsessed with. You can’t think about Kim Seokjin without thinking about all the positions you want him to fuck you in. 

Which is also why you’ve been devouring books lately. When you’re home, you throw all your energy into the escapism they provide, especially ones where you can get yourself off to whatever fantasy Seokjin effortlessly slips into. 

For every hot mob boss, corrupt CEO, longterm best friend, dragon-rider, fairy, demon, alien, ghost, or hockey playing love interest you can find, Seokjin is sure to fill the role. A hot merman looking for someone to help him grow legs and something else? Seokjin. A Grinch who inherits his family’s Christmas tree farm and discovers how much he loves to ho ho ho? Seokjin. A god who tears apart the underworld to find his lost lover, and then during the reunion fucks her on the throne of Satan while she wears the crown? All Seokjin. 

Unfortunately, his transition from co worker to boss has made your fantasies all the more dirty. 

It’s been incredibly difficult for you to handle the fact that any flirtation you two previously shared in the months before he was your boss can no longer continue. But it’s also incredibly hot.

Fantasies of him eating you out on the counter have been replaced with the fantasy of him shoving you in the back office and fucking you on the desk while wearing one of those perfect-fitting dress shirts he often parades around in. 

And when he rolls up the sleeves to help in the kitchen? Fuck, it’s humiliating how wet you get.

The entire thing is pathetic really. He’s just standing there half the time, lecturing everyone on proper kitchen hygiene and ensuring one of the cooks doesn’t use expired seasonings for his eomma’s secret sauce. 

And you’re standing next to him clenching your thighs together because when you’re this close, you can just make out the freshness of his cologne and feel the heat of his body close to yours. 

When someone fucks up, he has a tendency to take over, chopping with unmatched precision and self assurance, trying to keep his voice even and usually failing as everything builds in intensity until he’s accidentally speaking at a million miles an hour and lecturing until his face turns red. 

If someone were to pass by the shop, they’d probably mistake his shouting for anger, but you’ve come to understand Seokjin is just passionate about things. Usually when he comes down from his tangent, he’s embarrassed and apologizes, and not long after the entire staff is laughing along with him as he cracks a joke at himself for his inability to tone it down.

Which to you makes him even hotter. Seokjin is able to see his faults and work with them, not against them. He holds himself accountable. He’s nothing like the haughty men you’ve gone on brief dinners with after downloading dating apps for the hundredth time while you’re drunk. He’s actually funny, knowing the right way to use humor and tell jokes, never at someone else’s expense, and definitely without being disgustingly crude. 

All those clowns you suffered through drinks with always made comments and digs at other women or referenced their cock like they were setting up some goofy scene from porn and you would find it hilarious and endearing. 

Seokjin isn’t like that at all. He probably refers to his dick as a penis and would blush to high heavens if he knew how horny you are for him. He’s unwound you, and he has no clue. Maybe if it hadn’t been literal years since you’ve last had sex you could tone it down. 

With working all the time and going to school, it’s already been hard to even go on singular dates here and there. And since the prospects were frankly awful, sex is just something that has had to go onto the back burner for a bit, but you seemed to scorch the fucking pan by forgetting to turn the heat off and now you are burning and hungry. 

With a final sigh, you put the book down, annoyed that you didn’t have time to finish it today or at least get to a good part where you could insert yourself into the role of the palace servant and Seokjin as the Prince. Based on the reviews, there’s sure to be a hot sex scene coming up involving using a sword in a particular way that has piqued your curiosity. 

In a moment of depravity earlier, you’d snaked one hand down the front of your panties to rub a few damp fingers around your clit to take the edge off. 

You check the time on your phone, already aware that you don’t have time to cum before streaming. You already hit the snooze button twice. The spicy stuff will have to wait. 

Defeated, you stand up, turning on the lights in your apartment as the sun finally fades away and the dark creeps in. You eat a bowl of cereal while doing your makeup, what little of it you want to put on. Finally, you fire up your PC, trying to ignore the irritation you’re already experiencing from being so high strung and unsatisfied.

The second this stream is over, you’re going to make sure you cum until you pass out. Until then, it’s time for work.

“At what point am I supposed to become good at this again?” You ask Seokjin as you attempt (and fail) to julienne carrots. 

When you arrived at work at an ungodly hour this morning to prep for the weekend rush, Seokjin had already started the coffee. 

Your empty cup now idles next to your scrap pile of too-wide carrot blocks that’ll have to be pulverized by the blender and repurposed in another recipe. 

Seokjin chuckles as he buzzes about the kitchen, reaching tenderly around you to grab your mug for a refill. 

“That all depends on how much you practice.”

“So should I expect a large carton of carrots to be delivered to my home this evening with the instructions to have them julienned by Monday?” You tease, as you split another carrot down the center, half of it flinging off the prep counter and onto the floor. 

Seokjin smirks and bends down. He picks up the carrot and deposits it into the garbage bin. “Two cartons, actually. Given how many carrots we’ve lost already today, I need to make sure at least some of our inventory lands on the customer’s plate and not just into the trash.”

“How considerate of you,” you chide, and put down the knife, reaching out to accept your newly filled coffee mug. Seokjin’s hands are red from the constant washing and chopping of potatoes, which you recently learned he’s allergic to. 

As well as garlic, and you’ve already voluntarily peeled and minced that for the day. That much you can do without guidance, but anything besides your imprecise chopping is on the list of knife skills Seokjin wants you to improve upon. 

This is fair, given how dangerous your previous cutting methods have been. Once Seokjin saw the way you tried to stab at a watermelon, it was over. Now you often come in an hour and a half early before each shift to practice. 

And to also be alone with Seokjin before he is forced from the kitchen to deal with other duties. 

“Thank you,” you say, as you take the first warm sip and shiver. It’s freezing outside, and it’s only supposed to get worse. 

There’s snow forecasted for the weekend, which could mean one of two things: everyone stays home and avoids driving, or they all leave the house in one show of silent agreement and fill every nook and cranny of the restaurant to order bowls of sundubu jjigae or crisp and hot pajeon. 

Seokjin predicts that because a warm front is moving in afterward, people will utilize one of the only days of snow you’ll likely get this winter to gather together.

Valentine’s Day is soon, and the city has started to prepare. Storefronts have begun switching out new year sale signs for pink and red heart motifs, with spas and restaurants offering couple specials. The perfumeries have moved from campaigns advertising the perfect Christmas gift to ones of sexy, decadent colognes sure to transform a man into his inner beast. 

And then there’s the chocolate. It’s like the air in the neighborhood the restaurant resides in smells different, less greasy and grimy and more sweet. Everywhere you turn there’s pastries, cakes, bonbons, crepes, chocolate dipped nuts and other confections that just looking at makes your teeth sore. 

With the district washing itself in a pink glow, more and more couples have been braving the cold, landing in the restaurant after weighing themselves down with shopping bags. 

You’ve seen what’s in them, often tripping over or kicking at least one bag each shift while you attempt to bring an order to the table and spilling the contents. This year seems to be popular for matching couple outfits. You’ve seen a lot of pairs in their early twenties wearing or recently acquiring sweaters that have the same characters or color combinations. With the temperatures dipping into a bitter chill this week, some have elected to wear cute but inconvenient sets of mittens that allow them to hold hands as they stroll. 

When it snows in the city, the world gets quieter, cleaner. Even if people shuffle around in the bustle of novelty experiences, how they show their love, from brushing the snow off each other’s coats or taking kissing selfies in front of snow fallen trees, it always makes you feel a little softer, a little more at peace. 

Snow is really romantic.

“What?” Seokjin asks, which alerts you to the fact that you’ve been staring at him as you let your thoughts run, a dopey grin splattered across your face. 

“Oh, sorry, I was just thinking about how much I love the snow.” You break eye contact, feeling the heat of embarrassment flood your cheeks. 

“Ah, yeah. It’s supposed to start soon,” he looks at you thoughtfully before looking back down at the tofu blocks he’s draining. 

A silence falls on you, the once normal pause now becoming a bit awkward. 

“What do–”

“I just–”

You both stumble over each other, trying to fill the unnatural pause you’ve reached, which has you laughing and Seokjin cracking a wide grin. 

“What were you going to say?” he asks, and then motions for you to get back to your carrot desecrating. 

“Ah nothing. You were going to ask something?”

You slice a carrot, this time less match stick and more shaved. Damn. 

“Oh, um. I was going to ask you what you like about the snow. That thought kind of came from nowhere and I was trying to follow.” His voice is careful, as if he’s trying not to offend you. Is he nervous?

Your mouth draws into a thin line. Can you risk saying what you were just thinking? Is it inappropriate to talk about romance in front of your boss, who you’ve thought about kissing in the snow at least three times a day? You don’t want to make him uncomfortable. You’re aware of the ways in which Seokjin’s new position of authority weighs on him. 

While he’s always had more authority due to being the owners’ son, it isn’t like Seokjin walked around the place with a power complex before his promotion. You two had become something akin to friends in the months you’ve worked together, falling into occasional flirty banter as you shuffled around each other to mop floors or wash dishes. 

You know he used to work for a large company a few years ago but quit to help his family with their restaurant. You also know he loves MapleStory and is always showing you his newest splurge from their online shop or the latest piece to his collection. 

He doesn’t have any pets, but sometimes debates getting a dog and then when shown support, he dismisses it with boisterous laughter, talking about how he doesn’t have the time and if he ever wants to get a dog, he will have to buy a house. Usually once he lands on discussions of a house, he gets a little more quiet, perhaps a bit sad.  

He has an older brother who has one child and another on the way, a major reason for his parents’ decision to travel now, before the new baby arrives. His brother and brother’s wife have visited a few times while you were working, but Seokjin’s mother had mentioned that her son and his wife recently moved into a new house outside of the city, and with the new addition joining sometime in the spring, it can be a bit exhausting to pack up the car for a few hours of visiting time. 

While you haven’t experienced Seokjin as an uncle, you know how much he loves being one, excusing himself from the front of the shop to Facetime with his nephew from the back office, where you can hear his voice carry with high pitched impressions and jokes or random songs he babbles to the youngest Kim. 

Knowing him in this way feels a bit awkward now that he’s the one signing your paychecks. Since his transition, he’s been a bit more formal with you, you assume trying to be respectful and professional. 

You understand where he’s coming from, but you miss the past connection you two had formed. And that seems to dictate your response. 

“I like how romantic snow is. How it not only makes the lights twinkle more, but how people do cute things in it. Snowball fights, drinking hot chocolate, building snowmen. They change their behaviors for the snow. To celebrate love in it. Last time it snowed here, I saw one girl push her boyfriend into a snowbank.”

Seokjin laughs as he begins popping the tofu blocks into containers. “That sounds awful,” he says. 

Your heart plummets. “Oh,” you squeak. 

His head darts up to catch your expression and his eyes flash. “Oh, no no! Not like that. I mean, being pushed into the snowbank. That poor guy was probably soaking wet and freezing after that!” He waves his knife in his hand wildly with his gesture and then quickly deposits it into a sheath before stepping over to your workstation. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to come out that way.” 

You recover. “Oh he was. He also got his revenge by pulling her in with him. And she wasn’t even wearing a coat.”

You watch Seokjin’s tense shoulders relax. His broad frame is so close now, towering over you. He smells a little like the earthy starch of potatoes, but you like it. 

“I, uh,” he says, his voice becoming more raw. “I like the snow too. You’re right, it is romantic in a way. The snowflakes getting caught in your hair, you huddle closer to someone to share body heat, it’s nice.”

As if on cue, your bodies inch a little closer to each other. Seokjin reaches his arm forward, brushing along yours as he grasps one edge of the workstation to lean in. 

“Yeah,” you reply lamely. 

You blink up at him and he smiles back. You both sit there for a moment, neither of you moving, just studying the other’s expression. 

Then, he leans in.

Your breath catches, and his other arm lifts up above you on the other side, caging you to the workstation.

Your eyes close from the intensity. He’s so close that you feel the fabric of his rolled shirt sleeve graze against your cheek. 

All it would take is him leaning in and searing his lips onto yours and you would fold for him. You know this.  

This is what you often fantasize about, the two of you in this position. That’s the power he has over you, his smooth seduction, your willingness. 

If he asked you right now, you would strip down and bend over this workstation, let him fuck you with your nipples brushing against the cold steel of the counter, carrot shavings squishing against your face as he impales you with his cock. 

It would be so easy, he just needs to ask you. 

“Y/N,” he says, a bit more distant now, but you shudder at how roughly he says your name. 

“Mm?” you hum, forcing your eyes to reopen. Seokjin has pulled away from you. How long has he been just looking at you standing here with your eyes closed?  

“Turn around,” he says. 

Wait, what? 

You stare back at him blankly. Is he reading your mind? 

Seokjin rolls his eyes and laughs, holding up the package of dried seaweed that was above you on the shelf. He tosses it on the counter behind him.

“Are you still here or did I lose you? I said turn around.” You freeze, confused. 

He did all that to reach above you for some seaweed? Is he fucking with you? And what does he want you to turn around for? 

“Wha–”

You open your mouth to ask but Seokjin moves in, his hands on your wrists as he takes you and spins you around so you’re up against your workstation, his stomach resting on your back as you stand sandwiched against him and the cold counter. You clench your thighs, suddenly aware that you are wet. 

Fuck.  

“You need to focus,” he says low in your ear. You take a shaky breath. 

Focus. How are you supposed to focus when you imagined this exact scenario exactly one minute ago? 

“I, what?” Your words fail you as you stand there, stunned and aroused but also completely confused about what he wants from you. This entire situation is a mindfuck. 

Seokjin’s hands leave your wrists and make their way to your hands as he moves you like a puppet. 

“Y/N, were you even paying attention? We just went over this. God, I swear, I’ve told you. You need to be present in the kitchen space. You’re lucky I resheathed the knife for you while you were on another planet. You could have easily gotten hurt.” Seokjin scolds you overhead. 

Oh. You look to the right and see the kitchen knife you were using back in its protective shell and not where you left it, which, come to think of it, was incredibly close to where your hands were now on the counter under Seokjin’s. Yikes. 

“Sorry,” you mutter, feeling a prick of shame seeping through the fog. Seokjin isn’t trying to fuck you against the counter; he’s trying to make sure you don’t cut your finger off. 

He tuts above you, his grip still firm as he directs you to the uncut carrots and chopping board. 

“Tsk, honestly. You’re ridiculous. What am I going to do if my best girl is hospitalized after losing her hand because she’s too busy daydreaming about snow storms instead of having basic kitchen awareness? You know, I could send you home over this. Make you unable to come back until you rewatch those kitchen safety videos with the fake blood and awful actors. Seriously.” 

You shiver at his words. He’s so busy setting up for a rant, you almost miss it. 

“Your best girl?” You ask lightly. 

Seokjin stills, your joined hands hovering over the cutting board. “Oh, uh. You know what I mean. You’re the best….girl we have on staff. You know.”

You don’t. You’re far from the best girl on staff. Seha has a degree in culinary arts. She’s usually the one who has everything prepped days ahead with perfectly formed cuts. She manages the kitchen cleanliness with rigidness. She even barks orders at Seokjin when he’s in the kitchen because he isn’t as clean as her. 

If she wasn’t out with the flu, none of this work would even need to be done. Maybe Seokjin is getting sick too. He’s been feverish looking and a little uneasy around you all morning, and clearly he’s now being delusional.

“Ah,” you concede, and give your hands a shake to urge him to continue. 

“Right, anyway. You’re getting better at your cuts, but I’m losing money quickly with all your sacrifices to the floor goblins. And we don’t have much time left before the others start coming in, so let’s finish this up.” 

You let Seokjin guide you, literally hand-over-hand, as he restructures your positioning on the knife and angle of the blade to slice through the carrots a lot more cleanly and easily. 

“That’s it, good. You’re doing such a good job,” he breathes. 

You feel his exhale along your spine. God, you’re a pervert. He’s just trying to help you better yourself, and all you’re thinking about is how dominating he seems right now and how much you want to please him. 

God, if he calls you a good girl you know you’re going to moan audibly. That’s how bad he’s got you.

You keep working, and once you get the hang of it, Seokjin’s grip loosens, allowing you to finish the bag by yourself. But his hands are still on yours, even if you’re the one in control. 

After a while though, it’s becoming too much to handle. Him bent over you like this is limiting your range of motion, making it hard to wipe the sweat on your hands or move your scrap pile further down the counter. 

He’s also a human furnace, the space between you still so limited that you’ve begun sweating under him. 

In one particular cut of carrot, the sweat caused by the joint heat of your hands causes you to lose your grip, shooting it down onto the floor. 

Reflexively, you reach down to grab it, but with Seokjin still attached to you, it proves to be an immediate disaster. 

You throw your body into a bend, which forces you back, your ass grinding directly into Seokjin and being met with something very large. 

You gasp and Seokjin grunts, swiftly releasing your hands, which are actually balancing you in your bend. 

You fall forward, smacking your head into the edge of the counter as you go down. 

The kitchen echoes with an embarrassing clang as your forehead ricochets off the metal. 

“Fuck,” you groan, a sharp pain shooting through you.. 

You scramble to recover, one hand going to your head as you steady yourself, rubbing the soreness. Seokjin flails above you, panicked. 

“Oh shit! Y/N I’m so sorry! Oh my god. Are you okay? I shouldn’t have let go, I just was–” Seokjin rambles as you stare up at him, trying to get him to steel himself. 

“No, fuck, ouch, it’s okay! I’m okay. Seokjin, can you please just get me some ice and help me up?” You aren’t sure you can get yourself up as your vision swirls from the heat of the pain. You really went down hard. 

Seokjin ceases his flailing and shouting, leaning down and picking your body up off the floor with impressive strength and carrying you to a clean workstation in the center of the room. He sits you on top of it, making you now almost his height. 

Holy shit.

Once sure you’re not at risk of flopping over, he walks over to the ice maker with a clean kitchen cloth and folds some ice cubes inside. 

You reach for the cloth, but he refuses to hand it over. 

“Yah! No. Please let me do this, I can see the bump forming already. I’m the one who caused your injury.” He gingerly lays the cold cloth against your head. You wince. 

“‘Snot your fault,” you pout, trying to ignore the pain. “It was an accident. No one caused it.” 

Seokjin sighs and places his free hand behind your head, discouraging you from angling away like you’ve subconsciously been doing. 

“It is my fault. I let go of you. After just lecturing you about kitchen safety. God, what kind of example am I setting? I’m really sucking at this boss thing.” 

You reach up, placing your hand on Seokjin’s wrist to remove it from the ice. But he doesn’t relent. You keep your hold. 

“Seokjin, you’re not a bad boss. God you’re literally the opposite. Everyone here loves you. You’ve only been the manager for a little while. Give yourself some time. And keep in mind both of your parents ran this place, and now it’s down to just you.” 

You feel the tendons under his wrist adjust, his grip a little looser. Seokjin’s wrists are soft and tan, a thin coating of hair trailing up his forearms and under his sleeve. Your grip loosens too, and you let your thumb brush back and forth through the hair. 

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t supposed to be the manager. My brother was supposed to manage the restaurant when my parents were ready to retire. That was always the plan, anyway. But things change. When they were getting their apartment ready for my nephew to arrive, I think they realized how tight space can be living in the city. We grew up in an apartment complex not too far from here and it always felt like we were on top of each other. 

“Which, we kind of were. My brother and I shared this tiny room that had bunk beds, and we lived that way until he went away to college. I used to always smack my head against the ceiling when I was a teenager and woke up in the middle of the night. My forehead would get huge bruises on it, probably a lot like the one you’re going to have on your head.” He frowns. 

“I guess my brother didn’t want to see his kids living like that either. I never minded it so much, but maybe that’s because I was the younger one. Not having any privacy during puberty or dealing with me during puberty was probably a nightmare for him.”

You shoot him a sympathetic smile. “It was nice of you to take over on his behalf then. I know you used to work for major companies in the business district downtown. This must have felt like a sacrifice.” 

Seokjin’s arm falls away from your head, your soft caress pulling away with it. He sets the cloth down next to you. He worries his bottom lip into his mouth and then shakes his head. 

“No, it was never like that. I’m sure eomma filled everyone and their brother’s ears with stuff about me. ‘Seokjin is our business minded son! He’ll make a great leader!’ ‘Seokjin is talented in the kitchen and spent his whole life working for us. We trained him well!’ ‘Don’t worry about him abusing his power. He knows exactly how it is for everyone!’” Seokjin’s says, his voice inotating the same pattern of his mother. 

“Well, she wasn’t wrong. You are all those things,” you argue, lacing your fingers in his. You know it’s not necessarily appropriate behavior between a boss and his employee, but at this moment, you’d argue Seokjin needs a friend more than anything. 

“I’m not, though, Y/N. I didn’t sacrifice anything to do this. It wasn’t some great act of loyalty where the son with a promising future gives up his dream for his family business. In fact I had to beg my parents to let me work here! Because I, their failure of a son, lost everything and had nowhere else to go! And the shit I ended up doing to even keep myself afloat…I’m not a great leader. I’m nothing more than a fraud.”

Seokjin rakes his free hand through his hair. 

“I had a good life before this Y/N. A good job, a nice house, a fi-...just..I was living a dream that I no longer have for myself is all. But at the time I was on top of the world and now I feel like such a fucking failure.” 

Seokjin looks like he’s falling apart, eyes darting madly as he shifts around, suddenly transforming into nothing like his usual cool, goofy self. 

You need to stop this from getting worse. To distract him and stop him from talking himself into a pit of despair. If Seokjin’s mouth is occupied somehow, he can’t continue with all the negative self-talk. 

A stupid idea flashes in your head. You don’t even think before you roll with it. 

“Jesus, I can’t even manage properly. I messed up Mino’s paycheck a few weeks ago and I’m still not sure how it happened. I’m just not–”

Your lips connect with Seokjin’s, your legs wrapping around his waist to tug him closer as you move your body against his. Seokjin returns the kiss in earnest, parting his mouth to welcome your tongue as you lap the words out of his mouth. 

His plush lips feel so soft against yours, his taste a bit bitter from the coffee you both drank earlier, but you find yourself craving more of it, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth with the hope that maybe you can absorb it. 

Seokjin groans in response, gripping your hand tighter, his other settling on your lower back as he pulls you closer. If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear every atom in your body is vibrating at a higher frequency from his touch. You want to feel him everywhere. 

You break the kiss, and see Seokjin’s eyelids are heavy, almost like he’s drunk. You’re about to move back in, to tongue along his sweaty, long neck, suck on his protruding Adam’s apple. 

That’s when you hear it. The slam of the back door as your coworkers arrive.

Seokjin jolts back, breaking the hold you have around his waist with your legs. 

His mouth looks a little red and swollen. And his eyes are wide, panic flashing across his face. 

“I–I’m sorry!” 

Before you can reassure him, tell him that you’re the one who should be sorry, you started this, who crossed this line between boss and employee by kissing him, Seokjin bolts from the kitchen. 

You sit for a minute, stunned, and then look around, taking in the scene around you. The carrot shavings all over the counter, the discarded one still on the floor. Your knife is unsheathed again. There’s containers of tofu and seaweed just abandoned in a pile next to a large pot. 

And you can feel the puddle forming under you from where the ice has begun to melt. What the fuck just happened? What mess did you just get yourself into? 

The rest of your shift, you’re anxious. Especially because you’re short-staffed due to the weather forecast, which has led to three call-outs from people who commute from across town. That means you’re performing multiple roles: taking orders, bussing tables, seating customers, and getting appetizers, drinks, and side dishes ready for each group of people coming through the door. 

Seokjin was right in his prediction; you guys are slammed. And because there’s less staff, that means Seokjin is orbiting around you, following behind with cleaning rags as you finish bussing or running into you in the narrow doorway as you both attempt to fetch an order from the kitchen. You’re both flushed and sweating, the hairs on the back of your neck now matted down. 

Your mind is swirling around that kiss and its consequences, but you don’t have time to lose focus; the minute you finish one thing, you’re pulled into another task for a temporary distraction.

Only to be thrust back into the reminder of this morning when Seokjin lightly caresses the small of your back as he squeezes behind you to grab more plates. 

If either of you ever need a break, you don’t say so, only pausing in between rushes to pee, take a bite of something, and chug water before you’re thrown back out into the mess. 

Finally, after you elect to work a double, it’s closing time.

“Y/N!” Seokjin calls you from the front as you scrub the grime off a stack of dirty dishes.

Your pulse quickens. You’re the last one here. The storm kicked up an hour ago, and since you live the closest, you shoved your coworkers out the door so they could get home before the roads were a mess. 

You dry your hands on your messy apron, pulling out your phone and wincing at the slew of missed calls, texts and notifications. You were supposed to stream again tonight with a bunch of other girl gamers as a part of a “Galentine's Day” collab, playing dating simulation games as a warm up before jumping into some first person shooters. 

You’d reached out to cancel once you saw the stress tugging at Seokjin’s face, his jaw set, his brow constantly furrowed. While the other streamers were completely understanding, you still have a ton of notifications from your social channels asking if you are okay and some texts from Wonwoo and a few other friends asking the same. 

You’ll fill them in later. But now, you have to face Seokjin. 

He’s sitting at a freshly wiped-down table, counting the drawers and preparing the deposit slip. 

He ushers you over and gestures at the stack of cash, silently asking you to verify his numbers. You comply, the room silent less the shuffling of bills or coins under your fingertips and your habitual mouthing of the numbers to ensure you don’t lose count. 

He nods at your final calculation, jotting the number down on the sheet and placing the bills together. You turn and begin to head back to the kitchen. 

“Wait,” he says, and you freeze. 

Your stomach is quickly turning into a bundle of knots. You suck your lips into your mouth as you spin back around, Seokjin’s eyes meeting yours. 

“I…” Seokjin takes a deep breath before continuing. “Listen. I’m really sorry about this morning. Today’s just been a whole mess and I really shouldn’t have been airing my frustrations to an employee like that. It was inappropriate and immature. I know better than to behave this way.”

Did you say your stomach was in knots? You mean it’s filled with heavy, sickening lead. “Oh, right. Uh, don’t. I mean, I started it. I just…you were panicking and I didn’t know what to do and I thought maybe this would help.” 

Seokjin’s brow furrows, a frown on his face. “Why are you apologizing when I’m clearly the one in the wrong here? Ah, no let me finish! I’ve always prided myself on my professionalism and ability to keep personal matters out of my work. And I failed in doing so, which takes advantage of you since I’m your superior. You not only felt a need to comfort me but also stop me from spinning out. I’m truly sorry Y/N, about the oversharing and the um, kiss. I definitely gave into my emotions in a moment of weakness. Please forgive me, I promise I will never touch you again. This won’t happen again.” 

His head droops and he looks down, clearly ashamed.

Oh. So he doesn’t want this. Which, why would he? He’s right in that he’s your boss, and clearly Seokjin values his reputation and his job because they’re a reflection of not just him, but his family. Why risk that with someone like you?

You swallow the lump in your throat along with any response. There is the boundary, you know better than to cross it. 

As you move again, Seokjin rises from the table. “Y/N…you know what? You go home. The storm is really coming down.”

“But, there’s still mopping and all those dishes left,” you croak. Your voice is so hoarse from being dehydrated and talking all day that you barely recognize it as your own. 

“Don’t worry about those. You look and sound exhausted. It’s not your job to take care of everything. Go home, enjoy your romantic snowy trek,” he smirks, “and get some much needed rest. You’ve more than earned it.”

When you arrive home, your body slugs onto your bed, finally giving into the fatigue you’ve ignored all day. Your feet ache, your stomach now settled enough from your walk that you are starving. And you smell awful. 

As much as you want to fall asleep, you know that you at the very least need to eat something. 

With a groan, you rise, hobbling to your kitchen to make some instant ramyeon. The collab stream is now over, you learned this while finally checking your phone on your way home and seeing a thank you message blasted out by one of the streamers. Oh well. 

You suppose you could get back to your book, see what Prince August and his lover are getting up to in their reunion, but that seems like more brain power than you’re willing to give. 

You elect to eat, then take a shower, rinsing the grime of the day off you. When you step out of the shower, you see an ugly looking bump and purple bruise on your forehead. 

That’s right, you’d already forgotten about your injury from earlier. You touch it lightly and recoil from the sharp pain. Damn, maybe you should’ve checked to see if you were concussed earlier. You didn’t realize you hit your head that hard. 

You decide to ice it before bed, crawling under your covers and trying to rest while you play back your day. 

How you started is so significantly different from where you are now. When you woke up, you were eager and excited to be around Seokjin, to learn new skills and feel light and warm in his presence. Now, the idea of going back to work in a few days, to have to muddle through the rejection you got tonight and try to get back to a baseline makes you feel nauseous. 

Seokjin wants to make this all water under the bridge, and you want to do that for him. But it’s nearly impossible when he’s, well, him. He doesn’t understand how much more difficult it’s going to be to look at him because you’re not walking around with a face like that: perfectly balanced and delicate features and a full, delicious set of lips. 

God, he really did taste fantastic. You wonder what would’ve happened if you two weren’t interrupted. Would giving into his emotional need for comfort have given you more? You know it’s wrong to think about, because you're the one who took advantage of him, not the other way around. 

He can say he took advantage of you with his power imbalance or whatever, but you’re the one who was seconds away from licking down that thick neck or grinding back onto that massive cock. 

Fuck, that’s right, Seokjin is huge under all those clothes and your ass got to experience rubbing against it today. And maybe it’s just wishful thinking, but he seemed like he was a little hard. 

If Mino and the others had been just a little later, you might have seen it. They might have walked in on you on your knees as you choked on it, Seokjin’s moans and whines echoing in the kitchen. 

Because now from kissing him, you got a taste of those little noises he makes. And the memory has you becoming slick and needy. 

It’s late. Too late to read your smutty book, especially since you’re not at the next smutty scene yet. August and his beloved are just reuniting. You’re sure it’s bound to be good, but you don’t have that kind of patience right now. You need to cum, to get your ideas about Seokjin and what he firmly set as a boundary out of your head once and for all. 

Which means you need to give your fantasy of him out of your head too. You shove the ice pack you’ve been holding to your head aside, ready to relieve some tension. 

You reach under your shirt and gasp when the chill of your icy hand plucks at one of your nipples. Yes, you need more of this. 

You touch the other one with your other hand, disappointed that it’s warm. And then you get a fantastic idea. You grope around for a moment until you feel the cold cloth housing the ice cubes from your freezer and pluck one out. It melts quickly in your hand, but the cold water is stimulating as you feel it run down your forearms, a droplet or two rushing down and reaching the heat of your armpit. You pull the large shirt you use as pajamas  up further with your other hand, fully exposing your chest and stomach to the chilly air of your apartment.  

The ice cube drips over your navel. You hiss as the new sensation floods your core with warmth. Some of the water pools in your belly button, a satisfying dampness taking over your body. Then, you drip the melting ice cube onto each nipple and relish how erect and sensitive they’ve become from your arousal. 

Your breasts are plush, something you love to grab and tug as you play with yourself. They’re heavy, the weight of gravity tugging them down instead of staying up as porn once made you believe was possible. 

You can understand why people sometimes get caught up playing with tits all the time. They’re arguably fun to play with. 

As the ice cube warms and shrinks, you become more curious, taking it between your fingers and swirling it directly over each nipple, a shock of cold hitting them and your hips bucking in pleasure. More. Whatever you’re feeling right now, you need more of it. 

You rip your sleep shorts and panties off in desperation, splaying your legs open and aiming yourself up so the last drips of the ice cube can fall directly onto the folds of your pussy, a few dribbles landing right on your aching clit. 

Heat, that’s what you actually feel. Fire and ice swirling together in a decadent and hot pleasure. You reach over and grab another cube, this time skipping the teasing and touching the ice right to your clit. It’s a lot. Too much. Not enough. The pain shooting through your clit is also full of so much pleasure and you don’t want to stop. 

You rock against your hand, rubbing your clit with your fingers as the ice melts, mixing the wetness of the water with your own, getting you messier, hotter, hungrier. 

The memory of Seokjin holding the ice pack flits through your head, how cold his one hand was as it held yours, similar to the chill of your own hand as you grind it against your pussy. You need something inside of you. Now. 

And unfortunately for you, all your toys are currently dirty. When you finished streaming last night, you made good on your promise to fuck yourself until you passed out, which means your collection of dildos and vibrators are now discarded in a pile next to your bed that you’d intended to wash after work today. 

You insert a finger and sigh. It’s not enough. The angle is too awkward and you can’t get far enough in. Seokjin’s hands are much larger than yours, capable of pumping his long fingers deep within you, to get to the part of your core that is aching. If he were here right now, he could be itching that scratch, a smug look on his face as he comments on how soaking wet you are for him and commands you to cum. 

Ugh. You said you wouldn’t think of him, yet here he is again, stirring up inside your fantasies. You can’t give in, you need to distract yourself, look at another face so you can feel motivation. 

You remove your fingers, wipe them on the damp washcloth next to you, and reach over on your side table for your laptop. 

You don’t watch a lot of porn, finding the videos often too fake, but you’re desperate. You scroll through the website, quickly losing some of your arousal as you click through pages of straight porn, the ones you know that will have some awful plot, or the woman has some nasal and fake moan that kills your buzz. Or the guys are so ugly, proving that porn always has the male gaze in mind. 

You just need to cum. Today has been awful enough, and knowing you have to stream tomorrow again is already causing you to wind up. No, this is necessary stress relief. An unwinding. Make it dirty and to the point. 

You click over into the other categories. You need just a man, someone else who isn’t Seokjin. You hover over the male masturbation tag, still disappointed. Then you see a banner ad for a camming site: Worldwide Handsome, Hunks From Around the Globe. That, you think, seems more promising. 

Live cams are interactive, more with immediacy. Usually the guys on them are hot or gay or both and just ready to jack off for money and give in to some dirty talk. Even the gay camboys don’t always care if women are viewing. Money is money. 

You click the banner, praying this doesn’t immediately give your computer a hundred viruses that will delete all your coursework you’ve saved to the harddrive. 

Luckily, it’s a legitimate website, much like OnlyFans, just with the emphasis on queer men from every country. You might just be saved. 

There are so many categories to choose from: couples, kinks, trans, bisexual, furries, just chatting, BDSM, interactive games, private rooms. It’s a little overwhelming. You select the “solo” tab, which, of course, has the most videos under it, and begin exploring. 

You click on one that seems promising, but quickly exit out because the user has fallen asleep and it feels too intimate. 

In another, the streamer is yelling at his chat for outting him to his parents, and you exit out of that as well. 

You’re about to give up when you refresh the page, but then a recently started stream catches your eye. It’s quickly gaining views, and has a little “1” next to it, probably to indicate that this streamer is the most popular one in his category. 

The title for the stream is Unwind with me. Late night play with Daddy which makes your core throb a little with promise. The thumbnail is black, which is a little odd, but you’re curious who this “Daddy” is and how he plans on helping his viewers unwind. Because that is exactly what you need. In his associated tags, there’s a tiny banner at the bottom that urges you forward “all genders welcome”. 

You click the link, and the video itself is black, but there’s still hundreds of comments fluttering through the chat. Is your stream broken? This sometimes happens when you stream too, but after a quick refresh you realize that the screen isn’t black. There’s a little bit of light pouring through whatever is covering the camera, detecting some movement through the veil. 

“You don’t know how stressed I am today,” a low voice groans. 

Whoa. You lean closer, tapping the volume button on your laptop to the max and leaning back. God, whoever this guy is, he sounds hot. This might actually work to get you off and get over Seokjin.

You balance your laptop on your knees and roll your hand down your stomach and between your legs, finding your aching clit and sighing as you delight in your touch. 

“I know we don’t always play games like this baby. I know you usually like it when I beg. But I can’t play like that today. It’s been so long since I got to fall back into what I desperately, absolutely need.”

His voice is so seductive yet also comforting in a way that’s familiar. You feel more of your arousal dripping out of you, and you scoop it up to swirl it around your clit, feeling a little twinge of that white hot pleasure return to you. 

“And what I need is to take the edge off, to remind all of you who is in charge. Some of you have been very, very bad lately. Haven’t I given you enough? A two-year anniversary stream? I gave you all my cum didn’t I? All of it.” 

The chat is going nuts, comments replying with “yes Daddy” accompanying tips that vary from twenty bucks to one thousand dollars spilling in. You check his timestamp. He’s only been live for five minutes and he’s already getting this much? Even your most successful streams take hours to reach a little over a thousand after royalty cuts. 

To his credit, though, if you had a grand to drop on him, you just might, and that’s going by his sexy voice alone.

“I let you watch me spill from my cock, let you see me touch myself. And you were greedy. Don’t think I don’t know what you did. I saw your questioning comments, trying to shame me for muttering someone’s name in pleasure. But I’m not ashamed. I’m proud.”

Fuck, what you would do to have this guy moan your name. You feel your orgasm approaching and rub yourself harder, a soft squelch echoing through your room.

“You took what I gave you for granted, you fucking whores. And now, you need to be punished.” 

You’re so close, the little peaks of pleasure starting to build up higher in intensity. 

The mystery man stops talking, and you along with the chat, begging for more. 

“Please,” you moan at your screen. 

Suddenly, you hear it, a wet, slick sound. Fuck, is he touching himself? 

“It’s been a long day. All day, I was working and I was so horny because some people in this world can’t stop fucking teasing me, tempting me to punish them, just like you.”

You feel the tremor of your first orgasm, but it’s not as sharp, more like a hint of what is to come. You pinch your clit between your fingers, sighing a little bit at the relief of pressure.

“You’ve all been very bad. And until you show me you can be good, I’m going to pump my cock and not let any of you see. You think you can do that? You think you can be my good little subs and prove to me you’ll behave?”

Oh god. Fuck. He’s insane, he’s so hot and insane, and you’re also insane, nodding along. The condescension is so hot, and it reminds you of earlier in the kitchen, when Seokjin scolded you for not being safe with the knife. His voice got rough just like this guy. And it makes you feel so needy and desperate. 

Please, you beg silently, just like how you did this morning. I’ll do anything. 

Almost as if he knows this, you hear a moan carry through your speakers. You assume he’s reading the comments and tips with promises to behave. You clench around nothing, really wishing at least one of your toys was clean for you to use to feel less empty. You’re never falling asleep without washing them again. 

“Good, that’s what I like to see. Now remember, you don’t get to cum until I get to cum. Go ahead and play with yourself for me, get yourself all worked up. And then be good and listen. I’ll tell you what to do next.” 

Whoops. Well, the first one didn’t count. You aren’t satisfied. 

He groans, signaling that he’s stroking himself again, rough jerks you can hear from the way his hands are sliding over his (you assume) lubed cock. 

“You want to see me cum? You want to earn it all over you? You know what you have to do, my pretty little subs. Work for it. And not a penny less.” 

In a frenzy, the tip jar continues to buzz in the bottom corner, the graphic of coins depositing into it glitching out a bit as it fails to keep up with the volume of tips. While he’s the most popular streamer on this site, it’s not as though the website is the only one of its kind, and that means that his couple hundred viewers are putting in the work and the cash. 

You watch the numbers rise next to the tip jar as his subs showcase their double entendre: both his subscriber count soars and his comments flood with loyal submissives.

Please, Daddy. Please let me cum. 

I’m sorry Daddy. I’ll be good, I swear. 

Remove the blindfold please! I need to see your big cock! 

Ah, it’s a blindfold. Of course. 

The graphic of the jar changes, exploding and sending animated dollars and coins across the screen. This is wild. His viewers have already met the milestone. They’ve just raised ten grand in less than 15 minutes. That has to be some kind of record. 

He tuts and the sound of it punches your gut. Why does he sound so familiar?  “Tsk, that wasn’t so hard, was it? I knew you could do it. You want my forgiveness that badly, huh? Okay, I’ll give you what you need. I’ll forgive you.” 

Your pussy is throbbing. You’ve had to scale back the touching, feeling a weird sense of obedience to this camboy that you can’t describe. 

There’s a ruffling sound and the camera jolts before light pours into view, a blur of shapes and colors you can’t make out greeting you until it comes into focus and you’re met with a massive, leaking cock. 

“Holy shit,” you moan, finding your footing on your bed and moving your resting hand from your inner thigh back to your clit. 

The camera is framed from the user’s toned abs down to just the top of his thighs, showing off his heavy, tight balls and red, angry tip. 

“Is this what you’re begging for?” 

Yes, you shudder a breath. Yes. 

Large hands with long knobby fingers run along his thighs, one sweeping under to cup his balls while the other works his shaft, thumb sliding over his slit to rub precum around the tip. 

“Alright, then.” He begins pumping, smooth, tight jerks that have him squeezing his length and encouraging more strands of precum to leak out. He falls into a steady rhythm and you mirror the pace on your clit, gasping for breaths as you become all the more sensitive now that you have a visual to follow. 

“My face? Oh, no. You didn’t earn the right to see that. Don’t start with me. If you want to see my face when I cum, you have to reach the next milestone. You know the rules.” 

You don’t know the rules, but you hope someone else will be desperate enough to reach it for you. You’re dying to know what he looks like. 

Almost instantly, the money animation explodes on the screen again. A $5000 tip. Jesus Christ.

“Ah, of course mapl3stor33, I should’ve known it was you. Always so good to me.  Because of you I got to get that new collector figurine. Thank you. Well everyone, because of mapl3’s generosity and mmm…loyalty…fuck. I guess I’ll let you get your full fantasy. Let you see my face as you imagine you get to make a mess of me, milk my fucking cock all over you and let me make a mess of you.” He’s moaning as he speaks, pausing between sentences to pump himself harder as he gives “Maple” a proper shout out. 

Your cheeks heat in embarrassment. It’s one thing for you to create the fantasy, but him acknowledging it with some judgment, as though you’re not good enough to even fantasize about him, it’s leading you quicker to your undoing. 

His pace builds to a heavy, slick rut. His hands are slightly red, almost like how yours looked after washing the dishes before Seokjin kicked you out. 

Wait. Red hands. His look similar to Seokjin’s, with the same knobby long fingers. And the figurine and Maple…like, MapleStory? 

There’s no way. No, you’re clearly just losing it with your fantasies. This one is taking it too far. 

“Fuck, yeah that’s it baby. Touch yourself. Be good for me. Where do you want my cum? Oh, you dirty slut, fuck, yes. Okay, I’ll cum all over myself. Just for you. Shit. Almost, come on.”

Your fingers are still following his lead, unable to stop, so close to finishing, to the release. 

He moans, his hands blurring as he strokes fast and hard, jerking into himself. And that’s when you know. You heard that moan. You caused that moan. 

With a final solid, slightly whiny grunt, he backs up. His face coming into frame, and the first strands of thick white release cascades across Seokjin’s chest as you focus in on the pure bliss washing over him, his head thrown back and mouth shaped into a delicious “o”. 

“Oh, fuck. Take it, take my cum. Yes, that’s it. That’s my best girl, so good for me. Such a good girl.” 

The second you hear the praising fall from Seokjin’s mouth, he takes you over the edge with him. Your body rockets into your orgasm with a heavy clench of your core, feet losing their solid hold below you as you begin to shake and succumb to the feeling. 

You’ve unwound, the tension of your body unfurling as you’re cast out to sea, your body bobbing along each wave with a newfound euphoria. Out here on the water, the world is silent except the ring in your ears. You bask in the peaceful ebb until you feel a tingling in your fingertips and toes calling you back, forcing breath back into your lungs with a heavy pant. 

Once you recenter, you gaze back at the stream, confirming that this is the smiling and grateful Seokjin you just saw three hours ago. 

He called you a good girl. He came all over his sweaty chest. And he’s the top streamer on a gay sex cam site. 

©2024 by jooniperbonsai

[dantesunbreaker]

Hey Ghestie! If you are currently taking requests, may I please have some headcanons for how Copia & Secondo (individual headcanons for them ofc) act as father figures to a Sibling of Sin 🥺 preferably one w/anxiety and is touch starved totally not projecting

Fatherly Papas

Of course Ghestie! Though I took the liberty of doing all the Papas because I also could use some fatherly Primo in my life. Also I'm posting this while on mobile so I am scared to see what it looks like when I get back to my computer 😅

Primo

There are many days spent working in Primo’s garden together. Not only just because Primo needs help with the physical labor in his older years, but because it is a quiet relaxing activity that gives you time to bond with each other

Physical touch is often, ranging from small reassuring pats on the hand to warm heartfelt hugs pulled tight to his chest. Primo wants you to physically feel the promise that he will always be there in your time of need

Sits and listens to you troubles as an active listener, asking questions that get to the root of the issue and then offering what advice and comfort he can if and when needed

Primo knows the signs of when you are getting burnt out or straining yourself too much while working and will bring you tea or treats that help you relax

Is beyond touched and flattered should you ever give him gifts on Father’s day, might even get a bit emotional. Will thank you by pulling you in for a hug followed by a chaste kiss on either the cheek or forehead. There is no toxic masculinity in him, so Primo is very open to giving kisses in non romantic relationships

Secondo

Secondo told you that you were always welcome to come to him in times of need, he never really expected much to come of it

On occasions that Secondo catches you in the halls or in public and notices you displaying signs of anxiety, he is quick to step in and help. Starts with a call of your name as to not spook you before putting a firm yet comforting grip on your shoulder

Even Secondo will admit he is not the best at comforting others, especially with his words. But that does not mean he will not give it his all

Brings you to his office so you have a private place to let go, sitting in silence as you let out whatever has been causing you to struggle

Once you have gotten everything off your chest, Secondo will pull you in for a tight hug, paying no mind to whether or not you are soaking his robes with tears

Will hold you for however long you need, a warm and comforting embrace that makes you feel safe and accepted 

As you are pulling away from the hug, Secondo will look you in the face while telling you how proud he is of you. Tells you that he sees everything you do, how hard you work, and he could never feel anything but pride at that. Success or failure, does not matter, Secondo will also support you and always be proud

Terzo

Absolutely wants to be seen as a sort of  “fun dad”, and always tries going out of his way to keep you smiling even when you really don’t feel like it

Terzo is very open about all sorts of physical affection and never holds back. Will give you as many hugs as you need, will brush your hair if it helps you feel calm, greets you with a kiss on each cheek, anything that you need Terzo would try to give you

Always wants to be caught up on whatever is happening in your life whether it be big or small things. If something important happens that Terzo doesn't know about it kind of crushes him because he will feel like he is failing as a paternal figure

Good active listener when you come to him needed to vent, responds with concern and empathy and always asks if you want advice for the issue or simply to get it out

Whenever Terzo catches you having anxiety attacks or getting over worked, he stops everything to whisk you off to do something more fun and relaxing. Sometimes this means impromptu trips to theme parks

Totally also gives you extravagant outfits for your birthday and Christmas

Copia

Equally touch starved, expect that when Copia provides comfort that it will entail a fair amount of physical affection

When walking together, Copia will place a hand either on your back between your shoulder blades or on your opposite shoulder 

Copia is also not always the best at comforting with his words, but his awkward ramblings and signature Copia noises are comforting enough at times

Makes you promise to come to him if you are ever struggling with anxiety or any other mental strain. Does not matter what time of day, Copia will always set everything aside to be there for you. Whether you just need someone to vent to or if you are seeking advice, he is there to offer what help he can

The times you come to him crying, Copia will hold you tight to his chest and softly reassures that you can get through this and that he is with you every step of the way

Honestly, the type of guy that would also treasure anything you ever make for him. Instead of hanging drawings on the fridge, he will hang them in his office. Also the type that would cry at your plays or dance recitals should you ever have anything of that nature. The ghouls go with Copia to keep him from making too much of a scene

Introduces you to the rats as “their much larger and less hairy sibling”, immediately feels nervous about it and will give you a look that says he is waiting for your response. It will make his day if you are on board with being a big sibling to his rat children

[whimsicalwritingsandmore]

The Hybrid House | ateez x reader

Pairing: hybrid!ot8!ateez x rich!girl!reader

Genre: fluff, romance, slice of life

Warnings: mention of su*c*de (it isn't detailed, just mentioned), description of emotions after aforementioned event.

Word Count: 1223 words

a/n: just to clarify with the chapter warnings, it is not my intention to sensationalize su*c*de. it's just mentioned but I do describe the impact a little on one of the characters, so I included a red asterisk * at the beginning and end of where it starts and ends.

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

Chapter 2

Things were never the same as before.

After returning home from Thanksgiving that year, your parents barred you and Axel from having any contact with your Great Aunt or anyone from there. Growing up became a monotonous journey of adhering to meticulous expectations and suppressing emotions that would creep in out of nowhere, sometimes late at night and continuously bang in your chest and surge through your veins like an icy slush, begging to be felt. You were expected to excel and outshine your cousins every academic year, and if you didn’t, you would have to face the grueling and mind-numbing one hour long lecture from your parents about how inferior you were to your cousins and even siblings, and how detrimental it would be to your life, if you didn’t achieve their your goals.

You felt like a hamster in a wheel, and so did your brother. Axel was no longer the same person he was. The magical life you both knew and enjoyed and that instilled a sense of possibility and hope every time you visited your Great Aunt was ripped away and holidays were never the same - no longer wonderful but rather filled with exclusive and lavish but toneless dinners with the same repetitive and dull conversations about either the successes of each person or the snide remarks about the failures of others.

You both became robots, submitting to your parents’ way of life. Axel was no longer the same. The brother you knew, who would resist and find ways to sneak around your parents’ dictator rules, became cold and distant. You noticed the haunted and hollow look in his eyes - it showed a profound emptiness filled with sadness with his expressions always mirroring a wilting flower. When he moved out to attend college (that your parents’ selected), he pulled you in a bone-crushing hug before leaving and patted the top of your head with a meek smile as tears glistened in his eyes.

“I’ll always be there for you.”

*

You had just turned 15 and by the end of the year, your world crashed and burned when you were told the worst news - Axel had jumped off a bridge and the medics were unable to save him. The weight of despair and agony crushed your whole existence, and you felt like you were drowning in an ocean of endless sadness and despair. The silent screams you would hold back erupted as an avalanche of sorrow, pain and a dark cloud of grief descended on you with tears stinging like shards of glass and the ragged gasps between sobs making it feel impossible to breathe. 

It took all the effort from your two other brothers to hold you back when one of your parents’ colleague and his wife made a snide remark about Axel when they came to offer their condolences at the memorial.

*

As for your parents, they became different people - they pretended as if Axel never existed, never told your youngest siblings who were born a few months before the event about their brother and pressured each of your siblings so pressingly, it led to the point where your eldest brother showed disdain at the mere mention of Axel’s name and your older sister iced you out if you asked anything regarding doing something for Axel’s anniversary.

Only your other brother showed some support but the bond between the two of you seemed to have become so damaged, he would retreat on his promises and disappear, ignoring you if he was passing by and you were in the room. So every night on the day of Axel’s passing, you would sit in the treehouse that became dusty and cluttered, and cry uncontrollably, secretly praying to go back to how things used to be when you were at your Great Aunt’s.

“What did we do to deserve this?”

And then, after a brutal and nasty argument with your older siblings, you studied diligently to curry favor with your parents and then requested your father to send you to an elite university in Upper New York. You decided to follow in Axel’s footsteps and work your way around your parents’ demands so that things could happen in your favor. You became calculative and observant and succeeded in proving your worth to your parents who as a gift, gave you a top position at the family’s company. Following this, you worked to establish your own personal company to help break away from your parents and move further away from your siblings. 

You took on one of your father’s failed projects and successfully achieved what your father couldn’t do. You saw things for how they were instilled in you to view - dollar signs that could help you move up even higher than before and gain unlimited independence from your family and anyone.

But your parents still tried to control one area of your life, your love life. They tried to set you up on dates and arrange courtships where possible. Luckily for you, it fell through one way or the other. 

However, despite your money-making centered lifestyle, you weren’t completely obsolete to everything. Maybe it was the part of you that learnt from Axel and continued to cherish his lessons. Even if you would never admit it, love felt more than just an arrangement to have more money. Although you were heavily ingrained in the fast-paced, upscale lifestyle, something pulled you in the other direction when it came to love.

Nevertheless, you continued to live your life day by day as it came with meetings, negotiations and the few occasions that included luxurious drinks and food at restaurants or clubs or on yachts in different parts of the world.

Until one day, after a hectic meeting you received a call from a lawyer, more specifically, your Great Aunt's lawyer. Once again, your world was interrupted with life-changing but heart wrenching news - your Great Aunt passed away just a few moments ago before you received the call and you were now the inheritor of her estate, money and home.

That night, you stood on your balcony unable to process all of it. You were now a hundred or probably a thousand times richer, but your Great Aunt who was a part of the best moments in your childhood that became vague and indistinct in your mind, was no longer here. 

Tears cascaded down your face into your concocted cocktail. This was the first time that you cried like this since your brother Axel.

You contemplated telling your parents but then decided against it, remembering that your family did not have any good things to say about your Great Aunt after all these years. This was a secret only for you to know.

And your best friend Yeonjun.

Recruiting Yeonjun, you told your parents you were accompanying him on a trip to Asia to help him secure a business deal with some clients. They paid no heed and waved you off and sent you on your travels.

Now, you were in a car outside of Seoul's airport waiting for Yeonjun to finish placing the bags in the trunk. 

It was at this moment the realization was slowly dawning on you: it had been 13 years since you last came to Seoul, which meant it had been 13 years since you last saw your friends.

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Taglist: @ateezennie23 @edenani @seonghwasslytherin

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

What I find weird about Marinette's crush is that Origins has her not caring about Adrien being a celebrity or the son of a fashion designer she admires which sets it as being a normal crush on a person you know (who happens to be a celebrity) but then the rest of the show mostly treats it as a celebrity crush

There's a reason that I've often said that Origins the best writing that the show ever gave us. While it's not perfect, for me, it was the moment where the show suddenly got good and had true potential. My possibly far too generous read of that squandered potential is that the writers wanted to write a strong romance, but they used the wrong trope to guide that romance in the wider story, so we get a story that's the worst of both worlds. It fails to fit the mold that it's guiding trope is supposed to fit and it fails to be a strong romance because the chosen trope doesn't allow for a strong romance, so let's talk about why that is!

It's really common for formula shows with a teenage lead to have a character for that lead to crush on. Kim Possible had Kim crushing on Josh Mankey for the first few seasons. Phineas and Ferb gave Isabella a crush on Phineas and Candace a crush on Jeremy Johnson. Danny Phantom had Danny crushing on Paulina. I could keep going with examples because this is such standard trope! In fact, if you look at how these shows play these crushes, then you'll actually find a tame version of Marinette's writing where the crushes are often used for comedy.

The problem is that this trope is pretty much never used to develop a serious romance between two leads. It's either used to create tension between the true romantic leads or to give a character a little extra depth because people get crushes and it's a nice, relatable element for kids and teenagers.

The reason why you don't use this trope with romantic leads is because romantic leads are supposed to have an actual romance. We're supposed to watch them fall in love and be invested in their relationship! That simply doesn't fit the way this trope works because this trope is all about the experience of having a crush, not about the experience of truly falling in love.

To go back to the Kim Possible example, Josh Mankey is what TV tropes calls a "satellite love interest." He is truly just there to be shipped with Kim because she's a teenage girl and teenage girls have crushes so we need our cool teen girl heroine to have a cool crush. However, somewhere along the line, the writers decided that Kim and her partner Ron were going to be the end game couple. Once that choice was made, Mankey was out! But Kim didn't start treating Ron the same way that she'd treated Josh because Ron wasn't just a cute boy for our cool teenage lead to crush on. Her was her costar. A romance between them mattered as it's success would redefine the entire show! It's failure would straight up end the show! That meant that this couldn't be your standard teen romance. It needed to feel so much more real and powerful and lasting.

This is where Miraculous' problems come in. When we look at Origins, we can see that the writers really do want our romantic leads to feel like romantic leads. They want this romance to feel real and powerful. We can also look at season five to back this up. Once the square is together, they have some truly adorable moments. For example, the hand raise scene in Kwami's Choice was about the only good thing that episode gave us. We can even look at the final episode of season five to back this read. While it's generally a massive failure, it is all about Marinette's relationship to Adrien. He isn't just a cute boy that she's crushing on. He is massively impacting her life.

But when we look at the leadup to this romance happening? The things that took place between Origins and Kwami's Choice? There's nothing of substances. I can't even tell you why Adrien's crush flipped to Marinette or if Marinette's crush on Chat Noir was supposed to feel like anything more than a rebound. There's not even much substance once they get together because substance would require them to have deep conversations about their lives and they can't do that while the secret identities remain a thing.

This is part of the wider problem that every side of the square feels like casual friends at best because the their story wasn't written like a romance. It was written like two sets of impossible crushes where the focus was on the struggle of having an unrequited crush and not the thrill of a romance. Adrien isn't Marinette's Ron, he's her Josh Mankey. Same goes for Ladybug and Chat Noir. While Ladynoir was closer than Adrienette, we never got moments that showed them as close friends with a bond like no other. Alya and Marinette are closer than any side of the square and that's a pretty massive writing failure for a rom-com unless Alya is secretly Marinette's end game romantic partner.

To continue our Kim Possible case study, Kim and Ron really don't feel like a couple for most of the show. For the first three seasons, the focus was on their friendship to the point where I didn't even think about shipping them when I first watched the show. But when the relationship suddenly happened in the final season? It still felt natural and right! Of course these two would get together! How did I not see that?

If Miraculous wanted to make the square feel like a true romance, then they needed to take a lesson from shows like Kim Possible. They need focus on making Ladynoir and Adrienette extremely strong friendships with a background element of pining and romantic tension. You could keep Marinette's failed confessions, but they should almost always fail into cute friendship moments like Adrienette gaming in Gamer. Same goes for Ladynoir with moments like that one episode where Chat Noir could have learned Ladybug's identity, but chose to respect her boundaries instead. These kind of moments keep us excited for the square because they make it feel like they're obviously meant to be. But when it's just Chat Noir hitting on Ladybug and failing to get a positive reaction or Marinette failing to even talk to Adrien? That's not love. That's a hopeless crush.

This doesn't mean getting rid of Alya. Kim Possible had a female best friend, too! Her name was Monique and I loved her, but Monique and Kim's relationship never felt more important than Kim's relationship with Ron. There was even an episode where Monique tried to replace Ron since he was unavailable and she failed hard because, without Ron, Kim can't be a hero. If you want another show to look at to see how the square should have been written, then I'd check out Danny Phantom. That show has an endgame couple - Danny and Sam - and their relationship always had a romantic tension to it, but it was primarily a friendship for most of the show. I'm not saying that these two shows were perfect, but they did a great job with the romance element and show how Miraculous could have made the square work.

There are actually a lot of ways that show's like Kim Possible could have inspired and guided Miraculous. It's why I like using it as an example where I can. It's really sad to see a 2016 show failing so hard when there's a wildly successful 2002 show out there that had already shown how to succeed when using similar concepts. Marinette and Kim are even similar characters as are Adrien and Ron and even Plagg and Rufus. The template was out there, guys! Kim Possible even shows us how to take a comedy side kick and develop him into something more as the series goes on. Episode one Ron and end of show Ron aren't the same character. End of show Ron feels way more important!

This is also why it's so useful to study tropes. They're the building blocks of stories so it's very useful to understand why certain builds are popular so that you know when and where to use them. Don't like a trope? That's totally fine, but you generally want to start by asking "why is this popular" instead of just dismissing the trope all together assuming you're working in a genre where that trope dominates. Like I'm personally not a big fan of the satellite love interest, but I appreciate why they're a thing and understand when you should use them.

[strawberryya]

how to befriend a vampire

Yeosang x reader

synopsis: what could be better when you’re bored of life in every way than a hot vampire fuck buddy?

word count: 2k

genre/contains: smut, vampire au, vampire!yeosang, gn!reader, strangers to lovers/fwb, unprotected sex, general tw for vampirism and being bitten (the word blood is not used but heavily implied), stalker-ish behavior from both individuals, penetrative sex, multiple orgasms

rating: 18+

a/n: first arousal august fic is here! I hope everyone likes it and looks forward to the next little blurb I have ready and waiting in the drafts :>

my arousal august masterlist

original event for arousal august

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Summer was over and new classes were about to begin. Returning to your normal routine wasn’t too hard, you had done it before. Your friends were the same, your dorm was the same, although your roommates were new, and the classes all felt as usual. Nothing special was happening at all. Of course, it would’ve been nice if something were to happen, anything really. Just something that would make life this year a bit different than last year. Maybe you should drop a class and pick up something that has nothing to do with your goal, perhaps cults would be fun to study for a term or two? 

Nothing was wrong, it was just so very…boring. 

“A back-to-class party?” Not a terrible idea, you reasoned when your new roommates asked if you wanted to come along to the park that first weekend back at campus. 

It could be horrible, but at least it would mean that something would happen other than studying or watching movies with your new, and so far reasonable, roommates. It had been a while since you had been with anyone too. Maybe this party was the perfect opportunity to find someone a bit attractive to hook up with. The one from last year had ended up getting into a relationship during the summer - rather annoying, because he really wasn’t that bad in bed. 

You needed orgasms to get through the school year, and so you went to the party. Dressed up from head to toe, in clothes that hugged your ass and glitter in your hair, hoping that the outfit would be enough to gain someone’s attention. 

Your mission was… sort of successful. It did attract tons of people, some really attractive people, and some incredibly sleazy and creepy people.

You regretted coming after about two hours of nonstop socializing with other students which led absolutely nowhere. Nobody grabbed your attention, everyone fit perfectly into the little presaved folders in your head. It was so predictable, so incredibly boring. 

“Should we just give up?” You shouted to one of your new roommates. At least, you found some hope in the fact that neither one of them had ended up finding someone interesting among the large crowd that flew past one another like ants in the campus park. You weren’t completely alone in yur failure. 

“I’m ready to go, honestly,” one of your roommates agreed, while the other one had already disappeared in the crowd without acknowledging your question. 

You grabbed ahold of one another. Neither of you sober enough to be able to navigate your way home without losing one another in the night. With arms folded together, in a way only possible for two almost strangers when drunk, you two trudged away from the party and the loud bass that made your head pound. 

“I wanted to fuck someone tonight,” you groaned and fake sobbed into the chilly night air, your roommate only laughing at your unapologetic whining. “I’m not kidding, I don’t care who it is. I just really wanna be obsessed with someone! I wanna be in love! I don’t care if it’s actually love or just really great sex.”

It seemed a bit silly to say out loud, but it was the truth. You probably wouldnt have been so honest with your roommate this soon had you been sober tonight. Nevertheless, the truth was that you just wanted someone to think about, someone to crush on, someone to sleep with when the days became too boring to handle by yourself. 

You were wobbling down the cobbled streets on your way back to the dorm. Your arm was still entangled with your roommates, thoughts having moved on from your honest feelings and instead focusing on whether or not it would be possible to order fries to your dorms. 

When he bumped into your arm, or more correctly, when you stumbled into his arm as he passed, you almost fell over. Enraged at the audacity of this random guy to walk right into you, you turned back around, prepared to yell at him with all your might. But when you began shouting a loud “Hey!”, your anger soon ebbed out as the stranger turned around, revealing his perfect face in the yellow light from the streetlight above. His features were striking even in the dark. His eyes were piercing. His hair was dark and pushed back from his forehead in a light wave. Beside one of his eyes, you noticed a blushy pink birthmark, almost matching the pretty red shade of his lips. His lips… were a lot redder than any lips you had seen on a random guy before. Was he wearing lipstick? 

You had forgotten why you had yelled out to the stranger. His gorgeously handsome face distracted you completely. 

“Y/n, let’s gooo,” your roommate whined, pulling at your arm, evidently not enraptured by the pretty stranger you had bumbled into. How was that possible? You had never seen him before, never known he existed, and you were already obsessed with him. His name, his interests, his favorite place to kiss his lover, you needed to know it all. You needed to befriend him. 

The night was mostly a blur the following day, everything except for the stranger.

For some reason, his face never left your mind. For two weeks you searched every room for him, scanned the streets as you walked down them, and took walks on the campus every shot you got. 

You never found him. He could’ve been an illusion, but you knew deep down that he wasn’t. At least looking for the mystery man in the night had given you something to think about, someone to obsess over, even if you didn’t even know his name. 

It took yet two more weeks and another walk to the convenience store to finally find that one necessary piece of information. You didn’t understand how it had taken this long to find him, it wasn’t like he was hiding. He was walking around in the park, just like the last time you had bumped into him. Dark hair falling onto the sides of his head, a long coat half open to reveal a simple black polo and jeans, almost exactly like last time. You took it all in, stopping mid-step as to not loose sight of him, the plastic bag you had bought filled with snacks and drinks for the late-night studying you had planned on doing was rustling in the wind. He had seen you too. 

He wasn’t moving either, maybe he thought you were a weirdo for simply staring at him in the dark park. 

You drew in a breath. “Hey you! What’s your name?!” You shouted across the grass. If you were going to be a weirdo, you would do it properly. 

He didn’t shout back. Far away someone shouted in the night. You looked towards the sound for half a second out of reflex, and when you looked back the stranger was gone. 

Again?? You thought and damned the universe for teasing you like this. 

“Yeosang.” 

The voice was deep and it sent chills down your back. It made you quickly turn around, finding the stranger right behind you now. He was even hotter this close. 

“Yeosang…” you whispered under your breath. He was rather tall. He gave you a small smile, white teeth flashing cold in the moonlight. Unusually pointy. “I’m y/n…”

His smile got wider. “I know”

Your mind blanked, but you needed to say something. “Let’s be friends!” You hurried to say before he could have a chance to mysteriously disappear again. His smile dropped, eyes looking at you surprised and slightly suspicious. Understandable. 

“Sure,” he said after a moment of only the wind in your ears, a smirk appearing on his face. “If a friend is all you want, I can grant you that.” 

“It’s not,” you said honestly and quickly. His smirk grew. “I want a lot more, but I only found out your name ten seconds ago. Thought I’d give you a chance to get to know me before I tried getting you into bed with me.” 

You felt feverish, the embarrassing reality of what you were telling this stranger hitting you hard.

“I know enough,” he said before his hand found the side of your face and his lips leaned in to meet yours. He tasted like aluminum for a split second but the way you could feel his toned body against yours where your coats fell open distracted you and you soon forgot about the unusual taste. 

A swishing sound made you open your eyes again, the cold from the night air in the campus park seemingly gone and replaced with much warmer air. You were inside, you were inside your own bedroom. You didn’t know how it had happened, you didn’t really know what had happened, and you didn’t know why you didn’t even care. The stranger in the night was named Yeosang, and he was kissing down your neck in your bedroom, pulling your coat off your body, and throwing it into the corner of the room. He was no ordinary person, that you had already caught onto. 

“Can I bite you?” He mumbled against your skin. 

His hands were caressing your body and your mind was buzzing with desire, but the desire didn’t clog your mind yet. You were clearminded and saying “Yes” before you could stop and think about what a bad decision it might be to agree. 

Small pecks now your throat made arousal pool in your lower abdomen. “Bite me as you fuck me,” you whispered. This made Yeosang smile against your skin, moving up to kiss you passionately once again as he pulled his own clothes off along with yours. Pushing you down on the bed as his hard cock pushed against your thigh. It would be tight, but you needed him to use you and stretch you out enough to make life interesting again. 

That, he did. Nothing was mundane or boring about his hands on your body or his tongue on your chest. He was surprisingly gentle as he began filling your hole with his erect cock, but his pace grew feral as he continued pounding into you. You were moaning and clawing at his sculpted body when he hit the right spot inside of you. When his lips let go of you, you looked at him gazing down at your bare neck, he wanted to bite you for real, it was clear he meant it, and you wanted him to as well. You shifted your neck, inviting him to do what he wished. “You look delicious,” he mumbled before he threw himself onto your neck, piercing the skin ever so slightly. You barely even felt it, but the way he suckled on your skin after the small sting felt like he was trying to mark your skin, sending goosebumps down your body when he continued licking and humming against your neck. 

You came as he pounded into you, his hands working their magic while getting to know your body. He didn’t stop until you came for a second time, whining at the overstimulation. 

He cared for your neck and cleaned you up, his movements swift and gentle as he handled you. He caressed your skin with great care, careful not to be too rough. A world’s difference from the way he had fucked you a moment ago. He didn’t force any small talk, a nice change from most other guys you had been with. He had gotten dressed and given you some of your own pajamas to put on before he was ready to leave. 

He couldn’t leave just like this, you collected all the courage you had left and began with an unsure voice. “We’re friends now, right? So you’re welcome here anytime, we could do this again…” 

“We’re friends, yeah.” He smirked and looked at you as you pulled your shirt over your head. “I’ll be here if you need me, or if you’re just… bored.” The last word he said was paired with a small wink. You chuckled nervously, he had known all along. Could he read your mind as well? Maybe you could find out next time. 

Reblogging and commenting is highly appreciated!! Hearing what you thought is what makes writing and being here overall so much fun! Ty and ily 💕

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[sugaarquoted]

Can I request the vice wardens plus silver or replace him with Lilia them seeing their crush alone and breaking down after seeing them "attempt," to do magic but failed because they don't have any. They just wanted to know what it's like plus grim keeps messing up and dragging their grades down

what a sweet request! i apologize for taking so long to get to writing it- have had a lot on my plate recently. as compensation i'll do the vice wardens with silver included :) hope you enjoy!

just a note! savanaclaw does not have a vice housewarden so that is why savanclaw is not present in this work

and! since you said 'crush' i will be leaving ortho out of this since i only do platonic works for him :)

What luck you had.

First you get transported to this mysterious place filled with magic and unknown capabilities of others. But you are expected to keep up your grades while lacking said abilities?

That seemed unfair didn't it? Especially with a certain... weasel who had a habit bringing your shared grades down constantly with his 'oh so great capabilities'.

Of course you were used to his antics by now, as it had been months since the beginning of your journey in this new world.

Yet the issue with your dropping grades never faltered.

Somehow, you had a burst of motivation to try taking things into your own hands.

Reading book after book, asking for opinion after opinion you were lead blind into believing you could be successful in the art of magic of just a mere human.

You are not sure what it was today but you could slowly feel your incentive fade after the failure that had occurred.

Now with each attempt leading to failure, you came to the conclusion that this world maybe was not meant for you after all, along with the magic everyone seemed to possess.

What are you going to do...

Trey Clover

Trey had a lot to keep track of as vice house warden, not as much as the house warden himself but still a significant amount of tasks.

Hence why he was heading out of the dorm at this later-than-usual hour, scrambling for last minute supplies.

On the way to Mr. S's Mystery Shop, picking up goods and ingredients last minute for yet another dorm get together, he almost missed the sight of you pacing back and forth not far from where he was heading to.

He had a lot to think of this evening after all. But your well-being was no added weight to his duties.

"Hey, Prefect, you alright-"

He almost immediately noticed your panicked expression paired with your anxious pacing as he approached.

Trey sat you down outside the shop, letting you lean on him if need be.

Offers you a snack, if you're hungry, and water.

Spends most of the time is spent comforting you and asking you if you need anything. (He cares so much about your health, especially now when it is obvious you need some assurance)

Speaking of assurance, he very much makes it his duty to tell you how appreciative everyone here is.

He is here for you right now and anything you need, he can supply.

"You really are an important part of our lives, Prefect. Even without magic, and.. whether or not you have that ability does not matter one bit to me.

Ahem Well.. would you like to come back to Heartslabyul? Help out with some baking if you'd like. Might keep your mind of things for awhile"

Jade Leech

As soon as you had walked into the Mostro Lounge, you managed to catch eyes with Jade, who was currently cleaning cutlery in the meantime before it was necessary for him to serve the guests again.

He watched as you scurried off to one of the corner tables near the aquarium's decorum.

That was strange, you usually pick one of the centre tables to save while you wait for any of the usuals to join you.

"Good evening, Prefect, how may I assist you tonight?"

You seemed to be in a daze or somewhat surprised as he asked. To prompt your lack of context, due to only now picking up on his question. He continued.

"Are you awaiting any of our other usual guests? Or will this be a table for one tonight. If the latter is the case, may I take your order?"

Now, Jade was many things. One of those things not being dense. It was obvious enough that something was up with the dear Prefect.

Another thing is that he is Azul's right hand man, most trusted, more so. Meaning he did have an unusually busy Wednesday evening at the Lounge. But he was willing to take his chances for you.

Opts to keep you company 'while he can get away with it' as he says

Does not specifically point out that he can tell something is wrong. But does make it obvious he knows at the very least.

Definitely talks about some silly thing Floyd did, or mentions something Azul was frustrated about simply to take your mind off of whatever seemed to bother you in the moment.

He did not wish to know what was affecting you, since naturally it would have been his duty to report it to Azul.

Truly did care about making you feel better, with his sly comments included to tease you nonetheless.

"Return to work? My my, do you wish for my leave already? There is nothing better I could be doing in this moment besides keeping you company like what I am doing right now.

Are you sure you wouldn't like something off the menu? I am sure you can get away with a discount, and I will make sure your request is the top of our priority."

Jamil Viper

A cold evening on a school day in the middle of the week was not really the prime time to be out and about. Especially when Ramshackle was just a short walk away. Not that it would really provide much warmth knowing its current state.

Yet here you were, out doors and sitting on the steps in front of Night Raven College's main building. Alone for that matter.

Jamil was prepared to walk away, pretend he did not notice you. It was not like it was his problem. However he did notice, and... he cared.

Momentarily stopping in his tracks he turns and heads in your direction, sitting down on the cool concrete steps once he did.

After a moment of thought he sighs, then silently removes his uniform blazer and drapes it over your shoulders despite you already wearing your own. Since—

"—Its cold out, don't you think?"

He lets the question linger after another moment of silence, before choosing to speak once more. Something was up.

"Aren't you usually with Grim?"

Jamil's comment trails off as he picks up some of the pieces. Maybe it was intentional Grim, or anyone else for that matter, was not here.

Lets you speak up about your issue if you desire, or lets your silence stay quiet but comforting nonetheless.

If you decide to tell him about your thoughts he will provide a welcoming aura for you to talk.

Your problems were not really his business, but if he could tell something is weighing you down, it would be better to get it off your chest sooner than later.

Stays with you as long as you need, or as long as he can until he needs to pry Kalim out of some situation sooner or later.

Overall, is here when and if you need him to be.

"I guess this world really is strange if you put it that way. But you are welcome here. You have helped us all out, some of us more than others. I'm sure Kalim can agree...

Speaking of, I should head back and check on him. You're welcome to come along if you'd like. I'm sure he'd be thrilled to see you as well."

Rook Hunt'

"Bonjour!"

Rook called out, hoping to take you out of your supposed trance; noticing you seated on a bench near a tree, providing some sort of camouflage for you. Nothing that could fool Rook, however.

His plan seemed work, noticing you looking in his direction. He tipped his hat towards you before he took up a seat next to you before realizing, upon further inspection, there were tears beginning to dry on your cheeks.

"Ah! C'est ne pas possible! Who would have dared to make an attempt to deject your heart with sorrow?"

Rook's sudden overdramatic reaction definitely caused a few heads to turn in your direction, momentarily for the most part

His reactions towards anything would never differ would they.

Despite his over the top reactions. He cares. so. much.

If you wanna share what is going on? He's here. If not? he is still here.

And if it was someone, or something, that causes you this much stress clearly they were the ones in the wrong!

Ask if you need anything. Anything and he will supply it within seconds.

May go on a rant using long descriptions with words you barely know the meaning to, just because he knows it'll make you smile.

Just wants to see you smile and display feelings of joy!

"Mais, you are our Prefect, plus cher, non? You are a very important piece of all our lives now. All of us truly appreciate you dearly! How couldn't we? Ah, still not convinced maintenant?

Let us go inside yes? I have no doubts, Roi de Poison will be able to provide a second perspective to my reasoning."

Lilia Vanrouge

This evening was rather boring for Lilia. For once, he truly had nothing to do. Of course there were always things to be done back at Diasomnia, but tonight he felt for a need of fresh air. So he decided to use Malleus' tactic and take a stroll around Ramshackle.

Unsurprisingly, due to the area he walked, he noticed the Prefect alone by the dorm building.

What a perfect opportunity!

Pranks were in a fae's nature, scaring people included all the more.

Luckily, a nearby tree had perfect placement for his idea, and so he carried through.

Until he took a good look at your expression. You did not look very happy-go-lucky at all in that moment. Still he decided to at least go and check up on you, after scaring you of course.

Using magic to place himself sneakily within the branches of the nearby tree, he suddenly appeared in front of your view, attempting to surprise you with this process.

It was successful! However, after now seeing your expression further up close, he presumes this may not have been the best time and place for his own shenanigans.

Indirectly apologizes for his "childish behaviour" as he says

Instead of sitting beside you, he crouches down a little as the two of you interact

Although he is one of the 'people' who utilizes magic for almost every basic task and action, he tries greatly to prove to you the not so great and tricky aspects of the art (even for someone as experienced with it as he is)

He also shows you how you can enjoy it without having any of your own

Shows you both sides to magic, the good and not so great

"This world may not be as familiar as you think right now, but magic shouldn't be the finality of what you seek. Know of the friends and relationships you have and the memories you create each day.

Everyone here has grown very fond of you, some more than you might ever think to know. Well then, come along now! Let's get you inside and warm."

Silver

They look wonderful here.

The light of the sun splitting the leaves of the trees, turning the green grass more of a golden hue. The quiet call of birds broke the silence the calming breeze caused.

But most of all. You.

You were in the midst of this sight, adding to the perfect painted picture in Silver's eyes.

Calmly staring off into the distance while the light reflects glowing skin and shiny cheeks.

But... what was causing the shine.

Tears, he realized.

Now that was more than enough to get him to actually stop merely watching from a distance. Just to make sure those were not actually tears.

"Uhm— hello, Prefect"

He began, peeking around the tree you were leaning against.

"I was watch—"

No that did not sound right at all. Quite creepy if he does say so himself...

A moment of silence passes before he decides to make a second attempt with hopefully better wording, praying you forgot the first by now.

"Is... there something on your mind?"

He was met with silence. Which is reasonable after you have most likely just been crying, and now attempting not to shed any more.

"You know.. I like to come here when things aren't always going to plan as well. It is very calming and peaceful here isn't it?"

Since it is obvious that the silence brought at least a bit of comfort to your problem, he lets the comfortable stay that way for the most part

Talks and asks as much as he can, to make sure he has done anything he possibly can to make you feel better

Ends up falling asleep at one point, despite trying his hardest not to

Even you ended up making this relaxing spot more relaxing for him with just your presence alone

Very much cares, but won't force you to reveal what is on your mind if you don't feel like it

"My 'spot'? Oh— no that's not it. I just happen to go here a lot. We can share if it brings you ease. Of course if you'd like to. I wouldn't mind at all, in fact that might be really nice...

Is whatever's on your mind still bothering you? Well.. if I am ever feeling down father always has some sort of trick. Maybe we can go and see him and he will think of something for you as well."

[trafalgarlogy]

Kaiser isn't my fave but the theme and color combination is relaxing to look at.

I have a thought (not a request) for yan Sae, fem reader.

Imagine my boy Sae having a crush on you, Rin's bestie. You definitely keep a distance between you and him, only acting civil and polite without letting him get closer bc why would you pick someone who isn't close to you over your bestie?

He can't even break the friendship between you and Rin because you don't bother to hide things from Rin, including his brother trying to approach you for some reason.

Sae trying to approach his crush while Rin's always with you like a guard dog, and you avoiding him like the plague bc besties over boyfriends.

aww thank you for the compliment!! <3, he is indeed my fav; but ik a lot of fans hate his toxicity, so-

and sheesh reading that whole scenario has my mind blown, its sick lol🤯😂

I would imagine you and rin to meet in the school(high school/academy/whatever), when you saw him practicing playing soccer and found his skills fascinating, ofc rin would try to push you away; you being that one person that won't go away so easily just sticked around him, annoying him.

eventually you approaching him every day, turned into him trying to run away somewhere else when he saw you but you'd easily catch up. But he later got used to this and was now admitting that he enjoyed spending time with you. And after that, your friendship continued for 2-3 years.

as best friends, you'd probably hang out at some cafes or restaurants or maybe his house and play video games there (and you always lose). it's obvious that he told you about how big of an asshole his so-called "big brother" had become after traveling overseas.

and one day giving a surprise visit at the house when you were with Rin since it was like your guy's usual routine; he'd judge you at first thinking you are probably friends with him for benefits; though he was wrong; for the few days he stayed he saw how genuine you were with Rin, and made him smile.

and what got him the most was the fact you didn't even look him in the eye or even said a word; which crushed his ego as being a successful soccer player. This was really weird from his side since he never got ignored especially by girls.

this made his blood boil, and he tried making attempts to catch your attention though they were all a failure.

even when he was overseas he couldn't help thinking about you, and sooner or later realizing he was attracted to you.

which became his sole reason to come to Japan often; during those times when rin wasn't around he would try to start a conversation with you.

his aura would often make you uncomfortable and the sometimes the conversation would meet awkward ends

you being the type to share everything with rin; you told him about how sae and you would have awkward conversations; and he would try to become closer with even after you try to maintain a safe distance.

rin stayed quiet about it at first but still confronted you about not to be worrying about him.

until one day he saw it for himself; when sae was talking with you, you seemed uncomfortable.

seeing you like this; he just pushed sae off rudely and say "(Name) let's go somewhere else" glaring coldly at his older brother.

After that incident rin would stay around you so that his brother won't trouble you again.

sae was really annoyed about it; he looked ways to break you two apart, until he ended finding out how loyal and honest you were with rin and vice versa.

it was nearly impossible but it didn't mean he was going to give up.

until one day he decided to invite you and rin to his match, which you gladly accepted making rin accept it as well.

scoring like a monster on that day and showing off his skills; was all a play to catch your attention, this time wasn't actually a failure as he saw you just smiling at his goals.

but little did he know you were smiling because of rin joking around about his brother looking like a clown, you had to admit sae was really good at soccer but it didn't mean it took upon your interest.

you had to compliment him after the match like any humble person would do; but those words made sae's heartbeat faster.

but later rin asked to have a "private convo" with his brother making you leave the room so they have their private space.

rin starting it off " i'm aware what you're doing brother.", sae rolled his eyesand replied "ok and?", "stay away from (Name), she doesn't need you; that's i got to say" "bye" rin turned his back to walk away when sae spoke from behind

"i don't care, she will be mine one day."

i mean this is how imagine it; it can be more spicy and thrilling with spicy words and writing😫

also sorry for the late reply, its just i have been busy with things

[letmeoutofthebasementt]

hello, i’m the anon who asked about san fs reading! asking about him and his fs in bed is gross tbh are there questions like this?? 😭 honestly all these tarot readings (from tarot readers i like!) made me like his fs a lot! seems like his fs is a good person and they’ll have a love like in movies (that’s what san said he wants to have) so im pretty happy about it! i saw some of your readings and i find them exciting that’s why i wanted to ask about your take/perspective for his fs! like how would they meet, how would they treat each other, how would his fs’s personality be? personality, work, age or looks? like general things we would see when they confirm their relationship, not the too private stuffs. tho you can choose what makes you comfortable! 

San’s FS

Body (Outward appearance)

Alright, so, right off the bat (I may or may not have giggled when I saw this) I’m getting “emotional baggage”. Mind you this is for looks. So Atiny will probably see them (Though they most likely won’t since this is their current state BUT IF THEY DID) and immediately be like “Aww, poor baby, they looks like they have so much emotional baggage.” So right off the bat I kind of feel bad.

So yeah. Definitely seeing his FS is currently either underweight or overweight. Not in an extreme way, and more so because of what’s happening. Definitely looks like they’re on their last leg, with eye bags and such. But not necessarily bad-looking.

However, his FS still has this brightness about them. Like this joyful aura and demeanor that’s infectious. Like bright eyes that seem to shine and easy to make smile. They’re definitely confident in their appearance regardless right now. Getting slight Leo vibes but I dunno, may just be me associating that aspect of them with Leo placements.

Definitely dresses to impress. Stylish clothing that’s not luxury but definitely high-end. Like someone who looks well-off, but not rich in the way they present themself.

So, definitely just exudes that successful aura. Gives off those responsible office siren vibes (If San’s FS is a woman I know for a fact in the future she’ll be my woman crush in the most respectful way possible like she seems like THAT GIRL.)

So…She definitely looks like she’s on her last leg though, all things considered. She’s probably very physically tired, and going through some things right now. Health-wise also.

She’s very resilient though. Not letting that get to her, and powering through regardless.

Her appearance (I’m not saying she’s ugly here) is definitely unique. Not quite fitting into the box whether it’s features, style, piercings, hair color, Korean beauty standards, etc. but still absolutely owning it like the icon she is. (As you can tell I already adore this woman I will ride for her)

She’s probably someone who’s isolated because of her appearance though. She’s unique and people don’t like that, and are intimidated by her demeanor and her aura.

Definitely has a traditional feel even with the uniqueness.

Personality

She’s definitely responsible. She’s accomplished a lot and knows how to deal with heavy burdens in life. Probably the oldest daughter if his FS is a woman just from these vibes, since I have a feeling she had to take care of younger siblings for most of her early life, making her have to bear certain burdens and responsibilities. Almost like a second mother from a young age.

There’s a lot of passion that’s been sparked in her from many different things that have happened to her in her lifetime.

She may be the type of person who fears failure, and is pessimistic by nature. She’s afraid everything she works for will come apart and while she tries to mask it, she’s deeply insecure. Probably one of those people whose mothers had always seen them as competition if she’s a woman, and that’s really gotten to her.

Definitely the type of person who feels she always needs to succeed and cannot fail or be defeated no matter what.

She’s a person with immense courage and determination. She’s a very joyful person by nature despite everything. Definitely getting slight Pisces/Leo moon vibes here, but again, I didn’t pull for that it’s more of that’s what those traits are giving me. She’s individualistic and lights to fit outside the box. She’s determined and courageous but not overly so. She knows balance.

She’s definitely a competitive person. She strives to be the best at everything and trust she will do whatever it takes (As long as it doesn’t go against her morals) to get what she wants.

She’s not the type of person who avoids conflict either. If she feels something is unjust she’ll speak up about it, though I don’t see her stirring anything up herself. It’s more like she won’t let herself be pushed around.

She’s a prideful person, but in the sense of her ego is so fragile that one small crack will shatter her, so she masks that weakness with pride so that no one can be able to tell. But it’s still very easy to break her confidence and get in her head, even if she doesn’t let that show. She falls apart very swiftly, and it’s always catastrophic.

She’s someone who believes in fate. She believes everything will end up how it is destined to be, and someone that intimately knows change. Someone who has accepted change and adapts well to it. Someone who strives for change and pushes towards it. She definitely is intimately aware that life is just one change after another. But she can see that it all leads to one big picture being complete.

She’s perceptive. She’s observant and picks up on things quickly with a sharp mind. She’s a complex person, and her personality is definitely one of those ones that fluctuates a lot throughout her life. Loving and knowing her is definitely loving and knowing every version of her that comes along as she changes, and it happens fairly often, though not in a bad way. She’s constantly growing and adapting, sometimes faster than others can keep up with.

She’s someone who succeeds a lot in life. I’ve noticed that many in her situations do, because she wants to be sure she’ll be alright no matter what. I see her being someone who can easily make the public love her if she works hard because that’s who she is.

She’s definitely a stingy person. She’s the type who’s so used to having nothing and scared of being there again, so she pinches every penny possible. She’s a greedy person because she knows what it’s like to have nothing and never wants to have nothing again. It scares her more than anything.

She’s also a possessive person by nature in many aspects, though not in an inherently toxic manner. “What’s mine is mine, and what’s yours is yours, so keep it that way” type of mentality.

She’s a quick thinker and very assertive. She knows how to take action.

Misc.

In regards to her age compared to San’s I’m not getting much of an answer. It’s more, “we love one another and we’re happy, so what is the problem?” But there’s also that aspect of…Playing it safe? It might be an age gap that’s not BAD, but more so something they may get hate for.

They’ll probably meet after some period of loss for both of them, and bring with them joy for one another. They both have their own assets, so there’s no worry of “Oh this person is using me for money/status”, so that’s not something they have to truly worry about.

They were definitely going through a rollercoaster ride in life but everything settled and they found one another.

This will definitely be a time that releases them from some pains they were both facing.

So, in regards to work, San’s FS is a perfectionist to an obsessive degree, and prone to overworking. But they also get burnt out very easily. They’re the type who can work on a project for days but get little done, or they can finish a project in four hours and get a masterpiece. They often find themselves with the brunt of their coworker’s work and reaping none of the benefits of it.

I have a feeling San’s FS may be considering switching jobs which is why there’s no strong direction of career paths. San’s FS is probably fed up with ending up with everyone else’s work.

So, in terms of their relationship, they were both looking for someone willing to do what it takes to make it worth. They’ve probably both been in relationships with people who haven’t tried their hardest for the relationship.

They want joy, and for the relationship to be successful. They want something positive that’s worth celebrating when those anniversaries come around.

But there’s still some things where they can’t make decisions. Their opinions clash and they reach a stalemate in those aspects. Because of that, they don’t broach such subjects, and they hang over them.

They’re both people who have strong ties to legacies for entirely different reasons. San has mentioned he has a very loving family who has made him want to show others the love he has been shown, but I think for his FS it’s the opposite. She comes from a family that’s far from loving and because of that she wants to show others the love she craves.

Emotionally, they inspire one another. They give each other more willpower, and they push each other to get the things they want. I definitely believe San’s FS will inspire a song one day. They help make each other better.

Physically, they find comfort in one another. I can see them just laying together in each other’s arms. They feel at ease when the other is near, and they feel strong compassion for each other.

Mentally, they’re also both compatible. They’re very self-aware people who spend time contemplating things about each other and themselves. The type who can walk away from an argument to cool off then talk about it later with level heads and come to a conclusion quickly. They’re both very mentally mature in those aspects.

More on his FS (As established in other pulls based on asks):

Im not getting “Female version of Wooyoung” vibes.

They’ll probably have a small little petty rivalry because they both think the other is monopolizing San’s time

They also have similar trauma so that’s another issue that makes them unable to really…Like one another?

But they’ll be civil

I get more Gemini Sun, underdeveloped Leo Moon/5th house moon from her. Maybe Sagittarius mars. Confirmed by cards. Some water sign influencs, possibly a water sign 6th house/9th house. Maybe a Scorpio placement somewhere, or scorpio for one of those houses.

Her hair is a source of insecurity for her and it stands out

Her eyes stand out

Brown hair WOULD fit her vibes but not something I pulled on

Im not necessarily getting she’s spiritual. I think she may have come from a hyper-religious household who hate things that have to do with our particular font of spirituality. She herself doesn’t hate it, she doesn’t have a strong opinion on it. Though I’m getting one day she may stumble upon the spiritual community and become part of it

Once everything that’s been happening in their lives come to a head, they’ll meet. But that’s not something that’s set in stone to happen at any time. It may be weeks or years. Though I’m getting ten vibes. Ten of what? I don’t know

she’s ENTJ

Probable long-distance relationship

Can in fact fight and can fight well